fandom: supernatural
prompt: mortal
title: wrong
characters: sam, dean, john... crazed knife-wielding maniac
rating: pg
warning: violence sorta
disclaimer: I own the crazed knife-wielding maniac...
summary: And even though the human had been ready to kill my brother, what I'd done still seemed wrong.
Demons and monsters could be killed. A little rock salt or a bit of Latin and they'd be gone. Humans were different. Or at least they seemed to be. The one holding Dean down seemed like he couldn't die, a bullet in his shoulder and leg already. He was still going, laughing like the crazed maniac he was, holding Dean firmly to the floor like blood – his blood -- wasn't pooling at the ground under the two of them. I can at least be glad the blood isn't Dean's. His was still slowly making its way towards the front of his shirt; it would be awhile – or never, if I could help it – before it touched ground.
A strangled, pained, grunt from Dean as the knife pressed deeper into his throat, the barely there blood trickling where it cut, was all it took for my mind to race back to the here and now, for my hands to finally stop shaking, for the bullet to finally enter the man's head. I think I screamed as the bullet hit its target and the guy's head exploded, brains and blood coating everywhere like the canvas of an artist with a fucked up imagination. Dean just pushed the corpse off of him quickly, grunted as he stood. Blood still shined where the knife had cut. He smirked at me, and pat my shoulder as he walked by. "Pretty good, Sammy... for a twelve year old geek."
My hands were still shaking by the time we got back to the motel, although not as badly. Dean had taken the gun. Dad seemed mad at first – we might have been out three or four hours past Dean's curfew, which was (unfairly) set two hours later than mine -- but then worried when he saw Dean's throat. But it had stopped bleeding, at least, and Dean was alive. I still couldn't help but to shake every time I thought about the bullets I'd fired into that guy – I'd been trained to shoot demons, not humans. And even though the human had been ready to kill my brother, what I'd done still seemed wrong.