FIC (SPN): Kicking Ass and Taking Names (Part II)
Fic Title: Kicking Ass and Taking Names
Summary: In which Dean discovers a cure for nightmares, Castiel learns a method of human communication, Sam makes a new little friend and Team Free Will gets its groove back after the events of "My Bloody Valentine."
Continues from Part I here.
"I swear, these were the most boring humans ever," Dean grumbled. "Listen to this: OUT OF PAPER, LOL, followed by the riveting I NEED TO TIE MY SHOES and let's not forget I'M TIRED." Dean tossed Darren Montgomery's phone on the other bed and gave Cas an exasperated look. "Just because the texting is free, doesn't mean you should use it."
Cas glanced up from his inspection of Roy Young's most recent text messages. "I believe this one was writing in code. Perhaps you will find this more stimulating."
Dean crossed the room to the dinette set and peered over Cas's shoulder. "Veggie Roy, you hound dog! Dude was sexting." Cas raised an eyebrow and Dean jabbed at the little screen with a finger. "That means 'suck my cock' and that one's all about returning the favor and that one is just, no, Cas, you're too innocent."
"You took me to a house of ill repute but you will not translate sexting for me?"
"I have standards," Dean replied piously.
Cas rolled his eyes. Seriously, who's teaching Cas all these bad habits? It must be Sam.
"It's possible our succubus has not entirely changed its freckles, then, if Roy Young was engaging in a form of sexual activity over his phone," Cas said.
"'Changed its spots' is what you're aiming for, Cas." Dean plucked the phone from Cas's hands. "Huh. That's bizarre. Roy's sexts? He sent them to himself. See?" He held out the phone as proof. "You know what that means?"
"Perhaps he was truly communicating with the succubus and it blocked its number to avoid detection."
"Occam's razor, dude. Roy was a kinky bastard." Dean waggled his eyebrows. Cas sighed and reached for Millie's phone.
"There was a squirrel outside Millie's window a few hours before her death. It was joined by a bird. Then they both left." Cas looked up. "You are correct, Dean. These were three very boring humans."
"I'm going to send Sammy a message, see if everything's still normal."
Cas nodded mutely and continued scrolling through Millie's outgoing text messages. Dean kept one eye on him as he typed in a quick status report to Sam. There was no sign of the tiredness he had shown the night before. Which probably meant he'd be leaving the room for most of the night. Which is perfectly fine because I do not need an angel security blanket to get a decent night's sleep. His phone blipped in his hand.
GREAT!
BREAKFAST?
MARCIE'S DINER?
8:00?
BRING YOUR PARTNER.
:)
He shook his head. Sam was totally punishing him for mocking him earlier. "Asshole," he muttered, smiling, his spirits lifting just a bit. "Hey, Cas, I'm gonna hit the shower."
The water was cold at worst and lukewarm at best, and the water pressure sucked. Dean climbed out a scant five minutes after getting into the shower. His teeth shook as he quickly threw on some clothes and beat a hasty retreat from the bathroom.
Cas had all three phones lined up on the table in front of him, his hands hovering just above them as a frown darkened his face.
"Hey, ET." Dean waited, but Cas didn't look up. "Get the light when you leave, will you?"
He crawled into his bed, stashed a gun and Ruby's knife under his pillow, made sure both his phone and a bottle of holy water were in easy reach on the nightstand and tried to fall asleep.
The nightmares started immediately. He was in the Beauty Parlor, laid out on a worktable next to Veggie Roy, and the indistinct form of a succubus floated at his head. "Don't worry, Dean-o," she crooned. "You don't have a soul for me to suck."
Her arms floated forward, multiplying until they were all over him. He lay there, paralyzed, while his mind screamed at him to react, to fight back, to wipe the smug look off her nasty face, but he did nothing.
"That's right, Dean. You're a soul-sucker like me. How else will you get your hands on a soul?"
She was above him now, hovering so close; if he could just move, he could strangle the life out of her. She laughed in his face. "Fight back, Dean," she taunted him. "Try to fight me."
His vision began to black out. Her gauzy arms felt like steel bonds. He couldn't fight. He wouldn't.
Dean sat up with a gasp. Cas glanced over at him from the table, still standing over the phones.
"Dean?" he asked sharply. "You were only sleeping for ten minutes. What happened?"
"I just-" Just what? I just want to give up? That's not it. "I don't know, Cas. I want, I want to win something, you know? I want the fucking assholes in my head to shut up."
Cas was already by his side, frowning. He laid a hand on Dean's forehead. Dean shrugged it off.
"I'm so sick and tired of feeling sick and tired, Cas! I want to be out there, kicking ass and taking names!"
Cas regarded him thoughtfully for a moment, then reached out and shoved him gently to the other side of the bed.
"What the hell?" Dean protested. Cas just shrugged out of his trench coat and suit jacket, threw them on the other bed, toed off his shoes and slid under the covers. Dean swallowed hard. "Last night - that was just a one-time thing, Cas. This is too weird."
"You need to stop worrying about what other people think of you. They're not even here." Cas stretched out and opened his arms wide. "If you want enough energy to Kick Ass and Take Names, you need to sleep."
Dean laughed despite himself. "I can hear the air quotes when you say that. 'Kick Ass.'" Cas watched intently as he demonstrated. "You promise this is just between us?"
"It is 'Between Us,' Dean. It is 'Our Secret,'" Cas said, happily air quoting himself. Dean cracked a smile and gingerly moved closer to Cas.
"Go easy on the air quotes," he mumbled sleepily. Cas's chest made an awesome pillow. He didn't even have time to be embarrassed about the thought before sleep overtook him.
***
WHAT'S THAT TAPPING NOISE? Sam looked up from his phone to see if John Smiley got his message.
I DON'T KNOW.
COULD BE A BRANCH.
OR WOMEN'S UNDERPANTS.
LOL.
