A/N #1: This is crack, folks, pure crack. Written very quickly and un'beta'd. This is in response to some of the PMs and reviews I received after I updated Coyote's Tale, in which Dean and Coyote apparently become chew toys for some demon alligators. All I can say is they're not dead. Catch the update Sunday if you don't believe me. This takes place after Coyote's Tale. The incident Coyote mentions involving Superman happened in Zen and the Art of Throwing Cows At Tricksters.
A/N #2: This fic is dedicated to PADavis and SciFiNutTx. Yep, you can blame THEM.
Summary: Coyote runs some errands; Dean tags along.
Disclaimer: If you recognize 'em, I don't own them. This is for entertainment only, not profit.
The food at Hodge's Diner in Wrenwood, South Dakota was always pretty damn good, twenty four seven. Ten thirty in the morning, and Dean Winchester sat in his favorite booth over in the corner by the window. Dean had a clear view of the door (old habits die hard) and a plate of pancakes and sausage on the table in front of him.
And two small hell imps sitting in the bench seat opposite him.
All he could see was from their eyes up. They were grayish brown instead of red (don't believe the hype), and each one of them had that horned thing going for them. One had curled horns like a ram's, and the other one's horns were short and stumpy. Their eyes were big, liquid brown puppy dog eyes that kinda reminded Dean of Sam's puppy eyes of doom, all big and dewy, but Dean wasn't fooled, not one damn bit. Bastards were hell imps, after all.
Dean huffed as he reached out for the syrup container and poured syrup over his pancakes. "Somethin' I can help you dudes with?" he said roughly. He made his voice lower and deeper on purpose. Not likely that they were smart enough to take the hint and leave, but you never knew.
""We've just worshipping at your feet, my dark lord," the one on the left with the ram's horns chirped. The other one just blinked and gripped the table even tighter with both three fingered hands. "Basking in your glorious presence."
Dean scowled. "Dark lord? Worshipping at my feet?"
"Yes," the imp on the left piped up. Apparently he was the one with the gift of gab. "The time will come when darkness will cover the earth, chaos will reign, and you will become two hearted again. We wish to get in on the ground floor and become your fiendish minions. If, of course, that is what you wish." It added hastily and averted its eyes.
Gettin' so a man can't even enjoy his damn breakfast in peace. "Look," Dean leaned forward, "I don't know where you're getting your intel from, but I don't plan on becoming two hearted and evil any time in the immediate future. Like never. I don't need minions, fiendish or otherwise. You two are wasting your time, dudes."
Then: "Are you going to eat all that?" the previously silent imp said hopefully, tilting his head and horns at Dean's plate.
"Hit the road!" Dean snarled. His eyes flashed gold. Both imps squeaked in terror and disappeared in a burst of hellfire.
Geez. Dean shook his head and forked some pancake and syrup into his mouth. Coyote faded into view, right where the imps had been, and Dean didn't miss a beat as he ate.
The Old Man was Dean's mirror image now, but he wore faded jeans, work boots, a grey hoodie and a hip length black leather jacket with buckles and pockets instead of Dean's beloved brown leather coat.
Dean grunted and quirked an eyebrow at him. "A hoodie?"
"I like it!" Coyote snapped defensively.
"At least you got the leather right. Nice vest."
Annabell the waitress was right there all of a sudden. She'd seen Sam and John already, and as far as she knew Dean just had a twin. Nobody in the diner ever seemed to notice that Coyote never walked through the front door like normal folks.
Annabell smiled as she tapped her notepad with her pen. "What'll you have, hon?"
"Oh, uh, nothing, thanks," Coyote said absently. Annabell looked disappointed and moved away. Very slowly. She was giving Coyote time to hit on her, and the Old Man didn't take the bait.
Dean frowned. Nubile young female flesh was within striking distance and Roamer didn't even flash that infamous grin on her, not even once, for practice.
"So, what's up?" Dean said casually. Coyote stared at the yellow Post-It in his hand, frowning.
"Uh, got some errands to run."
"Oh, yeah?" Dean shrugged. He continued to eat his pancakes and sausage in silence, slowly. He savored his meal, and his nonchalant attitude said it all: Fine by me, dude. See you when you get back.
