Monday, April 1, 2013
(Lamar’s guest stint at the library will have to wait for another time. Given the date, I just couldn’t let this pass.)
Sam peered worriedly out the motel room window at the newly-risen full moon. “We shouldn’t be doing this,” he said. “Seriously, Dean. We should skip this one.”
“Relax, Sammy.” His brother Dean loaded his .45 with silver bullets. “They’re just skinwalkers. No biggie.”
“A whole town full of skinwalkers,” Sam pointed out. “Remember what they did to the last hunter? They stripped him naked and doused him in purple paint. In daylight. In public. Even Dad gave Talbot’s Peak a pass.”
“They’re monsters, Sam. Especially the tiger. If they just stayed put in their little zoo, I’d say fine, let ‘em eat each other. But the tiger’s branching out. He’s ordered hits on humans. That makes him our business.” He pointed his gun at the wall and double-checked its sights. “We’re tanking that tiger. Anything else that gets in the way is a bonus.”
“Yeah, the notion of a Tiger Yakuza doesn’t sit well with me either. But—”
“It’s okay. I sent Cas on recon.”
“Castiel?” Sam frowned. “You sent Cas into a town full of skinwalkers?”
“He’s an angel. What can they do to him?”
“Douse him with purple paint. Even a town full of skinwalkers doesn’t deserve a mass smiting.”
“It won’t come to that. He’s undercover. He said somebody in there’s been praying a lot. If he can get one of the natives to agree to host him—”
He was interrupted by the familiar sound of wings. Tiny little wings.
The brothers turned toward the sound. A small gray squirrel sat atop the room’s kitchenette counter.
“Hello, Dean,” the squirrel said.
Neither brother spoke. Minutes dragged by awkwardly. Finally, Dean ventured, “Cas?”
“You’re … furry.”
“I’m aware of my condition,” Castiel said testily. “The mayor failed to mention this when he let me possess him.”
“The mayor?” Sam said. “The mayor of Talbot’s Peak is a squirrel?”
“Perhaps that’s why he prays so much.”
“Cas,” Dean said, struggling to maintain patience. “A whole town full of tigers and wolves and God only knows what else, and you possessed a friggin’ squirrel?”
“He was human when I approached him. I was able to move among the inhabitants undetected for several hours. Then the moon rose, and … ” The squirrel spread his paws. “This happened.”
“So unhappen it. Turn human. At least pick a better form, like a bear or a rhino. Something big and dangerous. Not so goddamn cutesy.”
“I’ve been trying. I don’t think the mayor is a normal skinwalker. I believe this vessel is under a curse.”
Dean snorted. “You think?”
“Can you get out of there?” Sam asked. “Get back to your own vessel?”
“Of course. I’m assuming this one will return to human form when the sun rises. That’s generally how curses work.”
“Fine, Skippy,” Dean said. He was obviously fighting a losing battle with a serious giggle fit. “You can scurry along on the ground and smite the big bad wolves at ankle level. And when we find the tiger, you can chomp on his nuts.”
“Tigers don’t eat nuts. They’re carnivores. At any rate, I don’t believe an attack will be necessary. The other creatures are aware of the tiger’s actions and are even now moving against him. The mayor isn’t a member of the task force, but he took part in the planning. The other skinwalkers in Talbot’s Peak are no threat to humanity. They prefer peaceful isolation.”
“That’s it, then,” Sam said, relieved. “Let them handle it internally. Save us the trouble.”
“We should still check it out to make sure,” Dean said. “And buy Cas a bag of peanuts.” He reached for the squirrel’s tail. “You are kind of cute, with your fluffy little—OW!” He jerked his hand back. “Son of a bitch!”
Sam stepped forward. “Dean?”
“Cas, you dick! You BIT me!”
“Nobody likes having their tail fondled, Dean.”
“What the hell do you know, you furry feathered virgin?”
“Uh,” Sam said, “this isn’t getting the tiger contained. We should—”
“We’re not doing anything until Rocky here upgrades back to human.”
“Fine,” Castiel snapped. “I’ll return to town and make sure the tiger situation is under control. You two stay here.” The squirrel disappeared in a flutter of miniature wings.
Sam brushed his unruly hair back from his face. “Jesus, Dean. Do you always have to be such an asshole?”
“Shut up,” Dean said, sucking on his finger. A sullen silence descended.
“So,” Sam said finally, with a touch of a smirk, “if he’s Rocky, I suppose I’m Bullwinkle. That makes you who? Dudley Do-Right?”
“Eat me,” Dean said. He scowled at his finger. “I better not have angel rabies.”
“Better that than angel her—”
“Don’t, Sam. Don’t even think it.”
# # #
Morning sunlight on Gil’s eyelids woke him. He blinked, tried to move, and yelled when he toppled onto the floor. After a lot of cursing and a few more blinks he finally determined where he was: the Talbot’s Peak mayoral office. The damn angel had dumped him on top of his desk.
Granted, his body had probably been a lot smaller at the time.
Gil sat up, and swore some more. Not only had he been left on a desk, he was totally naked. “You couldn’t bother to pick up my clothes?” he raged at the absent angel. “Not even my boxers? Really?”
At least everything visible was more or less intact. Gil levered himself upright. On impulse, he checked his special drawer. The jar of dry-roasted peanuts was still vacuum-sealed, but his bottle of Johnny Walker Red, recently opened and barely touched, had been drained to the very last drop. Gil swore yet again, more vehemently.
They take a man’s clothing, they take a man’s body, but a man’s booze? What was up with Heaven any more?
He glared at the empty bottle. “That’s it,” he snarled. “Screw organized religion. From here on out, I’m going atheist.”
Special thanks to Eric Kripke and the CW Network for not suing me. Enjoy your April Fool’s!