spn - The Tale of Brother Cakes and Sugar Dust
Title: The Tale of Brother Cakes and Sugar Dust
Author: Liv darkmagic-luvr
Characters: Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, Bobby Singer, Joanna Winchester (OC)
Rating: PG-13
Summery: In which Bobby Singer learns how to fight ghosts properly.
Disclaimer: I don’t own the character you see before you, however any and all original characters are mine and should not be used without my permission.
Warnings: general spoilers, some swearing.
Authors Note: I have so much amusement for this. The title of the fic is from a song by Xiu Xiu of the same name. This was written for spawnfic-tues
“Thanks, Bobby, really appreciate this,” said Dean, letting the duffle bag slip from his shoulder and fall to the ground with a soft thump and passing the little girl in his arms to Bobby. Joanna watched Dean with wide eyes, not knowing what he was doing.
“Daddy, where are you going?” Dean flinched and looked over at Sam who shook his head.
“It’s too dangerous.”
“I can’t just leave her, Sam.”
“It was your idea,” said Sam with a shrug.
“You boys go hunt, I’ll watch the rug rat.”
“I’m not a rug rat!” said Joanna, sounding very offended. Dean chuckled, reaching out and taking her back from Bobby, hugging her close to him.
“I’ll be back soon,” he muttered into her hair. Joanna moved her face into his neck, curling her hand into his shirt.
“I don’t want you to go,” said Joanna, her bottom lip jutting out.
“I have to.”
“You has to save people,” said Joanna, sniffing into his jacket collar. “I know.”
“I love you.”
“I love you too.”
Dean reluctantly pulled Joanna off him and handed her back to Bobby, not letting himself linger on the tears in the little blondes eyes and pushing himself out the door without another goodbye. Sam and Bobby stared after him for a second before turning back to Bobby.
“This is the first time we’ve left her with anyone-”
“I get it, Sam,” said Bobby, kneeling down to pick up the duffle Dean had left. “Just get your asses back here in one piece.”
“Thanks, Bobby,” he nodded and watched the younger man walk out the door, watching through the screen door as the Impala drove off before turning back into the house.
“Uncle Bobby?”
“Yeah, sweetheart?”
“Will you make me a sandwich?”
“Sure.”
“The way Daddy does it?”
“Of course.”
“Will you color with me too?”
“I will.”
.
“Are we done yet?”
“Not yet, Dean.”
“How long do you think it’ll be?”
“About as long as it was when you asked me twenty minutes ago.”
“So you’re nowhere?”
“Do you want to try and find the vampire nest? Because I’m doing the best I can.”
“Do it faster.” Sam groaned inwardly, moving his hand to his face.
“Look, Dean, I know you miss her, but you’re driving me crazy.”
Dean went quiet and Sam heard him collapse on the bed with a grunt, the springs creaking underneath him and Sam was granted ten minutes of silence.
Until the humming started.
“Are you fucking serious?!” snapped Sam, spinning around in his chair to shoot Dean a glare. Dean opened his mouth to say something witty and clever and probably embarrass Sam in all sorts of ways, building on his issues he most likely cries about during sex but was interrupted by his phone ringing. So instead of saying anything, Dean smirked at his brother and pulled his phone out of his pocket. His grin faded slightly when he recognized Bobby’s number.
“What’s wrong?” were the first words out of his mouth, his whole body tense.
“I think Joanna’s been possessed by a demon,” grumbled Bobby on the other end and for a moment of panic clutched at Dean’s heart until he heard something that sounded like ‘Back in Black’ being played in the background with what sounded like a saucepan and a ladle. “A really annoying demon."
“You didn’t give her anything, did you?” asked Dean, feeling less panicked and more amused. He heard Bobby grunt on the other end.
“She wanted a cookie.”
“Did we forget to tell you how she gets when she has sugar?” asked Dean, trying to hold his laughter back, ignoring the way Sam rolled his eyes. On the other end of the line he heard a squeal of laughter and something fall to the ground, followed by a lot of something’s. This time Dean couldn’t hold back the snort of laughter and listened to Bobby sigh in annoyance.
“I swear it’s like watching you and Sam when you were toddlers again.”
“Ah, we weren’t that bad.”
“At least you two didn’t make me play dress up.”
