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09 January 2008 @ 11:19 pm
Supernatural Gen Fiction: Killer Treez (PG)  
Title: Killer Treez
Author: HalfshellVenus
Characters: Sam and Dean (Gen, Humor)
Rating: PG
Summary: At a Christmas tree farm, the Trees. Are. ALIVE
Author's Notes: Seasonal silliness set in some rare angst-free moment of S2 (darn the S3 Xmas show for Jossing all over my Sam and Dean fanon). For spn_christmas, my own prompt of the above.

x-x-x-x-x-x


If a tree falls in the forest and no-one sees the other ones take revenge… were the screams actually real?

~*~

"So, where've you been?" Sam looks up from his computer when Dean walks in the door.

"This and that, scoping out the town."

"We're not staying Dean, you know that." Sam closes the lid. "Women or food?"

"Neither one!"

"Then what's in your hand?"

"Oh— eggnog. Want some? I added a little whiskey."

"Nah. Raw eggs are like Russian roulette." Sam stands up and stretches, fingers brushing the overhead light fixture. "I've found our next job."

"Just while I was gone? Wait, is it in Florida? I could really use some sun."

"Not this kind of case." Sam starts shoving clothes into his duffel. "It's in New York. We need to get going."

"Geez, more snow—that's just perfect." Dean chugs the eggnog and tosses the cup.

They clear the room in five minutes, leaving the key on the nightstand. When Sam opens the outside door, the Impala gleams in the sun. Car wash—I should've known. But he keeps his mouth shut.

What Sam's found, courtesy of the Internet, is the kind of Ho-Ho-Homicide that'll bring the holidays to a halt. Specifically, a bunch of dead people turning up at Christmas tree farms near Palmyra. No clues, no footprints, just tree-mash all over the victims' bodies.

"So, some of the victims' feet were missing?" Dean asks.

"Apparently so. Sounds like someone's idea of poetic justice."

"Or something's idea of it. I thought we were talking psycho trees here, after all."

"Sure looks that way," Sam agrees.

He almost regrets picking up this case, almost, except that thanks to Jess he learned to love the idea of the holidays again, and god knows other people deserve that innocent enjoyment too. Not to mention that this kind of interference has to be rare, he's certain. Pretty sure, anyway. Mostly.

Or—

"Did Dad ever mention anything like this to you before?" he asks.

"Deadly shrubbery?" Dean says. "Hell no." He slams AC/DC into the tape deck and cranks up the volume.

New York's a long way off.

~*~

"Why're you stopping here?" Sam asks.

"Why does anyone stop at a miniMart?"

The reason is self-evident when Sam comes out of the bathroom. "Eggnog? Again?"

"It's not a crime, Sammy."

"Why do you like it so much?"

"It's Christmas-y. Like candy canes and wreaths."

"You hate wreaths, Dean."

"I don't hate 'em. Just no reason for them when you move around all the time. And I'm not putting one on the car."

"I wasn't asking."

It's roughly eight more hours of travel to Palmyra, broken down into two more mini-marts followed by a diner that serves broasted chicken and rum raisin pie.

"Good?" Sam asks after Dean tries a forkful of dessert.

"Not bad," Dean answers. "Different."

Not an endorsement, but it doesn't sound like regret. And in the end, Dean finishes it off.

They arrive in town by nine o'clock, the last couple of hours slowed by drifting snow. There are two motels, one advertising cable but Sam holds out for the other's promise of "kitchenette." By ten, they're under the covers watching Boston Legal as the scent of microwaved popcorn fades into the background.

~*~

"It was terrible— and he was such a nice man," Mrs. Knappleby assures them for the second time.

Sam and Dean are in her kitchen, trying to find out more about what happened to Stewart Wells the week before. They started with Mrs. Wells next door, but she kicked them out as soon as Dean finished saying her husband's name. Sam knew he should have done the talking himself.

"And was this at nighttime, when it happened?" he asks now.

"I don't believe so." Mrs. Knappleby considers the question for a moment. "No, because they left after coming home from church. Bethel Presbyterian—I go to the eight-thirty service, and they go to the ten o'clock. It was just last week…"

She turns to gaze out the window, and Sam intercepts Dean's hand on its way to the plate of fudge on the table in front of them. Dean's glare is poisonous.

