Hell Hath No Fury for Colls
Title: HELL HATH NO FURY
Author: Leigh Ann Wallace
Writing for: Colls
Rated PG for: potty mouth, implied sexuality, some violence
No warnings needed: Strictly AU
Summary: The ladies of Supernatural are upset at being left out of a hunt. But the hunt is not as it appears to be.
Beta'd: Thanks, E.G. As always, awesome!
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
Ellen tossed back the shot of tequila and slammed the glass down on the bar. “Those sons of bitches!” she growled.
“You really think they’re hunting?” Mary asked, a hurt expression on her warm, delicate features.
Ellen gestured for another shot. “Damned right I do.”
The bartender sidled over nervously and refilled her glass.
Ellen looked at the bartender and scowled. “Never occurred to that selfish bastard that I might want to kill something!”
The bartender, a young man of no more than 21, clearly not experienced with menopausal death threats, blanched, put the bottle down carefully in front of her, and fled to the other end of the bar.
“Oh, Ellen, not John!” Mary protested. “He wouldn’t lie to me! He promised he wouldn’t go hunting without me, not after what happened last time . . . “
Ellen snorted and stared into her glass morosely.
“You really -- well, now.” Mary drank a little more of her white wine. “That - annoys me.”
Jo came up to them, beer in hand, chuckling. “Mom, you guys should come watch. Jody is totally cleaning this guy’s clock.” She spotted her mother’s bitch face. “Oh, shit. What’s wrong?”
“Language, Joanna Beth!”
“What’s up?” her daughter persisted.
“Your father,” Ellen gritted out. “He’s hunting.”
“What?!” Jo yelped. “He wouldn’t, not without us!”
With a glare, Ellen turned and yelled across the room. “Pam! Where’s my dickhead husband?”
Pamela, sitting at a table with Jessica, raised her white eyes. “Hunting.”
Ellen hmmphed, looking at Jo in angry triumph. “And who’s he with?”
“Might be easier to tell you who he’s not with.”
“John?” Mary asked.
Pam nodded and Mary looked into her glass, fingers tightening on the stem.
“Not Bobby.” Frowning, Jody straightened up from the pool table, ignoring the impatient look from her opponent. “He told me he’s helping a friend move a sofa bed.”
“Oh, please,” Ellen snorted contemptuously. “A sofa bed? And you bought that? Listen, I found Ash researching a couple of times this week. He told me some crap about doing an article for Hunter’s Monthly! So tonight, when Bill went out, I pinned Ash down and dug it out of him. Those sons of bitches are hunting werewolves!”
“No!” Jo gasped.
Ellen turned for confirmation to Pam.
“What? Oh, yeah, werewolves,” the psychic said, linking hands with Jessica. Jessica raised Pamela’s hands to her lips and kissed them gently, murmuring soft endearments.
“Five of them” Pamela cocked her head, frowned. “No, wait - six.”
“Bobby isn’t -“ Jody started, stubbornly.
“Are you kidding me?” Ellen snorted. “Do you really think any of our men would miss out on the chance to kill one werewolf, let alone five?”
“Damn it!” Jody said bitterly. “Bobby knows I’ve been dying to take one of those bastards out. Where the hell does he get off leaving me behind?”
“Where the hell do any of ‘em get off!” Ellen said, shrugging off Mary’s comforting hand.
“Hey, we playin’ or not?” Jody’s opponent, one of a group of big, hairy, drunken jugheads, lumbered over and laid a heavy hand on her shoulder. “Come on back, finish the game,” he leered. “I won’t beat you too bad.”
Jody raised an eyebrow, looked at his hand consideringly. “You might want to move that hand, Stinky. I’m not feeling too touchy feely right now.”
Stinky grinned over at his watching buddy.
“Hey, Steve, check it out. Little lady thinks she’s tough.” is His laugh was cut short when Jody grabbed him by the hair and smashed his face down onto a nearby table. When she let him go, he slid unconscious to the floor.
“Hey!” his friend shouted in outrage, rising to his feet.
“Hay is for horses,” Jody said to him. “That’s what my mom used to say, when she was trying to teach me to be a lady.”
Jo strolled over, nudged the unconscious biker with her foot. “Doesn’t look like it took,” she snickered.
