Night of the Living Winchester Boys

Sam had no idea why he ever let Dean talk him into watching zombi movies, because Dean hated zombi movies. Granted, their only other options were either an infomercial for some kind of vacuum cleaner or Benji dubbed in Spanish.

So zombi movie it was, and Sam's entertainment for the night was apparently going to be listening to Dean tear apart the movie.

"Seriously, Sammy, who in their right mind would ever try to shoot a zombi? What the hell is wrong with them? You want to splatter infected blood all over everything? Hey, moron!" Dean yelled at the screen, and Sam worried for a moment that Dean would throw his beer can at the TV.

"Dean, it's just a movie," Sam tried, again.

Again Dean just sneered at him. "Dude, as if doing a little googling for five seconds wouldn't give you better information on how to fight zombis. Hell, Zeller's website is the fourth one to come up and I know for damn sure he knows a real zombi when he runs away from one."

Dean yelled at the movie again, stopping only long enough to ogle the girl whose shirt had just been ripped in half. Sam wondered if maybe watching Benji would be... no, OK, he could deal with Dean.

"Hey asshole! Why don't you try scolding it? That might work better than a fucking handgun." Dean looked like he was about to reach for the handgun sitting on the table to demonstrate and Sam figured it was time to distract his brother from destroying the TV and the entire motel room.

"You know it isn't like zombis are real," he began.

Dean turned on him, frowning. "What do you-- oh, yeah, right. You were in California. Dude, don't talk to me about real." He shook his head.

Sam's eyebrows rose. "Are you serious? You hunted zombis?" He glanced at the TV in time to see fake zombis shuffling towards the screaming geek-boy, who was clearly about to die.

His brother waved a hand, no longer screaming at the TV. "Wasn't a big deal. Wasn't a real zombi apocalypse or anything. Just wiped out one little town... erm and half of another. Happened right before the hurricane so nobody realised there was anything weird going on."

Sam watched as his brother took a long drink from his beer and scowled half-heartedly at the movie. "You really... how'd you beat them?" Dean almost never talked about hunts he'd been on while Sam was at college; Sam knew about some from Dad's journal, the hunts that Dean and Dad had been on together.

But Sam had never found a journal from Dean's solo hunts. He didn't know if Dean hadn't kept one, or if he just hadn't located its hiding place. Though why Dean would hide it -- they used Dad's journal constantly for reference, so surely Dean would have dragged out his if there had been any need.

Maybe there just hadn't been any need...or maybe, Sam decided, Dean just didn't write anything down.

His brother still hadn't answered his question; Dean was staring at the TV as though he cared about the movie. Only it was a commercial break and Sam was pretty sure Dean didn't care about joining the community college to become a medical assistant.

Although the student nurse was kinda hot.

"Dean," Sam tried again, keeping his tone casual. "How'd you beat the zombis?"

"It wasn't by screaming and shooting them, that's for sure," his brother said, then he finished his beer and sighed, setting it on the table. "We got a bunch of them with chain saws; Mack and Zeller and I found some at a hardware store. Works pretty well until the zombis just out-number you." He shook his head slowly.

"Then what? Fire?" Sam knew there was nothing in Dad's journal about zombis, but based on everything Dean had ever screamed at a zombi movie, he was guessing that fire was probably a good answer.

"We would have, but at that point we were still trying to save part of the town. Hell, if we'd known the hurricane was coming in we would have torched the place and saved the other town. Maybe; they might have already been infected by the time we even got there." Dean paused again, looking around for and grabbing another beer. He popped it open but held it without drinking. "We did trap a bunch of them in a school gym, set it on fire. Got a bunch of 'em that way. And Zeller had this crazy idea about trapping them in a ditch or something, he wanted to use explosives to dig this huge fucking crater then lure them in.... I told him he was insane, that it would never work.... Fuck me if it didn't."

Dean grinned at him, suddenly. Sam found himself smiling back reflexively. "So you got them all with a zombi version of a tiger trap?"

"We got a bunch of them, yeah. After that we were able to pretty much hunt 'em down one on one." His face went dark for a second and Sam knew what he wasn't saying. Someone hadn't made it. Mack, he'd have to guess, since Dean had already mentioned Zeller and his website.

"So, chain saws, fire, and really insane measures, huh?" Sam summed it up, grinning. "Should I write that down?" He made a gesture towards Dad's journal, sitting on the night stand by the bed.

Dean blinked at him and stayed silent for a long second. Then, "Don't bother. Zombis aren't real."

Sam stared at his brother, watched as Dean went back to watching the movie. He didn't know whether to cry bullshit, or act like he'd known all along that Dean was yanking his chain. He'd just opened his mouth to tell Dean he was a jerk, when Dean looked over at him again.

"Besides," his brother said, and the glow of the TV was reflected in his eyes. "You're already infected." Dean grinned, and for the first time that night Sam realised he could no longer see Dean's teeth. The shadows on his arms weren't shadows at all, but mottled patches of blackened skin.

Sam threw the TV remote at Dean's head, satisfied when it bounced off with a resounding thump. "We should still keep a record of this stuff," Sam told him. "The information could help someone." Sam held up a hand as he recognised the 'we don't have to save the world' speech Dean was about to launch into. "Just watch the movie."

He did get up and grab Dean's ear from where it had fallen off, and superglued it back on before Dean could bitch about not being able to hear the movie properly. Then he sat down with his own beer, looking around for the finger he'd lost at some point, and slipped it into his pocket for later. He hated having Dean sew things back on while his attention was divided -- he'd spent three days with his cock on sideways before he could get Dean to take it off and re-attach it properly.

Sam had got his revenge, though, and after only two hours Dean had begged him to take the tiny pig dick off him and give him back his own.

the end