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05 September 2006 @ 11:21 pm
Supernatural Gen Fiction: Monster Mash for spn_flashback  
Title: Monster Mash
Author: HalfshellVenus
Characters: Sam, Dean (Gen)
Rating: PG-13 (language)
Author’s Notes: For spn_flashback prompt #15: “Sam's school has a Halloween dance -- and of course, it all goes to hell."

x-x-x-x-x

There’s no explaining to Dad why he wants to go. He’s too young to be dating, and it’s a school dance for god’s sake—frivolous by definition, and even moreso by the Winchester philosophy.

The “Halloween” part of it borders on unforgivable, and if it were actually on Halloween there’s no way Sam could pull this off. That night has been reserved for spirit-blasting, coven-busting and werewolf-hunting for as long as Sam can remember. There’s no handing out candy at the Winchester place. Halloween is serious business, and there's always work to be done.

Sam has decided that he won’t even ask. He’ll fake up a sleepover at Jacob Henley’s, and then go from there.

When Saturday comes, Sam heads out early-evening with a duffle bag full of his costume and supplies. Dean’s probably got a date with a cheerleader, and John picked up a bartending shift for extra money. But it doesn’t matter. Sam’s tired of justifying everything he wants. It’s a dance, and Sarah Hamilton will be there, and it’s nobody’s business-- not even Dean’s.

Sam’s going for cowboy tonight—because they’re in small-town Maryland, and the girls eat that up. Or so Dean tells him, and Dean’s got a knack for women already. The plaid shirt’s easy— he borrowed one of Dad’s. The hat wasn’t hard to find either, or the boots. Sam went to the local Goodwill for both of them, instead of sneaking two towns over like they do for their regular clothes.

It’s dark when he shows up at 8:30, and there’s a huge crowd already. It’s disorienting when everyone’s in costume-- Sam hardly recognizes anyone.

Someone smacks his shoulder in passing. “Howdy, Tex.” Sam thinks it’s Brian Shoemaker under all that latex.

“What’re you supposed to be?” Sam asks.

“A zombie, you moron.” Yeah, definitely Brian. Brian thinks ratty clothes and a dripping eyeball are enough to convey “zombie” to the world.

“Of course.” Sam looks away before his eyes broadcast dipwad right back.

That might be Sarah, across the gym under the purple spotlight. It’s murky in here, especially with the fog machine going, but the Egyptian goddess looks to be Sarah’s height and has her lips. Not that Sam’s really noticed Sarah’s lips, or anyone else’s for that matter, but… still looks like her. The black hair suits her, too.

Sam starts making his way around the periphery of the gym—because stepping out into the open and walking straight over there like she’s expecting him is not the way Sam does anything. He bumps into someone while stumbling through the shadows— that’s probably a jock in that Frankenstein costume, because the guy is big and blocky. Sam edges around a witch and a tiger (N-i-i-ice leotard, he thinks), but when he’s almost to the sound system he notices a smell.

It’s Dank. Musty. And the taint of something rotten becomes more noticeable the longer he stands there.

Kevin Cattelway is in front of him, in a baseball uniform. To the right is Nancy Jordan in a bathrobe with curlers.

Sam turns around, shifts his weight casually as his eyes sweep unhurriedly around the room. He looks over toward the wall—eyes only, his body staying put… and it’s there. Stained and battered corpse-cloth hides most of what no longer looks human. Sam can’t see the face in the darkness from the gown’s hood, but it doesn’t matter. This creature isn’t alive anymore.

Things won’t be pretty if it finds a victim. There’ll be a desiccated body in the bushes or a stairwell tomorrow, probably naked if the clothes were a decent fit.

Sam scans the shadows more carefully now. There’s a warlock with an amulet far too unusual for an eighth-grader to invent. The werewolf mask on the guy standing over by the corner is too authentic.

And Mrs. Stafford, their brand-new principal, is moving rigidly toward the exit with a blank stare on her face.

Great. Just great. Can’t he just have fun for one single, stupid night without the Undead running loose and getting all up in his face?

I’ll bet Dean never had to put up with this kind of crap, Sam gripes inside his head. His resources are limited, what with their supplies back home and all. He doesn’t even have a Swiss Army Knife with him right now.

Think, think, he tells himself. Easiest first, and do it quietly.

