Author's Note: This is a fun Non-Apocalyptic Season 2 romp featuring my 2nd favorite bad guy (after Meg) Gordon Walker. It's also crazy trip back to the 80's. Time Travel. Uh Huh. And it's sort of a Wee!Chesters tale… but not quite. You'll see. Lots of brotherly bonding at its best. Plenty of "Bitch"/"Jerk" exchanges with a dash of schmoop and even some sweet John moments in there as well. Takes place on the eve of Dean's 28th birthday. Set in between "Hunted" and "Playthings" in that elusive month when they were fruitlessly searching for Ava Wilson.
This first chapter might come across as just random brotherly banter, but trust me stuff that happens and is talked about here will become important later.
DISCLAIMER: I don't own these characters. I just lured them to my house with some Peanut M&M's. MA HA HA!!!
WARNINGS: Some mild cussing. Mild violence. Babies in peril. Underage drinking and strong talk of teenage sexuality that never actually happens.
Dean couldn't believe it had all come down to this. The last thing he'd expected when he woke up this morning was to be negotiating a hostage situation while a chain-smoking Madonna Clone threatened his younger brother with a rectal thermometer!
--- Of Terminators and Training Wheels.
Jan. 23, 2007
It was one of those days that was pre-destined to turn out all wrong.
But Dean Winchester was in too fine of a mood to anticipate the coming misalignment of the Cosmos. Speeding down the road behind the wheel of his beloved Baby (the Impala's engine purring from a fresh oil change and a full tank of gas), he had Sammy by his side and his trusty tape deck blasting out side two of Ride the Lightning.
He'd been happily singing along with the music until he noticed all the exasperated sighs and bitchy sideways glances directed his way from the passenger side. Realizing just how much he was annoying his brother, Dean sang even louder:
"SO LET IT BE WRITTEN, SO LET IT BE DONE. I'M SENT HERE BY THE CHOSEN ONE. SO LET IT BE WRITTEN, SO LET IT BE DONE. TO KILL THE FIRST BORN PHARAOH'S SON…I'M CREEPING DEATH!"
"You're creeping me out," Sam shouted over the music and his brother's off key vocals, "You're being way too cheerful for a day with no real hunt and no good leads on Ava."
"Forget today. I'm psyched for tomorrow!" Dean beamed, "Tell me, you haven't forgotten that tomorrow is a very important National Holiday have you, Sammy?"
"It's Sam." the younger man smirked, "And how could I possibly forget about National Jerk Day?"
"Bitch!" Dean retorted, "And since tomorrow marks the anniversary of the most auspicious occasion of my birth, I get to call you Sammy or Sasquatch or Princess Petunia if I feel like it! You, lowly non-birthday boy, may bow and call me Master of the Universe!"
Sam sighed and shook his head trying to hide his smile.
"And you will take me to Hooters!" Dean went on, "And you will call ahead and arrange for one of the waitresses to give me 28 spankings... or… you think if I skip shaving tomorrow I could pass for 38?... maybe 48 with really good genes?"
"Dean, if I manage to find any woman willing to degrade herself for your twisted fantasies you get one to grow on and that's it!"
"Fine," Dean pouted, "But you are going to buy me a present! Not just any present either, something rare and awesome! Something I could never imagine getting in a million years! The greatest present any man has ever given to his brother in the history of all mankind! So let it be written, so let it be done, Petunia, you will get this gift for me!"
"Well, hey, thanks for the heads up," Sam snorted, "Dude, what's up with all the King for a Day demands? It's not like this is a milestone year or anything."
"I just think it's time to celebrate, that's all…"
Dean shrugged and gazed out through the windshield.
"It's been a rough couple of years, you know?" he continued, "Losing Dad... you losing Jess, all this psychic and demon crap, Ava going M.I.A., Gordon Walker deciding it was Open Sammy Season... I think we deserve to have some fun! We've been struggling and fighting evil all our lives, missing out on almost every Holiday and special occasion and it sucks! Seriously, Dude. We ain't getting any younger and in this line of work, who knows how many more birthdays we'll have..."
He took his eyes off the road long enough to catch Sam nodding in agreement.
"So from this day forward, any Birthday, Holiday, Groundhog Day, I say we go all out hog wild- we're talking Viking King level debauchery on the Big Day!"
"Wow, Dean. That's beautiful," Sam said, "And so very convenient of you to decide this right on the eve of your Big Day."
"Heh heh, damn straight!" Dean grinned then cranked the stereo up even louder, "Shut up! Best part!"
