THEN: If you're new to the Sockchester Supernatural fan fiction series, this is Episode 4 in the epic saga of Sam and Dean Sockchester, hunters in one of Chuck's universes that exists parallel to the Sam and Dean Winchester we all know and love. The Sockchesters' are also in the 'family business' of saving socks, hunting things!
Each episode can be enjoyed on its own, or you can start at the beginning with Episode 1, which takes place in Kenmore, Washington! From there, you can continue with the Sockchesters' adventures, all the way to Episode 4-Part 1, which is where this suspense begins!
NOW: Join the brothers on their hunt in Dyersburg, Tennessee!
The Sockchester Brothers' Supernatural
Episode 4 - Part 2
Dyersburg Police Station.
Sock Cass carries two jugs of bleach with him as they head up the steps to the station: Are you certain this bleach bath idea will work?
Sock Sam: People have used bleach baths for nearly a century to treat skin diseases. Besides, Leviathan’s hate the stuff. Just make sure the victims don’t ingest anything and that they rinse off. Bleach can be fatal.
Detective Weaver: Agent Price. Can I let these people go yet? They’ve been trying to pick the locks and are growing more agitated daily.
Sock Sam: Uh, Yes. We’ve determined that the best treatment is bleach baths and a thorough examination, by our associate, uh, Agent Chandler.
Sock Cass: Have they shown early signs of cannibalism yet? Toes? Fingers?
Detective Weaver: Excuse me?
Sock Sam: What Agent Chandler means is, how irritated are they?
Detective Weaver: See for yourselves.
She leads them down the hallway to the community rooms. Two burly guards blockade the door.
A shout goes up from inside the community room, and a half a dozen people rush to push against the door.
Sock Cass: It may be difficult to get them to cooperate.
Sock Sam: We need to separate them. One by one. Those with lighter shades of blue will be more uh, contaminated, than the darks. Where can we give them a bleach bath?
Detective Weaver: We only have shower stations here.
Sock Sam: Is it possible to pipe bleach into the system?
Detective Weaver shakes her head: Are you kidding me? Look, you can see if the church across the street will let you use their baptistery.
Sock Cass: A church? Good.
Sock Sam: Okay, but we still need to get them over there without anyone making a break for it.
Sock Cass: I could sedate them, or fly them over.
Sock Sam: There’s twenty of them, Ca-- I mean Chandler, and you need to save your energy to remove the Leviathan threads.
Detective Weaver: Did you say fly? Leviathan? Is that the skin disease that’s making them blue?
Sock Sam: More or less, sure.
Detective Weaver looks at Cass strangely: I can make sure the quarantine patients stay sorted and cross the street to the church, if you really believe this bleach bath will work.
Sock Sam: It has to.
Sock Dean knocks on the door to room 205. His arms hold a large brown paper sack. A white bottle of bleach is nestled beside a six pack and covered by a half dozen prepackaged snack cakes.
Louisiana opens the door with a sigh and steps back into the room.
Sock Dean: Miss me?
Louisiana rolls her eyes and sits at the table where she stares at the rubbings. Her lips mouth the foreign words as she goes from one page to the other.
Sock Dean sets the sack down. The bottles clink on the table.
Louisiana glances up at him for a moment before finding her place again, and again wordlessly forms words with her peach-pink lips.
Sock Dean clears his throat and tosses the snack cakes on the table, then sets out the case of beer between them.
Louisiana reaches for one: Thank God.
Sock Dean covers her hand with his on the top of the bottle.
Louisiana arches her eyebrows: What? Is there nothing I can indulge in?
Sock Dean pulls the bottle out of the case past her hand, and opens it with his ring, then he hands it to her.
Sock Dean: Listen, I’m, uh, not good with apologies, so I’m just sorry that this mess happened to you... and I, uh, do care about what happens to you.
Sock Dean pulls another bottle, opens it on his ring and takes a big gulp to settle himself.
Louisiana snorts and takes a drink: You care? Is that the phrase you use for every damsel in distress?
