Disclaimers: I do not own Angel, the series, or Supernatural. Rights remain with Whedon and Kripke (I think).
Note: Post S5 Angel. Probably an earlier season of SPN. For August Fic-A-Day. Possible crackishness.
Word Count: ~870***
"I think you're over-reacting, Dean."
Dean's wide eyes shot off the road and to the passengers seat, where his brother was nearly folded over in an attempt to sit sideways, one leg folded beneath him. There was a slight twitch of Dean's chin, as if he was attempting to shake his head, a sure sign to Sam that hysterics were sure to follow. Sam wasn't disappointed.
-reacting, Sam? Really
?" The last part was nearly spat out. His knuckles white against the grip of the steering wheel, Dean turned his attention back to the absent traffic on the darkened highway. "There's a green, red-eyed, show-tune
loving creature in my backseat, Sam! Why the hell would I be over-reacting
? Obviously, I'm an ass for being upset over a little thing like that--thank you for showing me the light, DeYoung."
"Dean." Sam took a breath, giving their 'guest' a sympathetic glance before turning back to his brother with a look of confusion. "Wait...Styx? I think you meant 'showing me the way
As if the correction was more of an affront than anything else, Dean grimaced and pulled the car off onto the side of the road. As soon as the driver’s side door was open, Sam was jumping out into the grass and running to the other side, a placating hand raised at his standing older brother.
“Come on, Dean,” he pleaded. “Just…take a second and calm down.”
Dean was about five seconds from ripping open the Impala's back door and going Machete on the interior. He sucked in a breath and looked up in time to see that his Sammy was in full puppy-dog-eyed mode.
“Shit,” Dean muttered, but he lost some of his fight. His shoulders drooped slightly. “Dude, this is totally unnatural, you get that, right? Did you even see the horns
? He's like a walking Satan caricature in a tacky suit.”
Sam shook his head, his floppy hair sliding into his face. "Dean, seriously, he hasn't done anything wrong, and did help us with that…umm…goblin thing."
Dean raised a brow.
Sam huffed. Ok, point taken. The green guy had basically screamed until the fangy, gnarled beast had fallen over long enough for Sam to decapitate it.
"He seemed more afraid of us than we were of him," Sam tried.
Dean looked as if he'd taken a bullet to the chest. "'Than we were of him'? Dude, I'm never afraid," he snorted. "And he should
be scared--we're badass Winchesters. We're the boogieman's boogieman. And, in case you didn't notice…" Dean pointed dramatically to the car, "…that's the freakin' boogieman, college boy."
Sam and Dean grew quiet, a stare-off ensuing. The mosquitoes began to take advantage of the unmoving targets. A semi drove past, the wind of its passing nearly pushing the two men against the Impala. Finally, Dean threw his head back and groaned.
"Fine," he snapped, " but if this guy eats me, I'm coming back and haunting your ass."
Dean opened the back door and leaned down, staring at the guy laying down in the backseat. He'd been hog-tied, wrists nearly touching his white-leather shoes, and his mouth gagged. With a little effort, he raising his head off the side of the opposite door and glanced back at the hunter with fearful anticipation. Dean reached in, pocket knife drawn, and cut the rope holding the creature in place. Still bound, but able to sit up, Dean jerked him closer, his hand hovering over the gag.
"If you go all demonic opera singer on me and crack my baby's windows, even a little, I'm going to eviscerate you," Dean warned. "Understood?"
Their passenger gave a dizzying nod.
At some point, Sam had bent down, elbowing his way into view, and pulled the gag out of the creature's mouth. He gave a slight smile. "Hi," he greeted, "I'm Sam, and this is Dean."
Sam was pretty sure the expression Dean sent him spoke for itself: "WTF?" He chose to ignore the glance. "Sorry about the gag."
A cough. "Understandable, sugar plum." Mr. Green-guy, as both brother's had been silently calling him, had a voice that was surprisingly smooth. He gave a nervous laugh. "I wouldn't trust me either--granted, I also wouldn't shove a dirty sock in someone's mouth, either, so maybe we don't have much in common after all. So, Sammy and Dino--where's Frank, Joey, and Peter?"
The two hunters only stared on in wonder.
The smile dropped a little. "No Rat Pack fans in the audience tonight? Lovely."
Dean's gaze narrowed. "What are
"I'm a Lorne." The green man shrugged, suddenly missing L.A. When his fairy friends said they could get him a quick ticket out of the city, he hadn't realized that meant trans-dimensional travel. He'd had enough of that to last a lifetime. "And I think I took a trip down the wrong yellow-bricked road."
Sam nodded. "Bad night, huh?"
"Gonna get a lot worse unless you start talking," Dean noted.
"Oh…" Lorne was close to giving the kids an ear-full about proper hostage-taking etiquette until he really got a look at them. Sure, they were a bit rough around the edges, but he could recognize them for what they were: Champions. Lorne sighed. Apparently, there was no escaping his fate. "Actually," he said, "I'm more of a singer…"