He crosses over to the snack table and picks up a cup. Blocking the view with his body, he scrapes the salt off a bunch of pretzels and into the cup, discarding the leftovers onto a plate.

Ten minutes later the cup is almost half full. Sam grabs a plastic knife and fork and puts them in his pockets.

He edges back around the gym, watching the crowd as he goes. Soon he’s around behind the soul-stealer, holding the cup ready. “In nomine Patris, et Filli, et Spiritus Sancti, Amen,” Sam chants, dumping the salt on the creature.

There’s barely a sound as the clothes crumple swiftly to the floor. But the smell rushes out in all directions, and Sam moves away quickly before anyone sees him nearby.

A minor commotion starts up near the source of the stench, creating a convenient distraction. Sam weighs the two remaining threats and his dismal set of options. The warlock has to be next, but how’s he going to tackle that one with no weapons of any kind? He’s got no holy water, nothing to generate a dampening spell (not that that has even the remotest chance of working).

This so totally sucks. He’s a teenager, not the Afterlife Avenger.

Sam is within ten feet of the warlock now, bouncing and bopping with the music and working his casual the best he can. If Dad were here, he’d… well, Dad would have a gun and special knives and stuff. No inspiration there.

If Dean were here, he’d probably pull the fire alarm—which doesn’t sound too bad right now, actually. Sam starts to back away when he sees the darkness shift as something steps out into the light.

It’s… well, crap. It’s Dean. What the hell is Dean doing here? Apart from slicing the amulet off the warlock’s neck, which is what he’s up to now.

The warlock collapses into himself, suddenly changing shape. Then a huge black bat flaps drunkenly toward the ceiling, provoking screams and gasps from the crowd below. The bat winds and wheels around the gym a few times trying to get its bearings before swooping down low and angling out the open door-- threatening the sea of masks and hair as it goes.

Sam just stares at Dean, who looks over and cocks a grin.

“Dean! Why did you come here?” Sam hisses.

“Just wanted to make sure you were okay, Sammy.” Dean swaggers over and slaps Sam in the arm.

I’m not even here!” Sam retorts. “I mean, no-one knows I’m here.” A thought occurs to him. “Do they? Does Dad know?”

“No, Dad doesn’t know. But you said you were going to Jacob’s, and I happen to know you only see him when he pays you to do his homework. Which nobody does on a Saturday night—except maybe a dork-boy like you. So I figured you were sneaking off to do something else. And then I thought, What’s the most small-town vanilla thing Sam would be dying to do on a night like this? And then, well… here I am.”

“Just shut up,” Sam mutters.

“Liking the dance so far? Or are you ready to go?”

“I haven’t even gotten to be part of the dance yet! And there’s still the werewolf over by the punch bowl.”

“Oh,” Dean says. “Anything else?”

“No, I got the other one. But I don’t have any silver bullets for the werewolf, and even if I did I couldn’t just shoot them off in here.”

Dean stares across the room for a moment, then smiles wickedly. “Never fear, Sammy. I have a plan.”

Well this I’ve got to see. Sam crosses his arms and leans back against the wall as Dean heads over to… the DJ? And the DJ’s girlfriend. Which… okay, flirting is not a plan.

Sam ponders whether he could take the werewolf with his fork and a ladle, but then Dean flashes him a grin and saunters on back. The music changes abruptly in Dean's wake, straight from the middle of “Dead Man’s Party” to the opening of Boston’s “Peace of Mind.”

“What.” Sam says.

“Just wait.” Dean smiles again before his eyes drift over toward the werewolf.

Good song, Sam thinks. Kind of loud, though. Way too loud. Christ-- owww! He claps his hands over his ears as the screaming guitars build in volume and intensity, feedback notes rising and ringing off the metal in the overhead basketball hoop harnesses and joists.

Outraged howling joins the wall of earsplitting sound and suddenly the werewolf is running in agony, circling around the floor looking for an exit. It passes in front of crowds of kids, all of them covering their ears and laughing in disbelief. They’re not sure what’s going on, but it’s pretty damn entertaining for a middle-school dance. Dean hurries over to the main door, opening it for the creature as it rushes toward the beautiful promise of silence.

Dean slices a hand across his throat toward the DJ and the music cuts off. A murmuring sound buzzes through the gym in the wake of this latest unexpected adventure.

“Guess I’d better get going,” Dean says as he approaches Sam.

“I’ll say-- you’re not even wearing a costume.”