Sock Dean leans against the opposite chair: No. I’m actually kind of impressed by you. You dodge pressure traps, speak at least seven languages-
A smile twitches at Louisiana’s lips: Eight.
Sock Dean: You’re like a female Indiana Jones. You go all over the world to find ancient treasures, not to mention you looked very familiar with your weapon.
Louisiana lowers her rubbings.
A mischievous glint shines in her eyes: You ought to see me field-strip it.
Sock Dean sets down his beer: And now I’m dying to see that.
Louisiana stands, runs her fingers to her gun strapped to her thigh. Then she winks, draws, frees the clip into her waiting fingers, dry fires while setting down the clip,unscrews the barrel, releases the slide, and pops the recoil spring into her fingers again.
Sock Dean breathes a slow whistle.
Louisiana tips her head with that same enticing smile and then reforms her gun in two blinks of Sock Dean’s eyes. She holsters it and steps toward him.
Louisiana: What do you think?
Sock Dean: I think you’re incredibly sexy, freaking awesome, and-
Louisiana presses her lips to Dean’s, her fingers tousle his felt hair, and her other hand runs against the edge of his cotton jawline.
Sock Dean responds with his own lips and captures a handful of her raven hair as he directs the angle of their kiss. His right hand rests against her hip, toying with the upper edge of the leather straps of her holster against her skin.
Louisiana makes a soft noise. Then her teeth sinks into Sock Dean’s lips.
Sock Dean swings to push her away, but her hands on his face are like a vice.
Sock Dean: Crp! Crp!
He tries to push forward to headbutt her, but she holds on all the tighter. Frantic, Dean blindly grabs for the paper sack. He vaguely hears beer bottles smashing on the floor, but finally grasps the large plastic bottle inside. Unscrewing the lid, he pops it off, and splashes the bleach at Louisiana.
She releases and recoils as it sizzles against her blue skin. She falls backward and slices her hand on one of the broken bottles.
Sock Dean: Holy crap, what happened?
Sock Dean holds the plastic bottle in between himself and Louisiana, and prepares to give her another splash.
Louisiana: I don’t… Oh no! This is bad, so bad. I am becoming that monster you spoke of!
Sock Dean: Now calm down. What were you feeling?
Louisiana: I was just so hungry. I wanted to taste your lips. They are very good to taste, you know, and then I wanted to -really- taste your lips. Do you know what it is that I mean?
Sock Dean: Uh, no. Not really.
Sock Dean wipes his chin with his left hand and it comes away with blood.
Louisiana looks at her hand. It’s oozing black. She looks at Sock Dean, horror marking her face.
Sock Dean: Okay, you’re turning too fast. We need to slow it down some.
Louisiana covers her mouth with her hands: Very well. What is it you have in mind?
A squat tan brick building with a green roof sat unassuming on the corner. A small portico shades the doors into the parking lot.
Sock Sam: Doesn’t look like much.
Sock Cass: Does the bunker look like much from the outside?
Sock Sam nods: Point taken.
Sam and Cass walk through the front doors and a young church secretary points over her crochet needles to a hallway with an abstract wood design extending down the hall.
Sock Cass meets the secretary’s eyes before they continue on: Thanks Savannah.
Her eyes flash up, startled, but they have already moved down the hall.
Sock Sam nudges the angel: Try not to be...too weird.
Sock Cass blinks at Sam: But I know her. Well, I’ve carried her prayers sometimes to Heaven, and assisted in a couple missions on her behalf.
Sock Sam: Uh, she doesn’t look like a Hunter. She’s crocheting.
Sock Cass nods: Baby blankets for the NICU at the local hospital. She does important work for the little socks.
The pastor’s office consists of a few bookshelves crammed full of literature, a desk, computer, and a few off-white couches.
Sock Sam mumbles: Looks like a cleaner version of Bobby’s.
Pastor: Hello, I’m Pastor Phillip Watts. How can I help you today?
Sock Cass: He’s Sam, and I’m an Angel of the Lord. We need to borrow your baptistery for a few hours.
Pastor: I’m sorry. You’re an angel?
Sock Cass: Yes.