Instead Coyote said, "You wanna come along?"
"Yeah. Sure," Dean drawled lazily. That afternoon Sam planned on cornering Dean and asking him how he was feeling. Now Dean had an excuse to avoid all that angsty crappiness.
Life was sweet.
Twenty minutes later Coyote was all four-legged and furry again. They were in Central Park now, as in Central Park in New York City. Dean had been to the Big Apple a few times before, but only on jobs. Once with Dad and once with Sam, separately. He had no time to sightsee either time, but Dean was pretty sure that New York hadn't been this crappy before.
The place was a disaster area. Some of the buildings surrounding the park were on fire. Fighter jets screamed overhead, and Dean was pretty damn sure that the big ugly standing in front of him was responsible for the entire mess. Thirty stories tall, damn thing looked like a cross between a praying mantis and that Jack Skellington critter from The Nightmare Before Christmas.
It waved around that long flat beaver-like tail as it leaned down and peered at Dean.
Dean was unimpressed. He didn't do the cowering in fear bit before, when he thought he was just a 'normal' freak and he sure in the hell wasn't gonna start now.
"What's your name again?" Dean snarked.
"Uh, Clover," the thing rumbled. Those red spongy balloon things on either side of its head blew in and out like a bellows.
"Uh. Huh Clover." That smirk on Dean's face said it all. Punk's got a girl's name.
"Enough playing around," Coyote said roughly to the critter. "You gotta go home now. Your mama's worried sick about you."
Clover reared back on those spider legs of his and actually looked worried. Well about as worried as something with jagged teeth and gaping jaws could look. "You…you're not gonna tell my mom about this, are you?"
Dean snorted. Coyote huffed. "Little late for that, ain't it, kid? Everybody knows."
"They…they do?" Not the sharpest knife in the cutlery drawer, Dean thought to himself. He saw a few news copters off in the distance. He and the Old Man were invisible to them; Clover wasn't.
"You're kidding me, right?" Coyote said in amazement. He morphed into James Earl Jones. "THIS IS CNN," Coyote boomed out, then he morphed back to his own four-legged, furry self.
"Yeah," Coyote said shortly."Oh. Now get to stepping. Don't let the door hit ya on the way out. And take your parasites with you."
Coyote opened up a wormhole. Clover stepped into it with his head down, sheepishly, like a kid who'd just been caught red-handed stealing candy or something. Dean wasn't that sorry to see him go. Dude not only was dumb, he smelled like mildewed wet leather. As if that wasn't bad enough, Dean noticed about several hundred mean looking crab things that scurried to catch up with Lumpy. Damn.
The wormhole blinked out, and Lumpy and his crabs were gone.
Dean stared down at Coyote as he sat there looking at the yellow Post-It.
"What?" the Old Man snapped.
"You owe Clover's mama a favor. That's what this is, right?'
Coyote's shoulders slumped a little. "Yeah."
Dean rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. "Got another favor on that list?"
Coyote didn't answer.
Figures. "Am I gonna have to do something unnatural to pay these folks back?"
Coyote just stared at Dean. "Uh, no. No." He looked doubtfully at Dean, stared at the paper, then stared at Dean one more time before looking at the list again. "No."
A flight of military helicopters passed overhead. Dean shrugged as he looked around. "Place is torn up pretty damn good. Don't you think we oughta clean this up?"
"This is why Superman works alone," Coyote grumbled. "Knock yourself out, kid."
So Dean did.
He put a few finishing touches of his own on Times Square, upgraded some of the porn houses and strip clubs so that they were cleaner and classier. One building ended up looking like the Taj Mahal.
And Central Park? Got turned into Disneyland.
The shocked look on Mayor Michael Bloomberg's face? Totally worth it.
"Okay," Coyote said moments later. Dean's internal GPS told him that they were somewhere in California. Sadler, California, population 28, 130, a little burg about eighty miles east of San Diego. It all looked pretty normal, but if was all that normal they wouldn't have been there in the first place.
Coyote consulted the Post-It. "Ummm…lessee…alien takeover of small town…yadda yadda yadda…" The Old Man sounded bored.