“Hello—emergency situation, Sam. Besides, this is my costume.”

“Right. As what?”

“James Dean, dude.” Dean’s smile is so big and goofy that all Sam can do is laugh.

“All right, whatever,” Sam tells his brother. “Just don’t tell Dad. Please.”

“My lips are sealed. But remember not to come home afterward, or he’s going to wonder. Where were you going to spend the night?”

“Well I guess the forest is out,” Sam frowns.

“The forest is always out. That’s not even funny.”

“Maybe the locker room. I can sleep on a bench.”

Dean rolls his eyes. “That’s beyond pathetic.” He reaches into his pocket. “Here. The Impala’s parked around the corner. You can sleep in there tonight. I’ll walk home from here.”

Sam’s grin is huge. “You’re the best, Dean.”

“And don’t you ever forget it,” his brother replies. “Have fun.”

Dean’s gone in seconds, and Sam’s attention shifts to the noise of the crowd filtering into his brain.

“This is the best Halloween Dance we’ve had yet,” he hears the wrestling coach say to the shop teacher.

“No kidding—way more exciting than last year’s fiasco.”

Sam smiles to himself as the music starts again.

One man’s exciting is another man’s everyday existence.

Yeah, the setting was unexpected and his weapons were for shit.

But this is nothing to a Winchester— it’s like any other whacked-out, monster-filled day.


----- fin -----
 
 
 
I'm for wine and the embrace of questionable women: superflymissyjack on September 6th, 2006 06:32 am (UTC)
Oh Dean is just the most awesome big brother!
Sammy was pretty resourceful - love him collecting the salt of the pretzels (I must remember that trick).
Hope Sam at least got to do some ditry dancing after all this.

Another wonderful fic.
But this is nothing to a Winchester— it’s like any other whacked-out, monster-filled day. and this line should go on a t-shirt!
The Coalition For Disturbing Metaphors: Sam & Dean Genhalfshellvenus on September 6th, 2006 08:37 pm (UTC)
love him collecting the salt of the pretzels (I must remember that trick).
Poor guy. Punch, snacks, and plastic utensils. And no time to run out for better supplies!

I hope he made his way across the floor finally, before his Isis/Cleopatra escaped. :)

this line should go on a t-shirt!
Hee! "We're Winchesters-- we battle evil before breakfast!" :D
faithinfaithfaithinfaith on September 6th, 2006 07:11 am (UTC)
I really liked this one! It was sweet and funny and sometimes a vacation from angst is good. :)
The Coalition For Disturbing Metaphors: Sam & Dean Genhalfshellvenus on September 6th, 2006 08:26 pm (UTC)
Hi, Faith! I've missed you in the PB world (but I did see you'd discovered this fandom too). :)

It was sweet and funny and sometimes a vacation from angst is good. :)
I love writing humor for this show (and this is moderate humor compared to some of the things I've written). The banter alone is just so tempting! Plus, pissySam and cockyDean-- in cahoots against Evil and Dad. That never gets old. ;)

Good to hear from you again!
(no subject) - faithinfaith on September 7th, 2006 06:03 am (UTC) (Expand)
(Deleted comment)
The Coalition For Disturbing Metaphors: Sam & Dean Genhalfshellvenus on September 6th, 2006 08:29 pm (UTC)
Hee! Thank you, wenchpixie. I went right down to the wire on this one, but I think the result was good.

I was stumped for half of the day on what to do about the warlock and werewolf. Finaly got an answer for them, thank goodness. :0

The Grammarian about whom your mother warned you.acostilow on September 6th, 2006 06:44 pm (UTC)
Oh, Dean. This is why I heart you.

And I love Sam, as always. And stuff.

The Coalition For Disturbing Metaphors: Sam & Dean Genhalfshellvenus on September 6th, 2006 08:32 pm (UTC)
Oh, Dean. This is why I heart you.
Me too. When it comes to his family, he's pretty darn selfless under that cocky exterior. And his timing is awfully good as well.

