My Life Is a Movie- Supernatural fic/podfic (1a/ 4)
Thursday, September 13th, 2012 12:04 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
tenoko1The podfic version is the best version to get the full effect. If you would really like the text version though, lemme know. Also, let me know if the streaming works, never done it before.
Title: My Life is a Movie -(Link to podfic. Recommended)
Author: Tenoko1
Rating: PG-13
Summary: It started out a simple case. Then it got complicated. And thank you very much, but Dean Winchester does NOT appreciate his life having a soundtrack like a freaking chick flick, even it's starting to resemble one.
AN: For the most part, I’m going to ignore the events after season five. This is not apart of my ‘The Path We Choose’ verse though.
Chapter One
Standing in the middle of the street, both Sam and Dean regarded the scene in front of them, the mannequins arranged on the crosswalk in a mock of the famous Beatles photograph. They were Federal Agents this week, Sam with his hands on his hips and head angled to the side, whilst Dean stood with his arms folded over his chest and lips pursed.
“I don’t get it, Sam,” stated Dean finally.
His brother shrugged, reaching to tug at his tie, then stopping himself and running a hand through his hair instead. He glance around the street that had been closed off. This was a crime scene, after all.
“Art mimics life,” he offered lightly, though clearly not getting the point anymore than Dean did.
It wasn’t just the four mannequins on the cross walk. There were mannequins arranged on the sidewalk, fully dressed, bags in hand, like people out shopping, a woman pushing a stroller, a woman being led by the hand by a toddler, two people sitting on the bench chatting, one stood at the bus stop. Except they were all mannequins.
“And we checked with the local cops that no one has been reported missing right? None of these things were actually people once, were they?”
With a sigh, Sam nodded. “Everyone is accounted for. It’s just…” His gaze drifted to the bridal shop and clothing boutique that all the mannequins had been commandeered from. “It’s just some elaborate prank.” He sighed again, scratching the back of his head at a loss. “It may not even be related to the other events that have been taking place around town. It could be just someone taking advantage of the other things in order to play an elaborate hoax.”
The proprietors of the two shops were watching them anxiously from the sidewalk in front their stores, both women whispering to each other, their heads angled together. With a wordless nod, the brothers split apart, Sam going to inform the women that they would be allowed to retrieve their inventory and open, while Dean moved to inform the on-scene police officers that they could reopen the street for traffic and civilians.
Being that it was close enough to lunch, the boys loosened their ties a touch and went to the diner near their motel, files detailing the recent events in the town open in front of both of them as they ordered and then ate their lunch and discussed the case.
So far the only definite pattern they had was the fact that, well, weird stuff was happening all over town. All the whites to go into the washers at the local Laundromat came out pink. Every time. The traffic lights flicked to different colors at random and with no real timing sequence. Salt kept getting used instead of sugar at the bakery. And the coffee shop. Relatively harmless, albeit annoying, pranks were happening all over town, but it wasn’t until a pickup truck found its way into the branches of a tree like someone had picked it up and put it there that the Winchesters went to investigate.
Bobby had called them with the job, and well, they were closer than he was, so it made sense for them to at least swing by to even see if it was there kind of thing or not.
Dean let his eyes sweep over the diner, it’s staff, and patrons. There was absolutely nothing out of the ordinary about this town. It was small, picturesque almost to the point of being cliché. Everyone knew each other. You could pretty much walk the entire town, there really was no need for a car. Many people were seen walking or riding a bike to get where they needed to be.
Waving to their waitress, Dean gave the middle-aged woman a charming smile and ordered a slice of warm pie with ice cream, giving her his most charming smile when she returned with it, causing her tired expression to shift into a slight smile.
“I dunno, Sammy,” Dean said finally. “I really don’t know if this is our schtick, I mean, aside from a truck in a tree, nothing here screams malevolent supernatural forces, and even that wasn’t malevolent, since no one was hurt, just inconvenienced.”
Those big brown eyes flicked to him, then down, almost in defeat. “I was thinking the same thing. It’s just weird and there’s no real reason for any of it. No ‘why’ or ‘how’, and that still bothers me. If it isn’t something supernatural, well, someone should have figured it out already, seen something. If it’s supernatural, well, it makes no sense as to ‘what’ or ‘why’, but then there’s no way to explain how else that truck could have gotten in the tree or why the clothes keep coming out pink when the washers have been checked and serviced and nothing is wrong with any of them.”
