Shoot first, worry later:
"Sammy, hurry your ass up!" Dean yells from the trunk of the Impala, impatiently loading his shotgun with salt packs.
"Calm yourself dude, I'm coming." He responds, from the front seat, eyes still glued to his computer. "I just feel like we are missing something." He grumbles, grudgingly shutting his laptop and placing it on the seat as he stands up.
"Yeah well, shoot first, worry later. That's the Winchester motto by now ain't it?" Dean responds, giving Sam a good natured punch in the shoulder slightly too hard. "Yeah, that pretty much sums us up, but this was way too easy. I mean, there was practically a damn trail here." Sam argues, shutting the door to make his way back down to the trunk of the car to grab his own gun. "Yes, but let's not punch a gift basket in the mouth eh?" Dean says, passively swatting his hand. "Gift horse you idiot. Not gift basket." Sam laughs. "Yeah, well you shouldn't punch a gift basket either." The older Winchester grumbles. Sam just smiles and continues packing salt.
"I see what you mean about it being a bit easy, but we still need to check this out either way." Dean says, thrusting his pack over his shoulder. "I suppose that's true." Sam replies, shutting the trunk.
The brothers make their way into their target: a recently abandoned shoe factory, which was the structure in dead center of the killing radius. All the deaths are within a two mile radius of the factory, each scene left with something that ties back to the factory. A bit of lace, a grease stain, an old uniform, even a damn shoe. It was just too easy.
'Almost as if they were planted.' Sam thinks to himself grimly. 'But why? There wouldn't even be a guarantee the ghost would get the specific person they were after.' His stream continues. 'Unless the point was just to attract more people to the factory to get more kills.' He realizes, which would make sense. This ghost was brutal, there was no connections between the victims that he and Dean could find, the ghost just seemed to want to kill.
"I'll meet you in the front of the factory, I'm going through the side." Dean whispers, ending Sam's thought stream.
"Got it, be careful." He responds. "Aren't I always?" Dean says cheekily. "How many times have you died again?" Sam asks in mock innocence. "Shut up bitch." He growls, smiling. "You shut up jerk." Sam responds, finishing picking the lock. "See you in a few" Dean breaths, ducking inside.
Sam silently moves around to the front of the factory, the eerie silence putting him off. Then, a brilliant ball of light erupts from the upper windows of the factory on the side that Dean entered through. "Oh shit." Sam yells, breaking through the closest window. Barely registering his cuts before he takes off running. "Dean! Where are you? Dean!" Not caring he is announcing his presence to whatever caused the light explosion. 'I don't care, let them come. They better not hurt my brother or-' Sam's ferocious thought is cut off as he enters the room.
"What the hell?" Sam yells "Zachariah?" He says in shock, looking to dean. Who was currently looking pissed as hell, restrained by two angels.
Zachariah was grinning in the center of the room. "You boys are hard to track. It took 6 killings to get you idiots here. We made it so easy to find us too. What imbeciles." He mutters, wearing a self-satisfied grin all the same.
"You killed those people?" Sam says in disgusted shock. " I knew you were cruel but-" he is interrupted as two more angels appear and grab his arms and force him to his knees next to Dean who gives him a slightly panicked look.
"No, I didn't kill them. I simply aided the ghost who did. He's at rest now and you are here. Win win. Except for those dead monkeys, but heaven is a much better home than this dump anyway." Zachariah states, in his usual insufferable attitude.
"You two are hard to hunt down, with those carvings on your ribs hiding you from angels … we had to go to great lengths to lure you monkeys here." Zachariah states, straightening his jacket.
"Why are you doing this Zachy?" Dean says, bluntly cutting to the chase. "You already know we aren't saying yes to be a part of your freakshow, so why the hell can't you dicks learn?" He yells, his anger peaking.
"Exactly" Zachariah says, "but I decided if you are going to act like children, then you will be treated like children, as thereby: punished as such. Have fun." He finishes with an uncharacteristic wink, and with a flutter of wings, all the angels left, leaving them locked in the upper factory room.
"Now what the fuck does that even mean?" Sam deadpans, shooting a glance at Dean who looks just as flustered and confused as he is. "I don't know Sammy, he's weird and an asshole, that could mean an array of things."
But they got their answer, much to their horror. Almost instantly after the words left his mouth, some sort of angle mojo kicked in, stroking his sides. "Holy shihihihit." Dean says "tickling? Are you kidding me? This is mehehehsed up, eheheven for Zachariah." He laughs, holding his side.