Jody grinned sardonically. “Not so much.” She heard a scrape on the floor behind her and turned quickly to face the rush of Stinky’s friend, breaking her pool cue across the side of his head and sending him crashing to the floor right next to Stinky.
“Nice!” Jo said, impressed. “Did they teach you that at the police academy?”
“I taught me that.” Jody shrugged. “Tequila makes me kinda cranky.”
There was a rumble of deep voices and scraping chairs and a quartet of large, irate bikers surrounded them.
“What the fuck, lady?”
“Technically, it should be ‘What the fuck, Sheriff.’”, Jody said, her voice cold. She unclipped her badge and put it into her pocket. “But don’t let the badge stop you, jughead.”
That got her a mean grin from Jughead 1, who swung at her with a big, meaty fist.
Jody ducked under it, grabbed Stinky’s pool cue from the floor and smashed it across Jughead 1’s face, breaking his nose, the blood spattering Jody’s jacket.
“Damn it!” Jody glared at the stain. She hit him again, sending him to the floor next to Stinky and his friend. “That’s never gonna come out!”
“Jody, heads up!” Jo shouted.
Jody spun and jammed the end of the pool cue into the Jughead 2’s groin, earning a shrill scream and her victim collapsing to the floor next to the other three - they were all stretched out in a pretty straight line, all things considered.
At the scream, the bartender, Mr. Better Late Than Never, snatched up the phone and started to dial.
Mary spun on her stool to face him. “Young man, put that phone down!” she snapped indignantly.
He looked from her stern MOM FACE to the growing catastrophe in the bar. “But - but-” he stuttered.
“Put - the - phone - down,” she repeated, a martial glint in her eye.
He did so and stood dumbly, waiting for further instructions.
“Good.” Mary nodded approvingly. “Now pour yourself a drink and calm down. This won’t take long.” She settled back to watch as two more men came from the back of the bar to join in the fracas.
Pamela stood up and moved into their path. “Weasel, did you know that Joey Boy is screwing your old lady?”
Confused, Weasel looked at Pam’s blind, white eyes, then at Joey Boy, then back at Pam. “How’d you know our -- What?”
“You heard me,” the psychic said calmly.
“Bitch is lyin’, Weasel!” Joey Boy protested, looking fearfully at Pamela’s white eyes. “She’s some kinda witch or somethin’!”
Pamela shook her head mournfully. “Tsk, tsk. Just for that, I’m going to tell Weasel how much you and his girlfriend laugh about him getting your sloppy seconds.”
Yahtzee!
“Bastard!” Weasel took Joey Boy by the shirt and swung him backward into Jugheads 3 and 4, knocking them to the floor. Then Weasel jumped onto the top of the pile and started whaling on Joey Boy.
Since Weasel was hitting Jugheads 3 and 4 as much as he was Joey Boy, they started hitting back. Pretty soon it was starting to look like one of those free-for-alls on the western channel, where all you have to do to get beat up, is show up.
Mission accomplished, Pamela collected Jessica and the two went to the bar and sat down near Mary, who gave each of Sam’s fiancees a fond smile.
The three of them watched, with occasional admiring comments, as Jody speedily took down her remaining opponents.
Ellen, too busy thinking of ways to disembowel a certain dickhead, wasn’t watching the fight. Then a familiar wild screech caught her attention and she spun on her stool to see Jo leap from the top of a table to the back of one of the bikers. The biker, porcine and balding, screamed like a little boy when Jo clamped her arms around his neck and latched onto his ear with her teeth.
One of the other Jugheads grabbed her by the hips and tried to pull her off, but she kicked him away, teeth clinging stubbornly to her victim’s bloody lobe.
“Joanna Beth Harvelle!”
Cursing, Ellen grabbed the empty whiskey bottle off the bar and headed into the fray. Pam and Jess started to follow her but at a sharp look from Mary they settled back onto their stools with disappointed faces.
Jo spat out her attacker’s ear and rolled off him, leaping to her feet and kicking her new attacker in the balls. She hooted with glee when he fell to the floor, groans and curses falling out of his mouth.
With a gigantic effort, he ignored his flaming balls, reached out and hooked Jo by the pants leg. But before she could do anything more than kick him in the face, an empty bottle crashed against the man’s skull and drove him back to the floor.
“Mom!” Jo stamped her foot. “I don’t need your help!”
