Supernatural: Bitch From Hell
Title: Bitch From Hell
Author: thedeepeekay
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing, Characters: Sam, Dean, a hellhound
Rating: PG. Bad words.
Spoilers: S3
Disclaimer: Not mine, never has been, never will be.
Length: 715 words
Status: One-shot, though with sequel potential. But don't get your hopes up, these days Supernatural just doesn't inspire me anymore.
Summary: So, the hellhound had found them. It wasn't what they expected, though.
Author's Note: And isn't it funny how I only wanted to type two lines so I wouldn't forget the 'bitch from hell' thing? *breaks down sobbing* I . And. Because. Then. IM-ING WITH YOU IS BAD FOR ME!
Dear Rahmi,
I profoundly apologize for every single time I teased you about plotbunnies and made fun and fed them. I am so sorry. I had no idea how it is like, no idea what vile creatures those nasty rodents are. Please forgive me.
As always, not beta'd.
Crossposted to / originally posted at: Nowhere.
Written: December 2007
Bitch From Hell
"So, what are you gonna call him?"
Dean shot him a look that made clear that right now Sam wasn't his favourite person, he's not impressed at all, and he's so getting back at him for every single grin, smirk, and laugh. That he was hoping around on one foot, trying to shake of the tiny bundle attached to his other leg, might have spoiled the effect though. Still, did he have to explain everything? And Sam always claimed to be the one with the brains.
"'M not gonna call it anything. Because as soon as I get its teeth out of my jeans, we're out of here."
"But he likes you!"
"He wants to eat me and drag my soul down to hell!"
Sam rolled his eyes. "Details. 'Sides, look at him. He's tiny. He didn't attack your leg, he stumbled and hit it by sheer luck! Probably caught his teeth in the fabric by accident and can't get off now. Why else would he not have left with the demon and the rest of his brothers? We can't just leave the poor little guy out here, all alone."
Fucker just tried to get on his nerves. If they could kill a hellhound, Sam'd have grabbed the thing trying to off his brother, thrown it on the floor, and continued to stomp on it with his ginormous feet until there was nothing but baby hellhound mush left, no matter how harmless it might be right now. But they couldn't, and since Dean was in no immediate danger to get dragged kicking and screaming (manly screams, not the girly shrieks Sam always tortured his ears with), might as well make the best of it. Time for a change of tactics. Maybe he could pull the thing off.
"Yeah, now it's small, but when it's big, it's gonna - finally!"
He straightened, holding the tiny squirming hellpuppy by its scruff and getting the first decent look at it since the crossroads demon and appeared and given them the best laugh any of them had had in the last year.
"Dude, this is fugly!"
It was white and chubby and a puppy alright. But there was no fluffiness, the coat was slick and glossy and looked almost translucent. And the eyes were red. Not albino-look-how-cute-red, but a deep blood red. It looked nothing like a cute little dog girls could coo over. More like a thick, fat, disgusting maggot. And...
"Bitch!"
The way Sam snapped to attention and glared at the thing was an insult. How dare Sam think a puppy that had trouble looking out of its still partially closed eyes could miraculously get out of his highly skilled hunter's grip and somehow bite his hand of! Just because that's because what would have happened to him. Well, the dumb look when he found Dean didn't have so much as a scratch (well, aside from those from the poltergeist two days ago) might make up for that.
"Huh?"
Oh yes, definitely made up for that.
"Bitch. It's a she."
Okay, Sam could stop to look from the dog to Dean and from Dean to the dog now. Anytime. Really, who ever had said Sam was the intelligent one must have been out of his mind.
"C'mon Sammy, bitch? Female dog? Don't tell me you don't know that!"
"So..."
"I'ma call her Bitch!"
"What? You can't-"
"You're right. I'll call her Bitch from Hell. And no one can say anything, because it's true!" He grins at the maggot. It yaps and, fuck, does something that looks as if it tries to wag its tail. Sammy's gonna have a fit.
"Aside from the fact that in this case 'bitch from hell' would actually be a description and not a name, you don't name it. It's a hellhound. No one can say anything because no one can see it. And even if they could see it, in theory, they wouldn't get a chance to see it, because you are not going to keep it!"
Sometimes Dean's really proud of himself. He grinned at Bitch from Hell some more. Might get another ten, twenty minutes of fun out of her before they had to take off to find a room for the night.