Sam smiled at his phone. It wasn't that funny, really, but John typed with such enthusiasm. Sam leaned back against the particle-board door of John's closet, adjusted the cushion supporting his butt (which was feeling decidedly sore - how long had they been sitting there, texting back and forth?) and started a new message, this one to some girl named Jodi. Sam had met lots of students at Boiling Springs State College by now, all through the wonders of text-messaging. He didn't even have to set up a fake Facebook or Twitter identity! That's weird, Sam, why would you use a fake identity? That's something a serial killer would do. Or someone investigating a serial killer.
WHAT'S YOUR FAVORITE SALAD? A part of him thought that was a bad pick-up line, but Sam ignored that part.
THE KIND W/ LETTUCE!
LOL! Jodi texted.
LETTUCE IS AWESOME! Sam texted back, and froze. 'LETTUCE IS AWESOME!'? Wake the fuck up, Sam! Wake up now!
"Oh my God," Sam said out loud. His mouth was dry. He hadn't spoken in a few hours. John blinked at him from his bed. Sam's phone blipped, and before he could stop himself, he glanced down at the message from John.
I'M TIRED.
Sam's fingers tingled again. Dear God, he wanted to type back 'LOL.' He sat on his hands. What was it Dean had said in the diner? A kind of succubus. But how is it feeding? On the bed, John closed his eyes.
"John!" Sam hissed. "John Smiley! Wake up!"
John sighed and stilled.
"Fuck!" Sam stumbled over to the bed on his hands and knees. His feet were asleep and his head felt full of sand and emoticons. His fingers searched for a pulse on John's neck. It fluttered weakly against him. Sam reached for his phone, he could text Dean and ask him to describe his favorite pie - wait. What?
John's phone blipped with an incoming message.
I LIKE THE COLOR GREEN.
LOL.
Sam seized the lamp from John's nightstand, grabbed John's phone, and smashed it with the lamp. A breath of cold air curled around him, and he hit the phone again and again. He thought he could hear a faint howl issue from it. John was gasping and spluttering on the bed, but Sam ignored him for a moment and grabbed his own phone.
SALAD DRESSING IS NEAT-O!
His fingers tingled painfully as he raised the lamp and brought it down on the phone. Bits of plastic went skittering all over the floor. Sam gasped as his head cleared. The howl was louder this time.
"What - what's going on?" John croaked, his eyes wide.
"We need to get to my brother," Sam said grimly. "This thing is on to us now."
"The phone? But, it's a phone. Right?" John asked. He looked utterly bewildered. Sam just raised his eyebrows. "Wait. I think - I think I was texting the captain of the lacrosse team about a recipe for homemade happiness." He nodded. "Okay, you're right, Sam, the phones are evil. You think your brother can fix this?"
"We can come up with a game plan when we get to the hotel. Can you walk?"
John stood up, wobbled, and sat down again. Sam used the bed to haul himself to his feet and shook feeling back into them.
"Take my arm," he told John, "and keep your eyes peeled for people texting. The succubus may try to attack us through them."
John squeaked.
"Don't worry," Sam assured him. "You're free of its influence now."
Sam opened the door and poked his head into the dorm's hallway. All up and down the hall, doors opened and students wandered into the hall, eyes glued to their phones. One girl looked up at him, frowned, looked down at her phone, and began to amble towards him. Sam hastily pulled his neck back into John's room and shut the door, locking it.
"Change of plans. We're climbing out the window."
"I've always wanted to do that!" John shuffled over to the window. "I thought it'd be good practice for having an illicit love affair." He shoved futilely at the window until Sam unlocked it and pushed it up. "Guess I have a bit to learn about illicit love affairs, huh?"
Sam stuck his head out the window. A door opened across the quad and a couple people wandered out, looking down at their hands.
"We have to hustle."
Sam crawled out onto the ledge and reached for the tree branch that'd been tapping against the window earlier. He swung out into empty air and climbed hand-over-hand to the tree.
"Wow!" John whistled. "That's so cool." He half-fell out the window and made a wild grab for the branch, miraculously catching hold of it. "Um, Sam? I don't think I can move."
"That's okay, John," Sam said. "I'll catch you when I get down on the ground." He hurriedly climbed and swung from branch to branch, jumping with a few feet to go. More people were coming out of buildings now, though they all seemed a bit confused over what they were supposed to do, and several were yawning and walking into each other.
"Okay, let go!" Sam called up, positioning himself under the branch and John's swinging feet. "Oof!"
"Sorry!" John kneed him in the chin on the way down and accidentally tickled his ribs with his feet.
"It's okay! Come on, let's make a run for my car!" Sam had seen a lot of creepy things over the years, but being chased by a mob who were mainly concerned with texting each other about chasing him was-
"This is weird," John huffed, running along beside him. "And kind of demoralizing. It's like we're not even important enough to really go after."
"Let's hope it stays that way," Sam muttered back. He drew out his keys as they approached the parking lot. "Get in!"
Bobby's old clunker started up on the second try, and Sam threw it into reverse.
"Look out!" John yelled.
A car had stopped right behind them, its driver texting at the wheel. Sam swerved, narrowly avoided hitting it, and peeled out of the parking lot.
"Holy crap," John breathed. The street was packed with people on their phones. A couple looked up at Sam and John and began to shuffle forward. Sam glanced at the rearview mirror. No escape there.
"Hang on to something," Sam whispered, and hit the gas. John let out a startled gasp and clutched his armrests as Sam drove up onto the sidewalk. "Two blocks to the motel!"
"Sam, Sam, do you see-!" John let go of one armrest to point with a shaky finger.
Sam gripped the steering wheel hard, took a breath, and turned sharply down a narrow alley. They hit several trash cans and clipped a dumpster before bursting out of the alley.
"More people!" John screamed.
"I see them!" Sam gritted out, teeth grinding. He looped back up to the sidewalk. "One more block!"
Boiling Rock Motor Lodge blinked its merry lights at them and Sam's heart beat faster. Almost there, almost there, almost there!
"Aaaaaiiiiiieeeee!" John shrieked. Sam had less than a second to get out of the way of a large dump truck, its driver asleep at the wheel. It smashed solidly into the back of the car, demolishing the rear bumper and most of the backseat.
