Fic: Catching Up
Title: Catching Up
Author: brightly_lit
Rating: PG
Genre: gen, both funny and dark
Word Count: ~1,300
Characters: Dean, Sam, Walt, Roy
Summary: "When I come back, I'mma be pissed." Those were Dean's last words before Walt and Roy killed him, and Sam too. He's pissed, all right.
Dean was in a bad mood, like usual. “I’m getting drunk,” he declared gustily, “and nothin’s gonna stop me, not even you making that face, Sam.”
“Didn’t really expect it to,” Sam murmured, stowing his gun under his seat. Too many people around to put it in the trunk like he should. They had to take off in a hurry when some goodie-goodie happened to see them off a werewolf in its human form and called the cops.
“Could our luck get any worse?” Dean went on. “Law enforcement after us--again--that werewolf almost got you, and our last hunt didn’t go so good, either. Look at us. When was the last time a werewolf gave us any trouble? Just once, I’d like to kill something that went down easy, something that really deserv--”
Dean didn’t finish the sentence, but he didn’t need to. The werewolf they killed was an earnest student still in high school, who looked at Sam and Dean and only saw a couple of murderers in his last moments. He didn’t know what he was. The look in his eyes when he realized they were about to pull the trigger ... it wasn’t something either of the brothers was likely to soon forget.
“Yeah, a drink sounds good,” Sam said mutedly as they went in the door. Even Dean wouldn’t try to pick up chicks after a hunt like that. They were probably in for a long, depressing evening. Sam knew he would be looking for another, better hunt first thing tomorrow, but Dean was right, lately their luck really sucked.
Dean’s eyes lit up. “Hey, lookie who it is, Sam, look! It’s our old hunter buddies, Walt and Roy!”
Sam stopped where he was. “Walt and--you mean the hunters who killed us?”
“The very same! Let’s have a drink, for old time’s sake!”
Dean hurried to their table, where he slapped Roy on the back, hard, but it was Walt who spit out his drink.
“Hey, guys!” Dean had never greeted even Dad with this much enthusiasm when they hadn’t seen him in months and thought he must surely be dead this time. “How’s it goin’? Long time no see!” He pulled up a tall chair to their tall table and caught the bartender’s eye, ordering drinks for him and Sam with a gesture.
“Haven’t seen you guys in forever!” Dean declared, eyes sparkling. “When was the last time we saw each other? Let me think ....” Walt and Roy were eyeing each other with helpless desperation. Sam couldn’t help enjoying watching them squirm. He’d been dead for most of their exchange and Dean had never really filled him in, but it didn’t matter. This was a debt that had been collecting interest for years. He planned to exact payment in full, and he could see Dean intended to do the same. Roy eyed Sam with a wan smile. Sam didn’t smile back, regarding him with cold expectancy. Was that a shudder? Sam smirked a little at that.
“Oh, wait, I remember,” Dean said as Walt froze. Dean went on in this same tone, as if Walt and Roy had been rather naughty. “You guys killed us! Just shot both of us to death in our beds in cold blood. Remember that, Sam? Oh, probably not; you were dead. But I remember.” He fixed Walt with a steely stare for a long few seconds, then went on jovially, “What a hassle! Besides dying, I mean. It looked like a murder scene in there!”
“It was a murder scene,” Sam said expressionlessly.
“Boy was it!” Dean marveled. “See, I personally haven’t ever killed a human at close range like that. Phew, what a mess! We didn’t know how to explain that one to the maids! So we just took off. But that’s probably another crime that got pinned on us. Man, I’m sick of that. What about you, Sam?”
Sam only nodded slightly. So very sick of it. Despite the economy of his response, he was sure he saw Walt shudder this time. Was he so scary? Oh, right, these guys thought of him as some kind of demon-blood-guzzling apocalypse-starting monster. Even Sam knew his smile at that thought must look terrifying.
“And so much for that shirt. I really liked that one, too ....” Dean sighed, like they were reminiscing about old times. “I remember I said something to you. What were my last words again? Something about ‘when I come back, I’mma be pissed’? Now, I tell you, if someone said something like that to me, I might think better of it, but not you, huh Walt?”
Dean looked at Sam, breezy smile on the bottom half of Dean’s face, cold fury in his eyes. “Guess it makes sense. I mean, Sam was already dead, right? I was gonna be pissed either way.”
“He started the apocalypse!” Roy defended--just as the waittress set down Sam and Dean’s drinks, unfortunately for him. No one liked to get looked at like he was crazy by someone that hot. She hurried away. Roy lowered his voice. “What were we supposed to do?”