“Joanna Beth,” Ellen said grimly, “you come with me. We’re going to find your father and kick his sorry, lying butt.”
“Dean’s, too?” Jo asked hopefully.
“Sure, honey. Dean’s too.” Ellen swept for the door, gathering up the other women as she went.
Before following the others out, Mary gave the gibbering bartender a friendly smile. “You can go ahead and call the police now, sweetheart. They’ll take care of this mess for you.”
Outside, the Sextet of Terror stomped over to the line of motorcycles parked in front of the bar.
Ellen kicked the first one over. As it fell, it took down the next one in line - and on and on down the line until every single Jughead-mobile lay on the ground.
The Sextet continued on toward Jody’s truck, then came to a bumpy halt when a monster truck and a black Impala roared onto the parking lot.
Bobby Singer and Bill Harvelle piled out of the truck, the three Winchesters out of the Impala.
The men looked at the litter of bikes on the ground.
“Uh,” John said doubtfully. “Do we want to know what happened here?”
“Probably not,” Mary said, blue eyes cool.
“Ellen?” Bill said, uneasy. “What’s going on?”
Ellen advanced on him menacingly, flanked by Jo. “Been looking for you,” she purred. “Babe.”
John, moving toward Mary, saw the look in her eyes and came to an abrupt halt, both his sons plowing into him from behind. “Uh oh.”
“What?” Dean saw Jo coming toward him, mouth tight and eyes blazing. “Oh, crap. What did I do now?”
Oblivious to the drama, and very, very drunk, Sam wove uncertainly around them and staggered over to Pamela and Jess, leaning heavily against them. “Hey!”
“Hey, sweetcheeks,” Pam said dotingly, reaching down and squeezing one of said cheeks. “You are in so much trouble!”
Sam’s smile was sweet and loopy. “Okay. What’d I do?”
“Come on, you know.” Jessica hooked her fingers into the loops of his belt and pulled him in closer, nibbling teasingly on his ear. “Where you been, lover?”
“It’s not a big deal,” Sam confessed, a little shame-faced. “I wanted to tell you, but the guys thought you’d be mad.” He shivered as Pamela went to work on his other ear. “Pam, come on, that tickles!”
“So tell us where you were.” Pamela chuckled. “It’s not like I don’t know already.”
“Sam, don’t!” Dean warned him, looking uneasily at Jo as she stalked angrily around him.
“Tell us, Sam,” Jess whispered, slipping a hand underneath his shirt. “Tell us!”
“Upstairs brain, Sam!” Dean shouted. “Upstairs brain!”
“Come on, Dean!” Sam said, giggling. “What’s the big deal? It was just a bachelor party!” He scuffed the toe of his boot in the dirt and grinned engagingly at his girls. Dimples on Parade. “You can spank me if you wanna. I deserve it!”
Ellen, on the verge of knocking her erstwhile husband on his ass, stopped short. “You weren’t hunting?”
Relieved, Bill laughed. “After the way you ripped my ass up last time? Oh, hell no!”
“No werewolves?” Jo said, face falling.
“But Ash has been doing research for you, on werewolves,” Ellen said suspiciously. “And Pam said she saw them.”
“Five of them,” Pam clarified, rubbing up against Sam. “Maybe six.” Sam gave her a sloppy kiss and she moaned into his mouth. “Seven?”
“Sam! Girls!” Mary snapped. “This is not the time!”
Blushing, the three moved apart. But not too far.
“Damn it! The werewolves were supposed to be a surprise!” Bill groused. “That’s why we’re here. Ash found the location of the pack, so we dumped the party and came to get you!”
“Yes!” Jo whooped and threw her arms around Dean. He sighed with relief and took immediate advantage of her lips.
“John.” Mary’s mouth curved in a gentle smile. She kissed her husband on the cheek. “That’s so sweet. You saved the werewolves for us.”
“Of course we did,” John said, relieved, but still not entirely sure he was out of danger.
“I don’t know why you thought we’d be upset by a silly old bachelor party!” Mary chided him.
John took her hand. “Yeah, I know. I’m sorry, Mare.”
Sirens flared in the distance.
“Uh, guys?” said Jody, hooking her arm through Bobby’s with a grin. “We should probably go.”
