Here's a little Supernatural stuff for you! It's going to be a three-shot, one chapter in Sam's POV and the other in Dean's. Not really sure when this would take place, but definitely after 2012. I'm also working on a fanfic for Supernatural, but that won't go up for a while.
This three-shot is based off this tumblr prompt by some tumblr user who I'm too lazy to look up, so yeah.
R&rR please!
-Fedora the Slaying Queen
A ringing coming from my phone. That's what gets me to answer his call. Dean had left barely fifteen minutes ago.
A normal conversation. That's what gets me suspicious. Dean normally calls when something's going wrong.
An irregular "I love you, Sammy." That makes me ask what's wrong. Dean laughs it off and promises to see me later.
A click, telling me the call was ended. That makes me pause. Dean gave me the weirdest conversation ever.
A realization. A dash outside. A bubbling fear.
I had moaned in agony, pushing away the book on all things that roamed in the dark. Another book, and still nothing about what we were hunting. Annoyed, I looked around the motel room we had scrounged up. Two beds (one rumpled, one crisp), a tattered rug, and a doorway to the bathroom. A coffee table set up before a TV, plus one couch and a desk in the corner. I was, at this moment, lounging on the olive couch with my research set out on the wooden table. Thick, musty books were haphazardly stacked along the table. A carpet of loose papers covered the low surface. My computer was resting on the couch beside me, and Dean's half-eaten pie rested on one of the books.
I decided to take a break, and got up to wash my face. The bathroom had perky tiles and a dirt-specked mirror. Some kid had stuck a sticker of Clifford the dog on the toilet seat, which was half-faded from time.
Ring ring!
My phone was going off in my pocket, and I quickly scooped it up. DEAN read loud and clear across the screen, appearing with a picture of him from 2012, when we stopped the Mayan apocalypse. Honestly, how many more End Of The World™s did we have to suffer through?
Quickly taking Dean's call, I raised the phone to my ear.
"Dean?"
"Heya, Sammy," he huffed, sounding out of breath.
"Did you find the monster?" I asked, voice rising with excitement as I raced to the coffee table.
"Uh, nah. Sorry Sam." Freezing halfway there, I quickly shoved down my disappointment and sat on the bed.
"It's fine. We still have a few more days to find this thing." When Dean did not reply, I quickly asked, "hey, you okay?"
"Yeah, yeah," Dean brushed off the question and continued on, "hey… you know I love you Sammy?"
An odd thing for Dean to say. He wasn't big on the 'sappy' stuff, like I was. Mr. Sharing-Your-Feelings-Is-Dumb-Sammy. Which forced me to ask, "what's wrong?"
Dean laughed his laugh, deep and throaty. "I'll see you later, Sammy." Click.
I hesitantly pull my phone away from my ear, wondering what the hell that was about. A short yet odd conversation coming from Dean. Dean had never acted so out of character before. I recalled as much of the conversation as I could.
"Did you find the monster?"
"Uh, nah. Sorry, Sam."
"Hey… you know I love you Sammy?"
"What's wrong?"
"I'll see you later."
My eyes snapped wide open, and I sprinted outside, not caring that I wasn't wearing shoes. Oh God, oh God…
Uh, nah. Sorry Sam.
"Dean!" I scream, running through the streets. Where had he been going? What had he been doing?
You know I love you Sammy?
"Dean!" I can't hold back the tears, the desperation in my voice. And there. There he is, wearing his familiar plaid and jeans. There he is, curled against the curb, too much dark dark dark blood pooling around him in the dimming light of sunset. Panic is all I feel as I rush to his side, feeling for a pulse. Just give me a pulse, please, oh God…
I'll see you later, Sammy.