Fistfights were the most primitive and simplest method of fighting in the history of humanity. After all, all one had to do was to hit one's fist into another person's body and/or face.
Prior to the invention of tools or discovery of sticks or stones, a fist was a human's greatest friend and hardest enemy.
Sure, there have been advancements in the realm of blood shedding–many of which need not be another human to face their enemy in person–but bare knuckles were and always will be the one that humanity's most reliable weapon.
As such, when two redneck hunters, who had earlier ridiculed his outfit, took advantage of Jo Harvelle's business to squeeze her plump ass, there was a base instinct that erupted out of Garth Fitzgerald IV. He didn't even know why, when, or how a bare fistfight between the two hunters against his sole self came to be.
What he did know was that his dignity was at stake and, frankly, with what was happening around the Greythorne manor, it was a refreshing pace to see humans bleed.
He ducked under the hunter with a cleft lip's haymaker before pounding the hunter's side with a fist of his own. The cleft hunter recoiled from the pain, which gave Garth enough time to burrow the same fist into the hunter's jaw, knocking the man down onto the ground.
"Congratulations!" He said, smirking at the other hunter. "Your friend just got Garth'd!"
"What?" The other hunter exclaimed incredulously before rushing forward in a boxing stance.
Unlike his friend, the hunter who had a mullet's fist was as quick as it was heavy. The punch cracking Garth's nose before the latter could even see the hunter's shoulder move.
Stumbling backwards, Garth felt alarmed by the blood hindering his view as a fist struck his chest and sent him tumbling down his ass. The mullet hunter did not hesitate to pick Garth in the side before running towards his friend.
"Hey, Garth! You need help?" Jo asked, amusement overriding her concern.
Garth coughed out a tooth before giving her a thumbs-up. "Nah, I got it."
"Jo, what's with all the noise?" Ellen pushed past the doors of the roadhouse with a huff, glaring at her daughter before settling on the appearance of three hunters mewling in pain. "Damn it. What happened?"
"I'm good, good." Garth shrieked himself into standing up, stumbling into a car for a crutch.
'You got this, Garthy. You survived Madagascar and a freaking Alpha werewolf, man. This chumps ain't nothing on me!' He pumped himself up, cracking his neck and stabilizing his breathing.
Garth put up his fist and rushed forward, circling the mullet hunter as he noticed the former up in arms. The mullet hunter spat to the side, disregarding his companion and rushed like an enraged bull.
Before the man could reach him, a smirk had already formed on his face. The fist soared through the air, but he caught its wrist with practiced ease. While he had the wrist on lock, his other hand grabbed onto the mullet hunter's collar and he leaned forward with his left leg sticking outwards for a counterweight.
In one swift movement, the mullet hunter left the ground and over Garth's shoulders before being smashed into the ground with a soul-cringing crack.
"Damn." Jo exclaimed with laughter before her mother flicked her ear in annoyance.
Garth stumbled back in exhaustion, but the smirk never left his face. "You've just been Garth'd!"
"Really?" Ellen said, glaring at him. "Now, clean this up. We've got new customers. You, too, Jo."
Ellen pointed at a car parking next to the telephone booth as she nudged her daughter towards the bodies.
He deflated, already tired from the fight and was now forced into dragging two unconscious bodies to the back of the bar. With Jo going for the broom, Garth grabbed a hold of the mullet hunter by his wrists.
Unbeknownst to him, however, the cleft lip hunter had awoken from his concussive slumber moments after the mullet hunter's defeat. Anger flared in his eyes as he took out a butterfly knife and rushed towards Garth's unguarded back.
Jo's eyes widened in surprise as she yelled at Garth, only to find the dentist-turned-hunter unable to turn back in time. But before the cleft lip hunter could stab Garth in the back, a bullet ripped through the air and hit the cleft lip hunter's knife hand.
Blood splattered onto the sandy ground and so did his knife before the cleft lip hunter shrieked in pain. Another bullet soared and hit his ankles, causing him to double over in agony.
With surprise and fear swirling in both Garth and Jo's eyes, they turned towards the attacker, only to find his form hidden in the shadows of two headlights.
The attacker strode forward, slowly revealing his familiar form, "I leave you here for two fucking days and you started a fight club!"
●●●●●●
Irwin spat on the ground as he holstered his pistol, all the while glaring at Garth with amusement in his eyes.
"And you," He turned towards Jo, who was like a deer caught in the headlights. "Can go right inside. We'll handle this and I will take any responsibility for any offenses Garth may have made."
"What? No, these assholes were the ones with grabby fingers." Jo defended Garth, "Well, that one doesn't have his fingers anymore."
"I see." Irwin turned towards the hunters and shrugged before snapping his fingers.
Scott turned off the ignition of the car and exited the vehicle, walking towards the bleeding cleft lip hunter and dragging him by the scruff of his collar.