Mary nodded and started to gather up her brood. “Why don’t we all go over to our place? We can talk, make plans for the hunt. And I happen to know there’s a pretty tasty chocolate cake waiting for us.”
“Cake!” Sam exclaimed with an air of discovery.
“Oh, shit - “ Bobby’s eyes went wide.
“It was so awesome!” the youngest Winchester said.
“Sammy, shut the fuck up!” Dean hissed, pulling away from Jo.
“At the party there was music and this huge freaking cake --
“Son, no -“ John groaned.
“ - and when the music stopped a naked lady popped out!”
Dead silence.
Four hearts stopped.
“There was no touching involved,” John finally blurted out. “Absolutely no touching!”
“I am so kicking your ass, Sam,” Dean said fervently, edging away from Jo, who was starting to vibrate.
The sirens were getting louder.
“We really need to get going,” Bobby said, looking sideways at Jody.
Jody met his eyes and, after a moment, gave him a slow wink. “Did she get your motor going?” she whispered.
Bobby’s mouth twitched.
Jody laughed and started pulling him toward her truck.
“We’ll see you guys later!” Bobby tossed over his shoulder. And they were gone.
Mary thrust her family into the Impala, squishing herself into the front with Dean and John; Sam and his harem twined round each other in the back.
As they left the parking lot, Mary said coolly, “No cake for you!”
The sirens were beyond loud now.
Ellen and Jo followed Bill to the truck and they tore out of the parking lot.
Jo was sulking in the back seat, disappointed in the lack of chocolate cake and hot monkey sex with Dean.
In the front, Ellen took in a deep breath and looked at her husband. “No touching, right?”
Bill shook his head. “No touching. I swear.”
Ellen blew out a breath and shook her head. “William Anthony Harvelle. It’s beyond me how one man can be so smart, so dumb and so damned lucky all at the same time.”
“I am lucky, Ellen,” Bill said fervently. “I’ve got you.”
“Don’t pile it on too thick,” Ellen snapped. “Just remember, I get first shot at Fangs-R-Us!”
“Yes, ma’am,” he grinned.
“And no more titty dancers!”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She grabbed him by the hair, looked into his eyes, gave him a short, hard kiss.
“Idiot.”
END
Author: Leigh Ann Wallace
Writing for: Colls
Rated PG for: potty mouth, implied sexuality, some violence
No warnings needed: Strictly AU
Summary: The ladies of Supernatural are upset at being left out of a hunt. But the hunt is not as it appears to be.
Beta'd: Thanks, E.G. As always, awesome!
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
Ellen tossed back the shot of tequila and slammed the glass down on the bar. “Those sons of bitches!” she growled.
“You really think they’re hunting?” Mary asked, a hurt expression on her warm, delicate features.
Ellen gestured for another shot. “Damned right I do.”
The bartender sidled over nervously and refilled her glass.
Ellen looked at the bartender and scowled. “Never occurred to that selfish bastard that I might want to kill something!”
The bartender, a young man of no more than 21, clearly not experienced with menopausal death threats, blanched, put the bottle down carefully in front of her, and fled to the other end of the bar.
“Oh, Ellen, not John!” Mary protested. “He wouldn’t lie to me! He promised he wouldn’t go hunting without me, not after what happened last time . . . “
Ellen snorted and stared into her glass morosely.
“You really -- well, now.” Mary drank a little more of her white wine. “That - annoys me.”
Jo came up to them, beer in hand, chuckling. “Mom, you guys should come watch. Jody is totally cleaning this guy’s clock.” She spotted her mother’s bitch face. “Oh, shit. What’s wrong?”
“Language, Joanna Beth!”
“What’s up?” her daughter persisted.
“Your father,” Ellen gritted out. “He’s hunting.”
“What?!” Jo yelped. “He wouldn’t, not without us!”
With a glare, Ellen turned and yelled across the room. “Pam! Where’s my dickhead husband?”
Pamela, sitting at a table with Jessica, raised her white eyes. “Hunting.”
Ellen hmmphed, looking at Jo in angry triumph. “And who’s he with?”
“Might be easier to tell you who he’s not with.”
“John?” Mary asked.
Pam nodded and Mary looked into her glass, fingers tightening on the stem.
“Not Bobby.” Frowning, Jody straightened up from the pool table, ignoring the impatient look from her opponent. “He told me he’s helping a friend move a sofa bed.”