Sock Sam: Sorry, he’s a little blunt. We just need to borrow the baptistery to give a few patients who are being held at the police station a bleach bath.
Pastor Phillip: Uh, that’s not really how we want our baptistery used. It’s consecrated to the Lord. It’s for those who want to be baptised…
Sock Cass: Listen, long ago, I saw the priest at Nob give David and his men the consecrated bread because they were hungry and had no ordinary bread. Even Jesus the Christ healed on the Sabbath, and his disciples picked corn because they were hungry.
Pastor Phillip: I see, um, yes, forgive me for my lack of mercy. It’s just a very unusual request.
Sock Sam: That’s understandable. We just need the basin to help cure them.
Sock Cass: Pray earnestly as well, or we’ll probably all die.
Sock Dean eyes Louisiana as she leans against the bathroom door. She tugs the straps to her thigh holster free and sets the gun and holster outside the door. The warm water rushes out of the faucet into the tub beside him as he measures out enough bleach for her bath.
Sock Dean: It’s going to hurt like Hell, but hopefully it’ll keep the monster in check for a little while.
Louisiana bites her lower lip: How about we make a deal?
Sock Dean: What do you mean?
Louisiana slides her leather jacket off and tosses it atop her gun
Louisiana: If we survive this, I get a raincheck on that kiss.
Sock Dean touches the tender marks on his chin and lips: Deal. What can I say? I like a feisty girl sometimes.
Louisiana raises her eyebrows again as she kicks off her boots and socks and joins him beside the bathtub.
Sock Dean nods. His eyes slide across her button eyes to the flirty smile at her lips, to the perfect curve of her cotton neck, down to the simple blouse, the hiking shorts even the natives in Belize must have drooled about, and the strong calves, ending at her toes painted silver which matches her skin’s slight blue hue.
Louisiana repeats: Feisty?
Sock Dean raises his eyes, only for her to pull him with her into the bathtub. Sock Dean remembers to close his eyes and mouth as they tumble in, but the splash instantly soaks his clothes.
Louisiana is screaming. Dean vaguely hears it and flails for the side of the tub to keep his weight from her. Somehow in the course of their fumbling, he ends up sitting in the tub while she struggles in the water above him.
Sock Dean brings his arms around her and keeps her face out of the water.
Sock Dean: Hey, Hey. You’re doing fine. You’re okay.
Louisiana’s arms and legs spasm and she clenches and unclenches her jaw as she stares into his green button eyes.
Louisiana’s lips quiver: It...hurts. Everything...hurts.
Sock Dean: I know. You’ve made it through a minute. Just nine more and we can get out.
Louisiana clenches and unclenches her hands: I...really want...to kill you.
Sock Dean grins: But you haven’t yet. You can sock me later.
Louisiana kicks the side of the tub as she cries: Let me out! I can’t do this!
Sock Dean runs his hands over her arms as she spasms again.
Tears leak out of Louisiana’s eyes: Just...hold me.
Sock Dean pulls her close and watches the pain flicker over Louisiana’s face. They stay that way for a few more minutes.
Then Louisiana gasps.
Sock Dean: Louisiana, what’s wrong?
She stands and slips out of the tub, dribbling water on the already soaked floor from their prior splash into the tub.
Sock Dean watches the streams of water slip down her soaked blouse and shorts and puddle on the floor.
Louisiana sighs: I’m just...so...hungry.
Sock Dean: Crap.
Sock Dean backs into the corner of the tub and kicks the water at her.
Louisiana snarls at him, then steps out of the bathroom and walks into the room.
Sock Dean: Crap!
Sock Dean scrambles out of the tub and runs into the room. His cotton skin immediately prickles from the cold room. Louisiana turns the knob on the door to leave.
Sock Dean launches into her and pulls her to the floor with him. Their wet clothes stick to his arms, but her skin is slick so he grabs a handful of her shirt.
Louisiana twists like a cat out of his grip and eyes him. She glances at the door behind him, then at the blood on his chin. Her tongue moistens her bottom lip.
Sock Dean raises to a crouch in front of the door: Sorry Honey, I can’t let you out.