At least it wasn't the Impala! Sam began to laugh hysterically. John shrieked louder, which just caused Sam to laugh harder. Get a grip, Sam!
He stumbled out of the car, hysterics fading as he pulled John out after him. People had noticed the crash and were starting to amble towards the motel.
"Come on!" He dragged John with him to the motel parking lot, and didn't even bother with knocking on the door, just kicked it in with one smooth motion. And stopped abruptly. "Holy fucking shit!"
Dean and Cas were sleeping in the same bed. Together. As in, arms around each other, Dean's head on Cas's chest, Cas's hand in Dean's hair - TOGETHER. Well, until they jumped apart at the crash of the door slamming into the wall. And Sam's profanity.
"Jesus, Sammy!" Dean started angrily. He had pulled Ruby's knife from beneath his pillow. He looked like a madman, John was going to wet his pants. But still… He's dressed, oh thank God, thank God, THANK GOD. "What the hell? And who the fuck are you?" He had spotted John cowering behind Sam.
"This is John Smiley, and we're about to be under attack," Sam retorted. "And what the fuck were you doing?" Holy shit, Dean's leg was between Cas's legs. Oh, my eyes. MY EYES!
"That is 'Between Us,' Sam." Cas already had his jacket and trench coat back on. Did he just air quote at me? "Who is attacking us?"
"Everyone," John squeaked. "Everyone's being controlled by text messages!"
Dean and Cas both stared at him, and John quailed at their combined gazes. Sam laid a protective hand on his shoulder. "It's the truth. The succubus has been feeding on people by luring them in through inane text messages."
Dean frowned. "Is that why you LOL-ed? How come I wasn't affected?"
"You have not been in Sam's physical presence since he was infected," Cas pointed out. "Here they come," he added, nodding towards the window.
"We're all gonna die," John whimpered. Dozens of people were converging on the motel. They were walking with a bit more purpose now.
"I broke the hold by breaking the phones earlier," Sam informed the others as Dean tugged the duffle with weapons out from underneath the bed. The bed where he'd been - stop, Sam. Concentrate.
"There are way too many of them to take out one-by-one," Dean grunted, loading one of the air guns. "You - Smiley. Close the door and shove that chair under the doorknob." John scrambled to do his bidding. "Any brilliant ideas, Sam?" Dean continued.
"If we had any idea who Patient Zero was, I'd say we should take them out, but Dean, I think this succubus has been working through these people since last fall. I have no idea who the first victim would be. There were a couple of deaths in the winter - kids in car accidents while texting."
"We may not need a 'Patient Zero,'" Cas said, looking down at three phones on the table. "The remains of the souls at the funeral parlor, Dean - the succubus must have a reason for this, and for such an unusual mode of attack."
"What are you thinking, Cas?" Dean asked, tossing Sam the loaded air gun and starting in on one for himself.
"I am thinking that our succubus could not contain the souls it feasted on, and thus, did not finish them."
"An incorporeal succubus?" Sam asked, frowning.
"Oh my God, they're here!" John called from the window.
"Keep them distracted," Cas commanded, scooping up the phones and retreating further into the room. Sam glanced at Dean, then both brothers moved to the window.
"Get back, John." Sam slid the window open slightly on the left as Dean did the same on the right. John stood in the middle of the room, hopping from foot to foot.
"What can I do?" he asked breathlessly.
"Get more ammo ready," Dean told him, aimed, and took out a phone in the hands of a burly teenager. The boy stopped, blinking, and abruptly sat down on the ground.
"Nice one," Sam murmured. His first shot destroyed a soccer mom's phone; his second, a phone belonging to a Richard Simmons-wannabe.
"Sweating to the oldies, Sam?" Dean called over to him. He got two phones with one shot and crowed with glee.
They got into a rhythm, aim, fire, destroy technology. I am living a Luddite's wet dream. Sam looked over at his brother. Dean's eyes were gleaming and his lips were pulled back into a warrior's grimace. Sam hadn't seen him this engaged in months. It felt good, aiming at little plastic squares of wire and chips and freeing people's souls.
The flow of infected people ceased suddenly, everyone in the parking lot still standing and holding a phone going stock still at once.
"Dean," Cas groaned from by the beds. Dean thrust his air gun into John's hands.
"Keep an eye on them," he said hurriedly, running the three paces from the window to Cas. Sam took a step closer to the beds.
"I have the succubus on this phone," Cas mumbled, indicating the sparkly pink phone that once belonged to Millie Jeffries. Sweat beaded his forehead. On the nightstand, Dean's phone blipped with an incoming text message. Dean glanced up at Cas. Sam held his breath as Cas slowly nodded. He raised Millie's phone, and text scrawled across its screen
"Be careful, Dean," Sam whispered.
BREAK THIS PHONE, AND I'LL JUST GO INTO ANOTHER. The voice was cold and mechanical. Dean didn't bother to use his phone to text back.
"It's awesome to finally meet you, Suc," he said out loud. Sam winced. "Really wish I could see you, though."
I PREFER THIS FORM. IT IS PERFECT FOR THIS DAY AND AGE, IS IT NOT?
"Yeah, you're real clever. I was wondering, though, aren't you a little hungry?"
Sam spared a glance out the window. Status quo. What is Dean planning?
I HAVE BEEN FEASTING ON THESE HUMANS FOR MONTHS, FOOL.
"Snacks. It's like ordering a Big Mac, and getting one chicken finger instead. Then Sam and I show up, and he sees through you the first day. That must make you pretty mad."
The ever popular Taunt Method. I think Dean forgets that this seldom actually works for us.
YOU THINK SO? YOU THINK THE WINCHESTERS ARE THE CENTER OF THE UNIVERSE?
"Maybe not the center. Maybe more like Uranus."
Sam snorted and caught Cas's eye. The angel was staring at him with an intensity he usually reserved for counting Dean's freckles. He slowly nodded his head at the other two phones on the bed.
YOU WILL NOT FIND IT SO FUNNY WHEN I POSSESS YOU.