“Oh, please,” Ellen snorted contemptuously. “A sofa bed? And you bought that? Listen, I found Ash researching a couple of times this week. He told me some crap about doing an article for Hunter’s Monthly! So tonight, when Bill went out, I pinned Ash down and dug it out of him. Those sons of bitches are hunting werewolves!”
“No!” Jo gasped.
Ellen turned for confirmation to Pam.
“What? Oh, yeah, werewolves,” the psychic said, linking hands with Jessica. Jessica raised Pamela’s hands to her lips and kissed them gently, murmuring soft endearments.
“Five of them” Pamela cocked her head, frowned. “No, wait - six.”
“Bobby isn’t -“ Jody started, stubbornly.
“Are you kidding me?” Ellen snorted. “Do you really think any of our men would miss out on the chance to kill one werewolf, let alone five?”
“Damn it!” Jody said bitterly. “Bobby knows I’ve been dying to take one of those bastards out. Where the hell does he get off leaving me behind?”
“Where the hell do any of ‘em get off!” Ellen said, shrugging off Mary’s comforting hand.
“Hey, we playin’ or not?” Jody’s opponent, one of a group of big, hairy, drunken jugheads, lumbered over and laid a heavy hand on her shoulder. “Come on back, finish the game,” he leered. “I won’t beat you too bad.”
Jody raised an eyebrow, looked at his hand consideringly. “You might want to move that hand, Stinky. I’m not feeling too touchy feely right now.”
Stinky grinned over at his watching buddy.
“Hey, Steve, check it out. Little lady thinks she’s tough.” is His laugh was cut short when Jody grabbed him by the hair and smashed his face down onto a nearby table. When she let him go, he slid unconscious to the floor.
“Hey!” his friend shouted in outrage, rising to his feet.
“Hay is for horses,” Jody said to him. “That’s what my mom used to say, when she was trying to teach me to be a lady.”
Jo strolled over, nudged the unconscious biker with her foot. “Doesn’t look like it took,” she snickered.
Jody grinned sardonically. “Not so much.” She heard a scrape on the floor behind her and turned quickly to face the rush of Stinky’s friend, breaking her pool cue across the side of his head and sending him crashing to the floor right next to Stinky.
“Nice!” Jo said, impressed. “Did they teach you that at the police academy?”
“I taught me that.” Jody shrugged. “Tequila makes me kinda cranky.”
There was a rumble of deep voices and scraping chairs and a quartet of large, irate bikers surrounded them.
“What the fuck, lady?”
“Technically, it should be ‘What the fuck, Sheriff.’”, Jody said, her voice cold. She unclipped her badge and put it into her pocket. “But don’t let the badge stop you, jughead.”
That got her a mean grin from Jughead 1, who swung at her with a big, meaty fist.
Jody ducked under it, grabbed Stinky’s pool cue from the floor and smashed it across Jughead 1’s face, breaking his nose, the blood spattering Jody’s jacket.
“Damn it!” Jody glared at the stain. She hit him again, sending him to the floor next to Stinky and his friend. “That’s never gonna come out!”
“Jody, heads up!” Jo shouted.
Jody spun and jammed the end of the pool cue into the Jughead 2’s groin, earning a shrill scream and her victim collapsing to the floor next to the other three - they were all stretched out in a pretty straight line, all things considered.
At the scream, the bartender, Mr. Better Late Than Never, snatched up the phone and started to dial.
Mary spun on her stool to face him. “Young man, put that phone down!” she snapped indignantly.
He looked from her stern MOM FACE to the growing catastrophe in the bar. “But - but-” he stuttered.
“Put - the - phone - down,” she repeated, a martial glint in her eye.
He did so and stood dumbly, waiting for further instructions.
“Good.” Mary nodded approvingly. “Now pour yourself a drink and calm down. This won’t take long.” She settled back to watch as two more men came from the back of the bar to join in the fracas.
Pamela stood up and moved into their path. “Weasel, did you know that Joey Boy is screwing your old lady?”
Confused, Weasel looked at Pam’s blind, white eyes, then at Joey Boy, then back at Pam. “How’d you know our -- What?”
“You heard me,” the psychic said calmly.