Dean took a bite of his apple pie and vanilla ice cream, faltering to release an indecent sound of enjoyment while his brother made a face, before the elder Winchester composed himself to speak. “The truck is the only reason we’re still here, the only reason we’re here to begin with. The one thing we’ve learned is that no trick is pulled more than once. The washers were only screwed up the one day. Once the traffic lights were fixed, there were no more malfunctions. It may be that the perp simply isn’t interested in pulling the same stunt more than once, or the risk of exposure is greater after having done it the first time, and there’s no opportunity for a repeat performance.”
Sam’s gaze snapped up to him, as though realizing something. “Trick,” he repeated. “A prank.” Green eyes regarded him, waiting for further explanation. “You don’t think this could be… I mean, it’s not exactly his M.O. but pranks are pranks and well…”
Dean blinked, regarding his brother seriously. “You want to know if it could be the Trickster.”
Sam shrugged and dropped his gaze, pushing around one of his fries in the ketchup like it required all of his attention. “I-I mean, I know he’s dead, or did a very convincing job of making it look like he did, wouldn’t be the first time-“
“It’s not Tuesday,” interjected Dean, causing Sam to look up in confusion. His brother clarified, “It’s not Tuesday. I’m still alive. No one has died in any of these pranks. No one has even been involved in any of these pranks, just affected by them. I don’t think Gabriel is behind this. In fact, seeing as how the apocalypse is over and it would be perfectly safe for him to return to his family if he had faked his death, and yet he hasn’t- or else Cas would have told us- it makes me believe that Goldilocks, in fact, bit the big one and his old man saw no reason to revive him.”
Sam nodded in agreement, gaze dropping again in a way that made Dean frown at him, gaze flicking over his younger sibling’s face. “You’re disappointed,” he pointed out finally, a little surprised and more than a little incredulous.
His little brother shrugged, mulling over the statement as he contemplated the remaining fries on his plate with disinterest. “It would be easy if that was all it was, I guess. As long as he’s not killing anyone.” He seemed to struggle, before looking at his brother for understanding. “And I just… I feel kinda bad, you know? He wanted to stay out of the fighting with his family, we dragged him into it, and no sooner does he agree to pick a side then his big brother murders him.” He dropped his gaze and shook his head. “I just feel like it could have been handled better if we’d had a minute to think and plan.”
“Yeah, except we didn’t, dude,” pointed out Dean. “Lucifer was on his way. We had to get the heck out of Dodge, and were only able to because Blondie Bear decided to grow a pair and stand up to his family. He didn’t pick a side, though, dude. I think he would have yelled at both Michael and Lucifer for being dumbasses. He didn’t pick Michael over Lucifer. I don’t think he even chose to fight for free will. He just wanted to talk sense into his brother and for the fighting to stop. It’s the reason he ran away to begin with.”
“Could be another trickster, then,” offered Sam. “A real one this time.”
“Except no has died and there’s no unexplainable phenomenon,” countered Dean. “Hard to explain? Sure. Truck in a tree? Malfunctioning washers that all seem like they are in top working order and haven’t been messed with? Doesn’t mean they are supernatural just because we can’t figure them out. I say we head back to Bobby’s and start looking for our next case.”
His brother considered this a moment, clearly debating. Between the two of them, Sam had always been more willing to stick to a case that had little to no evidence of supernatural relation. Dean probably wouldn’t have bothered to come out here to even look at the case a year ago.
Bad example. A year ago they were saving the world from an apocalypse because Lucifer had recently risen and they were eye ball deep in trouble and sinking.
A few years ago, Dean wouldn’t have bothered with such a ‘possibly, maybe, might be supernatural, but not really sure’ case. And not every supernatural case called for their expertise, after all. Not everything supernatural was malevolent, there were plenty of things out there that were harmless and the Winchesters just left them alone.
“Let’s call Bobby and see what he says,” offered Sam in compromise. “If he says he thinks there’s nothing here, we’ll load up the car and be done with it.”
Bobby thought it wasn’t their kind of gig.
With that confirmation, they had loaded up, and gone to get the heck out of Dodge. Upon leaving town was when they realized, okay, something very well supernatural was at work here.
“My car!” cried out Dean, both accusingly and in disbelief, his hands in his hair and eyes wide.
