DAWN OF THE (NEARLY) DEAD
WOW: Flu. Sam is confronted with something far more disturbing than anything the brothers have ever hunted.
Disclaimer: I don't own them, but I would take very good care of them if I did.
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Sam recoiled as the abject, huddled creature shuffled mindlessly towards him.
Hunched, diseased body silhouetted against a hazy dawn light, it blinked watery bloodshot eyes, shivering feverishly and hobbling on stiff legs weakened by inactivity.
It gave a wet snort and a hollow wheezing rumble rattled in it's chest as it groaned miserably, loosing a gruesome ragged cough.
The pitiful figure's glassy, unfocussed eyes stared vacantly at Sam from over a wet shredded wad that had once been a tissue, and mumbled something inaudible about wanting a coffee.
Jeez, the flu had really done a number on Dean this time.
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