Okay, so I wanted to stretch myself a little as an author. So I signed myself up for a writing challenge using a list of 31 spoopy prompts off tumblr. While I didn't write every single day, or follow the prompts exactly, it was still loads of fun and good practice. And I know Halloween is over but as Sam once said, everyday of the Winchester's lives is Halloween so I figure it's ok to post these in Nov.
Title from This is Halloween by Tim Burton
Dean hates being home alone. Home being used as a very loose term, of course. It's not that he's worried something could sneak up on him. He sets salt lines every night. If there is a creature that can get past salt, he's got the sawed off by the bed. If that doesn't kill it, he's got a silver knife under his pillow. And if it can't be repelled by salt, iron, or silver, either he'll kick it's butt with his bare hands or he'll be dead by morning. No, there's not much that scares him anymore. Twenty-three and he's pretty sure he's already seen everything. No, it's not the thought of a ghost, wendigo, or werewolf that keeps him up at night. Literally.
There's just something about being the only one in the room that prevents him from drifting into sleep. He sits on motel bedspreads, ignoring the itch under his skin, and scans through the same dozen television stations at a rate of thirty-six per minute from dusk till dawn, volume turned to maximum. Occasionally, the faceless banging on the wall from the neighbors forces him to lower it. But some nights, there are no neighbors. No one in the room next to him. No one in the room with him. Just Dean Winchester in a motel room with two beds and a tv in the corner.