“I know, Dean,” Sam said again, placating. They stood in the road where Dean had been forced to pull off, both of them regarding the Impala, her hood up and smoke pouring off the engine as though they’d lit a bon fire on her.
“But my car!” explained Dean again, this time more angrily as he jabbed a finger at his baby. “I don’t care what you do with mannequins, or socks, or trucks in trees, but I’ll be damned if any sonuvabitch messes with my car and gets away with it! My baby doesn’t break down, Sammy! Ever! I take too good of care with her!”
His younger brother nodded. Dean’s car was in better working order than most cars fresh off the lot.
“She’s always in immaculate order,” agreed Sam. He glanced at the sign stating they were leaving city limits, the sign they hadn’t quite managed to get as far as. “So something is keeping us here?”
“And now it has to die,” growled Dean, as he moved over to pet his car apologetically. “Oh baby, I’m sorry they did this to you. I’ll have you better in no time, I promise.”
Sam rolled his eyes. Dean’s obsession with that car was ridiculous. He had an almost reverence for it.
“I bet you secretly have a thing for pet names,” Sam stated, regarding the way Dean was still talking softly to the car as he fanned away the last of the smoke so he could peer at the engine. “If you ever find someone to stick with you for the long haul.” Dean gave him a confused and irritated glance over his shoulder, silently demanding ‘Do you hear the stupid coming out of your mouth or did your tourettes kick in again?’ “I bet you use names like ‘sweetheart’ and ‘doll face’ and-“ He was cut abruptly short when Dean removed his suit jacket and threw it at Sam’s face.
“Would you shut up and get my tool kit out of the trunk,” he demanded, carefully rolling up his sleeves.
Sam folded the jacket and tossed it in the back seat. “Hey, you’re the one who called Gabriel ‘Blondie Bear’ and ‘Goldilocks’ earlier today.”
“In mocking, Sam,” quipped Dean, yanking off his tie and throwing it in the backseat with his jacket. “Not in seriousness.”
Regardless, Sam got his brother’s tool kit and stood back, hands on his hips as he watched his brother pour over the engine with hawk like eyes, the eyes of a proficient surgeon.
“Shouldn’t we call a tow truck? Get her back to the motel before you start working on her?”
Dean’s head snapped around to stare at him. “And risk some idiot messing up her front end alignment? Are you crazy?”
“Yeah, but if what’s keeping us here thinks you’re just fixing her to get out of town, it might break something more seriously while you’re elbow deep in her, and this time, you might get hurt in the process.”
Green eyes seemed to consider this, flicking to the woods on either side of the back roads highway. He straightened, hands in the air in a gesture of surrender.
“We’re staying,” he called out to the woods. “You hear? Let me fix her and get her back to town though. To our motel. Don’t try to break my baby again or you will have officially gotten on my shit list, you understand? My car is off limits for pranks if you don’t want me to gank you when I find you.” He turned slowly, eyes scanning the tree line. Sam stiffened, letting his own eyes search the greenery and foliage, feeling the eyes on them.
Dean was calling out again. “That’s what you want, isn’t it? For us to find you? That’s part of your game, isn’t it? The humans in this town won’t think to come looking, but you know we aren’t regular humans. Don’t pull another stunt on my car and we’ll play your game. We’ll even let you live so long as your pranks don’t escalate to harming people. Capeesh?”
After a moment, Dean turned back to his car’s engine, one hand reaching for the bag Sam still held.
“You think that worked?” his brother questioned.
Dean mulled over the engine, hands spread wide and gaze assessing. “I think it can’t keep everyone trapped here without garnering serious attention. It’s watching everyone, though, and therefore knows we aren’t like everyone. All of the pranks draw attention. It wants attention, recognition for its efforts. The big Ta-Da. It’s not going to get that from a bunch of humans, but hunters? Yeah. He wants us to stick around and see if we can’t figure him out. It’s challenging us.”
Nodding, Sam’s brown eyes drifted over the woods around them, then back to his brother who was already getting to work fixing his car. “Maybe we ought to call Cas.”
Dean looked at him like he’d just blasphemed. “Dude. This is an easy case. We’re basically playing hide-and-go-seek. We do not need to bother Cas for this. We don’t need his help.”
