1. Paradise on Earth

“I…say what?” Sam juggled the phone and the cardboard carrying-box of fast food.

“Look, Harvey’s on some wendigo hunt and Geena is still, you know, filming another movie or whatever she does on the side. You guys are the closest available,” Bobby said with a grunt, which Sam thought did not explain anything.

“The closest available to Hawaii?”

“Yes. So when can you head out?”

Sam stood outside their hotel room, imagining trying to coax Dean into a 20+ hour plane fantasia. “There are no hunters in all of Hawaii? Or the West coast? Or…on a boat or something? Nobody?”

Bobby sighed. “The hunters out there are all native Hawaiians, it’s some kind of cultural thing, but they won’t touch this, not with a ten foot pole. I got a call from an old buddy of mine out in Oahu, said that they’ve agreed to cooperate with any ‘outsiders’ coming in to deal with this.”

“Did they happen to mention why they won’t touch this?” Sam frowned, knowing some of the history of Polynesia in general and trying to imagine native Hawaiian hunters being scared of, well, anything. Wasn’t that huge guy cast to play the new Conon the Barbarian Hawaiian?

“It’s…different? Hell I don’t know, that’s why you’re going out there. Maybe it’s Captain Cook’s ghost.”

“Cooke died in Tahiti.”

“Whatever. Go.”

---

“Okay.”

“I mean, I know how much you hate planes, but Bobby made it sound important--”

“Okay.”

“You know he wouldn’t ask if he did not really need our help with this--”

“O. Kay.”

“So just think about it, and--wait, what?”

“I said, ‘okay.’ Okay? Okay.” Dean nodded slowly, as if Sam were dim witted.

“You realize that from here, it’s about 20 hours in a plane.”

“I’m good.”

“In. A. Plane.” Sam mimed a plane flying through the air with his hand.

“Yes, thanks, Mr. Wikipedia, I know how far away Hawaii is.”

“You hate planes. You are scared of planes.”

“Stop thinking small, Sam. Instead, think: surfer chicks.”

---

They were met by a heavy set but short man in his mid 50s, Don-Just-Don who looked at Dean skeptically.

“He okay?” His voice had a hint of lilting accent to it.

“He hates to fly, took a…a few sleeping pills.” Sam put his shoulder into keeping Dean vertical. The plane trip over from Oahu to Kaua'i was the equivalent of a five minute taxi ride, but in the smallest plane Sam had ever seen and Dean almost refused to get in the thing, despite being utterly stoned. Most of the trip had been Sam hauling Dean around and wiping the drool off his chin (revenge, Sam was certain, for some unnamed trauma Dean experienced when trying to feed baby Sam way back when). In any case, Sam was so exhausted from the 25 hours of baby sitting that he thought he might be stoned himself.

“Hmmm.” Don frowned but led them to his car, where Dean promptly passed out in the backseat.

“So, Don, uhm…Bobby didn’t really say, but, uh…why is it the hunters here are scared of this thing?”

Don snorted. “Scared? That’s what that old man said? Hunh?”

“Oh, well, no, I guess--”

“Because we’re not scared. We just don’t want to deal with it.”

Sam frowned. “Oh…”

“Hmmm, I understand your confusion. Okay, see, it seems to be affecting the tourist trade. So they say. And we get enough tourists, so we’re not really worried about it. In fact we could do with a few less tourists. Mostly white guys out here to look at girls in bikinis.” Don shrugged, and Sam tried not to look guilty on Dean’s behalf (although he had a lot of practice at that). “This wasn’t my idea, anyway. I just did Frank a favor and called Bobby.”

And that was the most information Sam got out of him the whole ride to their hotel.

Kaua'i was small, really really small. Sam knew that at about 500 square miles it was nowhere near being the smallest island, but for someone raised driving across the expanse of the American continent it was like moving into his first dorm room at Stanford. Complete with asshole roommate.

“Case. Bobby. Hunting?”

Sam pointed at the door.

Dean pointed out the window. “Surfer. Chicks.”

Their motel was the local equivalent of a, well, a motel, just one that was one short walk from some of the most fantastic beaches on Earth. They could see the beaches from their porch, being on a rise overlooking the ocean (“Cliff. Deadly, volcanic cliff. You stay near me.” “Dean, I’m not five.” “So? When has that stopped you from wandering off?”), and it was not helping Sam to keep Dean on track.

“Work first, play later.”

“Makes Sammy a dull boy.” Dean sneered.

“Dean--”

“Jesus, Sam, OKAY. Fine. So tell me what we--”

“CHOWAGUNGGGAAAA!!!!!”

They ran for the window to see what the hell was making that sound, or yell, or whatever, and saw a blue cannonball hurtling through the air to land in the surf down below.

“What the hell?” Dean frowned.

---

They worked their way down to the beach, stopped occasionally by a very bizarre woman and her portly husband.

“Oh you don’t want to go to the beach right now!” The woman screeched at them, flapping a fan up at Dean’s face. She was really short, although there was something else about her that bugged Sam. Dean was too busy batting at her fan to be of any help. “Sun! And mosquitoes! And tourists!” She screeched some more. Sam started to wonder if she had two eyes or not, the way she kept eyeballing him.

“Oh do not stooop them, Pleakly! Let them experience…de HORROR! Bwwahahahaha!”

Sam paused to stare at the man’s really bad impression of a b-movie monster, then shoved at Dean’s back to keep them moving.