“Bitch is lyin’, Weasel!” Joey Boy protested, looking fearfully at Pamela’s white eyes. “She’s some kinda witch or somethin’!”
Pamela shook her head mournfully. “Tsk, tsk. Just for that, I’m going to tell Weasel how much you and his girlfriend laugh about him getting your sloppy seconds.”
Yahtzee!
“Bastard!” Weasel took Joey Boy by the shirt and swung him backward into Jugheads 3 and 4, knocking them to the floor. Then Weasel jumped onto the top of the pile and started whaling on Joey Boy.
Since Weasel was hitting Jugheads 3 and 4 as much as he was Joey Boy, they started hitting back. Pretty soon it was starting to look like one of those free-for-alls on the western channel, where all you have to do to get beat up, is show up.
Mission accomplished, Pamela collected Jessica and the two went to the bar and sat down near Mary, who gave each of Sam’s fiancees a fond smile.
The three of them watched, with occasional admiring comments, as Jody speedily took down her remaining opponents.
Ellen, too busy thinking of ways to disembowel a certain dickhead, wasn’t watching the fight. Then a familiar wild screech caught her attention and she spun on her stool to see Jo leap from the top of a table to the back of one of the bikers. The biker, porcine and balding, screamed like a little boy when Jo clamped her arms around his neck and latched onto his ear with her teeth.
One of the other Jugheads grabbed her by the hips and tried to pull her off, but she kicked him away, teeth clinging stubbornly to her victim’s bloody lobe.
“Joanna Beth Harvelle!”
Cursing, Ellen grabbed the empty whiskey bottle off the bar and headed into the fray. Pam and Jess started to follow her but at a sharp look from Mary they settled back onto their stools with disappointed faces.
Jo spat out her attacker’s ear and rolled off him, leaping to her feet and kicking her new attacker in the balls. She hooted with glee when he fell to the floor, groans and curses falling out of his mouth.
With a gigantic effort, he ignored his flaming balls, reached out and hooked Jo by the pants leg. But before she could do anything more than kick him in the face, an empty bottle crashed against the man’s skull and drove him back to the floor.
“Mom!” Jo stamped her foot. “I don’t need your help!”
“Joanna Beth,” Ellen said grimly, “you come with me. We’re going to find your father and kick his sorry, lying butt.”
“Dean’s, too?” Jo asked hopefully.
“Sure, honey. Dean’s too.” Ellen swept for the door, gathering up the other women as she went.
Before following the others out, Mary gave the gibbering bartender a friendly smile. “You can go ahead and call the police now, sweetheart. They’ll take care of this mess for you.”
Outside, the Sextet of Terror stomped over to the line of motorcycles parked in front of the bar.
Ellen kicked the first one over. As it fell, it took down the next one in line - and on and on down the line until every single Jughead-mobile lay on the ground.
The Sextet continued on toward Jody’s truck, then came to a bumpy halt when a monster truck and a black Impala roared onto the parking lot.
Bobby Singer and Bill Harvelle piled out of the truck, the three Winchesters out of the Impala.
The men looked at the litter of bikes on the ground.
“Uh,” John said doubtfully. “Do we want to know what happened here?”
“Probably not,” Mary said, blue eyes cool.
“Ellen?” Bill said, uneasy. “What’s going on?”
Ellen advanced on him menacingly, flanked by Jo. “Been looking for you,” she purred. “Babe.”
John, moving toward Mary, saw the look in her eyes and came to an abrupt halt, both his sons plowing into him from behind. “Uh oh.”
“What?” Dean saw Jo coming toward him, mouth tight and eyes blazing. “Oh, crap. What did I do now?”
Oblivious to the drama, and very, very drunk, Sam wove uncertainly around them and staggered over to Pamela and Jess, leaning heavily against them. “Hey!”
“Hey, sweetcheeks,” Pam said dotingly, reaching down and squeezing one of said cheeks. “You are in so much trouble!”
Sam’s smile was sweet and loopy. “Okay. What’d I do?”
“Come on, you know.” Jessica hooked her fingers into the loops of his belt and pulled him in closer, nibbling teasingly on his ear. “Where you been, lover?”
“It’s not a big deal,” Sam confessed, a little shame-faced. “I wanted to tell you, but the guys thought you’d be mad.” He shivered as Pamela went to work on his other ear. “Pam, come on, that tickles!”
