Halloween Micro-Bang story: An easy case
An easy case
Season 2. That was exactly what they needed.
Art by caffienekitty, written for Halloween Micro-Bang
Sam had heard his brother in all kinds of situations before, including one of them nearly dying. The tiny sounds of sheer terror were new, not something he had ever had the misfortune to hear. The only reason the younger Winchester was not curling around his brother to protect him from whatever threatened him was that they were both fine. And because it wouldn't have changed anything.
Dean stared at the miniature Impala on their rickety table, his eyes full of sorrow and heartbreak. “They did this to her, Sammy. They couldn't hurt us so they went after her, knowing she was defenseless. Who does something like that, Sam.” Sams heart broke seeing his brothers anguish.
He would never say it to Dean, but this could have gone so much worse.
The witch had retaliated after they had already checked into their Motel, after they had taken their bags to their rooms. Everything left in the car was miniaturized as well: their burner cells, most of their weapons, extra clothes, their cooler with beer and food for the road. Sam hoped they wouldn't need their suits before they found a way to revert the curse.
It had sounded like such a good idea, a nice little case that wouldn't be that physically demanding with Sams broken hand. Just a witch with an overdeveloped sense of humor who even without killing people didn't care if some of their victims suffered permanent damage.
Sam had been sure that they just needed to find the culprit and remind them that there were better ways to deal with children. No killing necessary on their side.
The younger Winchester wasn't sure that Dean would allow them to go through with this case without killing the guilty party, not after this. Just remembering his brothers reaction to seeing her, carefully picking her up and nestling her into his old and soft shirts to prevent her from denting anywhere, this was beyond personal: The witch had desecrated their home.
As a hunter Sam was aware that all these stereotypical assumptions about witches had nothing to do with reality. They weren't ugly, had green skin or warts of any kind and came in both genders. Still, the witch in question was not what Sam expected him to look like. The jovial man in his sixties looked more like the typical Mall Santa Claus than a pissed of witch who got angry about kids destroying his rose bushes because of stray balls.
The man just needed one look at Sam. “Really, I thought you hunters got that you aren't welcome here. Or are you one of those who kill humans who don't kill others?” He stepped away from the door but Sam stayed where he was. “Not normally. But my brother would make an exception for somebody who cursed his car. We just wanted to talk to you. A little reminder that kids are kids and frightening them away is enough. Make your spell non-permanent and no hunter will care about you at all. But no, you had to go and make it so much worse.”
The witch sighed. “If I reverse everything you kind will stay away?”
Sam nodded. “That's the deal. And nobody involved has to die.”
The older man made a decision and lit a candle, murmuring a language Sam didn't recognize. Why couldn't their cases always be that simple?
The loud crash rattled the bathroom and surprised Dean. What the hell had happened?
Just opening the door showed what had happened, his baby stood in the middle of the motel room in her original size. Finally able to check her over he looked for any damages when Sam called. “Hey Dean, check if the car is back to how it how it was.”
“I'm standing in front of her, everything looks alright. No scratches, no dents, nothing.”
Sam sounded relieved. “Good, good. Coming out of a case completely damage free is a nice change.”
Dean looked around the motel room, took in the broken table of the kitchenette, the chairs and the beds that had all been in the way of something expanding that was a lot more solid than them. And the small door to the outside that would have to go. “Sure. But don't expect our deposit back.” He closed the call before his brother could ask anything more.
Season 2. That was exactly what they needed.
Art by caffienekitty, written for Halloween Micro-Bang
Sam had heard his brother in all kinds of situations before, including one of them nearly dying. The tiny sounds of sheer terror were new, not something he had ever had the misfortune to hear. The only reason the younger Winchester was not curling around his brother to protect him from whatever threatened him was that they were both fine. And because it wouldn't have changed anything.
Dean stared at the miniature Impala on their rickety table, his eyes full of sorrow and heartbreak. “They did this to her, Sammy. They couldn't hurt us so they went after her, knowing she was defenseless. Who does something like that, Sam.” Sams heart broke seeing his brothers anguish.
He would never say it to Dean, but this could have gone so much worse.
The witch had retaliated after they had already checked into their Motel, after they had taken their bags to their rooms. Everything left in the car was miniaturized as well: their burner cells, most of their weapons, extra clothes, their cooler with beer and food for the road. Sam hoped they wouldn't need their suits before they found a way to revert the curse.
It had sounded like such a good idea, a nice little case that wouldn't be that physically demanding with Sams broken hand. Just a witch with an overdeveloped sense of humor who even without killing people didn't care if some of their victims suffered permanent damage.
Sam had been sure that they just needed to find the culprit and remind them that there were better ways to deal with children. No killing necessary on their side.
The younger Winchester wasn't sure that Dean would allow them to go through with this case without killing the guilty party, not after this. Just remembering his brothers reaction to seeing her, carefully picking her up and nestling her into his old and soft shirts to prevent her from denting anywhere, this was beyond personal: The witch had desecrated their home.
As a hunter Sam was aware that all these stereotypical assumptions about witches had nothing to do with reality. They weren't ugly, had green skin or warts of any kind and came in both genders. Still, the witch in question was not what Sam expected him to look like. The jovial man in his sixties looked more like the typical Mall Santa Claus than a pissed of witch who got angry about kids destroying his rose bushes because of stray balls.
The man just needed one look at Sam. “Really, I thought you hunters got that you aren't welcome here. Or are you one of those who kill humans who don't kill others?” He stepped away from the door but Sam stayed where he was. “Not normally. But my brother would make an exception for somebody who cursed his car. We just wanted to talk to you. A little reminder that kids are kids and frightening them away is enough. Make your spell non-permanent and no hunter will care about you at all. But no, you had to go and make it so much worse.”
The witch sighed. “If I reverse everything you kind will stay away?”
Sam nodded. “That's the deal. And nobody involved has to die.”
The older man made a decision and lit a candle, murmuring a language Sam didn't recognize. Why couldn't their cases always be that simple?
The loud crash rattled the bathroom and surprised Dean. What the hell had happened?
Just opening the door showed what had happened, his baby stood in the middle of the motel room in her original size. Finally able to check her over he looked for any damages when Sam called. “Hey Dean, check if the car is back to how it how it was.”
“I'm standing in front of her, everything looks alright. No scratches, no dents, nothing.”
Sam sounded relieved. “Good, good. Coming out of a case completely damage free is a nice change.”
Dean looked around the motel room, took in the broken table of the kitchenette, the chairs and the beds that had all been in the way of something expanding that was a lot more solid than them. And the small door to the outside that would have to go. “Sure. But don't expect our deposit back.” He closed the call before his brother could ask anything more.