Louisiana: That’s fine, I’ll eat in.
Louisiana leaps at him, but Sock Dean dodges toward the air conditioner. He grabs one of Louisiana’s arms, but she uses his own momentum against him and slams the side of his head into the side of the air conditioner. A gash opens up on Sock Dean’s cheek.
Sock Dean lashes out with his elbows and fists as he is momentarily stunned. Louisiana backs away to avoid his hands, but Sock Dean kicks out his leg to catch her heel. She stumbles and lands on her back.
Sock Dean wipes the blood from his cheek. He stands and grabs Louisiana’s wrists, but she twists them and pulls him down with her. She tightens her arms around his neck, slowly siphoning off his air.
Panicked, Sock Dean grabs for her face, poking her eyes, nose, and leaving a scratch that oozes black goo down the side of her cheek, near her ear. It’s enough for Louisiana to loosen her hold on him for an instant.
Sock Dean kicks away from Louisiana’s hold and grabs her in a choke hold of his own until she becomes limp from unconsciousness.
He surveys the damp carpet, blood, and Leviathan ooze. He grunts as he stands and finds some rope in her pack.
Sock Dean: Awesome. Just great.
Sock Dean ties her arms and legs together, drains the tub and turns on the shower to rinse the bleach off of them.
He carries her back to the bed and finds another link of rope to tie her to the headboard.
Sock Dean retrieves his cell phone from the table.
Sock Dean: C’mon, Sam. Answer! What are you doing?
Sock Dean tosses the phone on the table and pulls off his soaked shirt.
Sock Sam: Are you ready for this?
Sock Cass: Why wouldn’t I be?
Sock Sam shook his head and led Mr. Woolworth to the baptistery near the middle of the church stage. Three crimson carpeted steps raise the stage above the room. Around the edges of the stage are white pillars, a few sound monitors face the front of the stage and a lone microphone stand stoops off the edge.
Mr. Woolworth: What is this? Phillip?
Pastor Philllip scratched his head and shrugs: Looks like you’re getting a second baptism, Stan.
Sock Sam: As I explained before, this is a simple bleach bath. It might be painful because your disease makes your skin so sensitive, but it should help cure your skin condition. Try to stay in the bath for the whole ten minutes.
Sock Cass moves behind the baptistery and pulls up the sleeves of his trenchcoat.
Mr. Woolworth shrugs and pulls off his suit coat. He lays it on the edge of the stage and takes off his shoes and socks.
Pastor Phillip grabs a towel for him to use afterward.
Mr. Woolworth steps into the baptistery and hisses at the water: What did you put in here, acid?
Sock Sam: Just bleach, like I said, it’s perfectly safe unless ingested or you’re in it too long. Your skin is just sensitive right now.
Mr. Woolworth attempts to lower himself in, but stands upright instead: I really don’t think I like this.
Sock Sam glances at the pastor and Cass.
Sock Sam: Please try. Do you want to be blue forever?
Mr. Woolworth: I think I’m lighter already. See? I’m sure it’ll clear up in a few more days.
Sock Cass: This is futile arguing.
Sock Cass pushes Mr. Woolworth backward with his hand on his face and submerges the man in the baptistery. Light emanates from Castiel’s hand.
Sock Sam: Cass!
Pastor Phillip looks unsettled but glances between the angel and the struggling man.
Sock Sam grabs Castiel’s arm: Cass!
Sock Cass: He’s fine. Have patience. Eliminating Leviathan threads is harder than it looks.
Mr. Woolworth tries to scream into Castiel’s palm. The water becomes still as he sinks for a moment, fully submerged.
Sock Sam: Cass! That’s not okay!
Sock Cass plunges his other hand in and pulls Mr. Woolworth up out of the tub. Concern rests on his features as he prepares to heal any injuries the bleach may have caused.
Instantly, Mr. Woolworth shoves Castiel away and stalks out of the baptistery after him.
Sock Cass: You’re not cured yet!
Mr. Woolworth: I don’t want it. I want to kill you.
