A Thanksgiving To Remember
Nov. 30th, 2016 09:56 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
katleeptTitle: A Thanksgiving To Remember
Author: Kat Lee
Fandom: Supernatural
Character/Pairing: Crowley, Dean, Sam, Bobby
Rating: PG/K+
Challenge/Prompt:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
faerie_wish13: Thanksgiving
Warning(s): A bit crack!ish
Word Count: 1,107
Date Written: 26 November 2016
Summary:
Disclaimer: All characters within belong to Kripke, not the author, and are used without permission.
There was nothing dangerous about Thanksgiving, Dean had said. It was all about getting as fat as possible and hanging around with family all day doing nothing but being lazy, not the Winchester brothers had ever known much about being lazy. Unlike so many humans, they were constantly on the go, constantly interfering with his plans and saving lives, constantly fighting against Hell and whatever dangerous creature decided to spring forth from it.
Crowley knew he'd had more luck with the brothers than any one before him. He also understood that it was by no slim amount that his luck with them thus far was based on his knowledge of their actions. He knew what they would do and would not do. He knew they would do anything for each other but so very little for their own selves. But what he didn't suspect was for them to take Thanksgiving off after making such an obvious challenge to him.
Thanksgiving wasn't evil, Dean had said. It wasn't dangerous unless a guy counted falling down because of his enlarged gut before he could reach the television set. There wasn't any reason to venture out of their hotel room, because it was, by far and large even by Demonic standards, a quiet day. But that was all before Dean challenged him.
Now Crowley laughs as he lounges back on his throne in Hell, watching the proceedings through the eyes of his gobbling denizens. Thanksgiving wasn't evil, but there was also nothing heroic about stuffing one's face as full as you could get it. It was far pass time his kind made a move to claim the day as their own. No one in the Winchester family will ever consider Thanksgiving to be a safe day again, he thinks as his grin spreads, and after the Winchesters this year, he'll take the world by storm next year.
And it all it took -- he laughs -- is a few hundred, maniacal birds. His chuckles grow into guffaws as he watches Bobby Singer go down, birds immediately jumping on him and pecking his back at a feverish rate.
"BOBBY!" Dean yells and doubles back, cutting a quick dash between the turkeys hot on his own tail. He grabs the baseball bat Bobby had dropped and starts battling the birds heaping on top of his friend. Crowley's laughter all but drowns out the birds' mad gobbles as they fight back against the boy with their multi-colored wings.
Finally, Dean manages to reach Bobby's hands. He drops the bat, grabs his hands, and pulls with all his might. The birds fall off of Bobby as Dean pulls the other hunter back up to standing. "I swear I'm never eating turkey again -- " Dean starts but cuts off his own words with a yell of pain as a turkey's beak drills into the back of his leg.
He drops down, batting the turkey away and holding his injured hand. His eyes blaze at the turkey, who gobbles in his face. "Except for every damn one of you! We'll be having Thanksgiving feast for a freaking year with all you birds!"
The turkey pauses mid-gobble. He cocks his head, warily examines Dean, and then gobbles more loudly. He charges him. Dean swats him away, but now others are coming. The hunters know they can't stand their ground against this legion of birds for long.
"COME ON, BOY, RUN!" Bobby roars, now tugging at Dean's hands until the older Winchester brother finally turns and begins to run again. "WHAT THE SAM HELL DID YOU AND YOUR BROTHER GET INTO THIS TIME?!" Bobby demands again as they try, failingly, to outrun the avian army.
They bank left and right. They jump up and slide into holes in the ground and underneath the old, rusting vehicles in Bobby's yard. Still, the turkeys remain hot on their trails, their stabbing beaks just barely missing their flesh, until a savage sound finally cuts through the chaos.
"DEAN! BOBBY!"
The hunters look up at Sam even as Crowley groans and drops his head in his hands. Sam tosses two more electric knives, one to his brother and one to the man who's closer to them even than their own father was. Then he yanks his own knife's chain again, making it sound like a chainsaw buzzing. The turkeys stop. They gobble uncertainly, and then as the men with their knives raised high advance on them, they turn and run.