"What about the other man, Harold Bicksley?" Sam finally says after the silence has dragged out awhile.

Mrs. Knappleby blinks and seems to remember that Sam and Dean are there. "Well he didn't have family of course, though he rented a room from Charley Teague. Over on Winters."

Already their next stop.

"Did anyone actually see either of the incidents happen?" Sam presses.

"Surely your company wouldn't hold up a life insurance claim on the basis of something like that," the woman says suddenly. "Is that what this is about? You just get on out of my house, then!"

On the porch steps, Dean ruins their professional image by slugging Sam in the arm. "No fudge and no leads! Thanks a lot, genius-boy."

"Shut up…"

Winters Street is on the other side of town, which is to say that it's five minutes away. But there's no answer at Teague's place when they knock.

"Probably got on the horn to all her kaffee-klatsch friends the minute we left," Dean mutters. "We'll be lucky to talk to anybody in this town now."

"Like you did so well at the first family's house," Sam rubs it in.

"So let's go someplace outside the church-lady network," Dean suggests. "Like a bar."

Sam should have thought of that one himself. A bar…

Murray's Tavern has dollar beers on draft, and Sam can see Dean perk up right before his eyes at that little piece of information. At least it isn't eggnog.

"Yeah, I was there." They hit paydirt with one of the other customers, on a hint from the bartender. The heavyset man in a John Deere cap eyes the two of them, probably wondering if they're bloodthirsty whackos. "Most terrible thing I've ever seen." Dean signals the bartender to bring another beer for the man, but he waves it off. "Gotta get back to work— one's my limit."

"Does everyone get their Christmas trees at the same place?" Sam asks.

"Pretty much. 'Less they got relatives near a forest who can get a permit. But then they've got to haul the thing back— hardly worth it."

"Did you hear anything before it happened?" Dean puts in.

"There was the ax, of course, and a kind of rushing sound. And then the screams." The man shakes himself, remembering. "Looked like Wells was beaten to death with a tree. But who would do that? And why?"

Sam nods thoughtfully. "Hardly seems possible."

"You're damn right it doesn't." The man wrestles his way out of the orange-backed booth. "Sorry, but I've got to get going— I'm back on the clock at twelve-thirty."

At Lenny's Lounge no-one knows anything, or so they say. The boys have better luck at the Twilight Club, where the lone customer regales them with gory details and alcohol fumes.

"This guy reeks," Dean mutters in Sam's ear.

"It's two in the afternoon, what do you expect?" Sam whispers back.

They confer in the parking lot afterward. "Well, that was pretty explicit," Dean says. "What do you think?"

"Sounds exactly like The Enquirer said. Right down to the body parts." Sam can't help wrinkling his nose.

"That's the last bar in town, and that's probably all we're going to get. Which still doesn't tell us what or why."

"I think the 'what' is pretty clear," Sam says wryly. "The 'why' is the real mystery."

"Yeah," Dean says thoughtfully, rolling a piece of loose asphalt under his boot. "But I can live with it. As long as we destroy the things, the 'why' doesn't so much matter. And I've got an idea…"

~*~

They're parked in front of the Ace Hardware store, the same argument still running since they left the bar.

"You can't blowtorch the tree farm, Dean! That's the kind of thing that tends to draw attention."

"Unlike death by tree-massacre, which happens every day."

"I didn't say that."

"Well take it to the next level and you'll get there." Dean looks at Sam like he's five again.

"The point is," and Sam's exasperated, "we don't even know why it's happening."

"Sometimes you've just got to solve the problem and move on— before it turns into a Red Christmas for the whole town!"

"That's gross."

"Yeah, Sammy. Exactly," Dean nods sagely. "Wish we hadn't traded the blowtorch for those silver bullets, though."

"Hey, that was a good deal! You can't exactly buy silver bullets retail." Sam thinks for a moment. "But what if we're not fast enough? Those trees could attack us while we're working."

Dean looks at him and smiles a slow, evil grin.

"Gasoline."

