Of Cabbages and Kings

Fandom: Supernatural

Category/Rated: Gen/PG

Year/Length: 2011/1371 words

Pairing: Sam and Dean

Disclaimer: Not mine, no profit, only having fun.

Author's Notes: mrsr58, who requested crack

Prologue:

"Purgatory is too small to hold us," cackled the artichoke king, sweeping past rows of cucumbers who bowed as he walked by. "We need more room. We need a place where we can live and grow. We need..." He pointed at the weird Enochian symbol that filled the wall behind him. "Earth. Open a portal for Earth, Mr. Squash. No longer will humans braise our firstborn in wine or chop us up and call us crudités..."

The Story:

"What the..." gasped Dean Winchester, eyes bulging.

His brother whirled around. "It's an alien, Dean! Shoot it!"

"It's a zucchini, Sam, not an alien," Dean rolled his eyes in disgust. "Dangerous only to the taste buds."

"Then why is it pointing a death ray at you, Dean?"

"Sam, you're hallucinating, I think." Dean turned around to look at the offending vegetable, and frowned. "That's just stupid," he said, dropping to the ground as the creature before him unleashed its fire.

"Told you," Sam announced proudly.

"Get down, you fool," Dean growled, pulling Sam's ankle, thereby toppling his enormous length to the ground and out of the line of fire.

"You didn't eat your vegetables when you were a kid, did you, Dean?" The lanky hunter lay crouched behind the bench seat of the diner where they'd been having lunch, watching as the death rays melted the pastry cabinet and wondering just exactly what had been in that sandwich he'd had for lunch. "Dean, if we play dead, perhaps it will go away."

"Excellent plan," Dean winced as the coffee mugs scattered on top of their table burst into flames.

"Fire extinguisher!" Sam yelled, looking around the chaos that was the diner. "Where the hell is-"

"The fire extinguisher?" asked Dean acidly "Just behind that disgusting veggie. We need a plan."

"What plan? Why?"

"Sam, shut up!" whispered Dean, urgently, his husky voice fierce in the ozone-filled room.

Lying huddled below the level of the table, the two men waited in silence until the marauding vegetable seemed satisfied that there was no offense being offered from within. As they heard it move away, Dean gave a sigh of relief.

Springing to his feet, Sam leant over and pulled urgently at Dean's arm. "Up, up! We have to chase it. Don't you know what this means?"

"That vegetables are fighting back?" Dean sat on the floor scratching his head in bafflement. "No, Sam, I don't have a clue what this means, except that I have to stop going for the baconburger at lunch."

"Ha ha," scoffed Sam, "now move! We have to capture that thing."

"How?"

"Run, you idiot!" said Sam over his shoulder as he matched the word to the deed and sprinted towards the door of the diner. "How fast can a zucchini run, anyway?"

"I never saw one actually run, although I know that when they're going off they do get soggy!" The marauding vegetable made as if to leave the building, apparently satisfied that it had extinguished all resistance within. Dean rose to his feet and did a graceful sidestep as he pulled out the gun he had tucked down the back of his jeans and skidded towards the door, peering around the frame at the retreating greenery. "Christo," he hollered and let loose a tirade of bullets that caused his prey to lose its balance and fall prone.

"Got the bastard! Hurry, Sam." He leapt to sit on the creature, kicking the raygun away from it.

Hairy, root-like legs struggled feebly, wrapping themselves around Dean's thighs. Tendrils like whips curled tightly over his hips, leaves fluttered against extremely private portions of his anatomy, while a very angry, yellow-white flower glared at him. When the thing's pistil somehow extended up and started vibrating against his temple, Dean yelled, "Sam!""

"Hmmm?," Sam inquired distractedly, glancing up from his fascinated study of the death ray.

Dean, still seated on the creature, had suddenly gone rigid, his body shuddering as the vegetable beneath him sent who knew what evil thoughts through the connection to his brain.

"Dean? Dean?" yelled Sam. "What are you doing? Hold that thing down." He flung himself bodily atop the vegetable just as Dean keeled over sideways. "My God! This thing is fiendish," he murmured, dragging it back into the diner and cuffing its root-like legs to a handy radiator.

Dean rolled over, moaning softly and clutching his head.

"Uh huh," Sam agreed, turning back to the alien weapon now that he had secured the alien.

Controlling his impulse to pull out his trusty Colt again and shoot Sam right between his pretty hazel eyes, Dean laboriously climbed to his feet, wobbling unsteadily, still clutching at his throbbing head.

Sam didn't even glance in his direction.

Once he'd gained his balance, Dean again contemplated killing Sam, who he had suddenly realized was demonic in nature. Then he sighed. Prison really wasn't in his immediate plans. It was always a possibility, of course, but better later than sooner.

"Dammit, Sam, put that thing down. We need to do something."

"I'm open to suggestions, Dean."

"I'm open to suggestion, Dean," Dean mimicked, still staring raptly at the alien's weapon. Just as soon as this was over, Dean would kill him. The very minute! "I think that this thing is bigger than both of us, Sammy," he murmured, wincing as he clutched at his head and realized what he'd just said. "Get it locked up. I'll be with you just as soon as I can..." and with that Dean keeled over and fell to the floor, unconscious.

There was a pause. Sam gazed at him, nonplussed. As his brother finally sat up again, pale and wan, Sam scratched his head. "I think we need help," he murmured."

"Ghostfacers?" asked Sam, acidly.

"Better than that." Dean offered no further explanation. "Bobby."

"Well, hurry up, dude. There seems to be a platoon of carrots sneaking up towards us under cover of the shrubbery."

Of course, when Bobby answered the phone he speedily found the answer for them.

"Cheese sauce," he said. "Vegetables can't resist it."

"Quick! To the kitchen. There must be nachos in there. This is Texas." Sam was madly googling the recipe as Dean poked through cupboards to find the ingredients.

It didn't take them long to create their super weapon, and soon they were able to haul a vat of the stuff out to the door of the diner.

"Come and get it, bitches!" Dean showed himself in the doorway as a horde of broccoli stampeded towards him. There was an ominous silence as the vegetables inspected their offering, and then happy little gulping sounds ensued.

"I think our work here is done, Dean," murmured Sam as they snuck out of the back door and made a beeline towards the Impala.

"Yeah. And you'd better stop eating those vegetables, Sammy, or they're gonna eat you one of these days." Dean cranked up the stereo and set the car in motion. "At least burgers don't fight back."

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