This is a work of fiction created for my own amusement and not for profit of any kind.
"It'll all be over soon, pet," the old woman croons, lifting the dagger high in the air. The witch is ancient, gnarled and bent… and completely nude. Dean sneers under the flicking light of the candles and spits out a mouthful of blood onto the rock.
"What ever you say, bitch." His teeth are stained red when he smiles. "Just one small problem with your plan."
"And what's that, love?"
Dean leans forward and growls, "I didn't come here alone."
The machete arcs through the air as if on cue, divesting the witch of her head. Sam is at his side in an instant and when the ropes fall away Dean rubs at the raw skin with an exaggerated sigh.
"What?" Sam huffs as he pulls Dean up from the floor. "I got here in time."
"Yeah, just," Dean grumbles and Sammy just shakes his head.
"I don't know what you're all upset about. We got her." He toes the corpse with his boot, seemingly convinced that she's dead.
"Yeah, sure. But next time we do this, baby brother, you get to be the bait."
"But Dean," Sam mocks, wagging his eyebrows, "you're the one who's good with the ladies."