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Pecking Order

April 24th, 2012 (08:17 pm)

current mood: anxious
current song: Over, Under, Sideways, Down-- The Yardbirds

June loaded three shells into the shotgun with casual skill, then stopped. She flipped the fourth shell in her hand and tossed it over to Dean. "Trash it. Primer's no good."

"I loaded those shells myself. It's good."

"You loaded the shells. The primer's factory, and it's no good."

Dean tossed the shell back. "Prove it."

She jacked out the previous shells and reloaded with the single, contested one. Dean flung the clay pigeon. In one smooth move she lifted the butt to her shoulder, took aim at the falling disc, then swung the barrel over at a new target as she pulled the trigger.

Dean's shout of "NO!" drowned out the loud, impotent click of the hammer against the shell.

"You stupid little—!"

"Check the shell before you rip me a new one," she snapped. She cocked the gun again and the unspent shell popped out into Dean's hand.

The primer button showed a deep dent from the hammer. Dead center.

"Told you. Bad primer. I've smelled it before."

Dean dropped the dud shell, yanked the shotgun out of June's grasp and drew back with the butt.

"Dean!" Sam moved between the two. Dean lowered the gun and stalked back into the cabin. The slam of the door rattled the loose glass in the window frames.

Sam released a breath of relief. Then he rounded on June. She'd stood her ground when Dean thought about clocking her with the shotgun butt, but she backed away from Sam instantly, her eyes down.

"Do not ever, EVER, mess with that car again. He will try to beat the holy crap out of you, and I won't be able to stop him."

"The primer was dead, Sam. That shell would have done damage only if I'd thrown it at the car."

His jaw clenched and he counted to ten. Twice.

"You're serious, aren't you?" June's eyes went wide.

"New rule," he gritted. "Don't mess with his damn car. Don't even joke about messing with his damn car. We clear on that?"

"Yes," she whispered, and dropped her head and shoulders, making herself even smaller.

"Stay out here for a while," Sam told her, his voice softer. "Go for a walk or something until I give you a tug."


He went back into the cabin. When the door closed behind him, June eased over to the car and trailed her fingertips over the fender. "So, now I know exactly where I stand in rank here, subordinate to a Chevy. Gotta say that blows. But at least you're a hot 'un."