Fic: Wild Animals
Title: Wild Animals
Author: brightly_lit
Rating: PG for language, non-graphic violence, and minor/non-graphic animal cruelty
Genre: gen, brotherly feels, some humor
Characters: Sam, Dean, OCs
Word Count: 1,100
Summary: Sam won't walk away and leave a coyote some rednecks have captured, so Dean can't, either.
“That’s a coyote!”
Sam had paused to stare at the animal tied by a length of rope to some redneck’s bumper. “So?” said Dean, pushing through the doors into the restaurant at this podunk Idaho truckstop.
“So, it’s illegal to capture a wild animal,” Sam huffed.
Dean chortled. “Okay, boy scout. How many times you been on the FBI’s most-wanted list?”
Sam wouldn’t come through the door, still looking back at the coyote. Dean had to come back out with him to make way for a gaggle of senior citizens exiting the restaurant. The rednecks around their truck were preening over their capture, obviously hanging around hoping someone would express amazement, somehow thinking this would impress people, but they were so sleazy, most people walked by without looking, deliberately ignoring the spectacle.
“It’s not gonna survive for long at the end of a rope,” Sam hissed, getting more upset the longer he looked at the poor thing, who, sure enough, appeared confused and helpless, uncertain what to do because it was out of options, but unable to do nothing, so it paced gingerly, afraid of every person, every sound, of everything. It was no more cut out for captivity than Sam or Dean.
Dean thought better of saying that from the look of those rednecks, it wasn’t going to survive for long, anyway. If they even bothered to put it in the bed of the truck when they hit the highway, they’d probably bust out the rifle when it ceased amusing them.
What’s more, they’d noted Sam’s keen attention and were taking on a hostile posture facing right toward them, challenging--all six of the burly brutes.
Sam only looked for a couple more seconds before he said, “I’m going over there.”
Dean stopped him before he got three feet. “It’s not worth it. Humans are crazy. Leave it.”
“They’re monsters,” Sam hissed, and turned to give Dean a long, long look. Dean saw all kinds of things in his eyes. He saw the cage. He saw the humans they’d killed, the monsters they’d let go. He saw the echo of idealistic young Sammy, ground away over the years, and he knew this was a fire still barely smoldering in his brother that Dean just couldn’t let die.
Dean shrugged. “’Kay.” He sauntered over to the rednecks. The main one squinted, unsmiling. Dean noted the rifle near him in the bed of the truck.
“Careful,” one of the others said to Dean, obviously dumb enough to still hope Dean would be impressed at what they’d caught. Oh, they had no idea what they’d caught. “That’s a coyote.”
It hadn’t occurred to Dean to be afraid of the coyote, who’d flinched away at his approach and hid behind one wheel. “Yep, and you’re a dick,” Dean said.
Sam had followed along behind him. This wasn’t the tack Sam was planning on, Dean discovered as he heard Sam clear his throat nervously at his shoulder. Sam was surprised this was the way Dean took it? He glanced at his brother and saw from Sam’s expression of weary resignation that, indeed, he wasn’t surprised. What was Sam planning on? From the way Sam was looking between the rednecks, measuring them up, he realized Sam figured he could lure them away, then cut the coyote loose when they weren’t looking. Good idea. Then they wouldn’t be about to probably get their asses kicked ... in broad daylight, in front of civilians, including children and the elderly.
Oh, well; too late for that. Dean shrugged it off easily. Few things were as satisfying as giving a good beatdown to somebody who really deserved it, even if you came out looking worse than the other guy ... or, guys. So many of them.
Dean was already planning their escape route. He’d brawl as long as he could still stand up, but this kind would go for their rifles sooner or later. He prayed they wouldn’t get to their guns in time to shoot at his baby, but Dean would make sure they didn’t have a chance to shoot directly at the Winchesters. All for a damn coyote. Sam and his freakin’ do-gooder tendencies. Sometimes Dean could still see the little boy in his brother. Sam would have done the exact same thing when he was a little kid. And Dean wouldn’t have been able to resist helping him accomplish it. Some things never changed.
Three of the rednecks were crowding Dean. This was gonna get ugly. Boy, was he gonna be hurting tonight.
“Hey!” said Sam, now behind them. They turned around. Sam was holding the end of the rope he’d just cut, which he now dropped to the ground, smirking challengingly at them--a look Dean had seldom seen on Sam, though he was quite sure Sam had seen it on Dean countless times. The coyote loped silently into the woods and disappeared, the rope trailing behind it.