Sam shook his head and waved a hand dismissively. “No, not for help.” Dean’s expression softened from insulted to confused. “How often do we work a case where it’s just some harmless, mischievous element of the supernatural world doing nothing but having some fun? He might get a kick out of our having a case that doesn’t involve bloodshed. At seeing a creature from back when the world was a simpler place.”
Dean looked dubious, shaking his head and returning his attention to his car. “I dunno. I hate to bother him with trivial stuff. I’m sure he’s busy doing something important somewhere now that the apocalypse is over. I don’t want to overstep with him, angels and humans have completely different mentality. To him, it might have just been strange bedfellows, our partnership before. The enemy of my enemy is my friend and all.”
Sam scoffed. “You totally don’t believe that and you know it.” He folded his arms and gave his brother’s back a face, knowing full well Dean could probably feel the effects of it without actually having to see Sam’s expression. “You’re just insecure that now that the world’s saved, he no longer has a reason to be friends with us, you’re on your whole ‘I don’t deserve something this good in my life’ schtick again.”
Dean straightened, moving to put his hands on his hips, then faltered, remembering they were covered in grease. He wouldn’t meet Sam’s gaze. “It’s just… he’s an angel, Sam. A real angel, like what an angel should be, not like the kind of angel his siblings all were. He’s…” He faltered and shook his head. “I dunno. ‘Hope’ and ‘Cas’ are kind of the same thing in my head, this amazing thing that can make the world a better place, can change an impossible situation into something better. He’s better than hanging out with a couple of lowly human hunters, he’s probably off saving the world and changing lives and kicking people’s asses in Heaven so that they think for themselves and strive to be half as awesome as he is.”
Sam quirked a brow. “Castiel: A change we can believe in, huh?” His brother shrugged and turned back to his car. “You’re always waiting for the other shoe to drop, aren’t you?”
“What?”
“Yeah, rather than waiting for him to say ‘hey, I’m done with ya’ll, it’s been real, but I’m leaving you mud monkeys to it and headed back home’, rather than risking the pain of hearing that, you’re cutting him off instead. You’re doing the leaving so that he can’t. Because if he did say goodbye permanently, you wouldn’t know how to deal.”
“Shut up, Sam, you don’t know what you’re talking about,” groused Dean, elbow deep in his car.
“No, Dean, I think I kind of do,” argued Sam gently. “Cas is the first friend you’ve ever had. The first real friend you ever had. You can’t lie and charm him or pass off a façade with him. The guy met you when he pulled you out of Hell where you were the rising star of the King of Torture himself. Way I’ve heard tell, you’d have surpassed Alistair- if you hadn’t already. Cas knows everything you’ve ever done on Earth and in Hell and he cares about you anyway, has stuck by your side anyway, believed in you and damn well died, more than once I might add, in order to help you.” Dean had stopped working on the car and stood poised with stiff shoulders. Sam could see the muscles in his jaw twitching and flexing as Dean clenched and unclenched his teeth, the bob of his Adam’s apple as he swallowed thickly. “Where as even family has always let you down and disappointed you: Cas never has. Cas has never walked out on you, not willingly anyway. Not like I have. Not like Dad did. So you’re avoiding even giving him the opportunity, because if he ever did walk out of our lives and go back to Heaven or whatever, you don’t know how you’ll manage to deal. And that scares you, doesn’t it?”
Clearly taking a deep breath, struggling to get his anger under control, Dean slammed the hood to his car shut in a way that made Sam wince. Any other car, sure, but Dean never slammed his baby like that.
The elder sibling moved around to get in the driver’s side, shooting a sideways glare at Sam. “You can either shut up or walk back to town.”
“I’ll walk.”
Dean gave him a cold look. “Suit yourself.”
Stuffing his hands into his pockets, Sam watched as Dean cranked his car, put it in drive, and made a U-turn, all while pointedly refusing to look at Sam. The taller Winchester watched as the car retreated in the distance, and the taillights disappeared around the bend, leaving him alone on the side of the highway.
Or, perhaps, not alone.
“You can go ahead and show yourself now,” he said gently. He paused. “How much did you hear?”
“Not much,” admitted Cas, stepping up beside him. “From ‘where as family’. I knew you two seemed to be discussing me, and Dean was growing increasingly… upset, I thought perhaps it best I show up in case you were in trouble.”
Sam nodded and began walking, Castiel easily matching pace with him despite the taller man’s much longer stride.