This time, Dean couldn’t stop laughing, and Bobby hung up on him after a ridiculous amount of time, muttering darkly that he hoped the younger man passed out from lack of oxygen. After hanging up the phone Bobby took a minute to recuperate, running a scarred hand through his thinning hair and over his face. Only then did he realize that at some point during his conversation with Dean, Joanna had gone quiet. Too quite. The kind of quiet that gave him flashbacks to Dean when he was ten and had tricked little Sammy into standing into a salt circle for four hours until Bobby found him in the basement. Silence was bad.
“Joanna? Honey?” Bobby walked into the kitchen and felt like hitting himself in the head. She was Dean’s daughter all right. Milk was dripping from the counter, the carton on it’s side; there were too many pieces of toast in the toaster, which was starting to smoke; the refrigerator door was open, a tub of melting ice cream dripping onto the floor. And no sign of Joanna. At least she didn’t get into the salt or the knives because then he’d have to kill someone. Most likely and preferably: Dean.
There was a trail of was looked like sugar leading from the kitchen into what used to be his dining room, and Bobby followed it carefully, raising an eyebrow as his eyes followed the trail under his dining table, under the white sheet he usually used for séances.
“Joanna?” he asked dryly, staring at the hem of the table clothe. It flew up and Joanna’s annoyed face (the strainer on her head like a hat almost obscuring her vision) looked back. And shushed him.
“Excuses me-?” she shushed him again, glanced to her left and then motioned him closer. Rolling his eyes heaven word, and wondering why Dean couldn’t just go to Ellen for a babysitter he crouched down where he was. Joanna rolled her eyes in a very Dean-like way and motioned him closer again. Bobby did as he was bidden.
“What do you think you’re doing down there?” asked Bobby in a low voice, not really wanting to be shushed again. Again, Joanna looked to her left, then her right and leaned in closer to him.
“Because I don’t want the ghosts to get me,” she said softly. Bobby blinked at her. “Daddy says that salt makes bad things go away, but salt’s yucky so I’m using sugar instead.”
The girl looked so proud that Bobby couldn’t help but smile. Joanna reached out and tugged on his shirt.
“If you don’t hide the ghosts ’ll get you,” she whispered and scooted further under the table, making room for Bobby.
“I’m going to kill Dean when he gets back,” grumbled Bobby, crawling under the table with Joanna. Joanna reached into the sack of sugar next to her with both hands and pulled out sugar, passing it to Bobby.
“Here,” she said (ignoring the sugar spilling over her hands and pouring it into Bobby’s). “This ‘ll keep the monsters away. And…” Joanna dusted off her hands and reached behind her, picking up a meat tenderizer and passing it to Bobby as well. “There! Now you’re prepared. Just like Daddy and Uncle Sam!”
“I didn’t know your dad and Sam fought ghosts,” said Bobby, feeling stupid and wishing Dean and Sam would hurry the fuck up. Joanna nodded solemnly.
“And now you can too.”
“So,” started Bobby, staring at his handful of sugar and the meat tenderizer in the other. “What now?”
“Now, we wait for ghosts.”
“And…how long does that usually take?” Joanna’s eyes narrowed in thought, looking very serious as she pondered what Bobby asked. She reached forward (over the line of sugar, Bobby saw) and lifted back the table clothe, looking out across his living room. Suddenly she gasped, pointing at the end of the couch where a strategically place stuffed lion was sitting innocently.
“The ghosts got Cornelius, Uncle Bobby!” she whispered, in a high pitch, scared voice. Before Bobby could react, Joanna reached behind her and picked up one of the wooden crosses Bobby had placed around his house. He frowned, confused as to where she fucking got that right before Joanna chucked it at her stuffed animal. It bounced off the plushy and landed on the floor.
“Did you get it?” asked Bobby and Joanna gave him another one of those Dean looks that said ‘what are you? Stupid?’.
“Duh,” said Joanna, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. She pointed in another direction, where Joanna has spent twenty minutes ‘doing Bobby’s hair’ and looked over at him. “There’s one over there. Can you handle that?”
Bobby felt somewhat…insulted. He glanced over at Joanna who was staring at him expectantly and looked over her shoulder at the pile of ‘ammunition’ she had accumulated. He nodded. “I‘ll teach this thing what happens when you mess with the best. Gimme the marshmallows.”
