Supernatural Ficlet. PG.
Title: Handle With Care
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing, etc: Sam, Dean (no 'cest!)
Word Count: Approx. 300
Rating: PG (for well deserved cursing)
Disclaimer: Sam and Dean belong to some guy named Kripke. I forgot who owns the damn critters.
Author's Notes: Written for ana_grrl's Multi-fandom Challenge: Small and Fuzzy During an Apocalypse and dedicated to little5150d.
Beware, this be crack.
Sam and Dean huddled inside the motel room behind the upended bed, unable to retreat into the relative safety of the car in order to get away (let alone defend themselves) and waited for the creatures to tire of playing with them and descend on the boys in order to tear them apart with their savage teeth and claws. But after what seemed like hours of ducking broken bottles, knives, wooden planks and various other sharp objects, they weren’t sure that was going to happen any time soon.
“Getting’ really fucking tired of this, Bro,” Dean growled as he cocked his gun, leaned out and fired off a round that flew right past its mark.
“Really, Dean?” Sam snarked as he yanked his brother back down beside him just in time to keep Dean from being beheaded by a viciously tossed scythe. “I hadn’t noticed.”
“They’re just...everywhere. What the fuck?” he asked, royally pissed at this point about how everything had gone so terribly wrong.
The day had started off well, what with them killing an evil Satanic priestess and setting the sacrificial animals free, but some time in the middle of the night all hell had broken loose. Sam blamed Dean because Dean thought the adorable, furry little critter they’d brought back with them needed a midnight snack; and Dean blamed Sam for giving the damned thing a bath.
Either way, they were well and truly fucked at this point.
Both of them jumped when one of their knives pierced the mattress, the blade barely missing Sam's face.
“Ok, that's it. On three?” Sam whispered decisively as he looked at Dean and readied his guns for a full frontal attack.
Dean nodded tersely, knowing this couldn't possibly end well. As they jumped out and started firing, Dean murmured, “Stupid things really ought to come with instructions!”
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing, etc: Sam, Dean (no 'cest!)
Word Count: Approx. 300
Rating: PG (for well deserved cursing)
Disclaimer: Sam and Dean belong to some guy named Kripke. I forgot who owns the damn critters.
Author's Notes: Written for ana_grrl's Multi-fandom Challenge: Small and Fuzzy During an Apocalypse and dedicated to little5150d.
Beware, this be crack.
Sam and Dean huddled inside the motel room behind the upended bed, unable to retreat into the relative safety of the car in order to get away (let alone defend themselves) and waited for the creatures to tire of playing with them and descend on the boys in order to tear them apart with their savage teeth and claws. But after what seemed like hours of ducking broken bottles, knives, wooden planks and various other sharp objects, they weren’t sure that was going to happen any time soon.
“Getting’ really fucking tired of this, Bro,” Dean growled as he cocked his gun, leaned out and fired off a round that flew right past its mark.
“Really, Dean?” Sam snarked as he yanked his brother back down beside him just in time to keep Dean from being beheaded by a viciously tossed scythe. “I hadn’t noticed.”
“They’re just...everywhere. What the fuck?” he asked, royally pissed at this point about how everything had gone so terribly wrong.
The day had started off well, what with them killing an evil Satanic priestess and setting the sacrificial animals free, but some time in the middle of the night all hell had broken loose. Sam blamed Dean because Dean thought the adorable, furry little critter they’d brought back with them needed a midnight snack; and Dean blamed Sam for giving the damned thing a bath.
Either way, they were well and truly fucked at this point.
Both of them jumped when one of their knives pierced the mattress, the blade barely missing Sam's face.
“Ok, that's it. On three?” Sam whispered decisively as he looked at Dean and readied his guns for a full frontal attack.
Dean nodded tersely, knowing this couldn't possibly end well. As they jumped out and started firing, Dean murmured, “Stupid things really ought to come with instructions!”