Not a story, but...
I have some free time. Very little free time, but still. And I've had this scene stuck in my head, so I wrote it down.
It's actually part 1 out of at least 3 scenes, but it's not a story. Not yet.
Untitled, un-betaed, unedited. Sorry 'bout that, but if I stopped to edit and get a beta, chances are I wouldn't have written even this much, let alone try to write all 3 scenes. I do promise to edit and get a beta should this ever turn into a story.
They were running through the woods, ducking sharp branches, heavy boots splashed mud all over. The vapor of their breaths visible in the cold night.
Dean winced as a sharp twig slashed his cheek. The cut wasn’t deep, but it stung. He tightened his hold on his machete, and risked a glimpse back at his younger brother. Dean had no idea how Sam could even see where he was going; the rain sticking his long hair to his face, Sam continually having to push it out of his eyes.
They had been hoping they'd all be safely back in the Impala by the time the rain had started. It was stupid to hunt this thing out here in the dark, let alone in the pouring rain. But Dad had insisted. The thing was getting more and more dangerous, he had said.
"How you doin' back there, Sammy?"
"C-cold," Sam stuttered, and Dean could totally relate. It was cold and rainy and damn near impossible to see where they were going, let alone what they were hunting.
Dean was actually on Sam's side this time around; he couldn’t understand why Dad had insisted on hunting in this weather.
"Don’t let the gun slip," Dean called out to his brother, "Stay sharp."
He could hear Sam's footsteps slowing, and slowed down too, looking back at his brother. Dean used the chance to catch his breath. Damn, it was cold. His fingers were numb around the machete handle, the gun tucked in the small of his back serving nicely to let the rain pour down his pants. "You okay there, Sammy?"
"No," Sam grunted, "I don’t get why we're doing this!" Oh, Christ. Not that again. Not now. "You can't tell me we're still tracking this thing, Dean," Sam interrupted as Dean was about to speak, "There's no way to track it in this rain, so don’t tell me that's what we're doing!" He snapped.
Dean let out a breath, watching as it fogged the air around him until it dissipated. "What do you want me to say, Sam?" He asked.
"We should go back to the car. Come back another night." Sam said.
That sounded good. God, that sounded good. Back in the car, where it was dry and there was heating. Back to the apartment, where there was a hot shower, a hotter coffee and a dry, warm bed. Dean shivered, wiping the rain out of his eyes. He was going to get sick, he could feel it. They should so go back to the car, come back another night.
"We can't, Sam. Not with this thing still out here." Not while Dad's still out here.
Sam snorted. "You're really something, you know that?"
Dean glared at him. He was cold, tired, hungry and wet. He did not have the patience for this.
"I know you think I'm right about this!" Sam pushed.
"Yeah, well," Dean ducked his head, "More hunting, less talking, and we'll be outta here faster, alright?"
"I hate hunting like this. This is stupid," Sam said petulantly. Dean sighed, shoulders sagging.
"Yeah, I know. But hey, at least he agreed to wait for the weekend this time," Dean tried to placate his brother.
"Yeah, and the worst possible weather!" Sam complained as they both started moving again. Dean bit the inside of his cheek. They all knew it was going to rain tonight. They were just hoping the hunt would be all over and done with by the time the rain had started. Typical Winchester luck.
"Stay sharp, Sammy," Dean cautioned, "You do good, and I'll let you have first shower."
"Hmph," was Sam's reply. But Dean could hear what it was his brother wasn’t saying. Dad gets first shower. Dean shook his head, splashing water all around him.
"Just another half hour, okay?" He said and glanced over at his brother again, "If the rain doesn’t let up by then, and if we hadn’t caught the thing by then, we'll go back, ok?"
"What about Dad?" Sam asked.
Dean felt his jacket pocket for the reassuring weight of his big, brick-like, new cell-phone. There was no signal. He didn’t even have to check to know that this far out in the woods, there'd be no signal. He was just about to answer Sam when he heard his brother's quick intake of air.
"Dean!"
"Holy shit!" That was all he managed before the thing they'd been hunting introduced Dean's head to a heavy branch, and then pounced him, hitting Dean's side hard enough to steal Dean's breath as he went down, and went down hard. Dean heard Sam's gun going off before the thing used his chest as a stepping stone and everything went dark.
I might update part 2 soon. Can't make any promises about part 3 though.