"You don't have a body, do you, Sucky? I was wondering why a sex demon would resort to getting its kicks off dumbass text messages. Not much of a life, but if you misplaced your meatsuit, that's one way to go about surviving. Well, you can't have my body, though I don't blame you for wanting mine; it's very popular at the moment…"
Sam crept slowly and quietly towards the other two phones.
"…but I'm gonna have to pass. I'm just not that into you."
YOU DON'T HAVE A CHOICE. I AM ALREADY TASTING YOUR SOUL. IT'S DELICIOUS.
Sam saw Dean's eyes widen, and to his surprise, his brother smiled.
"That's not yours, either. Now, Sam!"
Sam brought the butt of the air gun down hard on first one phone, then the other. Cas threw the pink phone as hard as he could at the far wall, and it smashed into hundreds of tiny pieces. A white mist rose from it, but Dean was ready. He slashed at it with Ruby's knife, three quick cuts, and the mist dissipated, a disembodied howl floating over the room, before it too faded.
"You guys! Everyone fell down!" John called excitedly from the window.
Sam looked at his brother and Cas. Both were breathing hard. Dean barked a laugh.
"Now, Cas, that is what is meant by 'Kicking Ass' and 'Taking Names.'"
***
Cleaning up after a night of ass-kicking and name-taking was not even one-tenth as fun as doing the kicking and taking. Sam's probably got some correlation between the amount of fun and the amount of work needed to clean it up. All Dean wanted was his bed at Bobby's house. He had a sneaky suspicion that he wouldn't even need a certain angel next to him to help him sleep any more.
The thought didn't make him as happy as it should have.
"Sammy!" he called over to his brother. "What's the verdict?"
Sam straightened from the temporary triage desk John Smiley had set up in the motel parking lot and held up his finger for one more minute. John sat in a folding chair behind the card table, a large pile of smashed phones overflowing three trash cans next to him. Taped to the table was the following sign:
HAVE YOU BEEN ACTING WEIRD LATELY? FEELING LETHARGIC AND/OR EXPERIENCING MASSIVE ENNUI?
DID YOU WAKE UP IN THE MIDDLE OF THE STREET WITH NO IDEA HOW YOU GOT THERE?
ARE YOUR TEXT MESSAGES REALLY STUPID?
YOUR PHONE IS POSSESSING YOU DEFECTIVE AND POISONING YOU.
TURN IT IN HERE AND SIGN UP TO GET A GROUP DEAL WITH ME, JOHN SMILEY.
I PROMISE IT WILL BE AWESOME.
"Are you certain that sign is a good idea?" Cas asked, coming up to stand beside him. Dean shook his head.
"It's a dumbass idea. But at least Sam changed it to 'poison.'" He turned to face Cas. "You ready to get the hell out of Dodge?"
"We're in Boiling Springs."
"That we are, Cas." He threw his arm around Cas's shoulders and began to steer him towards the Impala. "You know," he said, breathing in deeply, "it's a beautiful morning."
"You are pleased that the succubus found your soul delicious," Cas remarked, without inflection. "Yet when I told you your soul was intact, it did not have the same effect."
"Are you mad at me?"
"Yes."
Dean stopped and gripped Cas's shoulders in both of his hands. "You have to know I trust you."
Cas frowned. "If you trust me, then why don't you trust me?"
Dean shrugged. "I don't know. It's hard to explain. It's like… if your wife asks, 'do I look fat in this dress?' you always say 'no' even if she looks like a cow. You know?"
"You are the wife in this scenario?"
"Yes. I mean, no! I mean." Dean dropped his hands, flustered. "I just mean, I guess I was scared, too scared to believe you, even though I knew you wouldn't lie to me. Can we not talk about this anymore?"
"Alright, Dean," Cas agreed, his frown clearing.
Sam came running up to them. "Okay, all set. Let's get the hell out of Dodge."
"Think ol' Smiley Face will be okay?" Dean asked, nodding towards the table.
"John's in his element. This is a much better story than the one about the ghostly women's underpants." Sam opened the door and slid into the passenger side of the Impala.
"Huh. Yeah, I don't want to know," Dean decided. He and Cas got into the car and Dean started the engine. "You want to borrow Cas's phone so you can tell Bobby about his junker?" Dean asked as they passed the wreck.
"Kind of hoping he'll forget he loaned me one," Sam mumbled. "Hey," he said, sitting up, "you guys want to go to that diner again and get some pie? Cas can sit on the same side of the booth as you, Dean."
"Oh, hardy har har. You can order a salad, Sam. I hear the lettuce there is awesome."
Sam winced. "I can't believe I told you that."
"Actually," Cas interrupted, and Sam craned his neck to look at him, "I would prefer to leave 'Dodge' and consume a meal elsewhere."
"Seriously, what is it with you and the air quotes all of a sudden?" Sam asked.
"Dean taught them to me."
Dean cut his eyes to the rear view mirror. Cas met his gaze and gave his slight smile.
"Oh, so, when you were playing the role of security blanket, Dean decided to throw in a little 'Understanding Humans 101,' then?"
"Fuck you, asshole," Dean said cheerfully. Sam grinned back at him.
"'Bitsy Pookums,' said Dean. Yes, 'Snoogly Woogly'? answered Cas," Sam continued in a sing-song voice.
"You know, I think I recall Bobby telling me that junker had a lot of sentimental value to him," Dean mused. "In fact, he called it Bobby Singer's Lucky-Mobile. But I'm sure he won't miss it, Sam."
Sam was silent for a moment. "Truce?" he asked finally.
"Truce," Dean agreed. They rode in silence for the next five minutes until there was an exclamation from the backseat.
"I have one! 'Smiley Face' enjoys watching 'women's underpants' on nights he is not 'kicking ass' and 'taking names' and eating 'lettuce' with Sam."
Dean burst out laughing at the expression on Sam's face.
"Dude! Dude, you look like a constipated lady bug!" he crowed.
"No more air quotes, I mean it," Sam said firmly.
"Anybody want a peanut?" Dean chortled.
"I would like your peanuts, Dean," Cas answered.
Sam began to laugh, too.
God, we're cheesy freaks. Dean caught Cas's eye again in the rearview mirror, and grinned across at Sam. But we're back. We're BACK.
