A/N: This is one of the stories that lived on my computer for too long... so I started it on a sucky day... and ended it on a Friday the 13th... It started as a fun and light story only to end... well... in a different way that I thought it would. I still hope that doesn't stop you from enjoy the read.
As you might know, I don't own anything to that story... well, maybe the weird nameless guy... but that's it... and you also know I just do this for entertainment. Have fun guys!
Reviews are always welcome!
Friday, the 13th
And you really think your day sucked?
I should have known that getting up was a mistake this Friday morning. My mom – let her rest in peace – always told me to be careful on a Friday the 13th. She always told me it was the day she was condemned (later I learned it was the day she got told she was pregnant with me). So. I should have stayed in bed that morning. I should have… but… well, you know? Often you don't listen to that little voice in your head, tell it to mind its own business.
So, there I was. In front of my little flower-shop, dripping wet. Yes, it was no rain that day, it was a down-pour… who would have guessed, as the sun was shining when I stepped out of my house…
Putting the key in the lock, I wondered if things could get worse… If I only knew…
The moment the door opened with a squeak I shuddered. Was it supposed to be that cold?
Hitting the lights, of course nothing happened. Cursing my way through the shop, I set to check the fuses, but the moment I opened the small cabinet the power came on with a bang, sending me sprawling backwards with a… squeal.
When my eyes adjusted to the bright light, my jaw dropped.
Everything was covered in a thin crust of ice!
I watched the flowers and plants and every surface of my shop glowing and glittering, my priced orchids all hanging their heads…
"What the hell…" I exclaimed loudly, still staring around in disbelieve.
I don't know what happened, my best guess was that chipper, ignorant, impertinent service technician. He had probably short-circuited the air-condition. Prick…
All whining didn't help. I had no option left except to throw all the roses, carnations, lilies, my priced orchids (my priced orchids!) in the dumpster. And while doing so, I almost got decapitated as the lid of the dumpster developed a life of its own and came crashing down on me with force.
That's, by the way, how I hurt my back.
So, limping back inside I almost face-planted on a patch of ice on the floor – Ha! And they say old folks doesn't have no reaction! Ha!
My next goal was to get that buffoon piece of service-guy on the phone and tell him something about flowers and temperature.
Wasn't that easy as I thought, I tell you, because… my phone mysteriously vanished. Eventually I found it - not where I left it, because why should I put it into the small cabinet under the sink? Seriously! And tried to call "Easy Freeze" the air-condition company.
What could possibly go wrong with that, you ask yourself?
Wellllllll, I didn't reach "Easy Freeze", because I got stuck in a connection-loop, listening to that stupid song I hate so much, disrupted only by "We're right there to help you. Please hold the line…" After waiting a few more minutes I decided to screw this and hang up.
So, that was the first two hours of a long, suffering day for me.
The accidents just kept coming after this. One of my customers almost suffocated himself in a cascading plant growing in one of the hanging-baskets, another one was wiped from his feet by a hose, that suddenly came alive, soaking and almost drowning the guy. I was told to be sued multiple times this day.
And my mood kept going down and down. I tried to call 'Easy Freeze for the second and third time, but wasn't more successful then the first time. The second time there was just statics in the phone-line, and the third time an ominous voice kept ranting something about me being the devil.
But the absolute peak, the frosting on my already frosted cake, in this whole crappy day was the moment when those two guys came in the late afternoon.
I know trouble when I see it… and those two meant trouble. I knew it right away. They swaggered through my shop, looking, but at the same time not looking at all before the taller one, with dark, floppy hair stopped in front of me, his gaze meeting mine and a gentle smile formed on his lips.
"Hi. I… wondered…" he stopped looking around in the shop again, "don't you think it's too cold for all your flowers in here?"
And I just stared. I swear I had prepared myself to be robbed, a rifle being pointed my way, but this was absolutely ridiculous. And I started to laugh hysterically.