.
Dean kinda knew something was up when Sam knocked on the front door to Bobby’s and it creaked open. Both Winchesters frowned when they stepped into Bobby’s place and were met with what looked like…complete and total chaos.
“What the hell?” muttered Sam, his eyes widening at the amount of…well, damage.
“Hey,” snapped Dean, getting Sam’s attention and jerking his head in the direction of the back door, which had some sort of paste covering the doorknob. They moved forward quickly, Dean taking the lead and touching the stuff on the doorknob. Sam glanced at him briefly. “What is it?”
“Glue.”
“Glue?” Dean nodded, clearly baffled by this development and looked over at Sam. “On three?”
Sam nodded and reached for the door handle, waiting as Dean muttered the countdown before throwing the door open-
“Attack!”
The first water balloon hit Dean smack in the face, startling him, while Bobby’s Super Soaker blasted Sam, sending him a step back from shock.
“What the hell-!?”
“Did the holy water work?” asked Joanna, holding another water balloon and looking sideways at Bobby for confirmation. Bobby’s eyes narrowed critically at Sam and Dean, both soaking wet.
“I don’t know, why don’t you get your dad again?”
“Hey now-!” but too late, Joanna aimed and hit Dean squarely in the chest. Beaming at Bobby snorted at the look on Dean‘s face, right before he lunged at his kid and picked up one of the discarded water balloons next to her.
“Sorry, boys,” said Bobby, not sounding very sorry at all, but lowered his squirt gun. “You two got back early.”
“Yeah, turns out Dean’s a relentless son of a bitch,” said Sam, looking over at Dean who was throwing water balloons at a shrieking Joanna. “Who knew?”
“Important thing is your both back in one piece,” said Bobby, lifting his squirt gun to his shoulder and sighing, watching Dean loop his arm around Joanna’s middle and pick her up off the ground, kissing her equally wet cheek.
“Were you good for Uncle Bobby?”
“Yup. Daddy, Uncle Bobby fights ghosts!” said Joanna happily, ignoring the way Dean’s face went sort of pale.
“Does he now,” said Dean carefully, looking over at Bobby, raising an eyebrow. Bobby rolled his eyes.
“Yeah, I’ve been initiated.”
“He’s really good at it!” said Joanna. “He can throw marshmallows better than Uncle Sam can.”
“That’s because Uncle Sam throws like a girl.”
“But I’m a girl, and I throw better than Uncle Sam!” Sam tried to cover up his pout with a frown. Dean chuckled.
“Too true.”
“Alright, get outta here you two,” said Bobby, tossing his super soaker on the ground and ushering Sam and Dean (still holding Joanna) inside.
“Hey, Bobby?” started Sam, walking into Bobby’s house and looking around at the damage. “What the hell happened here?”
“We were hunting ghosts,” said Bobby dryly, kicking at a marshmallow. “Tell me you didn’t teach her that ghosts are warded off by marshmallows?”
“Naw, she came to the conclusion that sugar conquers evil, all on her own,” said Dean, swinging Joanna around before dropping her onto the couch. He glanced at Cornelius and then at the cross on the floor next to him. “Cornelius get possessed again?”
“Uh-huh,” said Joanna, picking up her stuffed lion and holding him to her chest.
“We'll have to get him a protection charm.”
“Me too?” asked Joanna, ignoring the mock serious tone Dean had taken. He frowned at her question.
“Just until your old enough to get a tattoo.”
“Awesome!” Joanna pumped her fist into the air and leaned back into the couch, yawning as the events of the last few days caught up with her.
“Thanks for watching her, Bobby,” said Dean seriously, looking over at the older man. Bobby shook his head.
“Don‘t mention it. But next time leave her with Ellen or Jo. I think she might have more fun with one of them.”
“Haven’t spoken to Jo in years,” said Dean with a frown. “Maybe we should give her a call.”
“We gotta get going,” said Sam (clearly not aware or even caring of the inner turmoil Dean was going through, oh sigh), clapping Bobby on the shoulder. Dean nodded and moved to scoop up the semi-conscious five year old.
“Thanks again, Bobby.”
Bobby waved Sam and Dean out of his house, sighing heavily and rolling his neck as he turned back to look at his home-
-or what was left of it. He groaned at the prospect of having to clean up the mess. Alone.
