Title: One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten, Eleven, Twelve - Aftershock Thirteen - Fourteen, Fifteen & Sixteen
Also: Minor Tremors parts One & Two
accompaniment(s) to: With a Bang
Rating: SPN/DA Crossover - PG - Gen – AU in the year 2020
Spoilers: General (for all aired episodes)
Disclaimers: SPN & DA & characters are owned by their various creators.
Summary: Dean POV. Alec-n-Dean vs. The Wildlife (aka rat phobia and some other stuff that will make you puke in the back of your mouth a little)
It was a perfect day for a raccoon hunt.
Or violent death by tornado.
Dean took a few steps backwards when the roof on the old tool shed floated onto its side for a second before crashing back down into place. Their house on the only hill in town gave a nice view of the thunderstorm hanging low across the shallow valley. Along with some light to moderately sized hail, the streaks of lightening were accompanied with a steady rain that soaked nice and slow through Dean’s jacket.
“W-Why can’t we just shoot the raccoons?” Alec panted. “Why aren’t we doing that?”
“I don’t know,” Dean replied miserably. “This way is just… better?”
“Better for who?” Alec demanded. “The raccoons? That’s all this is better for. They rob the Twinkies of the damn traps and then they move back in. They’re mocking us!”
Hands on his hips, Alec was breathlessly pacing the muddy church drive with his T-shirt flipped over his head and onto his shoulders for some cool down. But despite having looked like he’d just completed a couple uphill triathlons, the kid had only been trying to be fast enough to chase well-fed scavengers from their comfy abodes in the church rafters.
Over and over and over again.
Dean was getting winded just watching him.
Alec pointed in interest as an ancient oak tree listing to one side finally gave way in the gusting wind. With a groan, it began to slowly crash through the branches around it until it struck the forest floor with a boom.
“Look, let’s just go around and try again!” Dean shouted over the noise. “We’ll flush them out through the graveyard and nail ‘em.”
Alec kicked in a dented chicken wire trap before doing what he was told.
Dean got himself in place with the rucksack and got ready to bag a pissed off raccoon. To mix it up a little he moved further down the hill and closer to the tiny bridge behind the church’s boneyard. The dirt road that ran by usually had a calm stream meandering next to it. But overnight torrential rains had turned it into a small river of runoff, choking the bridge with tree wreckage and everything else that had gotten caught in the flow.
Alec appeared on the church steps with no raccoons fleeing in terror in his wake.
“Anything?” Alec held out his hands. “Not a single one?”
“They don’t wanna play,” Dean hadn’t even seen the fat gray one this time. “Must be the weather.”
“Pussies.” Alec slammed the church doors closed.
Dean turned his attention back towards the road crumbling on either side of the bridge. As much as he wanted the church Pest-Free, he was more concerned about the crappy streets that crisscrossed through the town. Decent highway maintenance had gone the way of most 21st century contrivances after 09’ and there were a few people out there that might get stranded if their strip of asphalt didn’t hold up.
“You want to try again?” Dean asked.
“Only if we get to use rifles this time,” Alec was sniffing the air in distraction as if he could smell something besides churned up soil and fresh tree sap. “Or that landmine I saw in your room.”
Another big oak fell across the road and brought down a few pines with it.
Dean had a tricked out pickup that was as almost as good as a boat with chains on the tires. It might be a good idea to load up the kid and some flashlights and see if anyone out there might need a helping han—
“I hear something.” Alec wandered closer to the bridge.
“How can you not hear that?”
All Dean could hear was the roar of runoff and the rumble of thunder overhead.
“That right there,” Alec paused on the edge of the eroded road and searched the drainage ditch. “Down there.”
“Hey,” Dean frowned when Alec teetered on the crumbling embankment. “What are you doin’?”
Tossing aside the raccoon sack, Dean quickly closed the distance between himself and the ditch. What used to be a couple of feet down to a calm pebbled stream had risen up to the tree line. There was now a steep drop down to the rocks and brown water that thrashed white and quick, battering against logs and other debris jammed under bridge. The kid was nowhere to be found.
Confused, Dean looked around to see if Alec hadn’t gotten downstream somehow.
“Hey!” Dean slid down into the mud. “Where are you!”
“I’m in here!”
He heard Alec’s voice echo and suddenly realized the kid had crawled into the narrow concrete drain that ran under the road.
“I found it!” Alec let his knees break his fall on the muddy gravel as he slid back out. “Look!”
Dean leaned over to see Alec’s find despite himself. The kid helped by standing up straight and holding his cupped hands directly under his uncle’s face.
It was small, it was filthy and it had a thin bony tail.