"Aliens? Really? Dean asked, wide eyed and earnest. "There's no such thing."
Coyote barked laughter. "Oh yeah. No such things as aliens. Niño, you're so cute when you do that, you know it? You met Superman that time, right?"
Dean shrugged. "Not really. We were fleeing from him, remember?"
"Well, Big Blue doesn't count. These boys don't even live in this neighborhood."
"Okay. So what's the plan?" Dean said hopefully. Coyote didn't miss the suddenly energized, eager tone in the young human's voice. "Liberate the town? Drive off the alien invaders?"
"Nope. 'm supposed to serve the Galactic Commander with divorce papers."
"That's what I said. Too mundane for ya?"
Dean shrugged. "Nah. I'll take what I can get."
"Come along then, young Skywalker" Coyote got to his feet grinning. "I wanna knock this out and get back home before lunch. Bobby's firing up that propane grill of his and I don't wanna miss that."
Naturally enough, the aliens were holed up in the largest structure in town, which just happened to be a warehouse and factory complex. What were the odds?
It wasn't cool like it was in the movies. No grateful damsels in distress, and Dean and Coyote just walked into the place. Most of the humans were controlled by the aliens but they just stood around staring blankly, with these funny looking wires sticking out of the backs of their necks.
Dean tried not to yawn.
Once inside the main building the alien fuglies showed up. Dean rolled his eyes. Finally. They were nothing to write home about, either. Tall, green bug-eyed critters with either terribly bad skin or the worst wardrobe Dean had ever seen.
"I wouldn't have paid money to see this," Dean muttered darkly.
"Told ya, kid," Coyote drawled. "Don't believe the hype."
The head alien in charge had set up shop in the middle of the cafeteria. It was just a huge silvery brown head, neck and shoulders inside a clear glass fishbowl. It sat on top of a wooden pedestal.
The only impressive part of the whole thing were these knobby looking tentacles that stuck out of the tops of the thing's shoulders, one on each side, and even that looked fake.
Dean whistled in disbelief. "Damn, that looks crappy."
Tentacle Boy looked like he was suffering from a hang-over. He focused blearily on the coyote and his human. "Wait a minute," this high pitched squeaky thought voice inside their heads said. "Didn't you used to babysit for my ex-wife?"
"Yep." Coyote got up on his hind legs, pulled the paper out from somewhere and slapped the document up against the side of the fishbowl. It stuck there and the edges of the paper began to shine with this mellow golden light. "You have been served, sucker."
The light rays expanded over the entire complex. Most the minions disappeared right off the bat, along with the saucer ship they came in. The humans were freed from that obi-wan mind control thing, and it was generally all pretty anti-climatic.
Turns out that where ever Squiddy hailed from, the divorce was immediate and the property split was seventy thirty, in favor of the missus, which included all property, including troops and weaponry. The 'little woman' had custody of the kids and Dean didn't even want to imagine what she or the little monsters looked like.
Tentacle Boy bawled like a bitch as Dean and Coyote walked out, and once outside on the parking lot they were treated to the spectacle of silent black helicopters hovering overhead, and a fleet of black SUVs on the ground in front of the place. Out came dudes in black business suits, wearing black shades. Some of them had some of the oddest, coolest looking weapons Dean had ever seen. He perked up immediately.
One of the dudes looked suspiciously like Tommy Lee Jones. The other one looked like Will Smith.
"Agent K. Agent J." Coyote nodded.
Dean swaggered and managed not to gawk.
They got back to Bobby's place just as Bobby was slapping the steaks on the grill. He was wearing a white apron that said "Touch my grill and I'll hurt you so badly your ancestors will feel it."
Dean took one look at Sam and knew that the topic of conversation was gonna be emo after lunch, and for once Dean didn't mind. He watched his Dad drink a beer and needle Bobby about "Martha Stewart Singer" and it was okay. He and the Old Man were here, they were home, and all was right with the world.
Life was good.
A/N: I have no shame, and I have no excuse for this. Pop culture references – Clover is of course, from "Cloverfield". The aliens in Sadler, California were taken from "Invaders from Mars" the 1953 version.