~*~

"Careful!" Sam whispers sharply, as Dean bumps into one of the trees. They're weaving through the planted rows of the tree farm, dousing the branches methodically and working their way backward.

The Impala is right there behind them, keys waiting in the ignition.

"Faster!" Dean hisses. "I think some of them are starting to move." He sloshes each tree rapidly in turn, careful not to get anything on himself.

"Almost done…" Sam gets the last part of his row and works toward Dean for the finish. "Got it!"

"Okay—here we go."

They stow the cans in the trunk and haul the blowtorches out, starting at the top of the property. The trees are writhing.

"Better hurry." Dean launches the stream of flame at the first tree, and works his way around the edge of the plot while Sam goes in the opposite direction.

"Jesus—they're breaking loose!" Sam says.

"Step it up!" Dean yells.

They run around the perimeter, aiming occasional bursts of flame toward the middle as the air fills with smoke. The ground begins to rumble.

"Break it off!" Dean rushes around to the side nearest the car, blasting a line of fire along the edge of trees as Sam comes around the corner. "Get in!"

When the door slams behind him, Dean turns and sprints toward the car. Sam's already behind the wheel as Dean opens the door and jumps into the passenger seat.

Gravel pings against the wheel well as the tires find purchase, and the car goes fishtailing out into the night.

"Hot damn," Dean breathes, "that was close."

Sam keeps up the pace until the road arcs back underneath a half-mile down, and then he slows and pulls off to the side. He leaves the motor running while they watch and listen. "Hear that?" he says softly.

"Sounds like screaming."

"Yeah," Sam grins. "But it doesn't sound human."

Dean's smile flashes in the dark as he slaps Sam on the arm. "Score!" he chortles. "Think we should go back and check after awhile?"

"Probably better get our stuff out of the motel and leave town before word gets out about the fire," Sam says. "We'll be the first people they think of when they see what happened."

"Yeah, okay. Sure as hell was fun, though."

You're not kidding.

There's a certain primitive glee in torching stuff, and Sam's not immune to it any more than Dean. Not that he'll give Dean the satisfaction of knowing it. "I smell like a gas station," he complains instead.

Back at the motel, they change their clothes and jam the incriminating 'evidence' into the laundry bag for later. They're on the road again in five minutes flat.

"What's next, toxic pets? Evil furniture?" Dean must still be riding the residual arson high, because he's happier than Sam's seen him in weeks.

"Could be anything. Lethal Christmas wreaths even."

Dean dismisses the idea immediately. "Nah, that's crazy talk. Better be something good."

"Find us a Starbucks and I'll get on the Internet and see what comes up," Sam says casually. "Maybe you'll get your chance for someplace sunny after all."

Dean's eyes light up, and he whistles 'Margaritaville' under his breath.

They're on their way to another town and another motel for the night, but Sam's already thinking ahead— he's been waiting all day.

He's not about to say what else Starbucks has, but when the time comes he'll be ready, and he'll be sure to place his coffee order privately and quietly:

Eggnog latte…


-------- fin --------


 
 
 
Deadbeat Nymph: sam dean christmasdeadbeat_nymph on January 10th, 2008 09:05 am (UTC)
Killer trees? Mwahaha! Excellent...

This was sweet and funny and perfect for the holidays. (My Christmas was on Monday, so I'm still in the holiday spirit. And I'm not taking my tree down until it starts to decompose.)

I loved Dean and the eggnog - although, I've never understood eggnog, myself - and the last line was perfect.

P.S. I don't know what 'Jossing' means, exactly, but S3's Christmas episode really fucked up my Rainyday fic. *glares at show*
The Coalition For Disturbing Metaphors: Sam & Dean Genhalfshellvenus on January 10th, 2008 04:29 pm (UTC)
(My Christmas was on Monday, so I'm still in the holiday spirit. And I'm not taking my tree down until it starts to decompose.)
The Boy Scouts have a curbside tree pickup the Friday after New Years, which is always too early for me! So our tree's gone now, and I'm boxing up the decorations. *sniffle*