Mr. Woolworth pushes Castiel against a pillar and curls his blue hands around the angel’s neck. Castiel’s sock body slowly rises as Mr. Woolworth shoves him higher off the ground.
Sock Sam tackles Mr. Woolworth from behind and holds him in a chokehold.
Sock Cass tilts his head and disappears from Mr. Woolworth’s hands. He reappears at Sock Sam’s side and touches the infected man with two fingers.
Mr. Woolworth slumps in Sock Sam’s arms.
Pastor Phillip: Stan? Stan?
Sock Sam: He’s fine. Just passed out.
Sock Cass rubs his neck, his trenchcoat dribbles soggy water onto the wood stage.
Sock Sam lowers Mr. Woolworth to the floor: Cass, what happened?
Sock Cass: For every Leviathan thread I eliminate, another takes more of the host. I was slow and careful, but I might need to just instantly smite them and hope no threads remain.
Sock Sam: Dean is not going to like this.
Sock Cass: We have no other choice at this point.
Sock Sam: How many of his threads were still human?
Sock Cass: A little less than half.
Sock Sam paces and runs a hand through his hair: He’ll be completely threadbare! One wash and he’ll fall apart!
Sock Cass: Either that or death. Which would you choose for him?
Sock Sam glances at the blue-tinged man lying on the stage unconscious. Pastor Phillip held the towel in his arms and switched sides as his eyes flicked from Sam to Cass and finally Stan.
Sock Sam: We have to try to save him.
Sock Cass: Lower him into the bleach bath with me, and keep his head up.
Sock Sam drags Mr. Woolworth into the baptistery again. The man is dead weight and sinks instantly.
Sock Cass replaces his hand on the man’s forehead: Forgive us.
Sock Cass’ hand shines and even unconscious, Mr. Woolworth’s mouth drops open in a low groan.
A moment later, Sam and Cass pull him out of the bath again and Sam gestures to Pastor Phillip for the towels.
The towels soon turn blue as they towel dry the man’s skin and the pigment wears off onto them.
Sock Sam: He doesn’t seem too bad.
Sock Cass didn’t meet his eyes: He’s deaf now, his left arm is crippled, and he’s uh, sterile.
Sock Sam: You can’t fix those things?
Sock Cass: Sam, I literally ripped him apart. Those were the things I couldn’t fix. The threads are just not there anymore.
Sock Sam: Great. I better get him back across the street so he can get rinsed off and we can do this again. One down, Nineteen to go.
Sock Cass: I’ll just be here.
Sock Sam glances back at the angel as he and Pastor Phillip carry Mr. Woolworth back to the station.
Sock Sam: I think I’ll grab some handcuffs from Detective Weaver.
A shuffle, then three pounds on the door wakes Sock Dean from his sleep. He squinches at the dark, rubs his eyes, and yawns.
Three more pounds has him reaching for his gun and squinting through the peephole.
His brother and Sock Cass stood outside looking more than a little worse for wear.
Sock Dean opens the door. The light from the outside lamps streams into the motel room.
Sock Sam: Hey.
Sock Sam pushes into the room: What are you wearing?
Sock Dean glances at his bare chest and jeans: My shirt got wet.
Sock Sam: Uh huh.
Sock Sam flicks on the light.
Louisiana lies asleep on the bed, her arms and legs still tied to the bed.
Sock Sam turns to Sock Dean: What is this?
Sock Dean: It’s not what it… Look. She...She attacked me.
Sock Cass pushes past Sam and Dean and touches Louisiana’s forehead. He shakes his head at Sam.
Sock Sam: Uh, so Cass and I cleaned up the people in Dyersburg. No one’s blue there anymore, but there were, uh, side effects.
Sock Dean rubs his eyes: Okay, stop talking and one of you get me some coffee.
Sock Cass disappears and reappears an instant later with a steaming diner-style carafe.
Sock Dean frowns: How…?
Sock Cass: Waffle House. Open twenty-four hours.
Sock Dean mumbles: Why didn’t you bring back a stack of pecan chocolate chip pancakes and hash browns, scattered, smothered, and covered while you were there?
Sock Cass: That would not have traveled well.