Of course.
Author: Liv darkmagic-luvr
Characters: Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, Bobby Singer, Joanna Winchester (OC)
Rating: PG-13
Summery: In which Bobby Singer learns how to fight ghosts properly.
Disclaimer: I don’t own the character you see before you, however any and all original characters are mine and should not be used without my permission.
Warnings: general spoilers, some swearing.
Authors Note: I have so much amusement for this. The title of the fic is from a song by Xiu Xiu of the same name. This was written for spawnfic-tues
“Thanks, Bobby, really appreciate this,” said Dean, letting the duffle bag slip from his shoulder and fall to the ground with a soft thump and passing the little girl in his arms to Bobby. Joanna watched Dean with wide eyes, not knowing what he was doing.
“Daddy, where are you going?” Dean flinched and looked over at Sam who shook his head.
“It’s too dangerous.”
“I can’t just leave her, Sam.”
“It was your idea,” said Sam with a shrug.
“You boys go hunt, I’ll watch the rug rat.”
“I’m not a rug rat!” said Joanna, sounding very offended. Dean chuckled, reaching out and taking her back from Bobby, hugging her close to him.
“I’ll be back soon,” he muttered into her hair. Joanna moved her face into his neck, curling her hand into his shirt.
“I don’t want you to go,” said Joanna, her bottom lip jutting out.
“I have to.”
“You has to save people,” said Joanna, sniffing into his jacket collar. “I know.”
“I love you.”
“I love you too.”
Dean reluctantly pulled Joanna off him and handed her back to Bobby, not letting himself linger on the tears in the little blondes eyes and pushing himself out the door without another goodbye. Sam and Bobby stared after him for a second before turning back to Bobby.
“This is the first time we’ve left her with anyone-”
“I get it, Sam,” said Bobby, kneeling down to pick up the duffle Dean had left. “Just get your asses back here in one piece.”
“Thanks, Bobby,” he nodded and watched the younger man walk out the door, watching through the screen door as the Impala drove off before turning back into the house.
“Uncle Bobby?”
“Yeah, sweetheart?”
“Will you make me a sandwich?”
“Sure.”
“The way Daddy does it?”
“Of course.”
“Will you color with me too?”
“I will.”
.
“Are we done yet?”
“Not yet, Dean.”
“How long do you think it’ll be?”
“About as long as it was when you asked me twenty minutes ago.”
“So you’re nowhere?”
“Do you want to try and find the vampire nest? Because I’m doing the best I can.”
“Do it faster.” Sam groaned inwardly, moving his hand to his face.
“Look, Dean, I know you miss her, but you’re driving me crazy.”
Dean went quiet and Sam heard him collapse on the bed with a grunt, the springs creaking underneath him and Sam was granted ten minutes of silence.
Until the humming started.
“Are you fucking serious?!” snapped Sam, spinning around in his chair to shoot Dean a glare. Dean opened his mouth to say something witty and clever and probably embarrass Sam in all sorts of ways, building on his issues he most likely cries about during sex but was interrupted by his phone ringing. So instead of saying anything, Dean smirked at his brother and pulled his phone out of his pocket. His grin faded slightly when he recognized Bobby’s number.
“What’s wrong?” were the first words out of his mouth, his whole body tense.
“I think Joanna’s been possessed by a demon,” grumbled Bobby on the other end and for a moment of panic clutched at Dean’s heart until he heard something that sounded like ‘Back in Black’ being played in the background with what sounded like a saucepan and a ladle. “A really annoying demon."
“You didn’t give her anything, did you?” asked Dean, feeling less panicked and more amused. He heard Bobby grunt on the other end.
“She wanted a cookie.”
“Did we forget to tell you how she gets when she has sugar?” asked Dean, trying to hold his laughter back, ignoring the way Sam rolled his eyes. On the other end of the line he heard a squeal of laughter and something fall to the ground, followed by a lot of something’s. This time Dean couldn’t hold back the snort of laughter and listened to Bobby sigh in annoyance.
“I swear it’s like watching you and Sam when you were toddlers again.”
“Ah, we weren’t that bad.”
“At least you two didn’t make me play dress up.”