"DIE! BY MY HAND! I CREEP ACROSS THE LAND! KILLING FIRST BORN MAN..."
Sam cocked an eyebrow at his older brother.
"So you've been contemplating your own mortality and yet you're listening to a song about the Angel of Death killing first born sons?"
"Yeah, but this is about... that doesn't count… this is just..." Dean pursed his lips, "Uhh... Hey, Call of Ktulu is so kick ass! Let's rock that!"
"Thank God for instrumentals," Sam said under his breath.
Dean reached over and hit fast forward. Suddenly with a gut wrenching screech like the final gasps of a dying chipmunk, the Impala's tape deck devoured its contents, regurgitated them and then vomited a tangled nest of magnetic ribbon onto the floor boards before her horrified owner's eyes. Sam howled with laughter as the spent cassette ejected itself into Dean's lap and the monotone babble of talk radio instantly replaced thunderous guitar rock.
"Bad Baby!" Dean slapped at the controls, choosing to ignore his brother's guffawing, "Don't eat Metallica!"
"Dude! Karma is such a bitch!" Sam gasped, wiping tears from his eyes, "I told you to update your tape collection!"
"Yeah, well guess what else you're getting me for my birthday!" Dean chucked the musical mess in the back seat.
"An iPod Dock?" Sam suggested.
"Not unless you want a black eye!" Dean snarled, "No. A brand new copy of Ride the Lightning… on cassette! The way the Gods of Classic Rock intended!"
"Ok, I may have to go on an archeological dig for that…"
"Whatever it takes! The Birthday Boy commands it! Now quick, pop in some Zeppelin or AC/DC before this NPR crap corrodes my brain!"
"Wait, wait, shut up a second!" Sam frowned, adjusting the volume as an important announcement came over the radio waves.
… Police are continuing their search for missing Quantum Physics Professor Emmett Frink, believed to have been abducted from his home early this morning…
"Emmett Frink?" Sam repeated, "Do we know that name? I think we know that name…"
"Shhh…" Dean waved his hand, concentrating on the bulletin as Sam began to flip through the pages of their father's journal.
… signs of forced entry. Witnesses reported seeing an African American male in his early 30's in the vicinity of the Professor's home before his disappearance. Police believe the suspect matches the description of recently escaped convict Gordon Walker…
"WHAT!" the brothers cried out together.
"We definitely know that name!" Dean scowled.
… believed to be armed and extremely dangerous… In sports news the Yankees beat out the Red Sox…
Dean turned off the radio in disgust.
"Ok, so Gordon's back in circulation! That's just great! Guess what else I want for my birthday, Sam?"
"You want me to knock Gordon's teeth out?"
"I'd rather watch you rip his head off with your bare hands, but teeth are a good start." Dean shook his head, "I don't get it. Gordon breaks free- why not come after you like he always does? Why go after this Professor guy?"
"Because according to Dad's journal, Professor Emmett Frink has a Time Machine."
"Are you serious?" Dean stared wide eyed at his brother, "Dude! A freakin' Time Machine? Like a Michael J. Fox hitting 88 in the Plutonium charged DeLorean Time Machine?"
"Yeah, Dean, except without the car," Sam skimmed the pages further, "It says here that Dad and a few other hunters learned about Frink's experiments with Time Travel and posed as FBI agents to investigate whether he really had built a working Time Machine."
"And they found out it was all bullshit?" Dean asked hopefully.
"Actually no. According to what Dad wrote they found out that his machine most likely was legitimate, but they all decided it was too risky to test on humans and that the laws of physics weren't something to tamper with. They made up a fake Government order for Frink to keep the machine hidden in a Secret Laboratory until further notice."
"And Gordon was one of the hunters who knew about the machine?"
"It wouldn't surprise me," Sam sighed, "Dean, if Gordon has access to a working Time Machine, we're beyond screwed! He could go back to our last confrontation and make sure he wins! Hell, he could go back and kill Mom before we're born or fix it so our parents never even meet!"
"That's messed up!" Dean shuddered, "Whatever he's up to, the police won't have a clue where to find him. We can be damn sure he's covered his tracks."
"Well, we have one advantage the police don't," Sam said, holding up the journal, "We know the exact location of Emmett Frink's Secret Laboratory."
Dean nodded then stepped on the gas.
"Let's just hope we get there in time!"
Author's Note: The song Dean was singing along with was Creeping Death by Metallica. Lyrics by the Mighty James Hetfield.