Summary: In which Dean discovers a cure for nightmares, Castiel learns a method of human communication, Sam makes a new little friend and Team Free Will gets its groove back after the events of "My Bloody Valentine."
Continues from Part I here.
"I swear, these were the most boring humans ever," Dean grumbled. "Listen to this: OUT OF PAPER, LOL, followed by the riveting I NEED TO TIE MY SHOES and let's not forget I'M TIRED." Dean tossed Darren Montgomery's phone on the other bed and gave Cas an exasperated look. "Just because the texting is free, doesn't mean you should use it."
Cas glanced up from his inspection of Roy Young's most recent text messages. "I believe this one was writing in code. Perhaps you will find this more stimulating."
Dean crossed the room to the dinette set and peered over Cas's shoulder. "Veggie Roy, you hound dog! Dude was sexting." Cas raised an eyebrow and Dean jabbed at the little screen with a finger. "That means 'suck my cock' and that one's all about returning the favor and that one is just, no, Cas, you're too innocent."
"You took me to a house of ill repute but you will not translate sexting for me?"
"I have standards," Dean replied piously.
Cas rolled his eyes. Seriously, who's teaching Cas all these bad habits? It must be Sam.
"It's possible our succubus has not entirely changed its freckles, then, if Roy Young was engaging in a form of sexual activity over his phone," Cas said.
"'Changed its spots' is what you're aiming for, Cas." Dean plucked the phone from Cas's hands. "Huh. That's bizarre. Roy's sexts? He sent them to himself. See?" He held out the phone as proof. "You know what that means?"
"Perhaps he was truly communicating with the succubus and it blocked its number to avoid detection."
"Occam's razor, dude. Roy was a kinky bastard." Dean waggled his eyebrows. Cas sighed and reached for Millie's phone.
"There was a squirrel outside Millie's window a few hours before her death. It was joined by a bird. Then they both left." Cas looked up. "You are correct, Dean. These were three very boring humans."
"I'm going to send Sammy a message, see if everything's still normal."
Cas nodded mutely and continued scrolling through Millie's outgoing text messages. Dean kept one eye on him as he typed in a quick status report to Sam. There was no sign of the tiredness he had shown the night before. Which probably meant he'd be leaving the room for most of the night. Which is perfectly fine because I do not need an angel security blanket to get a decent night's sleep. His phone blipped in his hand.
GREAT!
BREAKFAST?
MARCIE'S DINER?
8:00?
BRING YOUR PARTNER.
:)
He shook his head. Sam was totally punishing him for mocking him earlier. "Asshole," he muttered, smiling, his spirits lifting just a bit. "Hey, Cas, I'm gonna hit the shower."
The water was cold at worst and lukewarm at best, and the water pressure sucked. Dean climbed out a scant five minutes after getting into the shower. His teeth shook as he quickly threw on some clothes and beat a hasty retreat from the bathroom.
Cas had all three phones lined up on the table in front of him, his hands hovering just above them as a frown darkened his face.
"Hey, ET." Dean waited, but Cas didn't look up. "Get the light when you leave, will you?"
He crawled into his bed, stashed a gun and Ruby's knife under his pillow, made sure both his phone and a bottle of holy water were in easy reach on the nightstand and tried to fall asleep.
The nightmares started immediately. He was in the Beauty Parlor, laid out on a worktable next to Veggie Roy, and the indistinct form of a succubus floated at his head. "Don't worry, Dean-o," she crooned. "You don't have a soul for me to suck."
Her arms floated forward, multiplying until they were all over him. He lay there, paralyzed, while his mind screamed at him to react, to fight back, to wipe the smug look off her nasty face, but he did nothing.
"That's right, Dean. You're a soul-sucker like me. How else will you get your hands on a soul?"
She was above him now, hovering so close; if he could just move, he could strangle the life out of her. She laughed in his face. "Fight back, Dean," she taunted him. "Try to fight me."
His vision began to black out. Her gauzy arms felt like steel bonds. He couldn't fight. He wouldn't.
Dean sat up with a gasp. Cas glanced over at him from the table, still standing over the phones.
"Dean?" he asked sharply. "You were only sleeping for ten minutes. What happened?"
"I just-" Just what? I just want to give up? That's not it. "I don't know, Cas. I want, I want to win something, you know? I want the fucking assholes in my head to shut up."
Cas was already by his side, frowning. He laid a hand on Dean's forehead. Dean shrugged it off.
"I'm so sick and tired of feeling sick and tired, Cas! I want to be out there, kicking ass and taking names!"
Cas regarded him thoughtfully for a moment, then reached out and shoved him gently to the other side of the bed.
"What the hell?" Dean protested. Cas just shrugged out of his trench coat and suit jacket, threw them on the other bed, toed off his shoes and slid under the covers. Dean swallowed hard. "Last night - that was just a one-time thing, Cas. This is too weird."
"You need to stop worrying about what other people think of you. They're not even here." Cas stretched out and opened his arms wide. "If you want enough energy to Kick Ass and Take Names, you need to sleep."
Dean laughed despite himself. "I can hear the air quotes when you say that. 'Kick Ass.'" Cas watched intently as he demonstrated. "You promise this is just between us?"
"It is 'Between Us,' Dean. It is 'Our Secret,'" Cas said, happily air quoting himself. Dean cracked a smile and gingerly moved closer to Cas.
"Go easy on the air quotes," he mumbled sleepily. Cas's chest made an awesome pillow. He didn't even have time to be embarrassed about the thought before sleep overtook him.
***
WHAT'S THAT TAPPING NOISE? Sam looked up from his phone to see if John Smiley got his message.
I DON'T KNOW.
COULD BE A BRANCH.
OR WOMEN'S UNDERPANTS.
LOL.
Sam smiled at his phone. It wasn't that funny, really, but John typed with such enthusiasm. Sam leaned back against the particle-board door of John's closet, adjusted the cushion supporting his butt (which was feeling decidedly sore - how long had they been sitting there, texting back and forth?) and started a new message, this one to some girl named Jodi. Sam had met lots of students at Boiling Springs State College by now, all through the wonders of text-messaging. He didn't even have to set up a fake Facebook or Twitter identity! That's weird, Sam, why would you use a fake identity? That's something a serial killer would do. Or someone investigating a serial killer.
