Title: Step into the Ring
Summary: The spnland writing community had this contest (which I missed): "Werewolves, vampires, winged creatures, kitty cats—put your favorite character through the transformation of a lifetime!"
Characters: Dean, Sam
Disclaimer: I love them to bits but they don't belong to me.
Rating: T
Status: Complete
Warnings: Written in less than an hour so, yeah, be warned. Also language
"Dude," Dean said calmly, "I am so going to kill you." He punched at his brother but Sam was blocking.
"Me?" Sam was outraged, "I'm not the one that had to pick up the shiny thing." He lashed out at Dean—a fast one-two—but nothing connected.
"It was a clue," Dean defended himself, still punching. "You know, one of those things you find when you investigate stuff?"
"Doesn't mean you have to touch it," Sam pointed out, grunting a little when he hit Dean's arms instead of his head. "I swear, you're like a magpie. If it's food, you eat it. If it glitters, you touch it. You'd think you'd've learned."
"Learned what? How to be a tight-ass like you?" Fucker wouldn't stop moving, Dean fumed. How was he supposed to land a decent hit if the little princess didn't stay still?
"Oh ha ha. Very mature," Sam blocked another hit. "You should've learned not to touch ancient coins that you know nothing about just in case they happen to be cursed which, you know, that one was!"
Dean grunted as Sam's blow landed hard on his shoulder. "It's not a curse," he pointed out, "It's a spell and it'll wear off. Twelve hours max, that's what you said." Although, with their luck, it would last twenty-four, Dean thought but didn't say. "We've only got nine more hours to go. I think."
Sam would've rolled his eyes if he could, but he couldn't, "And that makes it so much better." He grunted as one of Dean's punches made him shake.
"Could've been worse," Dean threw another on then nearly groaned in disappointment when it came up short.
"How?"
"We could've been turned into Ken and Barbie," he paused, "You would've been Barbie, of course."
Sam could hear the smirk in his brother's voice and he'd had it. He put all his effort into his punch; all his frustration for all the stupid stunts Dean had ever pulled, from putting salt in the sugar to offering himself up at the crossroads to bring Sam back, it all went into his throw.
"Jerk" he said, using the sound to focus his energy, like Bruce Lee or a ninja or something.
"Bi—" Dean's reply was automatic but he didn't get to finish. Sam's clenched fist caught him under the chin and made his red plastic head pop up.
"Shit, Sammy," Dean pouted, "You knocked my block off." He could suddenly see over his brother, to the small plastic square with the little plastic ropes.
The world was bright with sunshine as Sam yelled shouted his victory. "I take it back. This spell? Seriously awesome," If Sam's blue plastic face could've moved, he would've been grinning so hard. "Let's do it again."
"You're on, bitch."