Dean shrugged in that way he did, like he never had a care in the world. Sam sipped his drink and wondered how he did that. Sam doubted he himself had ever looked carefree a day in his life. “I dunno. And now, what are we supposed to do, Sam?” he asked with exaggerated concern. “Here we sit, with our murderers. Not a lot of victims get to say that, huh? I wonder what most of them would do. Sam? Got a guess?”
“We’re sorry,” Walt said, voice cracking.
“Whoa, that much desperation--not a good look, Walt,” Dean said with a cool smile. “Hunters--we’re supposed to be able to handle scary situations, you know? We risk our lives every day, right? Calculated risks--like the one you took, killin’ me and Sam. Figuring we couldn’t come back and settle the score.” He grinned. “Whoops.”
Walt was all the more desperate now. “We did what we thought was the right thing at the time. Obviously--obviously, we were wrong. But come on, man, are you trying to tell me you wouldn’ta done the same thing in our position?”
“Dunno. Never killed a hunter in cold blood ... before today.”
The looks on Walt and Roy’s faces were priceless: wide, staring eyes, pale as daisies.
Dean burst out laughing and slapped Walt on the back this time. “Oh, I had you going! You bought it, didn’t you! Every word!”
Walt and Roy laughed weakly. Roy choked a little as he did. Dean finished his beer, motioned for Sam to do the same, and took his leave. “Hunters--we do what we gotta do, I know,” Dean assured them. “Trust me, I know how it is. We’ll call it even. Here.” He laid a twenty on the table. “On me. You still owe me for that hotel room, though.” He was pointing at them, teasing, as they took their leave, shouting across the busy bar. “You still owe me!” Dean was still laughing as he turned away.
Sam eyed him bewilderedly as they went out the front door and headed to the car. Walt and Roy had made themselves very scarce since that fateful day. Sam and Dean hadn’t heard a word about them or their whereabouts in all that time, but Sam thought from what little had ever been said between them on the subject that he and Dean had an understanding. “You aren’t--are you really just gonna let ’em go, Dean?”
Every ghost of a smile had long since left Dean’s face. He beelined for the car, where he took his own gun from where he’d stashed it it the glovebox and made sure it was loaded. Sam saw Walt and Roy flee from a side exit to their truck, and Sam saw Dean notice the same thing. Dean slammed the magazine into place. “Nope.”
~The End~
Author: brightly_lit
Rating: PG
Genre: gen, both funny and dark
Word Count: ~1,300
Characters: Dean, Sam, Walt, Roy
Summary: "When I come back, I'mma be pissed." Those were Dean's last words before Walt and Roy killed him, and Sam too. He's pissed, all right.
Dean was in a bad mood, like usual. “I’m getting drunk,” he declared gustily, “and nothin’s gonna stop me, not even you making that face, Sam.”
“Didn’t really expect it to,” Sam murmured, stowing his gun under his seat. Too many people around to put it in the trunk like he should. They had to take off in a hurry when some goodie-goodie happened to see them off a werewolf in its human form and called the cops.
“Could our luck get any worse?” Dean went on. “Law enforcement after us--again--that werewolf almost got you, and our last hunt didn’t go so good, either. Look at us. When was the last time a werewolf gave us any trouble? Just once, I’d like to kill something that went down easy, something that really deserv--”
Dean didn’t finish the sentence, but he didn’t need to. The werewolf they killed was an earnest student still in high school, who looked at Sam and Dean and only saw a couple of murderers in his last moments. He didn’t know what he was. The look in his eyes when he realized they were about to pull the trigger ... it wasn’t something either of the brothers was likely to soon forget.
“Yeah, a drink sounds good,” Sam said mutedly as they went in the door. Even Dean wouldn’t try to pick up chicks after a hunt like that. They were probably in for a long, depressing evening. Sam knew he would be looking for another, better hunt first thing tomorrow, but Dean was right, lately their luck really sucked.
Dean’s eyes lit up. “Hey, lookie who it is, Sam, look! It’s our old hunter buddies, Walt and Roy!”
Sam stopped where he was. “Walt and--you mean the hunters who killed us?”
“The very same! Let’s have a drink, for old time’s sake!”
Dean hurried to their table, where he slapped Roy on the back, hard, but it was Walt who spit out his drink.
“Hey, guys!” Dean had never greeted even Dad with this much enthusiasm when they hadn’t seen him in months and thought he must surely be dead this time. “How’s it goin’? Long time no see!” He pulled up a tall chair to their tall table and caught the bartender’s eye, ordering drinks for him and Sam with a gesture.
