Burn, Fraggle, Burn

Summary: Boredom turns into brotherly pranks in Bobby's house when a piece of Sam's childhood returns to haunt Dean and the TV pays the price.

Tags/Spoilers: Nothing really but it's based from Season 6

Warnings: A couple bad words.

Disclaimer: I don't own them. This is for fun.

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Working on a new charm bag in the basement while also trying to avoid the two bickering morons he had living with him for the duration of this hunt for Eve, Bobby Singer had just begun to think today would be a calm day since it had been at least two hours since he'd broken the boys up from some bickering fight they'd gotten into.

Bobby admitted to himself that he'd missed the casual brotherly fights that Dean and Sam would get into as kids or even before all Hell had literally broken loose. The past few years had been tense between them so the first morning that he'd woken up to Dean shouting for his brother after learning that Sam had 'innocently' put salt in the sugar bowl which then went on Dean's cereal had been a surprise.

John had once complained to Bobby about the ever famous prank wars his boys would get into but in all the years he'd been with them he had missed out on those…until now he feared because the pranks and bickering had been escalating for days.

He'd barely managed to grab Dean before he could rig Sam's shampoo with pink dye but had missed Sam putting the itching powder in his brother's shorts which, Sam swore, was retaliation for something similar Dean had done to him in Texas.

Today had been oddly quiet which a part of Bobby was glad of but since he knew these boys he also knew the longer it went the greater the odds of a huge prank. That was the moment he heard the shotgun blast go off upstairs, something crash and Sam shouting for Dean to stop.

"Goddamn crazy idjits!" Bobby dropped what he was doing to hurry to the first floor, hoping he didn't see blood or anything too drastic but if Dean was shooting in his house than there would be blood soon. "Sam! Dean! What in the sam hill are you two…oh for the love of…"

Expecting the worse when he heard the true alarm in Sam's voice, Bobby had run to the living room almost expecting to find the boys in a serious scuffle or fight or something that would explain the shotgun going off and the alarm in Sam but the older hunter wasn't expecting what he found.

"Dean, c'mon. Put the gun down," Sam was trying to placate his clearly pissed off brother while trying to stay out of the way of that sawed-off shotgun Dean was holding. "I'll stop the pranks, just stop and think this through."

"No, now move or I'll patch you up after I shoot that thing," Dean's voice was down in the low growl that always signified his temper. "I mean it, Sam. Move or…"

Stepping into the room to see what the hell the older boy was aiming at, Bobby frowned when he noticed his new 52" flat screen television was laying on the floor, still playing which relieved him when he finally took notice of what was on the screen.

Some strange looking, various colored and furry puppet like things were dancing on the screen and something from the boys childhoods seemed to come back to him. "What the hell are you two idjits doing to my house and what the hell's on the TV?"

Instantly two loud voices tried to explain what happen until, like he had when they'd been kids, he whistled loudly to break them up and first pointed at Sam. "You, go."

"I was watching TV, not doing anything or bothering him and he tries to shoot the TV, Bobby," Sam shot his brother a pure bitch face look while still trying to get the shotgun from him but only got a palm in the face for his trouble.

"And you know why!" Dean shot back, shoving a hard finger toward the offending device. "There's one other thing besides that damn fabric softener bear that I hate and have always swore to salt and burn at the first chance and that is those…those things!"

"So you tried to shoot your damn brother?" Bobby remembered why he'd always hated it when he had the boys for long periods. The moment they got bored, they got unruly…even now when Sam was twenty-eight and Dean was thirty-two.

Glancing over at Bobby as if shocked, Dean blinked before scowling. "No, I wasn't shooting at Sam," he scoffed, not even considering that when his eyes narrowed at a very furry orange puppet. "I was aiming at them!"

"Dean, come on. If I stop the pranks, don't complain about the same two songs, and let you watch the movie you want to tonight without too much complaining will you stop shooting the TV and leave them alone?" Sam was now sounding desperate as his gaze kept going from his brother to what he'd obviously been watching when he smiled a little at something on the screen that made no sense to Bobby. "Please?"

"Sammy…" Dean groaned, drawing the name out like he did when he was close to whining but not wanting to. "I hate them. I've always hated them. Even when you were little and would scream at the top of your lungs on Saturday mornings until Dad let you watch them I hated them so why…why do I have to cope with them now?"

Looking at the puppet like things on the fallen TV back up to Dean, Sam chose to use the two weapons he still had that he hoped would work on his brother. "Because I like them, Dean," he replied with full on, huge puppy eyes and knew the moment the shotgun wavered and his brother dragged his fingers through his hair that he'd won.

"I hate when you do that to me, Sam," Dean muttered sourly, trying to hold out and not fall for the big sad eyes that he'd taught the kid to use years ago but felt himself break the moment Sam dropped his head and knew he was gone. "Fine, you win…as always but I'd better never find salt in my cereal again or I am so pranking your ass."

"Thanks, Dean," grabbing his brother for a quick, spontaneous hug, Sam quickly moved to sit the TV upright on the floor and just simply sat on the floor to finish watching the show.

Bobby watched as Dean smiled a minute, his hand hovering over Sam's head as if he considered messing his hair up like he once would when he thought better of it for the moment and stepped back to put the shotgun back in its proper place.

"You want to tell me what the hell that was all about?" Bobby demanded, still noticing that Sam was engrossed in the show. "What the hell are those things."

"A huge pain in my ass from when he was a kid," Dean replied sourly, watching his brother a second longer before shrugging. "Fine, I won't salt and burn a Fraggle but I still swear that Bear is toast one of these days," he muttered, heading upstairs suddenly which made the older man frown.

"Where you goin', Dean?" he asked sharply, hoping this wasn't another prank. "You boys are too old for this crap."

Waving a hand back at his friend, Dean could be heard rattling in the attic which gave Bobby even more room for concern but when he got upstairs Dean was just sitting a ragged and worn stuffed toy on Sam's bed that reminded Bobby faintly of something on the TV.

"I hid it in the attic when he was five and told him it ran away back to Fraggleland," he shrugged, refusing to meet Bobby's incredulous eyes as he also replaced a bottle of shampoo with a new one. "Put Nair in this one," he coughed, heading back downstairs to see what else he might've rigged up.

Staring from the stuffed Fraggle to the door, Bobby only shook his head with a mutter. "Idjits."

The End