This is my attempt at a short, lighthearted story set in the Supernatural verse. All Supernatural characters belong to Eric Kripke. All original characters are mine.
Rating due to coarse language, mild depictions of nudity and sexual situations, and mentions of mutilation, but nothing written in graphic detail.
Written as a thank you gift for my beta, Enki.
The gleaming, black Impala rolled into the nearly packed parking lot at the Roadside Motor Lodge. Rumbling across the pavement, the car pulled into the vacant spot outside Room 26. The driver revved the engine, as if announcing his arrival before turning off both the motor and headlights. A moment later, the driver’s door creaked open. Out emerged Sam Winchester, carrying a grease-spotted brown paper bag, six-pack of beer, and a folded newspaper.
As he headed toward Room 26, the hunter quickly scanned his surroundings, looking for anything out of the ordinary.
Sam curtly nodded at an older gentleman who was pulling his luggage from the trunk of his Buick LeSabre a couple of spaces away. Sensing that nothing was amiss, the young man shifted the items into one hand, as he shoved the key into the lock of the door with the other.
Upon entering the room, he announced, “I’m back,” to his brother, as he shut the door behind him with his foot.
Much to Sam’s surprise, Dean didn’t respond, even though he had ordered him on this evening’s food run. He tossed the bag containing his brother’s double bacon cheeseburger and onion rings on the table while Dean continued to peck away at the keyboard of Sam’s laptop, totally engrossed in whatever he was doing.
“What are you doing?” asked the younger of the two, setting the six-pack and paper on the table before helping himself to a cold one.
“Shush! Can’t you see I’m working here,” informed a preoccupied Dean, his eyes never leaving the screen. His fingers continued to peck angrily at the keyboard.
Sam twisted the cap off the bottle, and took a sip. His curiosity was getting the best of him. He edged closer to his brother. He leaned over Dean’s shoulder so that he could read whatever it was that his brother was typing.“‘What kind of perverted sicko are you?’”
Sam read aloud, his brows furrowed in confusion. “Dean, what the hell are you writing?” His eyes continued to scan the page.
His older brother stopped typing. “Isn’t it obvious?” he replied, reaching for a beer.
“Leave review for ‘In the Heat of the Night’
,” uttered Sam, his eyes darting across the top of the page. “What the hell is that? Fan fiction?”
The older hunter twisted the cap off his beer and took several gulps. He then belched loudly, as his younger brother’s eyes continued to scan the computer screen.
“Fan fiction?” Sam repeated incredulously. “You’re reading fan fiction!” he laughed.
“Not just fan fiction,” answered Dean, “Supernatural
fan fiction.” The older hunter turned in his seat, facing his brother. “Dude, it’s about us. And it’s not like the stuff Chuck writes about.” He paused, a look of revulsion on his rather handsome face. “It’s nasty. It’s about us doing… the nasty.”
“Porn?” queried Sam, leaning away from the laptop.
“The pervs even named it Wincest,” added Dean with a derisive snicker.
“Wincest?” repeated the younger brother, his brows darting upward.
“Nasty stuff too, bro,” replied Dean, turning toward the computer again. “They got us doing some freaky shit. What kind of sick fucker comes up with this crap? I mean… it’s gross, and… and sickening. We’re brothers, for God’s sake.” Satisfied with his comments to the author, he then hit the ‘leave review’ button.
Sam’s eyes went back to the screen. He choked on his beer when he saw his brother’s screen name. “Cherry Forever!” he coughed.
Dean pushed the laptop aside, reaching for the brown paper bag containing his dinner. With a wry smile, he said, “Makes sense, don’t it? Loved the movie and the chick’s name describes my asshole - Cherry Forever.”
The younger hunter rolled his eyes. He stepped out from behind his brother’s chair, grabbed the newspaper and sank into the seat opposite Dean.
“If you’re finished playing - ” began Sam, before Dean cut him off.
“ - Hey! This is serious business. I don’t like any one writing shit like that about me. If it was just about you - I’d totally get it. But me! Pfft!
I’ve got a reputation to uphold.” He then bit into his greasy burger.
Sam sighed in his annoyance, unfolding the paper clutched in his hand. He’d forego a verbal sparing match with his older brother, for now. “I think we’ve gotta job,” announced the young man.
With his mouth full of food, all Dean could do was look at the younger hunter, waiting for him to elaborate further.
“From what I read, it seems that a bunch of fishermen, um, noodlers have been disappearing in this town in Oklahoma.”
“What the hell are noodlers?” asked Dean, after swallowing.
“They’re people who fish without fishing poles. Apparently, it’s an old tradition in some parts of the country, mainly in the mid-west and south. Men comb rivers for monster catfish, using only their bare hands to snag their catch.”
“Why the hell would they do that?” queried Dean before sipping his beer.
“I don’t know. Does it really even matter?” answered the younger brother. “The article says that two men washed up on the banks of the Washita River yesterday, their bodies mutilated.”
“And you think some demon’s behind it?” asked Dean, biting into his burger yet again.
“Yeah, I do. The article states that thirty-seven men have disappeared in the last year alone. And some of these guys were great swimmers.” He stared at the article. “There’s definitely something supernatural at work here.”
Dean snatched the paper from his brother’s hands. He glanced at the article. “Okay, tomorrow we’ll head to Pauls Valley and check it out.”
Sam took a swig of his beer. “Yeah, alright, Cherry Forever