Sock Dean shuffles to the sink and finds a paper cup for Castiel’s coffee. After taking a few sips he rejoins them at the desk.
Sock Dean yawns: Side effects.
Sock Sam: Yeah, so the Leviathan threads are grabbing human threads and completely changing them. The only way we can remove them all is an instant smite - angel radiation, if you will, but it fries everything the Leviathan threads claimed. So it damages them. Most people received minor disabilities, but those exposed longer, like Mr. Woolworth, had multiple.
Sock Dean takes a big gulp of coffee and winces as it goes down: So Louisiana…
Sock Sam: Could lose a lot.
Sock Cass: The only other option is death.
Sock Dean: Or leave her alone. She’s usually alone in her travels anyway.
Sock Cass: No. There’s a far greater chance she would inadvertently infect another.
Sock Dean: Well I think we should get her opinion, before we doom her to the life of a quadriplegic.
Sock Sam: That is not fair.
Sock Dean: No. It’s not. I’m sick and tired of other people making choices for us or manipulating us to whatever they think our fate is. I’m not going to do that for another person.
Sock Sam: No, I mean you, thinking somehow death is better than life, even if it’s physically challenging. That’s not fair to her or any of them.
Sock Cass: She’s deeply progressed. Her life will not be the same.
Sock Dean frowns and crosses his arms: Wake her up.
Sock Cass shook Louisiana’s shoulder.
Louisiana moved her head back and forth: What? What is it going on? Dean?
Sock Dean stands up and pushes past Cass to grab her hand.
Sock Dean: I’m here. Sorry about this arrangement. The, uh, Leviathan in you tried to eat me.
Louisiana: Oh. I apologize. Doubtless you’d taste terrible. All heroic, salty, and smelling like you haven’t changed your clothes in a month.
Sock Dean tries to grin, but fails: Uh, the thing is, if you go all monster, you’ll probably infect others, if we try to get rid of it, it’ll probably hurt you really bad.
Louisiana: I can deal with pain. Can’t you see?
Sock Dean forced a laugh: Yeah. I know, but this is like permanent damage.
Sock Cass: Mr. Woolworth is now deaf, crippled in one arm, and impotent.
Sock Sam: Uh, but we don’t know what sort of side effects it may have on you, Dr. Ferrari.
Louisiana licks her lips: You’re all wondering if I’d rather die.
Sock Dean swallows and looks toward the bathroom to hold back his tears.
Louisiana stares pointedly at him: I made a deal. I plan to make good on it.
Sock Sam: So that means...what?
Sock Dean turns away toward the bathroom mirror and purses his lips: She wants to live, no matter the cost.
Sock Sam nods and lays a hand on Sock Dean’s shoulder.
Sock Sam and Sock Cass untie Louisiana and then Sam attaches handcuffs to her wrists. They lead her back to the bathroom for another bleach bath. Sock Dean sinks into the chair by the table. He presses his fingers against the bridge of his nose and corners of his eyes.
Sock Sam: Cass, there’s no way you could…?
Sock Cass: What is it?
Sock Sam: I just keep thinking there’s got to be a way to give what threads she has some stability so she retains most of her limbs and functions.
Louisiana: Like a transplant?
Sock Sam: Yeah, like transplant someone else’s threads that they don’t need as much to help her.
Sock Cass: I see. It’s possible. Do you have family?
Louisiana: My mother resides in Cairo. My sister, Georgia, lives in Dyersburg.
Sock Cass: Stay still for a moment. I will see where most of the damage is.
Sock Cass sets his fingers on Louisiana’s cotton forehead again and then nods: Dean is correct. Without any threads to support, you won’t walk again.
Louisiana bit her lip: Blasted idiotic greed! I might as well give myself pneumonia or typhoid from drinking the water!
Sock Cass: With your mother and sister’s permission, I’ll borrow threads to help keep most of your functions normal.
Sock Dean pounds on the door: Hey! What’s going on in there?
Sock Sam: Cass has to run an errand!
Sock Dean: Don’t forget my pancakes!
Sock Cass disappeared for a few minutes.
Louisiana: Does he always do this?