P.S. I don't know what 'Jossing' means, exactly, but S3's Christmas episode really fucked up my Rainyday fic. *glares at show*
'Jossing' is to turn fanon on its ear, basically (as in, the perception that "Spike has been a badass forever" is Jossed in the episode where the reality becomes "Spike was a lily-livered mama's boy who wrote bad poetry" )

So the lateness of this story, and the absence of my other intended SPN Xmas story (*cries*) is entirely due to that damn episode, which depressed the hell out of me and ruined any ideas I had about the boys and holiday spirit. *doubles the glaring at show*

Actually, it was hell on my muse in general. I imagine you know exactly what I mean by that! :0
Deadbeat Nymph: sam dean windowdeadbeat_nymph on January 10th, 2008 07:19 pm (UTC)
So our tree's gone now, and I'm boxing up the decorations. *sniffle*

Aww, darlin', that's sad. *hugs you*

Thank you for the explanation about Jossing. I guess I'm not sure how this turned fanon over like in your Spike example, though. I was surprised to see that Sam didn't know about the hunting until that late in childhood, but was there more? *is clueless*

The episode fucked with my fic for the opposite reason, I think. I actually quite liked the episode - at least, the Monster of the Week parts and the end scene between the boys - but I did think Sam's whole wah, wah, I don't wanna do a Christmas seemed contrived to create 'drama'. I can see him feeling that way, but come on, as if he wouldn't buck up and do it for Dean.

Back to the point, though: I had planned an important scene in my fic in which Dean tries to save Christmas for Sammy because John, bastard that he was sometimes, left the boys alone to chase after the hunt. Sooo... Yeah. Not that that was the only part of the fic, but the central theme, I guess, was that of Dean trying to take care of Sam in that way, of trying to bring some normality and, more importantly, some sense of delight into Sam's life, of trying to give him what John didn't.

I was also planning to have undertones of the issues of poverty and its effect on children, which is all part of what I mentioned above: Despite the shit that they had to live with, despite having constantly to go without, being together is a sort of wealth when there is so much love. So, it still would have had that sense of holiday spirit.

And so, the episode totally fucked me. =/
The Coalition For Disturbing Metaphors: Sam & Dean Genhalfshellvenus on January 10th, 2008 07:25 pm (UTC)
but was there more?
Well, I'd always assumed Sam was big on Christmas (it's part of "normalcy," after all), and to have him balk while Dean's trying to do Christmas was totally not what I expected.

Sam giving Dean the amulet that far back jossed with one of my stories-- one that went into the amulet's background!

And the whole childhood thing... I'd hoped John wasn't THAT awful of a father that he'd just skip out on Christmas and forget about it entirely, because those things matter to kids, and even if you have no money you can still work miracles. :( The idea of the boys growing up like that actually exceeded my already low notion of John as a father, and was acutely depressing.

And that Dean would try to fix it for Sam, but fail so spectacularly in the execution... that f**ked up a whole bunch of stuff for me, not just about Winchesters and Christmas but also about the boys growing up. Gods, it was depressing. Plus, the little!Dean seemed so unlike Dean to me in that episode.

Basically, it screwed me over but good. MotW part? Loved it! Family background part.... Grrrrr!
Deadbeat Nymph: sam dean christmasdeadbeat_nymph on January 10th, 2008 07:39 pm (UTC)
Ah, yes, from what you've said here I agree with you completely. Except for the fact that I did think John could be that much of a bastard. That was kind of how I pictured the kids growing up, at least at some points.

and even if you have no money you can still work miracles

Yes! This was totally what I'd planned for my fic, but from Dean. In my fic, Dean didn't fail, although there was sense of desperation on his part, trying to hold it all together. But then, it's all worthwhile when Sammy's face lights up, right? And yes, now that you mention it, I did find little Dean's characterization off, but I could wank it. But that sort of wanking is not good. :(
Pheebs1: Both boys backpheebs1 on January 10th, 2008 04:46 pm (UTC)
Hee I loved this, thank you so much hon! The continual eggnog refs and ending on eggnog latte made me giggle! And Dean's resolution of burning them all and getting out - I liked that. Sometimes they just need to stop it! Fun!
The Coalition For Disturbing Metaphors: Sam & Dean Genhalfshellvenus on January 10th, 2008 06:01 pm (UTC)
I know it's late, but I struggled to finish it yesterday because I so wanted to get at least one of my prompts done! That S3 episode just ruined me!

