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Supernatural ficlet: Golfing Lesson (PG-13) - Moondaughter's Madness
A Trip Through Wolfie's Head

Wolfen Moondaughter
Moment in time: 2010-03-21 17:20
Subject: Supernatural ficlet: Golfing Lesson (PG-13)
Security: Public
Tags:castiel, dean winchester, fanfic, sam winchester, supernatural
Title: Golfing Lesson
Rating: PG-13 (basically, nothing worse than what you've seen on the show)
Genre/Themes: Humour, Horror
Warning: Monster violence, somewhat gorey.
: none
Notes: A friend asked me to come play in a Supernatural RPG with her -- they needed a Castiel. I had to submit a writing sample, and this is what I came up with.
: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, the angel Castiel, and Supernatural ©/TM Eric Kripke / Kripke Enterprises / Warner Bros. / The CW


Castiel bypassed the front gate of the delapitated old minigolf course entirely, materialising directly beside Dean Winchester, who began cursing a moment later.

"I'm getting you a cat-bell," Dean said when he was finished creatively swearing.

"I sense that there is more to this than your usual aggravation at my appearance," Castiel remarked, nonplussed by Dean's vehemence. "Have I done something wrong?"

"You just ruined his shot is all," Sam revealed, grinning. "Thanks for that, by the way -- I was a swing over him till you showed up!"

"You're welcome?" Castiel replied uncertainly; Sam might as well have been speaking a foreign language, even if there technically was no such thing for an angel.

"Hey, angelic interference gets a do-over!" Dean protested.

"Not on a supernatural course it doesn't," Sam countered smoothly.

"What exactly are you doing?" Castiel asked.

"It's minigolf," Sam explained. "You have to hit this little ball through an obstacle course until you get it in the hole. It's kind of a metaphor for life," Sam mused.

"Or sex," Dean quipped.

"Just what kind of girls have you been sleeping with, anyway?" Sam asked.

"And the obstacles are monsters?" Cass asked, trying to determine what exactly the boys' mission was.

"No--" Sam began.

"Well, that clown head at hole five was a real killer," Dean objected.

"True," Sam conceded.

"There are diesembodied killer clown heads here?" Cas asked with a slight shudder. Clowns creeped him out. "Is that what you're here to hunt?"

"No, actually, we're here because of a rumour of Red Caps," Sam elaborated. "See, golf was originally created by the Scottish, and this course is owned by a Scot, see? Now, Red Caps, according to Scottish folklore, are little elves who kill tresspassers and dip their caps in their victim's blood. A few years back, there was a rash of disappearances here, and some children reported seeing a little man with a red cap on the course. The course was closed down. Now recently, some kids snuck in here and claim they were attacked by a little man with a red cap. One of the kids is missing."

"You ask me, Sammy here is just using that story as an excuse for a little R&R," Dean remarked, tappping a small, cobalt-blue ball with a long metal stick. "Not that I'm complaining, mind. Dammit!" The ball had gone towards the hole, but then swerved around it at the last second.

Castiel frowned at Sam. "Are you using your powers to cheat?"

Dean looked accusingly at his brother. "Sammy ...."

"What? No!" Sam protested. "That's something Dean, would do, not me!"

"That's true," Dean admitted with a smirk. "Or at least it would be, if I had teleke-whatsitcalled."

"Nesis," Sam corrected.

"Bless you," Castiel told him.

"Heeey, good one!" Dean grinned, raising his hand. "High five, man."

Castiel raised his hand, and Dean smacked it with his own. Cass still didn't really understand the purpose of this ritual, but he was starting to like it for some inexplicable reason.

"You are definitely spending too much time around my brother, Cass," Sam grumbled, taking his shot. His ball went in, and he fished it out. "Hey, you wanna try?" he suggested, holding out the metal stick in one hand and the neon-green ball in the other.

Castiel gingerly took the objects and let Sam lead him to a spot further away from the hole, beyond a smaller-than-real-life windmill. Cass could slow down his time-perception, and his aim was impeccable, so hitting the ball through the little building between the vanes and into the hole was a snap. "This game is boring for angels," he announced.

Just then, a little man in a red cap stormed out of the windmill, waving a knife. "If'n it's so bloody boring, stop hitting balls through m'bloody house!" The Red Cap ran up to Cass and tried to bury its knife in the angel's leg.

Of course it had no effect.

It tried again, with similar results, save for that its knife got bent.

"Aww, it's so cuuuute!" Dean remarked to his brother.

"Cute? CUTE?" the little gnomish being exclaimed indignantly.

It rushed at Dean and bit his leg, causing a stream of expletives to burst forth from the hunter. Dean waved his leg, trying to shake the thing off, to no avail.

"Hold still, Dean," Castiel told him, approaching with the metal stick held high.

Suprisingly, for once the hunter obeyed. Cass swung the metal stick, hitting the creature solidly in the head with the stick's bulbous end. The Red Cap's head went flying -- and its body fell to the ground. The head bounced on the ground once, then landed with an ugly plop in the hole in the weird, plastic green carpet.

"Hole-in-one," Dean observed.

"I win," Castiel replied, twirling the stick in his fingers. He liked this new weapon ....

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tartysuz: Supernatural
User: tartysuz
Moment in time: 2010-03-21 23:17 (UTC)
Subject: (no subject)
"This game is boring for angels," he announced.

Oh, Cas!

This is really good. I love how you combined folklore with mini-golf!

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August 2012