Characters: Sam, Dean, Castiel, mentions of Charlie
Word Count: 400 (sorry, got carried away!)
"You're joking right?"
Sam glared incredulously at Dean from their vantage point, crouched behind the upturned table in the Bunker's main hall.
"Why would I be joking?"
Sam knew that set of his brother's features – the jerk was freaking serious.
"You wanna keep it as a pet?"
"What, Stanley? Why not? He's nice."
"Nice? He's a goddamn unicorn," Sam snapped. "He's huge, weighs half a ton and has a lethal weapon stuck to his face. Plus, he's spent the last hour on the rampage, wrecking the bunker and trying to kill us."
Dean shrugged. "Give him a chance, he's just disoriented."
"Disoriented? Dean, it's psychotic."
"His name's Stanley," Dean retorted; "don't call him 'it', that's rude."
Sam rubbed his bloodied nose, and sighed.
"Dean, where did it-he come from?"
"Well, I found this set of creepy old boxes in the vault," Dean explained calmly; "and when I opened one Stanley popped out in a puff of purple smoke."
"You found 'creepy' old boxes in our vault … and you opened one?" Sam groaned. "Well, anyway, we're not keeping him. He's wild, he's dropping purple glittery poop everywhere, and he farts. Rainbows."
Dean stared humourlessly at Sam. "Says the man whose innards kill cows at ten paces."
"Anyway," Sam muttered, as Stanley continued his onslaught, kicking another chair into oblivion; "unicorn lore says they can only be tamed by purity. Sorry, but it's a helluva long time since either of us were 'pure'. You're setting yourself up for failure – it … Stanley ... is never gonna be your four-legged friend."
"Well, perhaps we can give him to Charlie as a birthday present?" Dean mused; "she's sweet and nice and she'd go nuts for a unicorn."
"Yeah Dean, she's sweet and all," Sam replied; "but pure …?"
Dean paused momentarily, pondering their surrogate sister's proclivities.
"Surely that doesn't count, does it?"
"Dean, you're just gonna have to find the spell and put him back in the box."
"But, Sam …"
Before Dean could say another word, the bunker's door opened and Castiel appeared.
"Hey Dean, I …" OOF!
The words died on his lips as he was knocked sideways by a charging hundredweight of smitten purple horseflesh.
Peering over the table's edge, the brothers watched the angel, trenchcoat akimbo, sprawled helplessly beneath the love-struck unicorn, irritably spluttering most un-angelic utterances.
"Well, that's set the mood," Dean turned to Sam and grinned; "I'm not breaking up a beautiful friendship."
"So suck it up, buttercup. Stanley's staying!"