A futile effort, because Dean’s mean machine completely stalled at the edge of the beach, staring out in slack jawed happiness at a girl walking out of the surf. Sam was surprised he wasn’t drooling. Suddenly Dean was in overdrive, stomping towards her, and Sam tried to follow but could not shake the Pleakly woman (who, Sam thought on close inspection, might be more gender ambiguous than he first assumed) or hir slightly lunatic husband.

“Oh no no! He really shouldn’t talk to the natives!”

Sam thought that was a rather racist comment, and turned to the Pleakly person with thoughts of telling hir exactly what he thought about that when he caught sight of a guy holding a surfboard and watching him with an amused expression. Sam beat Pleakly back enough to launch a smile at the guy, who was admittedly the finest piece of ass on the beach outside of Dean.

“Pleakly, leave the guy alone,” the guy said, walking over with a loose-hipped gait that Sam tried not to stare at too much. Or, at all.

Pleakly and hir husband cringed and drifted back, which was enough for Sam to figure he owed the guy. He’d like to owe him, in fact, and tried not to imagine just what he could offer in payment.

“Thanks.” He held his hand out and pulled out his best Winchester smile. The guy settled his board and walked up to shake hands.

“Hi. David.”

“Sam. Uh, thanks again…” Sam waved a hand at where Pleakly had turned hir back on them and was commenting loudly on the importance of native species integration, whatever that meant.

David held on to his hand a little too long. “So, your boyfriend seems to really like my girlfriend.”

Sam closed his eyes. “Damnit.”

David laughed, a low-toned, warm sound that sent Sam’s blood south, then clapped Sam on the shoulder. “S’okay, man, I like her too.”

“My brother, he’s my brother.”

“Sure, man. I get it.”

“Uh…”

“Wanna surf?”

Sam opened his eyes, blinked, looked into the warm brown liquid pools of amusement staring at him, and nodded.

---

“You just don’t like dogs.”

“I’m telling you, it’s a creepy little bastard.” Dean flipped through his duffle, looking for who knew what. They had spent the entire day learning how to surf with the extra friendly (and handsy) help of David, his girlfriend Nani, and Nani’s daughter Lilo. It was Lilo’s dog that Dean was talking about, and Sam had to admit that Stitch was rather…peculiar.

“He’s just a really smart dog.”

“Who does Elvis impersonations?”

Sam frowned, because yeah that had kind of freaked him out too.

“And did you see that kid’s doll?”

Sam straightened up. “There is nothing wrong with Scrump.”

“Sam, it’s a zombie doll.”

Sam narrowed his eyes, and Dean rolled his. “Yes, I remember Mr. Mealworm, okay? I’m just saying--”

Sam raised a hand to stop him. The dearly departed Mr. Mealworm was not up for discussion, and neither was Scrump.

“Just because you bonded with the little freak--”

“Dean, Lilo is just a bright, misunderstood young girl. Nani does her best, and--”

“Hey, I’m not knocking that. I get that. Nani is taking care of her sister, and that’s what matters.”

“…sister?”

“Jeeze, that David guy must’ve had his hands down your pants all day. Yeah, sister. Their parents died a few years ago.”

“That might explain Stitch,” Sam offered. Dean shrugged.

---

The guy who opened the door was about a foot taller than Sam, or so he guessed, and wore sunglasses. Inside the house.

“And you are?”

“Uh, Sam. Winchester. Sam Winchester--”

“Nani invited us to dinner,” Dean yelled up over his shoulder.

The guy cocked an eyebrow, but let them in.

“Cobra! You let strangers in! You should shoot them first!” Lilo stood at the guy – Cobra’s – knee, glaring up at him.

“Hi, Lilo.” Sam gave her a little wave. She turned her glare on him.

“You better not eat all the sweet potatoes.”

“I, uh, won’t. Promise.”

Lilo nodded at him solemnly, gave Dean a hard stare, then pulled Stitch out of the room by his…paw. Or whatever. Sam was done guessing.

Dinner actually featured Nani, Lilo and David as well as Mr. Bubbles (Dean learned the hard way to not call him Cobra), Pleakly and hir husband Jimbo (or Jumba, Sam could not really decide and just put it down to their Hawaiian accents), and even Stitch who had a strange ability with cutlery.

When the meal was over, Mr. Bubbles escorted Pleakly and Jimbo out, muttering something about job descriptions and overtime. Eventually Lilo fell face first into her ice cream, sound asleep. Nani carried her upstairs while David battled Stitch in an arm wrestling contest. Dean was feeling left out, Sam guessed, as he took on Stitch after David called mercy and somehow that ended with Dean and Stitch rolling around on the floor biting each other.

“Oh no! Stitch! No!” Nani came back down and started swatting at them, which made David laugh, and soon Sam and David were making out on the couch while Dean and Nani gnawed at each other on the floor. Stitch grumbled and crawled up walls to sit in the rafters to watch. Sam went back to copping a feel through David’s surf shorts and decided he did not want to think about strange monkey dogs when there were much more interesting things to focus on.

---

“Seriously, Bobby, nothing. We hung out, surfed, took in the scenery.”

“I don’t get it. Frank said there was some kind of alien dog out there, causing all kinds of damage.”

Sam thought of Stitch, but he figured between Mr. Bubbles and Lilo there wasn’t anything to worry about there.

“I’m telling you, Bobby: the place is paradise on Earth.”

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