“Haven’t seen you guys in forever!” Dean declared, eyes sparkling. “When was the last time we saw each other? Let me think ....” Walt and Roy were eyeing each other with helpless desperation. Sam couldn’t help enjoying watching them squirm. He’d been dead for most of their exchange and Dean had never really filled him in, but it didn’t matter. This was a debt that had been collecting interest for years. He planned to exact payment in full, and he could see Dean intended to do the same. Roy eyed Sam with a wan smile. Sam didn’t smile back, regarding him with cold expectancy. Was that a shudder? Sam smirked a little at that.
“Oh, wait, I remember,” Dean said as Walt froze. Dean went on in this same tone, as if Walt and Roy had been rather naughty. “You guys killed us! Just shot both of us to death in our beds in cold blood. Remember that, Sam? Oh, probably not; you were dead. But I remember.” He fixed Walt with a steely stare for a long few seconds, then went on jovially, “What a hassle! Besides dying, I mean. It looked like a murder scene in there!”
“It was a murder scene,” Sam said expressionlessly.
“Boy was it!” Dean marveled. “See, I personally haven’t ever killed a human at close range like that. Phew, what a mess! We didn’t know how to explain that one to the maids! So we just took off. But that’s probably another crime that got pinned on us. Man, I’m sick of that. What about you, Sam?”
Sam only nodded slightly. So very sick of it. Despite the economy of his response, he was sure he saw Walt shudder this time. Was he so scary? Oh, right, these guys thought of him as some kind of demon-blood-guzzling apocalypse-starting monster. Even Sam knew his smile at that thought must look terrifying.
“And so much for that shirt. I really liked that one, too ....” Dean sighed, like they were reminiscing about old times. “I remember I said something to you. What were my last words again? Something about ‘when I come back, I’mma be pissed’? Now, I tell you, if someone said something like that to me, I might think better of it, but not you, huh Walt?”
Dean looked at Sam, breezy smile on the bottom half of Dean’s face, cold fury in his eyes. “Guess it makes sense. I mean, Sam was already dead, right? I was gonna be pissed either way.”
“He started the apocalypse!” Roy defended--just as the waittress set down Sam and Dean’s drinks, unfortunately for him. No one liked to get looked at like he was crazy by someone that hot. She hurried away. Roy lowered his voice. “What were we supposed to do?”
Dean shrugged in that way he did, like he never had a care in the world. Sam sipped his drink and wondered how he did that. Sam doubted he himself had ever looked carefree a day in his life. “I dunno. And now, what are we supposed to do, Sam?” he asked with exaggerated concern. “Here we sit, with our murderers. Not a lot of victims get to say that, huh? I wonder what most of them would do. Sam? Got a guess?”
“We’re sorry,” Walt said, voice cracking.
“Whoa, that much desperation--not a good look, Walt,” Dean said with a cool smile. “Hunters--we’re supposed to be able to handle scary situations, you know? We risk our lives every day, right? Calculated risks--like the one you took, killin’ me and Sam. Figuring we couldn’t come back and settle the score.” He grinned. “Whoops.”
Walt was all the more desperate now. “We did what we thought was the right thing at the time. Obviously--obviously, we were wrong. But come on, man, are you trying to tell me you wouldn’ta done the same thing in our position?”
“Dunno. Never killed a hunter in cold blood ... before today.”
The looks on Walt and Roy’s faces were priceless: wide, staring eyes, pale as daisies.
Dean burst out laughing and slapped Walt on the back this time. “Oh, I had you going! You bought it, didn’t you! Every word!”
Walt and Roy laughed weakly. Roy choked a little as he did. Dean finished his beer, motioned for Sam to do the same, and took his leave. “Hunters--we do what we gotta do, I know,” Dean assured them. “Trust me, I know how it is. We’ll call it even. Here.” He laid a twenty on the table. “On me. You still owe me for that hotel room, though.” He was pointing at them, teasing, as they took their leave, shouting across the busy bar. “You still owe me!” Dean was still laughing as he turned away.
Sam eyed him bewilderedly as they went out the front door and headed to the car. Walt and Roy had made themselves very scarce since that fateful day. Sam and Dean hadn’t heard a word about them or their whereabouts in all that time, but Sam thought from what little had ever been said between them on the subject that he and Dean had an understanding. “You aren’t--are you really just gonna let ’em go, Dean?”
Every ghost of a smile had long since left Dean’s face. He beelined for the car, where he took his own gun from where he’d stashed it it the glovebox and made sure it was loaded. Sam saw Walt and Roy flee from a side exit to their truck, and Sam saw Dean notice the same thing. Dean slammed the magazine into place. “Nope.”
~The End~