Okay guys, first crack at Supernatural fanfiction. Haven't actually read much, so I'm hoping something like this hasn't been done already.
No timeline. Nothing specific.
Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural.
Another hunt. Another skeevy motel. Not that the Winchesters cared. They were used to it.
Sam struggled to fit the key into the lock. He was exhausted and was starting to see double. Dean was no better, swaying where he stood. He looked like he would fall to the ground at any second.
Finally, Sam succeeded in getting the door open, and the boys shuffled into their room. They hadn't even spent ten minutes in it before getting dragged into the hunt, so they had yet to unpack anything or get acquainted with the layout of the shoddy room.
There was a thud as Dean tripped over his bag. He groaned. Sam sighed, going over to help his brother.
"No, just leave me," Dean mumbled. "I don't think I can get up." His whole body was sore.
"Come on…" Sam grabbed Dean's arm, practically dragging him to his bed and depositing him on it. Dean sat on the edge, slouching wearily. He kicked off his boots and stripped off his jacket, jeans, and shirt. Sam did the same. Dean crawled under his covers, burying his face in his pillow. After Dean was settled, Sam collapsed on his own bed and made himself comfortable. They were out in seconds.
Sam woke to the anguished cry of his brother.
"Wha-?" He shot up in his bed, bleary-eyed and a little disoriented. He had his gun in his hand, although he wasn't confident that he could shoot anything with much accuracy.
Then he saw Dean. Sam wasn't sure if he was hallucinating, or if his brother really was rubbing his back up against the wall like a bear to a tree.
"Dean?" Sam was vaguely aware of an itching sensation on his body.
"GRAAAARGH!" was Dean's only reply. He attacked his skin with his hands, scratching like there was no tomorrow.
Sam began to scratch subconsciously. He looked down at his arms. Tiny raised bumps glared angrily back at him. The itching quickly became more than an annoyance, and Sam found himself frantically scratching the swollen red marks.
Sam and Dean shot wide-eyed looks at each other, the horrifying realization of their situation having just dawned on them both. They had just fallen victim, in that squalid motel room, to something so much worse than ghosts, or vampires, or anything else they had ever faced before – something no exorcism or ritual could get rid of.
"Bed bugs."
Well, hope you guys liked it. :D