“Jesus!” Dean stumbled backwards. “Fuck. Fucking... FUCK.”
Alec quickly withdrew the squirming animal in his hands.
“Get rid of it!” Dean held the back of his hand against his mouth. “Now!”
“Why?” Alec slipped and slid his way back up onto the road. “What for?”
“The world doesn’t need anymore damn rats!”
“It’s not a rat,” Alec carefully wiped some mud off its matted fur. “It’s a cat.”
Dean hesitantly dropped his raised fist.
He narrowed his eyes on the clump of wriggling sludge. The kid was right. The tiny animal plucked from the drain wasn’t vermin. It was a drenched baby feline. It let out a terrified mewl that exposed sharp white teeth.
“Correct me if I’m wrong,” Dean crossed his arms. “But don’t those things usually come in six-packs?”
Alec quickly shoved the kitten into Dean’s hands and jumped back over the side. He came back up a lot faster than he had before. He was also suddenly in a big hurry to get away from the ditch. “There were a couple more.”
Dean thought it was interesting that the kid was having trouble with the word dead.
“Come on,” Dean wondered if any of the kindling by the porch was still dry. “Let’s go make a fire and get something to eat.”
Dean handed Alec his jacket and the kid gratefully pulled it on. He had gotten a little more than soaked crawling around in the storm runoff. Zipping up the front, Alec stuck the cat in the front for the short ride home.
“Don’t get too chummy,” Dean warned. “’Cause we ain’t keeping that thing.”
“I want to keep it.”
“We’re not what you’d call pet people.”
“What’s that mean?“
“It means we travel for long periods of time and I’m pretty sure that dude doesn’t know how to work a microwave.”
“Pastor Jim takes care of all sorts of things,” Alec said. “Keeping a litter box clean can’t be that different from sweeping off the steps.”
“It sure would be a nice wake up call for all those bastards livin’ it up in the church tho?” Alec smiled. “This guy could do some serious crowd control I bet. Look at him! He’s a killer. I can totally tell.”
Dean glanced back at the kitten’s wet head sticking out of the jacket.
“Besides, he would live outside and make the world his toilet!” Alec said. “Eatin’ coons. Drinkin’ holy water all day. It would be the life.”
“And when he kicks it we can always use its parts.”
“It’d be like recycling!”
“That brings us to the greatest flaw in your grand plan,” Dean shook his head. “Sam’s not gonna want the fleabag either.”
“Sure he will.”
“He hates cats.”
“He does?” Alec bit at his lip. “But he's so diplomatic with houseflies.“
“Long story but I’ll keep it short,” Dean wondered who he was kidding. “Ya see, back when your dad and me were kids we used to have to live in some pretty gnarly trailer parks. That crap unto itself made for some pretty good times, but this park was owned by a Madame running a brothel out the back and her trailer always reeked because she kept dead cats lined up in the windows to keep the cops away. So one day Sam and me decide to go in there to see if she kept any loose cash around and—“
“Sam will change his mind when he sees Killer.”
They walked in silence for a few minutes.
“What is it with your thing with dead cats anyway?” Alec mumbled. “It’s weird.”
“Dunno,” Dean ripped up the tarp under the porch and felt around for dry firewood. “Hazard of the trade I guess.”
Dean turned at the sound of Alec’s exasperated outrage. Now that they were a safe distance away and half way through the front door, the church step was now filled with half a dozen curious raccoons.
“Yeah, right!” Alec shouted at them. “Wait till Killer is on the case! You won’t be all... all full of smiles and Twinkies then!”
Standing on hind legs to take stock of the storm damage, the raccoons didn’t appear to be that concerned by anyone new on the payroll. Dean hit the door frame when Alec shouldered past him into the house.
“None of the rifles are loaded,” Dean said. “And are you really ready for that kind of escalation in violence? We get guns, then they get guns, we start taking hostages, they start tak—“
“I’m just getting started on Phase B.”
Dean watched Alec carefully monitor the bathroom sink’s water output. The kitten didn’t seem to care for water no matter what temperature it was, but with most of the mud off it did start to look less and less rat like.
“What’s Phase B?” Dean asked.
“I-I’m not sure yet,” Alec scrubbed the snarling kitten with liquid hand soap. “But it’s gonna kick ass.”
Dean had an even better plan. It involved dry pants, dry socks and a toasty old bathrobe. If he played it right there might even be a few beers and his brother sitting around for a game of cards. Dean had even saved the last Twinkie to split right down the middle.
Stretching out stiff arms and legs, he wondered if the rifles weren’t such a bad idea.
At least they would’ve had some dinner to show for it.
go to part 14