"Scott will handle this. Let's go inside." Irwin said, hurrying Garth along.
"When did you have a manservant?" Jo asked as she opened the door for them.
"Better question. Can we also have a manservant?" Garth asked, surprisingly giddy about forced indenture.
Irwin didn't answer both of them as he entered the roadhouse. Afternoon to daybreak was the Harvelle Roadhouse's usual peak hours with hunters from all around the upper west coast converging here for camaraderie, cheap booze, and to leer at Jo and Ellen.
Though not as packed as it had been the last time he was here, there were at least seven hunters in the corner and four more playing by the pool. The musk of these monster killers, compounded by the 80's music that seemed to meld into the very room, caused a slight ache in Irwin's head.
"Would your mom accept a loan to replace this ramshackle? I mean, by god, that's a pool of blood right there," Irwin said mirthfully, shaking his head at the state of the place.
"You're welcome to close your eyes," Ellen responded from behind the bar as she dropped a plate full of fries on to the counter. "How you doing, kid?"
"Better than your roadhouse, I tell you that much." Irwin joked as he sat on the bar. "My boy over there didn't give you much trouble, did he?"
"Him?" Ellen eyed Garth before chuckling to herself. "He's a sweetheart. I can't say the same for you. Where have you been, boy?"
"Vacation." He replied. "Long, hard vacation. Do you have soft–Oh, nice."
Before he could even finish his sentence, Ellen had thrown him a can of cola. The refreshing drink poured down his throat as he shook off the extreme weather and even more extreme changes he had experienced in the last two days.
Scott and he had stayed in the motel a few miles from the roadhouse and waited until the blizzard had truly gone away before continuing on their journey, arriving at the place when most, if not all, of the snow had either melted or salted away.
"So, you going to tell me where you've been 'vacationing'?" Ellen asked.
"Trust me, you'd need to have a few more drinks in you before I broach the topic," He replied with a mirthfully shrug, "But, uh, long story short. Got kidnapped to Hawaii, imprisoned, tortured, escaped, planned a raid, killed every monster who kidnapped me, and returned back home with an idea."
Ellen whistled for a long while. "Damn. Tough two months, huh?"
He breathed out and chuckled as he raised his can. "That's a bit of an understatement, but… yeah."
"Well, since you've helped the Winchester boys with their problem, you've got a spot here if anything bad comes your way." Ellen vowed, expressing the sort of companionship Irwin had though American hunters would have.
"Appreciate it." He replied, turning on his seat as he placed his elbows on the bar. "I'm serious, though. I just won a bet, so if you need some cash to spruce this baby up…"
"Then, what? Your company owns a part of it?" Ellen snarled back, showing an unsurprising hostility to corporate ownership.
"Would it be that bad to not be solely liable for any dangers that befall this place? Who knows… you might be attacked by a swarm of demons and burned to the ground?" Irwin chuckled at the hint, but all that did was get Ellen angry as she threw another cold can of cola right at Irwin's head.
"No, thanks." She said as Irwin playfully glared at her. "I'm not that old yet. I still have strength left in me to run this place for decades."
"Yeah, but wouldn't it be nice to be free every once in a while, mom?" Jo said, entering the bar with a case of beer. "Go on a vacation like Richard."
"Yeah, go to Hawaii like me, not just my specific vacation, though. One out of five stars, that one." He said, mocking his extended vacation on Dagon's Island.
"I bet Hawaii's nice." Jo remarked, stacking a case of beers onto the side.
"You just wanna have me gone so you can hunt again?" Ellen rolled her eyes as she hit a strained spot on Jo.
"Archibald let his son hunt." She countered, crossing her arms across her breast and drawing Irwin's eyes with it. "Dude."
"Sorry." Irwin quickly apologized.
"I'm not having this conversation again, Josephine." Ellen glared at her daughter, then to Irwin–the latter cowering playfully–before storming to the other side of the bat to serve a customer.
"Sheesh, tough mom." Irwin joked, earning an elbow into his back.
"I want to hunt, I need to hunt." Jo dropped her elbows onto the counter and gazed at the other hunters around the bar. "It's in my blood."
Irwin smiled softly, knowing the mother and daughter's eventual demise. Jo did eventually hunt, but that was after the roadhouse got burnt down to cinders. She and her mother would travel the country and do what hunters do best: kill monsters.
Eventually, like her father and husband, the two would die at the hands of a dozen hellhounds in a botched operation to kill the Devil. Their lives were wasted, yes, but their end was anything but.
Still, Irwin would like to change, not because he has the hots for Jo and Ellen, but because they deserved better.
Ellen bent down on the other side of the bar as she picked up a bottle of light beer, showcasing her ass trapped in her jeans.
'Well, maybe a little bit of both."