A bit of an interesting case this week, enviousxbeauty and I have each written a story. Same idea, but mine is more from Sam's perspective, and her's from Deans. Her's is entittled: Black and White.

So, after reading mine go check hers out!

Disclaimer: I don't own them
BAMF Beta'd: Enviousxbeauty

And start--

Tracy McNabb stopped to take a breath. Her lungs burned but she wasn't out of the woods yet.

Only a week ago she had stood numb beside her Uncle as he begged her to make it disappear. She'd asked him again, and again, what it was but he only replied with a horrified whisperer, "A b-b-beast." Tracy tried to calm him down, and watch the old grey sitcoms with him like they used to. He was too panicked to enjoy the simplicity of the old TV. She'd left him sitting on his couch shaking his head. Within forty eight hours she was standing at his graveside wondering still what he had meant, what he had seen.

Golden eyes had glared at her from the cemetery trees.

Shortly after the funeral, reeking of death from the funeral home, she went to his house to pick up some her old stuff. She could have sworn that he had never owned a pet, yet when she walked into his house there was a large black dog that had been chewing on the entry way rug. When the dog had noticed her, his ears had perked up. With a sniff of the air he focused on her. He howled.

It sounded like the screams of a thousand dying men in the pits of hell.

And then he gave chase. His heavy paws hit the floor with large booming steps. Tracy could not for the life of her imagine why her uncle would own such a vicious animal. She ran, and ran, and ran into a dead end in the downtown apartment complex.

"Nice doggy…" She said nervously.

The black dog growled and drool fell down its muzzle. Tracy watched as it advanced licking his lips. The golden eyes glaring with hell fire sparking in the irises.

She understood now what her Uncle meant. If she lived, and she doubted it, she knew with certainty that her tongue would stick to her throat when ever she tried to describe the beast.

She could say simply that she had been haunted.

But that only worked when things were black and white.

o-o-o-o-o-o Welcome to Supernatural o-o-o-o-o-o
~~~~~Simplicity~~~~~

Sam burst through the motel door with a wide grin. He threw his arms wide. "Hey Dean!"

Dean set the plate of hot pancakes he had just finished cooking on the table and smiled. "Hey Sam! I just finished making us pancakes!"

Sam shook his head. "Oh Dean."

Dean got the orange juice out of the fridge and gestured for Sam to sit down. "Sam, You know I'd do anything for you! I mean it to- I'd even die for you."

Sam waved his hand dismissively and plopped into one of the plastic chairs. "You're the greatest ever. And look! I found us a case!"

Dean sat down and began stuffing pancakes in his mouth. "Really? I hope it's not too scary."

Sam's lips twitched. "No, not all. It's just a little ghost."

Dean set down his fork and leaned over. "What kind?"

"A black dog." Sam said with a grin tossing the picture down. Tracy McNab smiled at them from the obituaries. She had her thumb up, and even from beyond the grave it was clear that she was a person of action.

Dean forked another pancake and raised an eyebrow. "Let's do this."

o-o-o-o-o

The black dog wagged his tail. Thunder roared and it let out a startled howl. The huge beast of destruction scampered around the forest sniffing out potential prey. Sulfur blackened his fur, embers sparked with each of his steps, and his soft golden eyes begged for scraps. He let his tongue hang out while he panted excitedly.

He saw the full moon and yipped.

It was a great day for killing.

o-o-o-o-o-o

Dean picked up the car keys. "Hey, Sam."

"Yeah, Dean?" Sam asked as they walked out to the car.

"Do you wanna drive?" Dean held up the keys and jangled them pointing to the shimmering Impala.

Sam froze. "Boy would I!"

Dean shrugged his shoulders and got in the car. "Maybe next time."

"Dean, you're such a kidder." Sam laughed as he got into the car. "Let's just go. Darkness is falling."

Dean nodded seriously. "And we wouldn't want anymore people hurt."

Sam nodded vigorously. "After all, we're the heroes."

o-o-o-o-o

The black dog sniffed his way over to where he'd buried the last batch of bones. He whined when he couldn't find them right away. To his surprise, he picked up a scent. But it wasn't any scent he'd smelled before. He was used to haunting funerals and the deceased- smelling overdone cologne and embalming fluid was normal.

But he now he smelled: old leather, hair gel, gun powder, and adrenaline…

Oh boy, oh boy, he'd missed a challenge like this.

He abandoned his search for the bones and ran to catch the scent.

o-o-o-o-o

Dean and Sam got out of their car and surveyed the eerie and sinister woods. Sam looked up at the moon. He huffed, and his breath unfurled visibly. "Sure is pretty tonight."

Dean pointed. "I can see the Big Dipper!"

Sam rolled his eyes. "That's Orion."

"Oh Sam." Dean smiled, tossing him a gun. "Should we split up?"

"Well, I like when we work as a team," Sam looked at the forest again, "But I guess we'll be alright if we split now and then."

They walked into the forest until they came to a fork in their path. Sam shrugged. "I'll take the path less traveled."

Dean shook his head. "There are strange things done underneath the midnight sun."

Sam raised an eyebrow. "Right. I'm going now."

Dean nodded and went down the left path.

o-o-o-o-o

Sam poked at the bushes. He scoured the trees. He knew hunting wouldn't always be this simple but right now, he could enjoy the little things. The black and white facts of a find and destroy case. "Here doggy, doggy…" he called.

He listened intently for any reaction. In the distance he head shouts of terror. The yells ripped through Sam's soul as surely as claws were ripping through Dean. Sam cursed as he ran. Why, he wondered, had they thought splitting up was a good idea?

Dean's screams were at fever pitch when Sam burst into the clearing. The black dog stood over him, admiring his own handiwork. He curled his massive paws, sinking the claws deeper into Dean's bloody frame. Dean's arms were flailing as they failed to keep the monstrosity off him. Sam snarled just as viciously as the beast as he raised his gun.

Teamwork was code in the Winchester family. But Sam didn't need Dean to take out this dog. He was working on instinct as he aimed and fired his gun.

The black dog fell over dead. Dean pushed it off him and groaned. "And stay down Lassie."

Sam ran over to Dean. Deep claw marks were bleeding through his town shirt. Sam helped him up, and practically carried him to the car. Dean barely protested when he was lowered into the passenger side. "Pretty simple, eh Sam?" Dean said weakly before passing out cold.

At the motel, colors seemed to bleed everywhere. The bloody towels were tossed haphazardly, shredded clothing was strewn randomly, and an assortment of pain pills that desperately needed to be sorted decorated the counter.

Sam knotted the last stitch and cut the string. He pulled away and looked down at the stitches decorating Dean's chest. It would definitely scar- something Sam didn't doubt Dean would brag about later. Sam pulled the sheets over Dean and let him continue his sleep in peace.

Sam sat into a chair and prepared to watch in case anything went wrong. He let his head fall into his hands as he sighed heavily. He picked up the TV remote and put the TV on low. An old rerun was playing in grey tones. Sam scrutinized the screen and almost laughed. The smiling characters didn't know anything about life. To think, he had wished things were just as easy as they had been in black and white world of a sitcom.

He placed his hand on Dean's shoulder, reassuring himself and Dean that everything would work out.

In sitcoms there were happy endings and fake laughs.

Next to him, Dean groaned as his body was on the mend.

In real life, there was family. And that was enough for Sam.

.:The End:.