If I owned them, I wouldn't be posting this here. So let's just get that out of the way. Not to be taken seriously, but kind of a cool idea I thought... It started out in my mind as a comedy, but it didn't end that way. I might continue this later, but it stands alone as-is, I guess. This is my first finished fan piece, and my first Supernatural fic. It fits with the theme of my C2, as well, so if you liked it (or read it and thought you could do a better job), check that out as well. Some really good stories in there.
"Cute."
"I'm dead serious, Sam."
Sam stared incredulously at the older hunter where he leaned against the wall, arms crossed. "Bobby— No. I mean normally, man, yeah, I'd trust your gut over my own eyes. But this is just..."
"Crazy?" He looked Sam in the eye, his face utterly serious just as he said. He leaned over to the window, twitching a curtain aside to look down at Dean through the hotel window. Just returning from a quick store run, he was carrying a couple of paper bags up from the Impala. Bobby shook his head before letting the curtain fall again. "Ain't the first crazy thing this week."
Sam's mouth hung open for a second, a half smile lingering on his face from the initial amusement of the idea. But the shock and the novelty were wearing off, and the smile went with them. A soft laugh escaped him, but he just stared at the carpet. He ran a hand over his mouth, shaking his head.
"No. No way."
"No way what?" The door slammed as Dean kicked it shut, his hands full. He set the bags down on the table, looking at the other two hunters.
"N-nothing." Sam winced slightly at the hesitance in his voice. He let himself forget Bobby's observations for a moment. Dean didn't seem convinced though. He looked up a Bobby questioningly. A hunter didn't survive long without knowing how to bluff, and Bobby was an old hand. He gave a slight shake of the head, walking over to give Dean a hand with the bags.
"Yeah, okay guys. Whatever." He started to unload the bags' contents onto the table. Bobby reached into one of the bags, pulling out an extra large bag of peanut M&Ms. He held the bag in his hands, raising an eyebrow at Sam. Sam stared again for a moment, shaking his head. Dean, noticing the exchange furrowed his eyebrows looking somewhat confused.
"You guys sure nothing's going on?"
"Huh?" Sam cursed himself internally. "Oh, yeah, nothing. Just..."
"Just what?"
"You've got a bit of a sweet tooth, don't you?"
"What about it? Nothing wrong with a man who likes his candy."
"Huh? No. Sure. You're right."
"I'm right?" Dean frowned, obviously becoming even more confused. And possibly a bit worried. "You feeling okay, Sammy?"
"Huh?" Sam seemed almost startled by the question.
"Well, I'm right...I guess... When was the last time that happened, huh?"
Sam thought fast. "This whole thing with the trickster... We're so hard on each other sometimes. I just thought..."
"Yeah, okay Samantha. Sheesh." Dean grimaced, looking at Bobby. "Next time warn a guy when he's in that kind of mood, okay?"
He took the bag of M&Ms from Bobby, tearing it open with his teeth. He downed a few, crunching loudly. "If you two need me, I'll be out refilling the car."
Their last shot of Dean was just before the door shut, smiling an amused smile, his head shaking.
"You know," Bobby started, "He's got a point. You do tend to—"
Sam looked up at Bobby from where he sat on the edge of the bed, warning coloring his expression. The older man sighed, poking through the bags idly.
"It's just speculation. Even if it was true..."
"But it's not. It can't be." Sam shook his head again. "It doesn't make any sense."
"Doesn't it?" Bobby got a bottle from the bag, opening it as he took a seat in a chair by the table. "I mean, every creature comes from somewhere. Every ghost has it's story— Hell, even shapeshifters start human. Is it really that hard to believe?"
"But tricksters are like demigods, you said."
"Well, if they're like anything... Still. Everything comes from somewhere. Tricksters go way back. If anyone knew how they started out, it's possible that it's been forgotten."
Sam's voice raised slightly. "But this is Dean."
Bobby sighed, taking a sip of his beer. "I'm sorry I said anything."
"No," Sam said, standing up from the bed. "You don't get out of it that easy. What— I mean how does something like that even cross your mind?"
Bobby watched Sam pace the room for a bit, looking thoughtfully at the beer in his hand. Finally he answered.
"There's two things in this world I know, Sam. Legends...and cars."
Not for the first time since the topic came up, Sam looked at Bobby as though he was crazy. The older man put up a hand, asking for patience.
"You saw that thing after the accident, Sam. It was totaled."
Sam blinked. "The Impala?"
"You asked me back when Dean was in the hospital, and I told you..." Bobby paused, considering how to phrase it. "There wasn't a force on earth I thought could put that thing back together, Sam. Before they let him out, I did my damnedest, but... It was a miracle he was able to fix it."
"And you mean that literally?"
"Sam, I just try to figure out how things work." The older hunter set down his beer, leaning forward. "But look me in the eye and tell me it didn't feel familiar."
"The trickster?"
"When you two were growing up, he always did start those prank wars of yours..."
"Of course, he's the older brother. He thinks it's his job to be annoying as he is..."
"He's canny in a dangerous way, Sam. He always has been. He picked up the skills to con and deceive so young...he's too clever. Too quick. Lying is second nature to him, and he hides so much of himself... Sometimes the person we see isn't really him. Shapeshifters become what they are through the single-minded desire to be someone else. But if a person could want that badly for people to see only what he wants them to see..."
Sam knew what was coming. He didn't want to hear it. But it wasn't in him to protest. His pacing stopped.
"Now, maybe he isn't. Not yet. Maybe not ever. But don't you think, maybe," Bobby continued, "Just possibly, that I could be right on this? That it could happen?"
The look on Sam's face disturbed Bobby. The younger man didn't move—he barely even breathed. With a deep, regretful sigh, the old hunter rubbed his eyes, tossing the empty bottle into the trash.
"Just never mind. I'm an old idiot. Maybe the years of what we do are getting to me—"
"No." Sam said. It was hardly a whisper.
"No? What do you mean 'No.'?"
Sam said nothing, just staring down...as though listening. "Bobby... Did you ever hear the car start up?"
A faint creak sounded near the door. Sam rushed toward the doorway, throwing it open wide. He thought for a moment he caught a glimpse of Dean's jacket passing down the stares. On impulse, he followed.
He reached the street just in time to see the Impala pulling away, tires screeching madly. Running a hand through his hair, he tried to think. But his mind felt dead. Bobby finally reached him, looking up questioningly.
"He never left...Bobby, he..."
"He heard everything."