And I love Sam, as always. And stuff.
:D HopefulSam, pissySam and resourcefulSam all got an outing here. Not bad for a single story. :D

Plus, gratuitous 70s heavy metal music reference. ;) WITH a purpose.
Tiger Lilytigerlily0 on September 6th, 2006 10:22 pm (UTC)
This was great. Very funny.
The Coalition For Disturbing Metaphors: Sam & Dean Genhalfshellvenus on September 6th, 2006 11:35 pm (UTC)
:D Thank you, Tigerlily. I'm always surprised when PB folks read the Supernatural stuff, even though there's a lot of (mostly one-way) cross-love there. Supernatural has such wonderful overlap with Prison Break-- strong brother dynamic, though for totally different reasons. Hiding out one's lifestyle (for really different reasons). It has less of the twisting-turning plot aspect than PB, BUT it has snark instead. :0

I saw you joined our follow-on community for the Fic Exchange! Thanks. :D And thanks for the mention at TWoP as well. You've been busy. ;)
(no subject) - tigerlily0 on September 7th, 2006 02:59 am (UTC) (Expand)
oxoniensis: fandom: spn something in me understandsoxoniensis on September 7th, 2006 12:10 am (UTC)
Cool idea – that was great fun. I loved resourceful Sam, and the way Dean knows his brother so well.
The Coalition For Disturbing Metaphors: Sam & Dean Genhalfshellvenus on September 7th, 2006 12:40 am (UTC)
:D Thank you!

There were so many great prompts over at spn_flashback. I wish I'd had time to write a ton of them, but since I got this one in 40 minutes before the midnight deadline...

ResourcefulSam (and resourcefulDean in other fics) are such fun to write. They resonate with me. Just today, I was wondering why my base gym bag was so heavy. There's makeup, sunblock, a few other things, and socks. And after the workout, when I discovered I had not put the towel or washcloth in there, it was "Well now what? What've I got to work with? Hmmm. I have socks...." :0 Which I did in fact use. *ducks*

Dean is deceptive, in that he plays insensitive but when it comes to his family he is anything but that.



graceandfiregraceandfire on September 7th, 2006 05:50 am (UTC)
Aw, this is very cute. I love Sam's irritation that he can't that the stupid monsters are interfering with his normal night out. And Dean rocks as overprotective big brother :)
The Coalition For Disturbing Metaphors: Sam & Dean Genhalfshellvenus on September 7th, 2006 06:00 am (UTC)
I love Sam's irritation that he can't that the stupid monsters are interfering with his normal night out.
The poor guy. All that trouble to be sneaky, and trouble finds him even if Dad doesn't. Big freaky half-rotted trouble and other stuff. It really isn't fair!

And Dean rocks as overprotective big brother :)
A lifetime in the making, and getting better all the time. :)

So glad you enjoyed this-- thank you!
Pheebs1pheebs1 on September 7th, 2006 11:06 am (UTC)
Heh, this was great. Loved Dean turning up and saying

What’s the most small-town vanilla thing Sam would be dying to do on a night like this? and then, well… here I am.” Glad Sam got to enjoy the dance in the end!
The Coalition For Disturbing Metaphors: Sam & Dean Genhalfshellvenus on September 8th, 2006 01:40 am (UTC)
Dean just loves to poke Sam with that kind of humor, but he does make up for it in the end.

Sam does get to have fun in the end-- with no-one being eaten or absorbed or anything else. ;) It's like Sunnyvale High all over again. :0
monkie, dude!monkiedude on September 7th, 2006 03:35 pm (UTC)
HAHAHAHAH! Oh, Sam. With his little crush. This was just really adorable. Thanks so much for sharing it for the challenge!
The Coalition For Disturbing Metaphors: Sam & Dean Genhalfshellvenus on September 8th, 2006 01:43 am (UTC)
Oh, so glad you liked it!

And thank you for organizing this wonderful challenge. I'm sorry the deadline is up-- there are plot bunnies running loose over there still! :)
iamstealthyoneiamstealthyone on September 8th, 2006 03:54 am (UTC)
Cute story. I loved Sam strategizing and stealthily kicking some ass.

Favorite lines:

Sam’s going for cowboy tonight—because they’re in small-town Maryland, and the girls eat that up.

*g*

There’s barely a sound as the clothes crumple swiftly to the floor. But the smell rushes out in all directions, and Sam moves away quickly before anyone sees him nearby.

He’s so sly. Me like. Me like a lot.

This so totally sucks. He’s a teenager, not the Afterlife Avenger.

LOL!

It’s… well, crap. It’s Dean. What the hell is Dean doing here?

I kinda figured he’d show up, sooner or later. Yay, Dean. :)

Sam ponders whether he could take the werewolf with his fork and a ladle

LOL! Our little MacGyver.