Bobby, Dean, and Sam all give chase but not before Dean answers his old friend. "ALL I'M SAYING, BOBBY, IS THAT NEXT YEAR, THERE'S NO WAY IN HELL WE'RE INVITING CROWLEY!"
"YOU SHOULDN'T HAVE INVITED HIM THIS YEAR!"
"THANKSGIVING IS ALL ABOUT MAKING PEACE!" Sam shouts.
"NO, IT'S NOT!" Dean argues. He lost track of the true meaning of the holiday this year, but he won't forget next year that the Indians made a fatal mistake when they dined with the Pilgrims.
"And just like the Indians," Crowley mutters, plainly reading Dean's thoughts, "we're going to drive your kind into cages one day." But unlike the Indians on their reservations where they were forced by white men, his kind, Devils though they are, will make certain that humanity prospers. They won't breed them out. They'll keep their species going so that they will always have their sweet blood and supple, human flesh upon which to dine.
"I TOLD YOU IT WAS A MISTAKE TO BRING HIM, YA IDJITS!"
"IT WON'T HAPPEN AGAIN!"
Considering the fact that he won't be invited to next year's Thanksgiving feast, Crowley almost laments -- almost. After all, their sweet potato casserole and holiday pies are good, but they're not that good. His laughter echoes through the caverns of Hell as the turkeys stop running, stand their ground, and grow together. The hunters fall back in wide-eyed shock as the turkeys grow into one enormous bird and then continue to grow and grow and grow . . .
"Damn!" Dean whistles. "We're going to need bigger appetites!"
"Come on, boy! Nobody's got a bigger appetite than you!" Bobby coaxes. "Just make believe they're turkey pie!"
Dean grins. He flashes his knife through the settling evening air. "Here, birdy, birdy, birdy," he calls and charges, never once hearing Crowley's laughter though it fills all of Hell itself.
Sam grins as he watches his brother go to work, then joins him, his electric knife buzzing in tune with Dean's. This crazy escapade is something that could only happen in their lives, but one thing, at least, is for certain: This will be a Thanksgiving to remember for the ages!
The End
No turkeys were harmed in the making of this fic. Winchesters, however, may not have been as lucky. ;)
Author: Kat Lee
Fandom: Supernatural
Character/Pairing: Crowley, Dean, Sam, Bobby
Rating: PG/K+
Challenge/Prompt:
faerie_wish13: ThanksgivingWarning(s): A bit crack!ish
Word Count: 1,107
Date Written: 26 November 2016
Summary:
Disclaimer: All characters within belong to Kripke, not the author, and are used without permission.
There was nothing dangerous about Thanksgiving, Dean had said. It was all about getting as fat as possible and hanging around with family all day doing nothing but being lazy, not the Winchester brothers had ever known much about being lazy. Unlike so many humans, they were constantly on the go, constantly interfering with his plans and saving lives, constantly fighting against Hell and whatever dangerous creature decided to spring forth from it.
Crowley knew he'd had more luck with the brothers than any one before him. He also understood that it was by no slim amount that his luck with them thus far was based on his knowledge of their actions. He knew what they would do and would not do. He knew they would do anything for each other but so very little for their own selves. But what he didn't suspect was for them to take Thanksgiving off after making such an obvious challenge to him.
Thanksgiving wasn't evil, Dean had said. It wasn't dangerous unless a guy counted falling down because of his enlarged gut before he could reach the television set. There wasn't any reason to venture out of their hotel room, because it was, by far and large even by Demonic standards, a quiet day. But that was all before Dean challenged him.
Now Crowley laughs as he lounges back on his throne in Hell, watching the proceedings through the eyes of his gobbling denizens. Thanksgiving wasn't evil, but there was also nothing heroic about stuffing one's face as full as you could get it. It was far pass time his kind made a move to claim the day as their own. No one in the Winchester family will ever consider Thanksgiving to be a safe day again, he thinks as his grin spreads, and after the Winchesters this year, he'll take the world by storm next year.
And it all it took -- he laughs -- is a few hundred, maniacal birds. His chuckles grow into guffaws as he watches Bobby Singer go down, birds immediately jumping on him and pecking his back at a feverish rate.
