FIC: Of Terminators and Training Wheels- Chapter 12
(Chapter One starts here if you missed it)
Artwork by the lovely and talented Kamidiox
AUTHOR'S NOTE: The artwork above goes along with this Chapter and it is adorable and EXACTLY as I pictured the scene (except Dean was wearing a black helmet in my mind). But more importantly, when I had posted this story on FF. net, a nice young stranger contacted me out of the blue and asked if she could draw a picture to go along with the tale. I said "Sure, why not".... And was promptly blown away by the results and also deeply touched. Well, that was about a year ago and this deeply talented young "stranger" is now a good net friend. She's drawn more pictures to go with my fic and I've written fic to go with her art. I've beta'ed some of her fic, and she's inspired me to start drawing. So ya never know who you'll meet or what kind of doors will open up in the wild world of fandom. This one's dedicated to Kami! :-)!!
DISCLAIMER: I don't own these boys or their toys.
CHAPTER 12-
After a hearty breakfast, Dean got them both cleaned up and then let Sam ride piggyback up the stairs all the while insisting that the normally taller boy would have to return the favor once they were full grown again. Zipping into his own room, Dean got down on his knees and helped Sam climb off before turning to fling open a large box of toys, beaming proudly at the bounty inside.
"What'd I tell ya, Sammy?" Dean put his knuckles on his hips as he puffed out his little chest, "Even at five, Dean Winchester had a fully stocked armory in his trunk!"
Sam raised his eyebrows, sifting through the playthings before picking up a familiar figure.
"Yeah, I'm sure Gordon Walker will be quaking in his boots when he sees you wielding a deadly Mr. Potato Head," he snorted, "Maybe if you swap out his googly eyes for his angry ones…"
"Do not mock the Potato Head!" Dean said, snatching the toy away, "Besides, we're Winchesters. You know we can turn anything at hand into a weapon! Now help me pull this stuff out."
"Where'd you get all these toys, Dean?" Sam wondered, "I don't remember us ever really having any toys at all… and before you say it, Sapphire Barbie doesn't count!"
"Most of 'em were donated after the fire," Dean shrugged, "I think folks felt sorry for us and pitched in to get us some nice clothes and toys. Probably helped Dad get set up in this rental house as well. We had it pretty sweet for a while. But it wasn't too much longer… heck, probably just a few months after this werewolf gig that Dad got the hunting bug bad. He broke his lease here, skipped town and sold off all our toys for ammo."
"All of our toys?" Sam frowned, clinging tighter to the Pooh Bear.
"Yeah, Sam. All of 'em." Dean said solemnly, "So better start weaning yourself off that friggin' bear! Besides we're gonna be out of here and all grown up again in less than eight hours. You think you're gonna drag Pooh with you back to the future?"
"Maybe…" Sam said with a determined pout.
"Ok… that's all kinds of disturbing…" Dean uttered, "Come on, knock it off with the toddler Emo for now. We need to get into survival mode here. We've gotta devise some kind of booby trap to stop Gordon before he even gets to the house. Killing him out right would be all kinds of awesome. But it would be enough to knock him out of commission long enough to get the police over here, or better yet until Dad gets home and can deal with him vengeful, pissed off John Winchester style. But if Gordon does breach the house, we'll have to be ready to launch a full scale attack and take him down before he gets one shot at us."
Sam let out a long shuddering sigh.
"Dude, I know we don't have a lot of options here," he said carefully, "But going up against Gordon head on? That is so risky, Bro! He's carrying an M-16! What have we got? A used diaper, a Mr. Potato Head who's missing an ear by the way, and maybe this…"
Sam extracted a cheap plastic bow from the toy chest and pulled back on the flimsy string to shoot a suction cup arrow towards his brother, hitting Dean square between the eyes.
"Nice shot," Dean grimaced, plucking the arrow off his forehead, "And OW… That actually hurt a little bit. So see? This could be useful… Maybe you could take Gordon's eye out!"
"Dean…" Sam sighed, "The odds of us standing a snowball's chance in Hell…"
"Sammy," Dean held up his hand, "A wise Space Pirate by the name of Han Solo once said, 'Never tell me the odds!' Yeah, ok I get what you're saying. We're unevenly matched against Gordon. But so was David against Goliath and we all know who won that battle don't we?… It… it was David, right?"
"Yes Dean."
"Well, there ya go! And unlike David, there are two of us and we have a heck of a lot more than a sling shot at our disposal! Sooo… first things first. Let's get bullet proof!"
Dean dug around in the toy box until he found a kid sized breast plate designed to look like Boba Fett's armor. He put it on and then went in search for the head piece. Unable to find more than a cheap cardboard Boba Fett mask, he opted for a plastic motor cycle helmet instead.
"Check me out, Bro. Didn't know they made Riot Gear for Kindergarteners did ya?" he asked Sam, choosing to ignore when the younger boy's expression instantly switched from Emo to bitchface, "And for you…"
He shuffled through the trunk's contents again, this time coming up with a plastic construction hat which he placed on Sam's head. The helmet promptly slid down covering the toddler's face. Dean frowned and pushed it back up only to have it slide back down again.
"Ok. So it's not exactly one size fits all, but it could work."
"Yeah, sure it'll work," Sam snotted, "If you can find an Indian War Bonnet in there for Tiffany and a cowboy hat for Gordon we could all sing YMCA, that's how well it'll work."
"Smart ass," Dean sulked, "You need some body armor. Maybe I can find like a mini-umpire's vest or something…"
Sam stood by silently as Dean dove head first into the toy chest and began rummaging around through its depths. He held the Pooh Bear to his side and was patiently squeezing it's belly when an idea occurred to him. Pushing the domed helmet back from his eyes, he scanned the pile of discarded toys until he spied a miniature Batman Utility Belt that would suit his purpose.
Dean emerged from the chest finally with a heaping armful of toys including a G.I. Joe walkie-talkie set that he held in each hand. He glanced over at his brother then squeezed his eyes shut tight. Cautiously opening his eyes again he was dismayed that the vision hadn't changed.
Sam was standing there before him, his little face half concealed by the construction helmet and the Pooh Bear cinched to his waist just above his diaper with the Batman Belt so that it completely covered his tiny torso
"Dude!" Dean snapped, "What is up with you and that friggin' bear!"
"Body armor," Sam deadpanned.
"Body armor…" Dean parroted quietly, "You're actually trusting Winnie the Pooh to have enough fluff in his tummy to stop a bullet?"
"As much as I'm trusting a construction hat that says 'Tonka' on it," Sam sassed, lifting the hat up to glare at his brother.
"Never mind," Dean huffed, "If all goes according to plan, it won't even be an issue. I think I've got everything we need right here to trap us a big ass M-16 toting rat. Goliath is going down, Dude!"
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