“I apologize if I intruded when I should not have,” offered the angel.
Sam shook his head. “Don’t worry about it, but don’t let Dean know you overheard anything. As far as he’s to know, I called you to see if you were interested in joining us on this case we’re working on.”
“What case is that?”
“Some sort of prankster that wants us to catch him. We’re not sure what. He made Dean’s car break down though when we decided to leave town as this wasn’t our kind of case. Dean made it a deal: we’ll stick around to track it down so long as it doesn’t hurt anyone and it doesn’t mess with the Impala again.”
“How did Dean make a deal with it if you still have to track it down?”
Sam shrugged. “Figured it’s watching us.”
Castiel nodded and they walked the next mile or two in silence, Sam’s thoughts introverted until he finally glanced at the angel walking beside him.
“What are you going to do?” Cas said nothing at first, but Sam knew he understood. The angel remained silent. Sam let it go and asked a different question, “How are things in Heaven?”
“Different,” answered the shorter man. “Things are changing. The idea of free will is not as scandalous as it once was. Obedience without making a choice to be, isn’t as meaningful as choosing to be a diligent servant. We’re organizing to… do tours, I suppose is the phrase. To alternate groups of angels that walk the earth and among humans in disguise so that we are better able to protect them, to empathize with their plights and show compassion. We have been disconnected with our Father’s fellow creatures for far too long and it has cost us something very dear we were too late in realizing. Our pride wrought strife and division, prejudice. There are angels now, far too many, who have no knowledge of a time when things were done differently. I was one of them until I met you and your brother.”
“So where do you stand in all of this? Is it okay for you to be on earth? How long can you stay?”
Cas said nothing.
When they finally made their way back to the motel- Cas never once offered to angel express them there, and Sam wouldn’t have accepted it if he had, which he thinks Cas knew- Dean had changed into ripped jeans and an old shirt and was under the Impala, perhaps doing further repairs or just giving her a thorough look over to make sure whatever had jinxed her earlier didn’t do any further or permanent damage. Sam didn’t think it did, after all, Dean was quite serious in his promise that if whatever was causing all the pranks around town so much as hurt his car in any way again, Dean would kill it without remorse or a second thought.
You did not come between a man and his car. Especially not this man and this car.
Sam kicked lightly at Dean’s exposed boots. “Dean. Look who’s here.”
“Hi Cas,” greeted Dean without coming out from under the car.
The response was automatic, like he’d been expecting his brother to show up with the angel. The younger Winchester figured Dean knew him well enough to know that Sam would have gone through with his idea to include the angel on this particular hunt that was the exception and not the case.
“Hello Dean.” He paused, head angled to one side as he regarded Dean’s boots most seriously. “I understand your mischievous friend crossed into near blasphemous territory by assaulting your car.”
Sam snorted a laugh, turning to cover his mouth with his hand. Using one foot, Dean rolled out from under the car, laying on his back and staring at the angel standing over him, a clearly amused expression on the hunter’s face.
“Yes, yes it did. Glad you’re here in case we have to get our smite on with the little bitch.”
“Smitey McSmiterson, at your service. I aim to please.”
Dean snorted with laughter, an easy grin slipping on to his face. Sam knew their earlier argument was forgiven and things between them were okay again seeing that.
His brother looked at him. “Sammy, why don’t you go in and order a pizza or something while I finish up here. I’m starved.”
The taller male rolled his eyes. “You’re gonna have to get a shower before I agree to sit down anywhere near you, dude. You smell like oil and antifreeze.”
“That’s because the bastard disconnected the line to my anti freeze and it was leaking all over the place, smart ass.” Dean kicked out blindly at him as he rolled himself under his car, connecting solidly with Sam’s shin.
The younger of the two rolled his eyes and jerked his head toward their room. “C’mon Cas. What kind of pizza do you feel like?”
The angel shrugged. “I can pick off whatever toppings I would not care for.”
“That means get a Supreme,” called out Dean from under the car, giving his brother pause, looking back. “I give Cas my veggies, he gives me the meat off of his.”
Sam looked inquiringly at the angel walking beside him. Cas nodded. “That is typically what takes place,” he agreed.
Nodding they continued into the motel, Sam trying to think back to the times Cas had shared meals with them and wondering why he’d never noticed this pattern before, that Dean and Cas had somehow synced into a rhythm with each other.
To Part B of Chapter One
