Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural or its characters - these were created by Eric Kripke - I'm just borrowing them. I'm not making any commercial gain. No harm or infringement intended.

DEW Challenge: End your drabble with any famous line of poetry. Everyone wants something. Tastes of desire with tales of injustice, nostalgia, and family feuding. 3 x 100 word drabbles.

Written for the 'Drabbles Every Weekend' challenge at SPN BigPretzel on LiveJournal. You should visit; it doesn't mess up your links!

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I Hold With Those Who Favor Fire

"A poem begins as a lump in the throat, a sense of wrong, a homesickness, a lovesickness" - Robert Frost

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Hold On

"And so hold on when there is nothing in you, except the Will which says to them: 'Hold on!'" – 'IF-', Rudyard Kipling (www dot poetryfoundation dot org/poem/175772)

Securing the salt lines, Dean tried not to check his watch again. It was bare minutes since he'd sent Sammy through the too-narrow, collapsed sewers for backup. Damn his father, but no matter how 'prepared', a twelve year-old had no business hunting.

Speaking of which... His hands shook as he changed already blood-sodden dressings.

"Dad, stay with me," Dean ordered, wincing as his voice cracked.

He'd almost abandoned hope when John opened his eyes.

"Leave me," John croaked through parched lips.

"What'd I do without you coming down on me?" Dean joked.

John snorted. "You'll be a man, my son."

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This it is and Nothing More

"Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary. Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore" - 'The Raven', Edgar Allan Poe (www dot poetryfoundation dot org/poem/178713)

The faint sound of tapping at his window made Bobby glance up from his research.

Climbing to his feet with a heavy sigh, he pulled back the tatty curtains and stared out into the bleak December night. Suppressing a shudder, he poured another generous measure of whiskey.

Just to be safe, he checked the salt lines and touched up the paint on the devil's traps.

He paused, listening. Yep, there came another rapping.

"Scram!"

He banged on the window and chuckled as a large raven flew off with an alarmed squawk.

"I'm never feeding you bacon scraps again! Y'hear? Nevermore!"

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With a Fearful Trill

"But a bird that stalks down his narrow cage can seldom see through his bars of rage" – 'Caged Bird', Maya Angelou (www dot poetryfoundation dot org/poem/178948)

Michael glared across the confines of the Cage at his insufferably smug brother.

"I'm soooo bored," he moaned.

Lucifer smiled. "You get used to it after a millennia or two."

"This isn't how it was supposed to end," Michael growled, near to tears. "How can you stand it?" he raged.

"Heaven wasn't that much better, once Dad and I fell out. You just need to make your own entertainment," Lucifer shrugged.

Now seems the perfect time to inflict a new torment on my brother.

His wings are clipped and his feet are tied, so he opens his throat to sing.

(;,;)