"BOBBY!" Dean yells and doubles back, cutting a quick dash between the turkeys hot on his own tail. He grabs the baseball bat Bobby had dropped and starts battling the birds heaping on top of his friend. Crowley's laughter all but drowns out the birds' mad gobbles as they fight back against the boy with their multi-colored wings.
Finally, Dean manages to reach Bobby's hands. He drops the bat, grabs his hands, and pulls with all his might. The birds fall off of Bobby as Dean pulls the other hunter back up to standing. "I swear I'm never eating turkey again -- " Dean starts but cuts off his own words with a yell of pain as a turkey's beak drills into the back of his leg.
He drops down, batting the turkey away and holding his injured hand. His eyes blaze at the turkey, who gobbles in his face. "Except for every damn one of you! We'll be having Thanksgiving feast for a freaking year with all you birds!"
The turkey pauses mid-gobble. He cocks his head, warily examines Dean, and then gobbles more loudly. He charges him. Dean swats him away, but now others are coming. The hunters know they can't stand their ground against this legion of birds for long.
"COME ON, BOY, RUN!" Bobby roars, now tugging at Dean's hands until the older Winchester brother finally turns and begins to run again. "WHAT THE SAM HELL DID YOU AND YOUR BROTHER GET INTO THIS TIME?!" Bobby demands again as they try, failingly, to outrun the avian army.
They bank left and right. They jump up and slide into holes in the ground and underneath the old, rusting vehicles in Bobby's yard. Still, the turkeys remain hot on their trails, their stabbing beaks just barely missing their flesh, until a savage sound finally cuts through the chaos.
"DEAN! BOBBY!"
The hunters look up at Sam even as Crowley groans and drops his head in his hands. Sam tosses two more electric knives, one to his brother and one to the man who's closer to them even than their own father was. Then he yanks his own knife's chain again, making it sound like a chainsaw buzzing. The turkeys stop. They gobble uncertainly, and then as the men with their knives raised high advance on them, they turn and run.
Bobby, Dean, and Sam all give chase but not before Dean answers his old friend. "ALL I'M SAYING, BOBBY, IS THAT NEXT YEAR, THERE'S NO WAY IN HELL WE'RE INVITING CROWLEY!"
"YOU SHOULDN'T HAVE INVITED HIM THIS YEAR!"
"THANKSGIVING IS ALL ABOUT MAKING PEACE!" Sam shouts.
"NO, IT'S NOT!" Dean argues. He lost track of the true meaning of the holiday this year, but he won't forget next year that the Indians made a fatal mistake when they dined with the Pilgrims.
"And just like the Indians," Crowley mutters, plainly reading Dean's thoughts, "we're going to drive your kind into cages one day." But unlike the Indians on their reservations where they were forced by white men, his kind, Devils though they are, will make certain that humanity prospers. They won't breed them out. They'll keep their species going so that they will always have their sweet blood and supple, human flesh upon which to dine.
"I TOLD YOU IT WAS A MISTAKE TO BRING HIM, YA IDJITS!"
"IT WON'T HAPPEN AGAIN!"
Considering the fact that he won't be invited to next year's Thanksgiving feast, Crowley almost laments -- almost. After all, their sweet potato casserole and holiday pies are good, but they're not that good. His laughter echoes through the caverns of Hell as the turkeys stop running, stand their ground, and grow together. The hunters fall back in wide-eyed shock as the turkeys grow into one enormous bird and then continue to grow and grow and grow . . .
"Damn!" Dean whistles. "We're going to need bigger appetites!"
"Come on, boy! Nobody's got a bigger appetite than you!" Bobby coaxes. "Just make believe they're turkey pie!"
Dean grins. He flashes his knife through the settling evening air. "Here, birdy, birdy, birdy," he calls and charges, never once hearing Crowley's laughter though it fills all of Hell itself.
Sam grins as he watches his brother go to work, then joins him, his electric knife buzzing in tune with Dean's. This crazy escapade is something that could only happen in their lives, but one thing, at least, is for certain: This will be a Thanksgiving to remember for the ages!
The End
No turkeys were harmed in the making of this fic. Winchesters, however, may not have been as lucky. ;)