"You were right, she does like me!"
Author: thedeepeekay
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing, Characters: Sam, Dean, a hellhound
Rating: PG. Bad words.
Spoilers: S3
Disclaimer: Not mine, never has been, never will be.
Length: 715 words
Status: One-shot, though with sequel potential. But don't get your hopes up, these days Supernatural just doesn't inspire me anymore.
Summary: So, the hellhound had found them. It wasn't what they expected, though.
Author's Note: And isn't it funny how I only wanted to type two lines so I wouldn't forget the 'bitch from hell' thing? *breaks down sobbing* I . And. Because. Then. IM-ING WITH YOU IS BAD FOR ME!
Dear Rahmi,
I profoundly apologize for every single time I teased you about plotbunnies and made fun and fed them. I am so sorry. I had no idea how it is like, no idea what vile creatures those nasty rodents are. Please forgive me.
As always, not beta'd.
Crossposted to / originally posted at: Nowhere.
Written: December 2007
Bitch From Hell
"So, what are you gonna call him?"
Dean shot him a look that made clear that right now Sam wasn't his favourite person, he's not impressed at all, and he's so getting back at him for every single grin, smirk, and laugh. That he was hoping around on one foot, trying to shake of the tiny bundle attached to his other leg, might have spoiled the effect though. Still, did he have to explain everything? And Sam always claimed to be the one with the brains.
"'M not gonna call it anything. Because as soon as I get its teeth out of my jeans, we're out of here."
"But he likes you!"
"He wants to eat me and drag my soul down to hell!"
Sam rolled his eyes. "Details. 'Sides, look at him. He's tiny. He didn't attack your leg, he stumbled and hit it by sheer luck! Probably caught his teeth in the fabric by accident and can't get off now. Why else would he not have left with the demon and the rest of his brothers? We can't just leave the poor little guy out here, all alone."
Fucker just tried to get on his nerves. If they could kill a hellhound, Sam'd have grabbed the thing trying to off his brother, thrown it on the floor, and continued to stomp on it with his ginormous feet until there was nothing but baby hellhound mush left, no matter how harmless it might be right now. But they couldn't, and since Dean was in no immediate danger to get dragged kicking and screaming (manly screams, not the girly shrieks Sam always tortured his ears with), might as well make the best of it. Time for a change of tactics. Maybe he could pull the thing off.
"Yeah, now it's small, but when it's big, it's gonna - finally!"
He straightened, holding the tiny squirming hellpuppy by its scruff and getting the first decent look at it since the crossroads demon and appeared and given them the best laugh any of them had had in the last year.
"Dude, this is fugly!"
It was white and chubby and a puppy alright. But there was no fluffiness, the coat was slick and glossy and looked almost translucent. And the eyes were red. Not albino-look-how-cute-red, but a deep blood red. It looked nothing like a cute little dog girls could coo over. More like a thick, fat, disgusting maggot. And...
"Bitch!"
The way Sam snapped to attention and glared at the thing was an insult. How dare Sam think a puppy that had trouble looking out of its still partially closed eyes could miraculously get out of his highly skilled hunter's grip and somehow bite his hand of! Just because that's because what would have happened to him. Well, the dumb look when he found Dean didn't have so much as a scratch (well, aside from those from the poltergeist two days ago) might make up for that.
"Huh?"
Oh yes, definitely made up for that.
"Bitch. It's a she."
Okay, Sam could stop to look from the dog to Dean and from Dean to the dog now. Anytime. Really, who ever had said Sam was the intelligent one must have been out of his mind.
"C'mon Sammy, bitch? Female dog? Don't tell me you don't know that!"
"So..."
"I'ma call her Bitch!"
"What? You can't-"
"You're right. I'll call her Bitch from Hell. And no one can say anything, because it's true!" He grins at the maggot. It yaps and, fuck, does something that looks as if it tries to wag its tail. Sammy's gonna have a fit.
"Aside from the fact that in this case 'bitch from hell' would actually be a description and not a name, you don't name it. It's a hellhound. No one can say anything because no one can see it. And even if they could see it, in theory, they wouldn't get a chance to see it, because you are not going to keep it!"
Sometimes Dean's really proud of himself. He grinned at Bitch from Hell some more. Might get another ten, twenty minutes of fun out of her before they had to take off to find a room for the night.
"You were right, she does like me!"