Enkidu07's Drabble Challenge

Prompt Word: FALL

Word Count: 300 words on the dot.

Other players in the challenge are now too many to list here! There're lots of people throwing Supernatural snowballs. You can find the list of names at Enkidu07's profile page and/or OnyxMoonbeam's profile page. Also, to find all of the lovely drabbles, there's a sweet little C2 community out there to subscribe to and enjoy. You can find the link on their profile pages mentioned above.

Disclaimer: Neither the boys nor anything related to Supernatural belongs to me. I'm just having some fun with the boys, playing around with Eric Kripke's sandbox.

Little Imps and Big Idjits

By: Vanessa Sgroi

"You little imp, get your behind down here 'fore I come up there after you," warned Bobby Singer as he scowled up at the small tower of junk cars in his junkyard.

Four-year-old Sammy Winchester's giggle echoed down from above.

"Samuel Winchester! I've told you before—this ain't no place to play. Now get down here this minute." Another giggle had him grumbling under his breath…and climbing. "You know I'm gettin' too old for this," he muttered. Halfway up the stack, he heard Sammy's brother, Dean, call from below.

"Uncle Bobby, what's goin' on?" the sick eight-year-old croaked. He stood swaying and trembling, his pale face shiny with sweat. Dean rubbed at his aching eyes.

"Yer baby brother havin' a grand ol' time at my expense," growled Bobby.

Dean sighed, not surprised. "I'll get him," he offered. He grabbed a handhold and prepared to climb, he was interrupted by a bout of coughing.

"Oh no, you won't. Yer still sick. Go back inside."

"But…"

The boy's protest was cut off by a yell as Bobby's foot slipped. The older man scrambled to hang on but to no avail. With a curse, he tumbled from his perch and landed on his back, breath escaping in a whoosh.

Dean tottered to his side and dropped down next to him. His eyes were big and blown with worry. "You okay?"

Before Bobby could answer, a whirlwind of topaz curls and hazel eyes zoomed over, those hazel eyes now swimming with tears. "I-I-I'm soory, Uncle B'bby. I din't mean to make y-y-you fall. Really I din't."

Bobby ruffled the kid's hair. "S'me who's the idjit, son," he wheezed. "I'm okay."

Dean started to cough roughly and Bobby pushed up on his elbows. "C'mon, let's get the two of you inside. I'll make soup."

FIN