Laughs…don't ask, and I won't tell…I was at work today and I started scrambling a word, just one word in my notebook and before I knew it I had a whole story written down. I own nothing…nothing I tell ya!!! Not even that notebook, because I threw it away, because it was full…gosh…LOL and I'm sorry for all the grammar/spelling errors. I should be working, but I was writing this so...

Enjoy…

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The place was freaking full of flies...

"This place is freaking full of flies."

"Just leave the door cracked a little, they'll fly out eventually."

Sam's voice was soft and gentle.

"But won't that…"

"Dean!"

Whoah, Sam's voice can get from soft and gentle to loud and booming in .5 seconds and it's not a pretty sound.

Dean left the door open a little, just enough for the flies to find their way out. He just hoped that their latest hunt won't leave with the flies too. He had no intention of running down the road with his shotgun in hand, knees deep in mud and screaming 'don't run, you son of a bitch.' Well okay, he was down with the first and the last part, but sinking knee deep into mud…yeah, not so awesome.

And it smelled…

"God, Sammy. It stinks in here. Like," Dean sniffed at the air, "like something died in here."

Sam turned around, making Dean stumble backwards a little, hitting his heel into the open door.

"Someone did die in here, Dean."

"Oh, yeah…duh, I know that." Dean raised his eyebrows and side stepped Sam, walking ahead.

And the floor creaked…

"Does it have to creak like that?"

"Dean, I swear…if you don't shut up, I'll cut you off from your candy." Sam whispered.

"You wouldn't dare…you touch my chocolate and you're a dead man." he pointed his finger at Sam's chest and gave him his death glare.

"'m serious." but Sam matched Dean's death glare with a death glare of his own.

Sam was serious. Dean could tell. Damn it, he couldn't afford to be without chocolate…he would go insane…quickly.

Finding the basement was a piece of cake…or pie, Dean thought as he descended down the stairs…that apple pie he had for lunch…mmmm what a beauty that was. The crust was golden and crunchy and the filling was sweet and so very tasty. He smacked his lips, remembering the sweet apple pie and the waitress that brought it to their table; Lindsay, Linda, Lisa, Theresa, Becky, Clara or something in that neighborhood. Names meant nothing, when there was a big piece of apple pie in front of him and a fork in his hand.

Yummy…

Dean's eyes were roaming through the room, taking in every single detail that made the place what it was...a basement. Shovels, closets, a big working counter, some shelves that were calling out to him, like a burning light does to moths…lure them in and poof, they die…trapped.

"Look Sammy, a cookie jar."

Sam came closer to look at the jar Dean held in his hand.

"Yeah, Dean I don't think those are cookies."

"What're you…" he inspected the jar's content more closely and gagged when he saw that the awesome, big cookies were actually human ears.

"Ewww, man…" he placed the jar back on the shelf and stepped away from it. Slowly.

The light flickered a little, when another fly hit it, when another moth crashed into it…it made a sizzling sound when they hit the bulb, but it made no sound when their little bodies fell to the floor…dead.

"Dean, down!!!"

Dean dropped down, hitting his chest on the cold ground with a whoomph. A shot rang out, going straight through his ears, not stopping even when he put his hand over his ears to make it stop.

Somewhere in the distance, something made a squelching sound, then that turned into no noise at all, then the silence turned into a growl and then that turned into the most disgusting smell Dean has ever smelled. Not even fresh corpses smelled like that; and the comparisment scared the crap out of him…you don't compare any smell to the one of a rotting corpse…it's just…you shouldn't even know how a rotting corpse smells like. Just goes to prove how weird their lives really are.

Freaking weird…

A hand gripped him by his shoulders, hauling him up: "Come on, man. Get up."

Stumbling up to his feet, he gripped Sam's hand and scrunched up his nose, when he stepped closer to the thing lying on the floor. There was nothing left…just some gooey, brownish skin like stuff that was just plain gross.

The smell was probably coming from the green smoke rising up from the pile of…something on the floor.

"Ugh, God it smells…Jesus freaking, disgusting peace of…" he knew once what the thing was called, but for the life of him he couldn't remember it right now. The smell was intoxicating…it made a permanent place in his nose…like so many smells before…Sam's baby powder, Sam's diaper's, Sam's soap, apple pie, Dad's liquor breath, Mom's hair, fresh corpses, dead things, this thing…

He turned around to ask Sam what the thing was called, so that he would be able to at least cuss at it properly, but Sam…

Sam was no where in sight.

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TBC…because the 2nd chapter needs some grammar improvements. But it should be up later this week.