He stood there, watching my reaction, seeing me wipe my eyes as tears of hysteria ran down my cheeks.
"Cold!" I panted at least.
"This is the least of my problems!" I answered, growing deadly serious.
"So, what kind of problems do you have?"
I almost jumped out of my skin, as I whirled to face the shorter of the couple standing almost right beside me.
"I… I… my day just sucks?" I answered and at that moment all hell broke loose.
Sam's POV
With a gentle "ding" I push the door open and we are greeted with a swell of cold air.
I share a glance with Dean and see him grin and mouth "bingo". Shaking my head in exasperation I nudge him slightly to move and watch him for a moment as he straightens up when he enters the small flower-shop.
We roam the store for some minutes, not really interested in the flowers, before I decide to talk to the shop-owner.
He's a rather small man in his late fifties with warm, brown eyes and white hair and a moustache. As our eyes meet I cannot help but smile reassuringly at him. He's looking like I always imagined a grandpa should look like. My eyes travel from his face to his shoulders, down to his hands and it's then that I realise they are shaking badly. I lift my gaze again to meet his and I'm surprised as I realize that from the look he's giving me it seems as if he's afraid of… us?
"Hi!" I say softly, clearing my throat and I can see him flinch slightly.
"I… wondered…" I stop there, as I feel a cold breeze running up and down my spine, making the hairs on the back of my neck standing. Out of the corner of my eyes I see Dean stiffen and turning around, heading my way.
"Don't you think it's too cold for all your flowers in here?"
The man stares at me for a second before he starts to laugh hysterically.
"Cold!" he pants, wiping his face clean of all the tears.
"This is the least of my problems!" he answers eventually, growing deadly serious.
"So, what kind of problems do you have?" Dean's voice booms, making the guy almost jump out of his skin as he whirls to face him.
"I… I… "suddenly fear seems to ripple of the man in waves, and the air seems to get thick and loaded with an odd energy.
The man feels it. Dean feels it as I see his hand unconsciously moving to get to his gun.
"… my day just sucks?" he asks, voice wavering and right in that moment all hell breaks loose.
Dean's POV
The radio suddenly sprung to life, playing this god-awful country-song, right before a loud screech deafens me.
The old man's ripped from his feet, hitting the wall with an ugly crunch before he lands on the floor unmoving.
Sam's suddenly engaged in a hand-to…plant-combat with a cascading plant that tries to get to him and if the creature that manifests itself right in front of me wouldn't look so hideous I'd probably laugh at him.
But instead I'm mesmerized, my eyes locking with the piercing gaze of the thing, killing and freezing every instinct to defend myself.
I feel the world around me dim, hear another loud crash and I just know that my kid-brother was hauled into some pottery, but I'm already too far gone.
I can hear whispers, see shadows that dance around the creature in front of me and I feel my legs give way as I crumble to the ground.
"You!" it says bending over me.
"You're the one that escaped." It says.
"You're not supposed to live…" and it's then that I remember. And fear suddenly lets me fight. I manage to lift the veil that already shut the real world out, blinking and lifting my head.
Sam's fighting to get to his feet, blood running from a gash across his forehead and I try to shout out for help.
I can feel my lips moving, not hearing any sounds, but Sam seems to hear though, because his head snaps in my direction and our eyes meet.
Then the vague shadows that had surrounded the creature attack, pushing me down, pulling the veil between reality back down.
… and everything grows dark.
Sam's POV
I blink rapidly to clear my vision, know I have hit my head and it's blood that compromises my vision.
But the sound that escapes my brother makes me forget the blood and the dizziness.
My head snaps up, my eyes searching for him until our gazes meet and my heart aches at the repetition of my name being whispered, right before Dean draws in a gasp of breath, going rigid before starting to convulse.
I can see the dark shadows that cocoon around Dean, reaching into him, trying to rip his essence out of him. He struggles against their fierce assault, but I know it's only a matter of time before he's too weak, before his life is ripped out of his body, leaving nothing but the shell behind.