WHAT'S YOUR FAVORITE SALAD? A part of him thought that was a bad pick-up line, but Sam ignored that part.
THE KIND W/ LETTUCE!
LOL! Jodi texted.
LETTUCE IS AWESOME! Sam texted back, and froze. 'LETTUCE IS AWESOME!'? Wake the fuck up, Sam! Wake up now!
"Oh my God," Sam said out loud. His mouth was dry. He hadn't spoken in a few hours. John blinked at him from his bed. Sam's phone blipped, and before he could stop himself, he glanced down at the message from John.
I'M TIRED.
Sam's fingers tingled again. Dear God, he wanted to type back 'LOL.' He sat on his hands. What was it Dean had said in the diner? A kind of succubus. But how is it feeding? On the bed, John closed his eyes.
"John!" Sam hissed. "John Smiley! Wake up!"
John sighed and stilled.
"Fuck!" Sam stumbled over to the bed on his hands and knees. His feet were asleep and his head felt full of sand and emoticons. His fingers searched for a pulse on John's neck. It fluttered weakly against him. Sam reached for his phone, he could text Dean and ask him to describe his favorite pie - wait. What?
John's phone blipped with an incoming message.
I LIKE THE COLOR GREEN.
LOL.
Sam seized the lamp from John's nightstand, grabbed John's phone, and smashed it with the lamp. A breath of cold air curled around him, and he hit the phone again and again. He thought he could hear a faint howl issue from it. John was gasping and spluttering on the bed, but Sam ignored him for a moment and grabbed his own phone.
SALAD DRESSING IS NEAT-O!
His fingers tingled painfully as he raised the lamp and brought it down on the phone. Bits of plastic went skittering all over the floor. Sam gasped as his head cleared. The howl was louder this time.
"What - what's going on?" John croaked, his eyes wide.
"We need to get to my brother," Sam said grimly. "This thing is on to us now."
"The phone? But, it's a phone. Right?" John asked. He looked utterly bewildered. Sam just raised his eyebrows. "Wait. I think - I think I was texting the captain of the lacrosse team about a recipe for homemade happiness." He nodded. "Okay, you're right, Sam, the phones are evil. You think your brother can fix this?"
"We can come up with a game plan when we get to the hotel. Can you walk?"
John stood up, wobbled, and sat down again. Sam used the bed to haul himself to his feet and shook feeling back into them.
"Take my arm," he told John, "and keep your eyes peeled for people texting. The succubus may try to attack us through them."
John squeaked.
"Don't worry," Sam assured him. "You're free of its influence now."
Sam opened the door and poked his head into the dorm's hallway. All up and down the hall, doors opened and students wandered into the hall, eyes glued to their phones. One girl looked up at him, frowned, looked down at her phone, and began to amble towards him. Sam hastily pulled his neck back into John's room and shut the door, locking it.
"Change of plans. We're climbing out the window."
"I've always wanted to do that!" John shuffled over to the window. "I thought it'd be good practice for having an illicit love affair." He shoved futilely at the window until Sam unlocked it and pushed it up. "Guess I have a bit to learn about illicit love affairs, huh?"
Sam stuck his head out the window. A door opened across the quad and a couple people wandered out, looking down at their hands.
"We have to hustle."
Sam crawled out onto the ledge and reached for the tree branch that'd been tapping against the window earlier. He swung out into empty air and climbed hand-over-hand to the tree.
"Wow!" John whistled. "That's so cool." He half-fell out the window and made a wild grab for the branch, miraculously catching hold of it. "Um, Sam? I don't think I can move."
"That's okay, John," Sam said. "I'll catch you when I get down on the ground." He hurriedly climbed and swung from branch to branch, jumping with a few feet to go. More people were coming out of buildings now, though they all seemed a bit confused over what they were supposed to do, and several were yawning and walking into each other.
"Okay, let go!" Sam called up, positioning himself under the branch and John's swinging feet. "Oof!"
"Sorry!" John kneed him in the chin on the way down and accidentally tickled his ribs with his feet.
"It's okay! Come on, let's make a run for my car!" Sam had seen a lot of creepy things over the years, but being chased by a mob who were mainly concerned with texting each other about chasing him was-
"This is weird," John huffed, running along beside him. "And kind of demoralizing. It's like we're not even important enough to really go after."
"Let's hope it stays that way," Sam muttered back. He drew out his keys as they approached the parking lot. "Get in!"
Bobby's old clunker started up on the second try, and Sam threw it into reverse.
"Look out!" John yelled.
A car had stopped right behind them, its driver texting at the wheel. Sam swerved, narrowly avoided hitting it, and peeled out of the parking lot.
"Holy crap," John breathed. The street was packed with people on their phones. A couple looked up at Sam and John and began to shuffle forward. Sam glanced at the rearview mirror. No escape there.
"Hang on to something," Sam whispered, and hit the gas. John let out a startled gasp and clutched his armrests as Sam drove up onto the sidewalk. "Two blocks to the motel!"
"Sam, Sam, do you see-!" John let go of one armrest to point with a shaky finger.
Sam gripped the steering wheel hard, took a breath, and turned sharply down a narrow alley. They hit several trash cans and clipped a dumpster before bursting out of the alley.
"More people!" John screamed.
"I see them!" Sam gritted out, teeth grinding. He looped back up to the sidewalk. "One more block!"
Boiling Rock Motor Lodge blinked its merry lights at them and Sam's heart beat faster. Almost there, almost there, almost there!
"Aaaaaiiiiiieeeee!" John shrieked. Sam had less than a second to get out of the way of a large dump truck, its driver asleep at the wheel. It smashed solidly into the back of the car, demolishing the rear bumper and most of the backseat.
At least it wasn't the Impala! Sam began to laugh hysterically. John shrieked louder, which just caused Sam to laugh harder. Get a grip, Sam!