This time, Dean couldn’t stop laughing, and Bobby hung up on him after a ridiculous amount of time, muttering darkly that he hoped the younger man passed out from lack of oxygen. After hanging up the phone Bobby took a minute to recuperate, running a scarred hand through his thinning hair and over his face. Only then did he realize that at some point during his conversation with Dean, Joanna had gone quiet. Too quite. The kind of quiet that gave him flashbacks to Dean when he was ten and had tricked little Sammy into standing into a salt circle for four hours until Bobby found him in the basement. Silence was bad.
“Joanna? Honey?” Bobby walked into the kitchen and felt like hitting himself in the head. She was Dean’s daughter all right. Milk was dripping from the counter, the carton on it’s side; there were too many pieces of toast in the toaster, which was starting to smoke; the refrigerator door was open, a tub of melting ice cream dripping onto the floor. And no sign of Joanna. At least she didn’t get into the salt or the knives because then he’d have to kill someone. Most likely and preferably: Dean.
There was a trail of was looked like sugar leading from the kitchen into what used to be his dining room, and Bobby followed it carefully, raising an eyebrow as his eyes followed the trail under his dining table, under the white sheet he usually used for séances.
“Joanna?” he asked dryly, staring at the hem of the table clothe. It flew up and Joanna’s annoyed face (the strainer on her head like a hat almost obscuring her vision) looked back. And shushed him.
“Excuses me-?” she shushed him again, glanced to her left and then motioned him closer. Rolling his eyes heaven word, and wondering why Dean couldn’t just go to Ellen for a babysitter he crouched down where he was. Joanna rolled her eyes in a very Dean-like way and motioned him closer again. Bobby did as he was bidden.
“What do you think you’re doing down there?” asked Bobby in a low voice, not really wanting to be shushed again. Again, Joanna looked to her left, then her right and leaned in closer to him.
“Because I don’t want the ghosts to get me,” she said softly. Bobby blinked at her. “Daddy says that salt makes bad things go away, but salt’s yucky so I’m using sugar instead.”
The girl looked so proud that Bobby couldn’t help but smile. Joanna reached out and tugged on his shirt.
“If you don’t hide the ghosts ’ll get you,” she whispered and scooted further under the table, making room for Bobby.
“I’m going to kill Dean when he gets back,” grumbled Bobby, crawling under the table with Joanna. Joanna reached into the sack of sugar next to her with both hands and pulled out sugar, passing it to Bobby.
“Here,” she said (ignoring the sugar spilling over her hands and pouring it into Bobby’s). “This ‘ll keep the monsters away. And…” Joanna dusted off her hands and reached behind her, picking up a meat tenderizer and passing it to Bobby as well. “There! Now you’re prepared. Just like Daddy and Uncle Sam!”
“I didn’t know your dad and Sam fought ghosts,” said Bobby, feeling stupid and wishing Dean and Sam would hurry the fuck up. Joanna nodded solemnly.
“And now you can too.”
“So,” started Bobby, staring at his handful of sugar and the meat tenderizer in the other. “What now?”
“Now, we wait for ghosts.”
“And…how long does that usually take?” Joanna’s eyes narrowed in thought, looking very serious as she pondered what Bobby asked. She reached forward (over the line of sugar, Bobby saw) and lifted back the table clothe, looking out across his living room. Suddenly she gasped, pointing at the end of the couch where a strategically place stuffed lion was sitting innocently.
“The ghosts got Cornelius, Uncle Bobby!” she whispered, in a high pitch, scared voice. Before Bobby could react, Joanna reached behind her and picked up one of the wooden crosses Bobby had placed around his house. He frowned, confused as to where she fucking got that right before Joanna chucked it at her stuffed animal. It bounced off the plushy and landed on the floor.
“Did you get it?” asked Bobby and Joanna gave him another one of those Dean looks that said ‘what are you? Stupid?’.
“Duh,” said Joanna, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. She pointed in another direction, where Joanna has spent twenty minutes ‘doing Bobby’s hair’ and looked over at him. “There’s one over there. Can you handle that?”
Bobby felt somewhat…insulted. He glanced over at Joanna who was staring at him expectantly and looked over her shoulder at the pile of ‘ammunition’ she had accumulated. He nodded. “I‘ll teach this thing what happens when you mess with the best. Gimme the marshmallows.”
.