Sock Sam: Disappear on us? Yeah. We’re almost used to it by n-
Sock Cass reappears in front of Sock Sam, a bundle of multicolored threads in his hand.
Louisiana: Is that--?
Sock Cass: No time. Your mother wasn’t too thrilled about being disturbed from her sleep. I explained I was an Angel of the Lord and she just fell on her knees. Please, let’s get her in the water.
Sock Sam: So did she give you permission or…?
Sock Cass: Well she was pretty out of it. Fear and trembling, you know. I told her I needed something from her and she seemed affable enough. Once I found the threads I needed and pulled them, she might have been kneeling for a different reason, but she has enough for her body to heal and move again. She’ll be fine by this time tomorrow.
Sock Sam presses his lips together, but helps Cass move Louisiana into the tub again.
Outside the bathroom door, Sock Dean balls up his fists at the sink and flinches when she cries out from the bleached water.
He punches the mirror until his knuckles turn bloody when he hears her scream and Castiel’s glow bathes the floor out from under the door to his right.
Soon the water gurgles and drains away, and the shower turns on again. Sock Sam carries Louisiana out of the room. Her clothes are soaked again, as well as Sam’s and Castiel’s, but Sock Dean cut his eyes to Cass.
Sock Dean: Well?
Sock Cass: She’s lost her sense of smell; even with most of the walking structure threads there, there’s still a problem with her hip so she’ll probably have a limp; and she’s lost some vision in her right eye.
Louisiana shivers: There. Right as rain.
She slides out of Sam’s arms and collapses into Dean’s.
Sock Cass trudges past Sock Sam and Louisiana, but reaches for Dean: She’s infected you.
Sock Dean: Hey! Don’t make me lose my sense of taste Cass! I still want those pancakes!
Sock Cass touches Sock Dean’s forehead. A glow emanates from his hand as he smites the Leviathan threads and heals his wounds on his cheek and hands. Sock Cass then turns and cleanses Sock Sam as well.
Sock Cass: No permanent damage. You both were hardly exposed.
Sock Dean: I guess we’re finished here.
Sock Cass nods: I will meet you at Bobby’s.
Sock Cass disappears in an instant.
Louisiana: I will phone my sister, Georgia tomorrow to ask her to bring me home.
Sock Sam shifts his feet.
Sock Sam: I, uh, am going to go find a change of clothes in the car… and go for a drive. Yup.
Sock Sam shuffles out the door into the night.
A coy smile breaks out on Louisiana’s face and she runs her hands over Sock Dean’s cotton shoulders.
Louisiana: A change of clothes sounds brilliant.
Sock Dean raises a hand to her jawline: I couldn’t agree more.
He lowers his mouth and tastes her lips.
Sock Dean: Good, Cass wasn’t lying.
She hums against his lips and he suddenly forgets about everything else.
Sock Dean knocks against the rear passenger window to wake his brother inside. He shakes a brown paper bag.
Sock Dean: Rise and shine, Sammy, It’s snack cakes for breakfast, at least until we get to the nearest Waffle House.
Sock Sam yawns and stretches, folding his body back into a sitting position.
Sock Sam waves his hands at his brother from head to toe: You seem especially...bright today.
Sock Dean grabs the keys from Sam’s hand: Yeah, I figure we get to Bobby’s, zip down to New Mexico and gank a couple demons with Cass and we’ll call it a day.
Sock Sam crawls into the passenger seat from the back: And you’re good? What about Gabriel, Michael and all that? Are we going to talk about it?
Sock Dean walks around, gets into the driver’s seat and starts the car: Nope. Not right now, anyway. Right now we’re going to do the right thing - kill us some monsters. Do what we can do because it’s right in front of us. Maybe save a couple socks while we’re doing it.
The Sockchester brothers slam the doors of The Cardboard Impala ™. Sock Dean adjusts the volume and blares “Unraveling Riverside Blues” while they peel down the two-lane highway.
* The End*
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Sammy and Dean Sockchester created, staged and photographed by Marion.
Sock Wendigo created, staged and photographed by xoferew.
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