The continual eggnog refs and ending on eggnog latte made me giggle!
That was partly a nod to the episode, too-- because Sam's come around finally, after awhile. And some people DO love eggnog. Seriously, if it weren't deadly on the calories I'd dive right in. :)

And Dean's resolution of burning them all and getting out - I liked that.
It's not elegant, but it'll definitely kill those trees at minimal risk to the boys. Plus, fire FTW! \o/

And blowtorches. How often do you get to use THAT in a fic? Though I must say, Googling the properties of flammable liquids as research made me wonder if the Anti-Terrorist forces would be coming after me soon. ;)
Pheebs1pheebs1 on January 10th, 2008 06:02 pm (UTC)
Hee, some of the things I've had to google for a story have made me wonder what anyone watching my searches would think! :)
The Coalition For Disturbing Metaphors: Sam & Dean Genhalfshellvenus on January 10th, 2008 06:07 pm (UTC)
I still remember being up at 1am looking up kerosene on wikipedia to see when it came into being-- that was for the Wincest Pirate!Fic story, of all things. And in fact... it's an 1800s creation, so not appropriate for pirate times. Had to find another accelerant instead. ;)

Yesterday's research showed that in a snow climate, you want gasoline and not kerosene to set trees on fire. Who knew? Feeling kind of anti-ecology just typing those words.
Pheebs1pheebs1 on January 10th, 2008 06:12 pm (UTC)
The tree police will soon be after you ;)
The Coalition For Disturbing Metaphors: Sam & Dean Genhalfshellvenus on January 10th, 2008 06:15 pm (UTC)
Better them than the FBI! :0
cindy: the dean show - dean and samtsuki_no_bara on January 10th, 2008 05:32 pm (UTC)
eeeheeheehee! killer christmas trees! death by pine! i love it, it's weird. and of course dean's first idea is to torch them. i love the brotherly give-and-take, and dean's obsession with egg nog (which, by the way, yum), and the fact that they do their best research in the bars. hee.
The Coalition For Disturbing Metaphors: Sam & Dean Genhalfshellvenus on January 10th, 2008 06:04 pm (UTC)
i love it, it's weird.
I had hoped this would make it to Crackfic, but it stayed humor instead. Because although weird, the idea IS actually plausible in an SPN universe. It's very hard to out-weird canon sometimes!

and dean's obsession with egg nog (which, by the way, yum)
:D I like it too, though I rarely drink much of it (seems to be half cream!). Clearly, the boys find it festive. Plus, adding alcohol has got to appeal to Dean. ;)

and the fact that they do their best research in the bars. hee.
Can't help thinking Dean has an ulterior motive there too, but you can find some very loose tongues in a place like that. Sometimes drunken and crazy tongues, but you takes your chances!
iamstealthyoneiamstealthyone on January 10th, 2008 06:41 pm (UTC)
Cute casefile! I like that both boys enjoy the fire at the end, even if Sam keeps his glee private. :)

Favorite lines:

By ten, they're under the covers watching Boston Legal as the scent of microwaved popcorn.fades into the background.

I love this image. :)

She turns to gaze out the window, and Sam intercepts Dean's hand on its way to the plate of fudge on the table in front of them. Dean's glare is poisonous.

*snickers* Bad Sam! Nobody should be deprived of fudge!

Gravel pings against the wheel well as the tires find purchase

Good detail.

He's not about to say what else Starbucks has, but when the time comes he'll be ready, and he'll be sure to place his coffee order privately and quietly:

Eggnog latte…


*g* The power of eggnog.
The Coalition For Disturbing Metaphors: Sam & Dean Genhalfshellvenus on January 10th, 2008 07:15 pm (UTC)
even if Sam keeps his glee private. :)
As any younger sibling would, just to keep Dean from knowing that he's somehow right. ;)

*snickers* Bad Sam! Nobody should be deprived of fudge!
:D Although stealing it outright tends to undercut that professional image they need to pull information out of people. Plus, it's rude. :0

*g* The power of eggnog.
Dean finally wins him over after all! Eggnog-- yum. :D Not that Sam will admit it just yet. ;)
iamstealthyoneiamstealthyone on January 10th, 2008 07:34 pm (UTC)
Although stealing it outright tends to undercut that professional image they need to pull information out of people. Plus, it's rude. :0

But it's fudge! All is forgiven when it's fudge! *g*

(And now I'm hungry for fudge, dang it.)
The Coalition For Disturbing Metaphorshalfshellvenus on January 10th, 2008 07:41 pm (UTC)
(And now I'm hungry for fudge, dang it.)