Sam’s grin is huge. “You’re the best, Dean.”

Word. :)

Thanks for a good read.
The Coalition For Disturbing Metaphors: Sam & Dean Genhalfshellvenus on September 8th, 2006 05:00 am (UTC)
Oh, you picked some of my favorite lines. :)

I kinda figured he’d show up, sooner or later. Yay, Dean. :)
Always looking out for Sam-- even when he's not even supposed to know. Plus, Dean would always have at least one knife, and boy was that knife ever necessary.

LOL! Our little MacGyver.
:D Why has no-one else noticed that line? Because I start to get a visual with diagrams involving Sam/plastic fork/ladle and all of the really lame ways that could not possibly work out. ;)

Thanks so much for your wonderful comments. :) I'm glad you liked the story. Go Winchesters!
(no subject) - iamstealthyone on September 9th, 2006 03:52 pm (UTC) (Expand)
Sarahgrrli on September 8th, 2006 05:25 am (UTC)
OH MAH GAWD that was fun! iamstealthyone hit on the points, and just..*beeps Sammys widdle nose*!
He's a total flippin MacGuyver.

Sam looks away before his eyes broadcast dipwad right back.
That guys eyes... I swear, I don't think he ever really needs to open his mouth to communicate.
The Coalition For Disturbing Metaphors: Sam & Dean Genhalfshellvenus on September 8th, 2006 05:40 am (UTC)
just..*beeps Sammys widdle nose*!
Hahaha! I'm getting a Snoopy flashback from that. :)

I swear, I don't think he ever really needs to open his mouth to communicate.
Which is good, because when he's feeling surly he won't. But yeah-- he's not as schooled in covering up his thoughts as Dean is. Which is all to the funny, in my book. ;)

So glad you enjoyed this. SPN humor is such fun to write. And whacked-out most of the time too, which is even more fun. :D
(Deleted comment)
The Coalition For Disturbing Metaphors: Sam & Dean Genhalfshellvenus on September 8th, 2006 03:20 pm (UTC)
:D We've all seen Jared in his cowboy getups, and even as a kid I'll bet that looked pretty good.

Originally I thought of having SAM going as a zombie, but once the cute girl came into the picture I had to reconsider. Melty-dripping-gore-face is not the effect you should go for when you're trying to catch a pretty girl's attention. Not unless "Ewwwww!" is the result you want. ;)
tabaqui: samsmilebyliteratitabaqui on September 8th, 2006 01:08 pm (UTC)
Heeeeeeee!
Poor Sam.
I’ll bet Dean never had to put up with this kind of crap, Sam gripes inside his head.

*snerk*

Mmmm...salty pretzels...
The Coalition For Disturbing Metaphors: Sam & Dean Genhalfshellvenus on September 8th, 2006 03:23 pm (UTC)
*snerk*
Isn't that always the way? The younger sibs always think the older (and cooler, of course, even if they won't admit it) sibs have it easier. As if life just falls into place for them. Or stays in the forest and graveyards where it belongs on important occasions such as this one. ;)

Glad you enjoyed this one. :)
(Deleted comment)
The Coalition For Disturbing Metaphors: Sam & Dean Genhalfshellvenus on September 8th, 2006 06:20 pm (UTC)
Thank you, Alistra!

You would almost think they might get bored with their Evil Encounters, wouldn't you? After so many years, you've seen one zombie, you've seen them all. Still have to be careful to get the zombie before it gets you, but it must get old after awhile:

"Kraldreth demon at a diner down the street."
"What, again?"

:D
I can read Sam's mind: SPN: Wee!cest Wendywendy on September 8th, 2006 09:47 pm (UTC)
“I haven’t even gotten to be part of the dance yet! And there’s still the werewolf over by the punch bowl.”

HAHA. And I love that Dean is just like...oh ok, no big. Heee.
The Coalition For Disturbing Metaphors: Sam & Dean Genhalfshellvenus on September 8th, 2006 09:50 pm (UTC)
:D So glad you enjoyed it!

Actually, the "Oh" was both "Okay, sure" and the fact that Dean hadn't noticed the werewolf himself. Heh-heh.

At this age, Dean must seem fairly unflappable to Sam. Little does he know that he'll eventually get that way himself. Except when major-danger calls, of course, but for the routine stuff? Meh. ;)

Thank you, wendy! :)