He stumbled out of the car, hysterics fading as he pulled John out after him. People had noticed the crash and were starting to amble towards the motel.
"Come on!" He dragged John with him to the motel parking lot, and didn't even bother with knocking on the door, just kicked it in with one smooth motion. And stopped abruptly. "Holy fucking shit!"
Dean and Cas were sleeping in the same bed. Together. As in, arms around each other, Dean's head on Cas's chest, Cas's hand in Dean's hair - TOGETHER. Well, until they jumped apart at the crash of the door slamming into the wall. And Sam's profanity.
"Jesus, Sammy!" Dean started angrily. He had pulled Ruby's knife from beneath his pillow. He looked like a madman, John was going to wet his pants. But still… He's dressed, oh thank God, thank God, THANK GOD. "What the hell? And who the fuck are you?" He had spotted John cowering behind Sam.
"This is John Smiley, and we're about to be under attack," Sam retorted. "And what the fuck were you doing?" Holy shit, Dean's leg was between Cas's legs. Oh, my eyes. MY EYES!
"That is 'Between Us,' Sam." Cas already had his jacket and trench coat back on. Did he just air quote at me? "Who is attacking us?"
"Everyone," John squeaked. "Everyone's being controlled by text messages!"
Dean and Cas both stared at him, and John quailed at their combined gazes. Sam laid a protective hand on his shoulder. "It's the truth. The succubus has been feeding on people by luring them in through inane text messages."
Dean frowned. "Is that why you LOL-ed? How come I wasn't affected?"
"You have not been in Sam's physical presence since he was infected," Cas pointed out. "Here they come," he added, nodding towards the window.
"We're all gonna die," John whimpered. Dozens of people were converging on the motel. They were walking with a bit more purpose now.
"I broke the hold by breaking the phones earlier," Sam informed the others as Dean tugged the duffle with weapons out from underneath the bed. The bed where he'd been - stop, Sam. Concentrate.
"There are way too many of them to take out one-by-one," Dean grunted, loading one of the air guns. "You - Smiley. Close the door and shove that chair under the doorknob." John scrambled to do his bidding. "Any brilliant ideas, Sam?" Dean continued.
"If we had any idea who Patient Zero was, I'd say we should take them out, but Dean, I think this succubus has been working through these people since last fall. I have no idea who the first victim would be. There were a couple of deaths in the winter - kids in car accidents while texting."
"We may not need a 'Patient Zero,'" Cas said, looking down at three phones on the table. "The remains of the souls at the funeral parlor, Dean - the succubus must have a reason for this, and for such an unusual mode of attack."
"What are you thinking, Cas?" Dean asked, tossing Sam the loaded air gun and starting in on one for himself.
"I am thinking that our succubus could not contain the souls it feasted on, and thus, did not finish them."
"An incorporeal succubus?" Sam asked, frowning.
"Oh my God, they're here!" John called from the window.
"Keep them distracted," Cas commanded, scooping up the phones and retreating further into the room. Sam glanced at Dean, then both brothers moved to the window.
"Get back, John." Sam slid the window open slightly on the left as Dean did the same on the right. John stood in the middle of the room, hopping from foot to foot.
"What can I do?" he asked breathlessly.
"Get more ammo ready," Dean told him, aimed, and took out a phone in the hands of a burly teenager. The boy stopped, blinking, and abruptly sat down on the ground.
"Nice one," Sam murmured. His first shot destroyed a soccer mom's phone; his second, a phone belonging to a Richard Simmons-wannabe.
"Sweating to the oldies, Sam?" Dean called over to him. He got two phones with one shot and crowed with glee.
They got into a rhythm, aim, fire, destroy technology. I am living a Luddite's wet dream. Sam looked over at his brother. Dean's eyes were gleaming and his lips were pulled back into a warrior's grimace. Sam hadn't seen him this engaged in months. It felt good, aiming at little plastic squares of wire and chips and freeing people's souls.
The flow of infected people ceased suddenly, everyone in the parking lot still standing and holding a phone going stock still at once.
"Dean," Cas groaned from by the beds. Dean thrust his air gun into John's hands.
"Keep an eye on them," he said hurriedly, running the three paces from the window to Cas. Sam took a step closer to the beds.
"I have the succubus on this phone," Cas mumbled, indicating the sparkly pink phone that once belonged to Millie Jeffries. Sweat beaded his forehead. On the nightstand, Dean's phone blipped with an incoming text message. Dean glanced up at Cas. Sam held his breath as Cas slowly nodded. He raised Millie's phone, and text scrawled across its screen
"Be careful, Dean," Sam whispered.
BREAK THIS PHONE, AND I'LL JUST GO INTO ANOTHER. The voice was cold and mechanical. Dean didn't bother to use his phone to text back.
"It's awesome to finally meet you, Suc," he said out loud. Sam winced. "Really wish I could see you, though."
I PREFER THIS FORM. IT IS PERFECT FOR THIS DAY AND AGE, IS IT NOT?
"Yeah, you're real clever. I was wondering, though, aren't you a little hungry?"
Sam spared a glance out the window. Status quo. What is Dean planning?
I HAVE BEEN FEASTING ON THESE HUMANS FOR MONTHS, FOOL.
"Snacks. It's like ordering a Big Mac, and getting one chicken finger instead. Then Sam and I show up, and he sees through you the first day. That must make you pretty mad."
The ever popular Taunt Method. I think Dean forgets that this seldom actually works for us.
YOU THINK SO? YOU THINK THE WINCHESTERS ARE THE CENTER OF THE UNIVERSE?
"Maybe not the center. Maybe more like Uranus."
Sam snorted and caught Cas's eye. The angel was staring at him with an intensity he usually reserved for counting Dean's freckles. He slowly nodded his head at the other two phones on the bed.
YOU WILL NOT FIND IT SO FUNNY WHEN I POSSESS YOU.
"You don't have a body, do you, Sucky? I was wondering why a sex demon would resort to getting its kicks off dumbass text messages. Not much of a life, but if you misplaced your meatsuit, that's one way to go about surviving. Well, you can't have my body, though I don't blame you for wanting mine; it's very popular at the moment…"
Sam crept slowly and quietly towards the other two phones.
