A Brother's Blood
Title: “A Brother’s Blood”
Author: Katie
Warnings: Character Death.
Genre: General. Future/End of Series.
Rating: PG13+ (Blood, Gore, Death)
Word Count: 359
Disclaimer: I own nothing; it all belongs to Kripke, the CW, and the other respective owners. Written purely for enjoyment. Not that I enjoy killing Dean or Sammy…
Summary: This is what War looks like.
A/N: Written for a sn.tv message board fanfiction challenge; “Game Over”. ‘A Brother’s Blood’ is set at the demise of the series; one year on from Sam’s resurrection (with all thanks to the Crossroads Demon) and it is time for Dean to pay his dues. Any constructive criticism and/or comments are warmly welcomed!
“A Brother’s Blood”
Sharpened, malicious claws stabbed through every morsel of his being. Dean’s parched lungs screamed for air as the hounds of the night howled into his ears, their piercing scream audible only to him, the protector. Blood darkened the creased, soft leather of his jacket as it trickled from his wounds, the red consistency spilling onto the floor beside him-these dogs had their work cut out for them tonight.
A thunderous scream barely escaped his bloodied lips as a whisper; pain shooting through his right arm, his ‘gun arm’, as the hounds all but ripped it off, though the ache of this hardly compared to that of which he knew his brother would be feeling in this moment, and that was the undeniable truth. He couldn’t live, but Sammy would, Sammy had to.
His thoughts, the thoughts of a dying man, shot back to the images-now nothing more than memories-of his brother. His kid brother, Sammy, and his goofy grin and too-long legs. The same brother that, only hours before, he had left in a run-down motel room in Jericho, California, to die. He could recall the single, innocent strand of chocolate-brown hair caressing Sam’s face as he slept, tickling his skin with the outtake of every breath. His brother’s soft, sleepy eyes just before he’d collapsed back on the rubbery mattress, ready for sleep. Worry and pain reflected in his expression as he slept-Sam had known that his hero’s days were drawing near, but not that near.
The hounds receded, their job not far from complete, to admire their bloody accomplishment, eyes lit with hungry anticipation, mouths moistening with sticky saliva. Their bodies trembled with excitement, and Dean’s with fear and death. The hell hounds simply waited, Dean’s final seconds ticking by, and, finally, the light went out in his eyes, and his body fell limp-the demon’s job finally complete. His last, labored breath shook through his lungs, pain dissolving into oblivion as the darkness claimed him, and the fires of the Hell that he knew would await him welcomed him into its torturous reigns.
“This is what war looks like, it has casualties…”
Fin.
Author: Katie
Warnings: Character Death.
Genre: General. Future/End of Series.
Rating: PG13+ (Blood, Gore, Death)
Word Count: 359
Disclaimer: I own nothing; it all belongs to Kripke, the CW, and the other respective owners. Written purely for enjoyment. Not that I enjoy killing Dean or Sammy…
Summary: This is what War looks like.
A/N: Written for a sn.tv message board fanfiction challenge; “Game Over”. ‘A Brother’s Blood’ is set at the demise of the series; one year on from Sam’s resurrection (with all thanks to the Crossroads Demon) and it is time for Dean to pay his dues. Any constructive criticism and/or comments are warmly welcomed!
“A Brother’s Blood”
Sharpened, malicious claws stabbed through every morsel of his being. Dean’s parched lungs screamed for air as the hounds of the night howled into his ears, their piercing scream audible only to him, the protector. Blood darkened the creased, soft leather of his jacket as it trickled from his wounds, the red consistency spilling onto the floor beside him-these dogs had their work cut out for them tonight.
A thunderous scream barely escaped his bloodied lips as a whisper; pain shooting through his right arm, his ‘gun arm’, as the hounds all but ripped it off, though the ache of this hardly compared to that of which he knew his brother would be feeling in this moment, and that was the undeniable truth. He couldn’t live, but Sammy would, Sammy had to.
His thoughts, the thoughts of a dying man, shot back to the images-now nothing more than memories-of his brother. His kid brother, Sammy, and his goofy grin and too-long legs. The same brother that, only hours before, he had left in a run-down motel room in Jericho, California, to die. He could recall the single, innocent strand of chocolate-brown hair caressing Sam’s face as he slept, tickling his skin with the outtake of every breath. His brother’s soft, sleepy eyes just before he’d collapsed back on the rubbery mattress, ready for sleep. Worry and pain reflected in his expression as he slept-Sam had known that his hero’s days were drawing near, but not that near.
The hounds receded, their job not far from complete, to admire their bloody accomplishment, eyes lit with hungry anticipation, mouths moistening with sticky saliva. Their bodies trembled with excitement, and Dean’s with fear and death. The hell hounds simply waited, Dean’s final seconds ticking by, and, finally, the light went out in his eyes, and his body fell limp-the demon’s job finally complete. His last, labored breath shook through his lungs, pain dissolving into oblivion as the darkness claimed him, and the fires of the Hell that he knew would await him welcomed him into its torturous reigns.
“This is what war looks like, it has casualties…”
Fin.