But Sam didn't reply, he was already on the floor laughing as the ghostly hands attack his neck and ribs. 'Jesus, little bro. Why the heck are you so damn ticklish.' Dean thinks to himself, although he was in no place to judge as the hands reach his hips and he is lost as well.
"ZACHAHAHAHRIAH! YOU BHIHITCH, GET YOUR AHAHAHAS DOWN HEHEHERE AND STOP THIS." Dean cries, rolling in the ground trying to do something, anything to get away. No avail.
But the only response was for the ghost tickling to get worse and soon there were hands on their feet, in between their toes, under and on top of their knees, squeezing their thighs and hips, poking their stomach and swirling in belly buttons, all the way up their ribs to armpits and finally all over their neck and ears.
No one would have pegged the Winchester boys to be the type to be ticklish, but alas, Zachariah apparently knew.
Zachariah did eventually come down after about half and hour of the brothers relentless torture. "Ready to comply yet, or do you still need to be treated like the children you apparently are?" He says with snarky tone. There was no doubt that he was enjoying this. Seeing his foes in such a vulnerable and embarrassing position.
"You seriously think after all the torture you have put us through, that TICKLING would break us? You're insane." Sam yells. Although he wasn't too sure; his body was accustomed to pain, but the tickling had put more of a number on him than anything else he had been through. The thought caused him to become slightly red in the face.
"The tickling was more of a perspective thing to show you how immature you two are being. But now that I see it is actually quite effective …" his voice trails off, leaving the Winchesters to only gape in anger, fear, and burning embarrassment.
"Well either way, there is no way we are joining your freak show. So go ahead and keep being an old creep." Dean says, his macho attitude renewed.
Zachariah is quite for a moment,motions for the other angles to leave, then turns to the exhausted boys and says "you'll regret this. And before I forget-" he snaps his fingers and the boys are forced to the ground, spread eagle with no available movement. "Go one and get cozy, I'll check in on you in a couple hours." And before the boys could protest, in another snap of his fingers he was gone.
As soon as the ghost tickling started again, the boys could tell it was so much worse not being able to move. Despite the fact movement didn't do anything to help the first time anyway, the freedom gave them something else to focus on. Now all they could do was lay back and laugh.
"DEAHAHAHAN!" Sam laughs, frantically calling for his brother. After the first ten minutes of fighting and laughing. "I'm hehehehere sahahaham." Dean responds. "PRAHAHAY!" Sam yells. "Whahat?" Dean responds, confused.
"CAHAHAL CAHAHAHAS, I CANT TAHAHAKE MUHUHUCH MOHOHORE!" He screams. Dean understands 'Cas! Get your feathery ass down here. We are on the top floor of an abandoned shoe factory in Wyoming. Hurry you damn ass up, we need you!' He mentally screams. Then he leans back and is lost once more to the hands digging into his hips.
"NOHOHOHO!" Dean screams, finally on the same level as Sam. The top floor was filled with a symphony of the brothers pleading laughter.
When they hear a flutter of wings ten minutes , their first instinct is fear, thinking it's Zachariah. But instead, the familiar gravelly confused voice of Castiel echoes around with the laughter. "Ummm, I don't understand." He says, his angel blade drawn.
"FIND A WAHAHAY TO STOP THE ANGEL MOJOJOHOHO!" Dean yells, tears coming out of his eyes as he strains in vain to move his arms to swat the ghostly hands mercilessly squeezing his hips.
Sam couldn't even talk, he was frantic and helpless. Switching between silent and pleading laughter as invisible hands assault his armpits, feet and neck.
Then, all at once it stops. The boys remain on the floor, gasping for breath as the angel comes over to look for wounds, confused when he didn't find any.
"I don't understand, you were screaming. How are there no wounds?" Cas says, with his signature head tilt. Dean looks to Sam, who was too embarrassed (and exhausted) to explain to the angel what had really happened. Dean sighs and breathlessly says. "We weren't screaming out of pain, that psycho creep Zachariah was using his mojo to tickle us." He mumbles.
"Tickle" Cas says, "I am not familiar with the term. What is it?" Even as beat as they were, Dean and Sam couldn't help but share a mischievous smile.
"We'll show you some time angel." Dean promises. "But for now, just get us the hell out of here before that wack job comes back."
And with another flutter of wings, the factory is silent once more.
[Any prompt ideas? I need some more lol, love y'all 3 ]