Word: Dust
Word Count: 100 – On the nose
To Newspaper Taxis – Happy birthday, hope you have a wonderful birthday, hunny. Here's a slice of wounded Dean just for you, with a side of caring Sammy.
Disclaimer: I own nothing – it all belongs to Kripke, but I sure do like playing with his boys!
Battle Scars by Impaladreams
A pain-filled moan escaped his bruised lips.
Bedclothes rustled loudly. "Easy, Dean, it's okay." A click and soft light flooded the room. "Don't move you'll pull your stitches."
"Stitches?" He groaned, carefully cracking an eyelid, blinking blearily, bringing Sam's concerned face into focus.
"Don't remember, huh?"
"Remember putting six rounds into that sonofabitch, then…nothing!"
"It managed a couple of swipes before finally biting the dust."
"Figures…much damage?"
"Put it this way, we'll have somewhere to play tic-tac-toe once it's healed."
"Well, whadayano, Sammy…" Dean slurred weakly, prodding tentatively at his gauze covered abdomen. "Guess every cloud's got its silver lining!"
Ends