WOW: tilt. I know the request was for fainting, unconscious Sam, but my mind just wouldn't go that way, sorry! Hope this will do for mainegirlwrites' birthday!
Word count: 100
Summary: When putting Sam and Dean into TV shows didn't work, the Trickster moved on to the classics.
I own nothing of Supernatural and make no profit from my stories.
"Dean's a donkey." Sam's voice is low and furious.
"Well, I've always considered him more of an ass, but potato, tomato."
"Turn him back."
"Sorry," the Trickster grins unrepentantly. "Not until you've learned your lesson."
Dean brays long and loud, green eyes staring death from beneath long, floppy ears.
"What lesson are you trying to teach us now?" Sam translates, somewhat inaccurately.
"You're a smart boy. You tell me."
Sam's astride a horse so thin its rib bones are poking his knees. He's holding a lance. "Accept our destiny and stop tilting at windmills?"
"Got it in one, Sam Quixote."