Dean kinda knew something was up when Sam knocked on the front door to Bobby’s and it creaked open. Both Winchesters frowned when they stepped into Bobby’s place and were met with what looked like…complete and total chaos.
“What the hell?” muttered Sam, his eyes widening at the amount of…well, damage.
“Hey,” snapped Dean, getting Sam’s attention and jerking his head in the direction of the back door, which had some sort of paste covering the doorknob. They moved forward quickly, Dean taking the lead and touching the stuff on the doorknob. Sam glanced at him briefly. “What is it?”
“Glue.”
“Glue?” Dean nodded, clearly baffled by this development and looked over at Sam. “On three?”
Sam nodded and reached for the door handle, waiting as Dean muttered the countdown before throwing the door open-
“Attack!”
The first water balloon hit Dean smack in the face, startling him, while Bobby’s Super Soaker blasted Sam, sending him a step back from shock.
“What the hell-!?”
“Did the holy water work?” asked Joanna, holding another water balloon and looking sideways at Bobby for confirmation. Bobby’s eyes narrowed critically at Sam and Dean, both soaking wet.
“I don’t know, why don’t you get your dad again?”
“Hey now-!” but too late, Joanna aimed and hit Dean squarely in the chest. Beaming at Bobby snorted at the look on Dean‘s face, right before he lunged at his kid and picked up one of the discarded water balloons next to her.
“Sorry, boys,” said Bobby, not sounding very sorry at all, but lowered his squirt gun. “You two got back early.”
“Yeah, turns out Dean’s a relentless son of a bitch,” said Sam, looking over at Dean who was throwing water balloons at a shrieking Joanna. “Who knew?”
“Important thing is your both back in one piece,” said Bobby, lifting his squirt gun to his shoulder and sighing, watching Dean loop his arm around Joanna’s middle and pick her up off the ground, kissing her equally wet cheek.
“Were you good for Uncle Bobby?”
“Yup. Daddy, Uncle Bobby fights ghosts!” said Joanna happily, ignoring the way Dean’s face went sort of pale.
“Does he now,” said Dean carefully, looking over at Bobby, raising an eyebrow. Bobby rolled his eyes.
“Yeah, I’ve been initiated.”
“He’s really good at it!” said Joanna. “He can throw marshmallows better than Uncle Sam can.”
“That’s because Uncle Sam throws like a girl.”
“But I’m a girl, and I throw better than Uncle Sam!” Sam tried to cover up his pout with a frown. Dean chuckled.
“Too true.”
“Alright, get outta here you two,” said Bobby, tossing his super soaker on the ground and ushering Sam and Dean (still holding Joanna) inside.
“Hey, Bobby?” started Sam, walking into Bobby’s house and looking around at the damage. “What the hell happened here?”
“We were hunting ghosts,” said Bobby dryly, kicking at a marshmallow. “Tell me you didn’t teach her that ghosts are warded off by marshmallows?”
“Naw, she came to the conclusion that sugar conquers evil, all on her own,” said Dean, swinging Joanna around before dropping her onto the couch. He glanced at Cornelius and then at the cross on the floor next to him. “Cornelius get possessed again?”
“Uh-huh,” said Joanna, picking up her stuffed lion and holding him to her chest.
“We'll have to get him a protection charm.”
“Me too?” asked Joanna, ignoring the mock serious tone Dean had taken. He frowned at her question.
“Just until your old enough to get a tattoo.”
“Awesome!” Joanna pumped her fist into the air and leaned back into the couch, yawning as the events of the last few days caught up with her.
“Thanks for watching her, Bobby,” said Dean seriously, looking over at the older man. Bobby shook his head.
“Don‘t mention it. But next time leave her with Ellen or Jo. I think she might have more fun with one of them.”
“Haven’t spoken to Jo in years,” said Dean with a frown. “Maybe we should give her a call.”
“We gotta get going,” said Sam (clearly not aware or even caring of the inner turmoil Dean was going through, oh sigh), clapping Bobby on the shoulder. Dean nodded and moved to scoop up the semi-conscious five year old.
“Thanks again, Bobby.”
Bobby waved Sam and Dean out of his house, sighing heavily and rolling his neck as he turned back to look at his home-
-or what was left of it. He groaned at the prospect of having to clean up the mess. Alone.
Of course.