My mind reels as I search for the banishing spell as I stumble, crash to my knees and crawl forward, finally the words build in my head and I don't think anymore, just recite.
The creature whirls around, dark pools meeting my eyes, trying to freeze me, stop me before I finish, but now, that I remembered, the words flow, hitting the foul essence.
Then it's done, the last word leaving my mouth and time seems to stop.
Utter silence settles as the wraith looks at me, the shadows stopping their idle attack as the temperature drops.
"He's not supposed to live." The voice booms right before bright light encircles the veil creature and in the blink of an eye it's gone, leaving behind chaos and…
"Dean!" I scramble forward, my brother's name on my lips.
Everything about my brother is wrong. Blue lips, gaunt, pale features, the stillness, the vacant stare, the silence… I can see he's not breathing and a sob escapes as my vision blurs.
"Dean… Dean… Dean…" I chant, don't know where to touch, remembering the shadows dance about my brother's body, ghostly claws trying to rip him apart. From far away I can hear sirens, know their destination, but I also know that they will be too late. Before I can do anything Dean suddenly draws in a wet breath, blinking several times, tears starting to pool in his eyes, to track down the side of his face.
And I cry with him, gently pulling him up in my embrace, bury my face in his shoulder as I feel him tremble.
"Sammy…" his voice is almost non-existent and I nod against his shoulder, not letting go, ignoring the bang and loud noises as the rescue-team arrives… everything after that is blurry and unreal.
Dean's POV
I sit on my baby's hood, feel the warm sunshine on my face, the cold bottle of beer in my left hand. I know Sam's heading my way, can feel his eyes on me, ever since the incident last week.
I shudder involuntarily as I remember the wraith, as I remember it trying to take me.
"You're the one that escaped…" the words are burned into my memory now.
"You're not supposed to live…"I grin unamused, lifting my bottle and taking a big gulp of the foamy liquid.
Sam's shoulder bumps into mine as he climbs up beside me and I open my eyes a slit to look at him.
"You okay?" he asks silently, opening himself a bottle of beer and drinks, while waiting for my answer, looking at me out of the corner of his eyes.
I only nod and settle back again.
"Tired…" I admit, closing my eyes again.
I've been that a lot lately.
"It'll pass…" I can hear Sam saying eventually; feel him warm and alive and safe beside me.
I didn't feel slipping again, but I can feel Sam's careful movement beside me, the half-empty bottle of beer taken from my loose grasp.
For a moment I feel like falling and flinch.
But Sam's voice is near my ear, soothing, gentle, caring.
"Shhh, 's okay. Just sleep. I got you…" and my head drops to his shoulder as I surrender into the pull of sleep.
Sam's POV
He's still too pale, tires out too fast. But he's going to pull through.
I slowly make my way over to the Impala, where he sits on her hood, eyes closed, a bottle of beer forgotten in his hand.
I grab my own bottle, climb the hood, announce my presence by bumping shoulders with him.
His eyes slit open and I can see them dull.
"You okay?" I ask gently and take a swig, my eyes not leaving his face. And he nods while he settles back.
"Tired…" he mutters and closes his eyes.
I remember the wraith's words.
"He's not supposed to live…"
I wonder what it means...
Belatedly I remember to answer him.
"It'll pass." And I can feel Dean beside me, reassuring, warm, alive… safe…
I can feel him relax, the grasp he has on his half empty bottle loosen and I know he's just about to fall asleep.
So I move, bent over him, retrieve the bottle.
He flinches as I start to guide him sideways, but I just need the contact… seeing him in that flower-shop, on the ground, motionless, staring into nothingness…
"Shhhh, 's okay. Just sleep. I got you…" and his head drops to my shoulder, his breath tickling my neck as he falls asleep again.
"What happened there Dean? What just happened there…"
FIN
Thanks for reading!