“So tell us where you were.” Pamela chuckled. “It’s not like I don’t know already.”
“Sam, don’t!” Dean warned him, looking uneasily at Jo as she stalked angrily around him.
“Tell us, Sam,” Jess whispered, slipping a hand underneath his shirt. “Tell us!”
“Upstairs brain, Sam!” Dean shouted. “Upstairs brain!”
“Come on, Dean!” Sam said, giggling. “What’s the big deal? It was just a bachelor party!” He scuffed the toe of his boot in the dirt and grinned engagingly at his girls. Dimples on Parade. “You can spank me if you wanna. I deserve it!”
Ellen, on the verge of knocking her erstwhile husband on his ass, stopped short. “You weren’t hunting?”
Relieved, Bill laughed. “After the way you ripped my ass up last time? Oh, hell no!”
“No werewolves?” Jo said, face falling.
“But Ash has been doing research for you, on werewolves,” Ellen said suspiciously. “And Pam said she saw them.”
“Five of them,” Pam clarified, rubbing up against Sam. “Maybe six.” Sam gave her a sloppy kiss and she moaned into his mouth. “Seven?”
“Sam! Girls!” Mary snapped. “This is not the time!”
Blushing, the three moved apart. But not too far.
“Damn it! The werewolves were supposed to be a surprise!” Bill groused. “That’s why we’re here. Ash found the location of the pack, so we dumped the party and came to get you!”
“Yes!” Jo whooped and threw her arms around Dean. He sighed with relief and took immediate advantage of her lips.
“John.” Mary’s mouth curved in a gentle smile. She kissed her husband on the cheek. “That’s so sweet. You saved the werewolves for us.”
“Of course we did,” John said, relieved, but still not entirely sure he was out of danger.
“I don’t know why you thought we’d be upset by a silly old bachelor party!” Mary chided him.
John took her hand. “Yeah, I know. I’m sorry, Mare.”
Sirens flared in the distance.
“Uh, guys?” said Jody, hooking her arm through Bobby’s with a grin. “We should probably go.”
Mary nodded and started to gather up her brood. “Why don’t we all go over to our place? We can talk, make plans for the hunt. And I happen to know there’s a pretty tasty chocolate cake waiting for us.”
“Cake!” Sam exclaimed with an air of discovery.
“Oh, shit - “ Bobby’s eyes went wide.
“It was so awesome!” the youngest Winchester said.
“Sammy, shut the fuck up!” Dean hissed, pulling away from Jo.
“At the party there was music and this huge freaking cake --
“Son, no -“ John groaned.
“ - and when the music stopped a naked lady popped out!”
Dead silence.
Four hearts stopped.
“There was no touching involved,” John finally blurted out. “Absolutely no touching!”
“I am so kicking your ass, Sam,” Dean said fervently, edging away from Jo, who was starting to vibrate.
The sirens were getting louder.
“We really need to get going,” Bobby said, looking sideways at Jody.
Jody met his eyes and, after a moment, gave him a slow wink. “Did she get your motor going?” she whispered.
Bobby’s mouth twitched.
Jody laughed and started pulling him toward her truck.
“We’ll see you guys later!” Bobby tossed over his shoulder. And they were gone.
Mary thrust her family into the Impala, squishing herself into the front with Dean and John; Sam and his harem twined round each other in the back.
As they left the parking lot, Mary said coolly, “No cake for you!”
The sirens were beyond loud now.
Ellen and Jo followed Bill to the truck and they tore out of the parking lot.
Jo was sulking in the back seat, disappointed in the lack of chocolate cake and hot monkey sex with Dean.
In the front, Ellen took in a deep breath and looked at her husband. “No touching, right?”
Bill shook his head. “No touching. I swear.”
Ellen blew out a breath and shook her head. “William Anthony Harvelle. It’s beyond me how one man can be so smart, so dumb and so damned lucky all at the same time.”
“I am lucky, Ellen,” Bill said fervently. “I’ve got you.”
“Don’t pile it on too thick,” Ellen snapped. “Just remember, I get first shot at Fangs-R-Us!”
“Yes, ma’am,” he grinned.
“And no more titty dancers!”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She grabbed him by the hair, looked into his eyes, gave him a short, hard kiss.
“Idiot.”
END