Here are a few ficlets I wrote on tumblr, based on prompts.
Sam or Daniel or Mark or Alex
There's a bang like a strike of lightening, one that echoes through the cabin, off the walls and under the floorboards, up his spine to clang around his head. He can't get a breath in and he can only watch as the woman is knocked to the ground. She was going to kill him, she was, and he can't help feeling relieved when she doesn't get back up.
"Dude, you okay?" the other guys asks, the one with the gun, the one who's covered in blood and looking more bothered about his ruined jacket than the fact he just murdered someone.
I don't know where I am, I don't know my own name, it dawns on him then, the other guy's face is creasing with worry and he holds out his hand to help him up.
"Sam," he says.
Sam could be his name, but so could Daniel or Mark or Alex. He sinks deeper into the corner of the room and says, "I don't know who you are."
The other guy freezes, and stays like that, save for the pinch of his lips. He looks mad, but his expression softens as he says, "I'm Dean, your brother. Come with me and I'll get you fixed, okay?"
Sam - or Daniel or Mark or Alex - finds himself nodding, and he takes Dean's hand.
A Rabbit Waiting for the Fox's Jaws
Sam can't help feeling guilty, even if this thing isn't Dean, not really, as he shoves Ruby's knife into his gut. Dean, not-Dean-anymore, freezes for a second, his black eyes flickering, but then pain turns to fury, stretching out into a too-wide grin.
"Stings a little, Sammy," Dean says, and he's still getting closer, pulling his hammer hand back. For a second, Sam loses the ability to think, his legs have forgotten how to move, he just stands there like a rabbit waiting for the fox's jaws.
The pain doesn't register for a brief moment, all he knows is that he's falling, then everything explodes with fresh agony. Dean swung the hammer into Sam's still-healing shoulder, and by the feel of it he used every bit of his newfound demonic strength. Sam's shoulder is no longer in its socket, that's for sure. He's too scared to look at it in case his arm isn't there at all.
Dean looks high on it, cackling like Sam's pain is the funniest thing he's ever seen. He pulls the hammer back again and Sam knows that this time it will be his heart of his throat or his head that's on the receiving end. He'll strike somewhere Sam can't recover from. Sam wants to try again to find his brother under the demon, but he's in too much pain to even open his mouth.
There's a flash of light and Dean screams. Cas is there and he shoves Dean into the wall by his throat, eyes glowing heavenly blue, his fury rivals the demon's. It's heaven vs. Hell.
Sam takes that as his cue to pass out.
Aftershock (13x11 coda)
They just stare at each other for a moment. Sam's probably still processing the fact that there isn't a bullet in his brain, Dean's just relieved he made it in time.
One second later and… no, he's not going to go there, not going to think about his brother's corpse on that filthy steel table, his brains painting the walls.
Dean gives Clegg a nudge with his foot, feels the urge to stamp on his head, but Sam is looking pale and shell-shocked, staring wide-eyed at nothing in particular.
"You okay?" Dean asks. It's a dumb question and he already knows Sam's answer won't be honest.
Sam nods shakily. "The camera's still rolling," he says, eyes flicking briefly to the lens. Dean swallows his disgust at the comments still streaming in on the computer.
Aw I was looking forward to this :/
I just spent 500k… I'm still getting his heart, right?
ok but how much for his kidneys?
Dean kicks the tripod's legs and watches the camera skid and thud into a wall. Then he crushes it under his shoe, for good measure.
"Get me out of this thing," Sam says, an urgent whine creeping into his voice as he begins to tug at his restraints. He pulls in a shaky breath and mutters, "Fuck. Fuck."
Dean hastily works on the leather straps around his wrists, the skin underneath is red, a groove cut into his arm where he pulled too hard. Once his hands are free, Sam pulls at the buckles around his ankles, clumsy in his haste. The second he's loose, he's off the table and across the room, almost tripping over Clegg's body.
Dean watches him swallow, shaky hands pushing his hair behind his ears. "Let's go," Sam says. His eyes are locked on the spatter of blood that runs down the head of the table, all that's left of some unlucky son of a bitch who didn't have anyone around to save him. The room looks like something out of a horror movie. Worse than that, it's not a far cry from Hell, or what someone might picture Hell to be. The stench of blood is enough to remind Dean of the feeling of a scalpel in his hand, some poor soul's skin at his mercy.
Sam is shivering, lingering in the doorway. Dean never did ask Sam how he was doing after seeing Lucifer again all those months ago. They lost Cas and Mom, they got caught up in fighting over Jack.
Dean never stopped to think about what was happening inside Sam's head.
One Last Thing
"You okay?" Dean asks, and Sam can hear the worry in his voice, he can picture his pitying expression clearly in his mind as they take a walk through the bunker, Dean guiding the way as Sam takes tentative steps down the hall.
He thinks about Dean's question and ponders the vast meaning of okay.
Sam thinks back not long ago to when he lost his sight, when he thrust Michael's lance through Lucifer's chest and watched the suffocating brightness of his grace flicker away. Of course, Lucifer couldn't leave without taking one last thing from Sam.
Sam remembers crouching down, not able to see a thing, hands fumbling over Lucifer's cold, empty vessel and the hot charred concrete where his wings used to be, and he remembers thinking, it's over.
Sam smiles and is honest when he says, "I'm great."
I hope you enjoyed! I'll be posting the next chapter of Little Green Soldiers some time today. In the meantime, let me know what you thought of these mini stories. Did you have a favourite?