"…but I'm gonna have to pass. I'm just not that into you."
YOU DON'T HAVE A CHOICE. I AM ALREADY TASTING YOUR SOUL. IT'S DELICIOUS.
Sam saw Dean's eyes widen, and to his surprise, his brother smiled.
"That's not yours, either. Now, Sam!"
Sam brought the butt of the air gun down hard on first one phone, then the other. Cas threw the pink phone as hard as he could at the far wall, and it smashed into hundreds of tiny pieces. A white mist rose from it, but Dean was ready. He slashed at it with Ruby's knife, three quick cuts, and the mist dissipated, a disembodied howl floating over the room, before it too faded.
"You guys! Everyone fell down!" John called excitedly from the window.
Sam looked at his brother and Cas. Both were breathing hard. Dean barked a laugh.
"Now, Cas, that is what is meant by 'Kicking Ass' and 'Taking Names.'"
***
Cleaning up after a night of ass-kicking and name-taking was not even one-tenth as fun as doing the kicking and taking. Sam's probably got some correlation between the amount of fun and the amount of work needed to clean it up. All Dean wanted was his bed at Bobby's house. He had a sneaky suspicion that he wouldn't even need a certain angel next to him to help him sleep any more.
The thought didn't make him as happy as it should have.
"Sammy!" he called over to his brother. "What's the verdict?"
Sam straightened from the temporary triage desk John Smiley had set up in the motel parking lot and held up his finger for one more minute. John sat in a folding chair behind the card table, a large pile of smashed phones overflowing three trash cans next to him. Taped to the table was the following sign:
HAVE YOU BEEN ACTING WEIRD LATELY? FEELING LETHARGIC AND/OR EXPERIENCING MASSIVE ENNUI?
DID YOU WAKE UP IN THE MIDDLE OF THE STREET WITH NO IDEA HOW YOU GOT THERE?
ARE YOUR TEXT MESSAGES REALLY STUPID?
YOUR PHONE IS POSSESSING YOU DEFECTIVE AND POISONING YOU.
TURN IT IN HERE AND SIGN UP TO GET A GROUP DEAL WITH ME, JOHN SMILEY.
I PROMISE IT WILL BE AWESOME.
"Are you certain that sign is a good idea?" Cas asked, coming up to stand beside him. Dean shook his head.
"It's a dumbass idea. But at least Sam changed it to 'poison.'" He turned to face Cas. "You ready to get the hell out of Dodge?"
"We're in Boiling Springs."
"That we are, Cas." He threw his arm around Cas's shoulders and began to steer him towards the Impala. "You know," he said, breathing in deeply, "it's a beautiful morning."
"You are pleased that the succubus found your soul delicious," Cas remarked, without inflection. "Yet when I told you your soul was intact, it did not have the same effect."
"Are you mad at me?"
"Yes."
Dean stopped and gripped Cas's shoulders in both of his hands. "You have to know I trust you."
Cas frowned. "If you trust me, then why don't you trust me?"
Dean shrugged. "I don't know. It's hard to explain. It's like… if your wife asks, 'do I look fat in this dress?' you always say 'no' even if she looks like a cow. You know?"
"You are the wife in this scenario?"
"Yes. I mean, no! I mean." Dean dropped his hands, flustered. "I just mean, I guess I was scared, too scared to believe you, even though I knew you wouldn't lie to me. Can we not talk about this anymore?"
"Alright, Dean," Cas agreed, his frown clearing.
Sam came running up to them. "Okay, all set. Let's get the hell out of Dodge."
"Think ol' Smiley Face will be okay?" Dean asked, nodding towards the table.
"John's in his element. This is a much better story than the one about the ghostly women's underpants." Sam opened the door and slid into the passenger side of the Impala.
"Huh. Yeah, I don't want to know," Dean decided. He and Cas got into the car and Dean started the engine. "You want to borrow Cas's phone so you can tell Bobby about his junker?" Dean asked as they passed the wreck.
"Kind of hoping he'll forget he loaned me one," Sam mumbled. "Hey," he said, sitting up, "you guys want to go to that diner again and get some pie? Cas can sit on the same side of the booth as you, Dean."
"Oh, hardy har har. You can order a salad, Sam. I hear the lettuce there is awesome."
Sam winced. "I can't believe I told you that."
"Actually," Cas interrupted, and Sam craned his neck to look at him, "I would prefer to leave 'Dodge' and consume a meal elsewhere."
"Seriously, what is it with you and the air quotes all of a sudden?" Sam asked.
"Dean taught them to me."
Dean cut his eyes to the rear view mirror. Cas met his gaze and gave his slight smile.
"Oh, so, when you were playing the role of security blanket, Dean decided to throw in a little 'Understanding Humans 101,' then?"
"Fuck you, asshole," Dean said cheerfully. Sam grinned back at him.
"'Bitsy Pookums,' said Dean. Yes, 'Snoogly Woogly'? answered Cas," Sam continued in a sing-song voice.
"You know, I think I recall Bobby telling me that junker had a lot of sentimental value to him," Dean mused. "In fact, he called it Bobby Singer's Lucky-Mobile. But I'm sure he won't miss it, Sam."
Sam was silent for a moment. "Truce?" he asked finally.
"Truce," Dean agreed. They rode in silence for the next five minutes until there was an exclamation from the backseat.
"I have one! 'Smiley Face' enjoys watching 'women's underpants' on nights he is not 'kicking ass' and 'taking names' and eating 'lettuce' with Sam."
Dean burst out laughing at the expression on Sam's face.
"Dude! Dude, you look like a constipated lady bug!" he crowed.
"No more air quotes, I mean it," Sam said firmly.
"Anybody want a peanut?" Dean chortled.
"I would like your peanuts, Dean," Cas answered.
Sam began to laugh, too.
God, we're cheesy freaks. Dean caught Cas's eye again in the rearview mirror, and grinned across at Sam. But we're back. We're BACK.