Then the fight was on, and it was just as bad as Dean feared, though over much sooner than he expected. He hadn’t even seen the cops arrive. Oh, shit.
The rednecks were shrilly defending themselves, saying Sam and Dean started it, complaining outraged about how they’d set their coyote free. Dean saw the cop’s expression change. “Are you saying you had a wild animal in captivity?” he barked. Dean stifled a laugh. What were the chances they’d get a do-gooder cop just like Sam??
As the cop lectured the rednecks and debated whether to make arrests, Sam and Dean slipped to the Impala and moseyed back onto the highway to search for another restaurant somewhere else, hopefully across the state line. Dean thought he was the only one chortling, but then he heard Sam’s happy chuckles over the roar of the Impala accelerating down the onramp.
“They weren’t expecting that,” Sam said, still grinning, eying the woods, probably for the coyote, but it must be long gone by now.
“What part?”
“Well, any of it, but ... mostly, to get into a fight over a coyote.”
“Yeah, well ... I’m just as surprised about the same thing for myself.”
“Wasn’t really expecting you to walk right up and suckerpunch the guy, but ... I shouldn’t have been surprised. Still. Thanks.”
“That’s what we do, Sammy: we kill monsters ... or at least give ’em several sharp blows to the head. But what was with that pussy coyote?? I hoped he’d at least help.”
“When I was over by the bed of the truck, I saw that he’d taken a giant crap all over their camping gear.”
Dean guffawed. “Well, that’s something, I guess.”
~ The End ~
Author's Notes:
- This story actually comes from a real-life experience I had, where some guys exactly like this had a coyote on a leash attached to their bumper, and they were acting exactly like that, and this is what I wish I could have done about it.
- I've always lived in areas that have coyotes around, so I've had several (utterly unthreatening) encounters with them, and I'm pretty fond of the creatures, even if some people are scared of them. Be careful of small dogs, cats, and children, but every coyote encounter I've ever had has ranged from mutual friendly interest to them being WAY more scared of you than you are of them. They're fun to watch, and even more fun to listen to in deep wilderness, groups of them yipping at each other from hilltop to hilltop under a full moon ....
Author: brightly_lit
Rating: PG for language, non-graphic violence, and minor/non-graphic animal cruelty
Genre: gen, brotherly feels, some humor
Characters: Sam, Dean, OCs
Word Count: 1,100
Summary: Sam won't walk away and leave a coyote some rednecks have captured, so Dean can't, either.
“That’s a coyote!”
Sam had paused to stare at the animal tied by a length of rope to some redneck’s bumper. “So?” said Dean, pushing through the doors into the restaurant at this podunk Idaho truckstop.
“So, it’s illegal to capture a wild animal,” Sam huffed.
Dean chortled. “Okay, boy scout. How many times you been on the FBI’s most-wanted list?”
Sam wouldn’t come through the door, still looking back at the coyote. Dean had to come back out with him to make way for a gaggle of senior citizens exiting the restaurant. The rednecks around their truck were preening over their capture, obviously hanging around hoping someone would express amazement, somehow thinking this would impress people, but they were so sleazy, most people walked by without looking, deliberately ignoring the spectacle.
“It’s not gonna survive for long at the end of a rope,” Sam hissed, getting more upset the longer he looked at the poor thing, who, sure enough, appeared confused and helpless, uncertain what to do because it was out of options, but unable to do nothing, so it paced gingerly, afraid of every person, every sound, of everything. It was no more cut out for captivity than Sam or Dean.
Dean thought better of saying that from the look of those rednecks, it wasn’t going to survive for long, anyway. If they even bothered to put it in the bed of the truck when they hit the highway, they’d probably bust out the rifle when it ceased amusing them.
What’s more, they’d noted Sam’s keen attention and were taking on a hostile posture facing right toward them, challenging--all six of the burly brutes.
Sam only looked for a couple more seconds before he said, “I’m going over there.”
Dean stopped him before he got three feet. “It’s not worth it. Humans are crazy. Leave it.”
“They’re monsters,” Sam hissed, and turned to give Dean a long, long look. Dean saw all kinds of things in his eyes. He saw the cage. He saw the humans they’d killed, the monsters they’d let go. He saw the echo of idealistic young Sammy, ground away over the years, and he knew this was a fire still barely smoldering in his brother that Dean just couldn’t let die.