Oh, god. I used to make Kraft Marshmallow Fudge every Christmas until after child #2 where I had 6-8 extra pounds that wouldn't go away. Now it's crept up to 25 lbs, so I don't dare even THINK about fudge!

*is totally not, not, NOT thinking about it* *rats*
iamstealthyoneiamstealthyone on January 10th, 2008 07:55 pm (UTC)
Kids are deadly for one's figure. I'm still not back to the weight I was at before my first kid.

And I'm not thinking about rich, luxurious fudge either. Or a cold glass of milk to go with it.
celia_goesfactoids on January 10th, 2008 08:06 pm (UTC)
i love this! though now i have a craving for eggnog. and now i miss christmas! (even though i've enough of it, and it's hole burning pocket effect it has on me)

kinda karmic, killer christmas trees. i wish there were more instarbucks!winchester fics. i wonder how dean feels about starbucks? and all their fancy-schmancy coffee.
The Coalition For Disturbing Metaphors: Sam & Dean Genhalfshellvenus on January 10th, 2008 08:25 pm (UTC)
though now i have a craving for eggnog
It made ME want eggnog! And that was the one thing from the S3 episode that I thought was worth working toward-- where Sam buys it for Dean finally, to set the Christmas mood. ;)

kinda karmic, killer christmas trees.
That was exactly the inspiration for the idea. How would you like be cut off at the feet and jammed into someone's living room? It's always interesting to look at the other side of something like that, even when it's a whacked-out cracktastic kind of viewpoint. ;)

i wonder how dean feels about starbucks? and all their fancy-schmancy coffee.
It's totally ridiculous and girly and evil, unless someone buys one for him for free. Mmmmmmmmm Mocha. :0
celia_goesfactoids on January 11th, 2008 08:32 pm (UTC)
i do love crack :P
brigid_tanner: Supernatural:greenbrigid_tanner on January 10th, 2008 11:32 pm (UTC)
Hee! that was fun. Yeah, Dean...no chance of running into lethal wreaths :)
The Coalition For Disturbing Metaphors: Sam & Dean Genhalfshellvenus on January 11th, 2008 12:35 am (UTC)
Yeah, Dean...no chance of running into lethal wreaths :)
Haha! I'm glad somebody caught that line-- it sounds so impossible as an idea, but through the magic of canon and side-effect, those wreaths WERE essentially lethal. :0
◦ a girl like me ◦: SPN - Brothers by mata090680afteriwake on January 11th, 2008 05:00 am (UTC)
Oh, this had me rolling. Wonderful job.
The Coalition For Disturbing Metaphors: Sam & Dean Genhalfshellvenus on January 11th, 2008 06:52 pm (UTC)
Oh, thank you! I'm glad to add a little fun to your day. :D
tyricaltyrical on January 22nd, 2008 05:35 pm (UTC)
Killer Trees huh! Different and yeah torching stuff is cool.
The Coalition For Disturbing Metaphors: Sam & Dean Genhalfshellvenus on February 11th, 2008 11:24 pm (UTC)
It definitely is different-- the trees get revenge, finally! Not that Sam and Dean can allow that to continue, what with the carnage and all. ;)

Torching stuff-- this has to be the only time it's actually okay to set trees on fire. Especially if they might come after you while you're working. :0
(Deleted comment)
The Coalition For Disturbing Metaphors: Sam & Dean Genhalfshellvenus on April 17th, 2008 01:46 am (UTC)
Hee-- thank you! Hope it's still fun even those Christmas is long gone. Though it does come back every year. ;)