In honour of Wimbledon Finals Day - a cracky triabble from the keyboards of Amberdreams, Edinaclouds and dizzo, not necessarily in that order.
100 words x 3
Advantage, Sam
As exhausted as he was he still couldn't sleep, no matter how hard he tried.
Sam on the other hand had long since drifted into blessed oblivion and, judging by the huge grin on his face, was having "that" dream again. Either that or he had gas!
Really hoping it wasn't the latter Dean turned his back on his brother (just in case).
Now facing the wall he stared at the peeling paintwork; at a crack that suddenly seemed to appear.
He blinked. Blinked again, convinced he must be imagining things, until the crack widened and a gnarled face appeared.
0x0x0x0
Dean inwardly promised to crack open a beer later to celebrate not wetting the bed in shock.
"What the hell?" He turned to check on Sam who was still snoring obliviously.
"Excuse me," replied the face, blinking rheumy eyes, "I was hanging a picture next door and had a mishap."
Dean's mouth moved but no words came out.
"I'm a kobold," it explained; "a house-faerie who adopts a household and works for them. I've adopted this motel."
Dean nodded mutely.
"The problem is no human can watch us work."
Dean nodded again.
"So I'm afraid I need to kill you."
0x0x0x0
The kobold launched itself, screaming like a banshee on crack. Not that Dean had ever seen a … nevermind.
Dean leapt off the bed, forgetting that his feet were tangled up in the sheets. He landed, perky-ass-up in an undignified heap on the grungy carpet. Freaking kobold hadn't got round to cleaning that, Dean thought, as the angry sprite ground his face into the floor.
Luckily Sam woke up, grabbed the nearest weapon. He connected with the kobold sending it flying through the wall, fists still clutching twin handfuls of Dean's hair.
"Anyone for tennis?" Said Sam, swishing the racquet.