Dean shrugged. “’Kay.” He sauntered over to the rednecks. The main one squinted, unsmiling. Dean noted the rifle near him in the bed of the truck.
“Careful,” one of the others said to Dean, obviously dumb enough to still hope Dean would be impressed at what they’d caught. Oh, they had no idea what they’d caught. “That’s a coyote.”
It hadn’t occurred to Dean to be afraid of the coyote, who’d flinched away at his approach and hid behind one wheel. “Yep, and you’re a dick,” Dean said.
Sam had followed along behind him. This wasn’t the tack Sam was planning on, Dean discovered as he heard Sam clear his throat nervously at his shoulder. Sam was surprised this was the way Dean took it? He glanced at his brother and saw from Sam’s expression of weary resignation that, indeed, he wasn’t surprised. What was Sam planning on? From the way Sam was looking between the rednecks, measuring them up, he realized Sam figured he could lure them away, then cut the coyote loose when they weren’t looking. Good idea. Then they wouldn’t be about to probably get their asses kicked ... in broad daylight, in front of civilians, including children and the elderly.
Oh, well; too late for that. Dean shrugged it off easily. Few things were as satisfying as giving a good beatdown to somebody who really deserved it, even if you came out looking worse than the other guy ... or, guys. So many of them.
Dean was already planning their escape route. He’d brawl as long as he could still stand up, but this kind would go for their rifles sooner or later. He prayed they wouldn’t get to their guns in time to shoot at his baby, but Dean would make sure they didn’t have a chance to shoot directly at the Winchesters. All for a damn coyote. Sam and his freakin’ do-gooder tendencies. Sometimes Dean could still see the little boy in his brother. Sam would have done the exact same thing when he was a little kid. And Dean wouldn’t have been able to resist helping him accomplish it. Some things never changed.
Three of the rednecks were crowding Dean. This was gonna get ugly. Boy, was he gonna be hurting tonight.
“Hey!” said Sam, now behind them. They turned around. Sam was holding the end of the rope he’d just cut, which he now dropped to the ground, smirking challengingly at them--a look Dean had seldom seen on Sam, though he was quite sure Sam had seen it on Dean countless times. The coyote loped silently into the woods and disappeared, the rope trailing behind it.
Then the fight was on, and it was just as bad as Dean feared, though over much sooner than he expected. He hadn’t even seen the cops arrive. Oh, shit.
The rednecks were shrilly defending themselves, saying Sam and Dean started it, complaining outraged about how they’d set their coyote free. Dean saw the cop’s expression change. “Are you saying you had a wild animal in captivity?” he barked. Dean stifled a laugh. What were the chances they’d get a do-gooder cop just like Sam??
As the cop lectured the rednecks and debated whether to make arrests, Sam and Dean slipped to the Impala and moseyed back onto the highway to search for another restaurant somewhere else, hopefully across the state line. Dean thought he was the only one chortling, but then he heard Sam’s happy chuckles over the roar of the Impala accelerating down the onramp.
“They weren’t expecting that,” Sam said, still grinning, eying the woods, probably for the coyote, but it must be long gone by now.
“What part?”
“Well, any of it, but ... mostly, to get into a fight over a coyote.”
“Yeah, well ... I’m just as surprised about the same thing for myself.”
“Wasn’t really expecting you to walk right up and suckerpunch the guy, but ... I shouldn’t have been surprised. Still. Thanks.”
“That’s what we do, Sammy: we kill monsters ... or at least give ’em several sharp blows to the head. But what was with that pussy coyote?? I hoped he’d at least help.”
“When I was over by the bed of the truck, I saw that he’d taken a giant crap all over their camping gear.”
Dean guffawed. “Well, that’s something, I guess.”
~ The End ~
Author's Notes:
- This story actually comes from a real-life experience I had, where some guys exactly like this had a coyote on a leash attached to their bumper, and they were acting exactly like that, and this is what I wish I could have done about it.
- I've always lived in areas that have coyotes around, so I've had several (utterly unthreatening) encounters with them, and I'm pretty fond of the creatures, even if some people are scared of them. Be careful of small dogs, cats, and children, but every coyote encounter I've ever had has ranged from mutual friendly interest to them being WAY more scared of you than you are of them. They're fun to watch, and even more fun to listen to in deep wilderness, groups of them yipping at each other from hilltop to hilltop under a full moon ....