Obsidian ~ Raise A Little Hell
The Road So Far:
Dean have had an uneasy feeling in his guts ever since he had driven away from the cabin. The uneasy feeling became gut-wrenching as he walked along the isles in the mini mart and his thoughts flickered towards the cabin and Sam every couple of minutes.
He had planned to go into some shops to get the human another set of clothes ... but he decided to leave it be and just get the damn food and head back to the cabin.
Sure, the hunter had seemed "normal". Normal under those circumstances ... But then again, he was a hunter after all ... Might as well he had planned something AGAIN. Though he wouldn't be so stupid to try to flee through the woods. Specially where he had warned him not to do just that ...
Bad things crawled their way into Dean's mind and he floored the gas-pedal. If that damn bastard was going to kill himself, he needed to find another one of Azazel's children and start from the very beginning ... What meant he needed more time. Time that he didn't have – didn't want to waste.
Chapter 7 ~ Between Poison And Death
Dean Winchester brought his black beauty to a hold in front of the lone house in the woods he recently called his home. The Impala's tires screeched at the sudden rough use of the pedal.
The car's engine hadn't even died yet, when Dean was already out of the car and on his way up the stairs and onto the porch.
The demon needed a whole lot of self-control to not wrench the front-door open brutally,
since he didn't want to sound or act worried … or terrified. Dean didn't call for the hunter, nor did he run through the small house like the freaking out man he was right now. Instead he moved with predator-like precision through the three lonely rooms of the cabin.
Sam Campbell was gone …
„Damn it.", he hissed angrily. „Freakin' hunters!" And with that he was out of the house, down the porch and following a trail of cracked branches and stomped on grass. NOW it was time to freak out – not that he was actually worried (no way). The only thing he was worried about was himself (at least he was telling this himself).
He haven't had to go far – and he knew it. It was just a couple of hundreds of yards into the woods …
The spell had a death-point of about a mile. Though the spell wouldn't allow someone to even come close to this border of definite death. It was more of a way to stop someone and putting him out cold before he'd reach that point anyway.
Dean Winchester wasn't a murderer (he always tried not to be, but sometimes he just couldn't help himself).
Dean kneeled down beside the male human on the ground and put his fingers on the man's neck to feel for his pulse. As awaited, he hadn't even come near the spell's border– though the hunter had managed to come pretty close to it.
„I'm so gonna cuff you to that damn freakin' bed again, idiot.", Dean grumbled as he rolled the tall man on his back, spotting instantly the trail of blood from Sam's nostrils down over his tender-looking lips and chin.
He sure wasn't someone who gave up easily.
There was no response, nor a wink. The hunter was out cold … stupid son of a bitch. Dean should've known that he wouldn't accept his captivity that easy. It had just looked too good to be true. On the other hand: NOW the hunter knew that he wouldn't get far and what price he had to pay for his disobedience.
Carrying the damn man back to the cabin hadn't been that easy on Dean as it probably should. Sure he was a demon and damn strong … but carrying that guy through that part of the woods hadn't been fun at all. The hunter was heavy and lanky, with damn freaking tentacle-arms and legs.
Eventually they came back to the cabin. Dean Winchester dumped the hunter on the bed. Pissed as he was, he stomped out of the room without checking on him. It served him right. He had warned him, hadn't he?
BUT NO … Sam Campbell had to try his luck like a fucking kid that was forbidden to go for the damn cookies!
Dean slammed the door shut as he emerged from the bedroom and then when he stepped outside on the porch, he pulled the front-door close with no lesser force.
When he got closer to the car, the paper-bags got into his line of vision and he cursed again. Angrily he yanked the passenger's door open and got the bags, which he carried into the kitchen and dumped them there, just to head back out again – without useless freight.
He needed a bar and a bottle of whiskey. He needed angry sex with some blonde or brunette with giant boobs somewhere in a dark alley …
He hadn't have sex with a blonde or brunette with giant boobs. He have had angry rough sex with a twenty-four year old, tall boy with shaggy brown hair and big brown eyes – after they had emptied about a whole bottle of whiskey.
Dean didn't even think about the similarities in between this man (what was his name? Stan? Sonny? Sean?) and the hunter.
After their intermezzo behind the bar, they went back inside, emptied half another bottle of booze together and because Dean Winchester wasn't an ass at all, he dropped the drunken guy at his appartement in the middle of town, before he headed back to the cabin.
It was some time around three a.m. when he closed the front-door of the small house behind him and switched on the light. The fire in the fire-place had died already and it was chilly in the house. Though he couldn't be bothered to mind.
Dean gathered his last unused shirt from his duffel and his last jeans and boxers. He then headed into the bathroom. While he passed the bed, he grazed the hunter with a short glance – who was still in the same position he had laid him down earlier
After a hot shower and getting into fresh clothes, Dean checked on the hunter's pulse. It was fast, but regular. His breaths were a bit labored, but other than that okay.
The demon then headed into the kitchen, got a bottle of water and headed back into the bedroom.
„Hey!", he called out, while he approached the bed. „Campbell!"
There wasn't more than a groan. „Knucklehead! Wake up." It was definitely an order and not a plea.
Again a low groan instead of spoken words.
Annoyed, the demon dumped the bottle on Sam's stomach, who instantly opened his eyes and sucked in a deep breath. And oh god, how bad he wished he wouldn't have woken up. His head and chest were killing him. What the hell had ridden him to go on after he had proofed to himself that there truly was a spell that bound him to that damn place …
„You need to drink.", Dean said matter-of-factly. His eyes were of a cold green and the lines of his lines hard. There wasn't even a spark of kindness in them.
Sam sat up awkwardly and reached up to his head, drawing his fingers through his long hair.
„What was that shit even about? - I figured we had a deal?", the demon asked, his words sounded annoyed and pissed at the same time.
„You had a deal. - I didn't have a say in that.", Sam muttered. „So I try whatever I can to get away, before you're doing a ritual that could possibly harm innocents."
Dean Winchester huffed out a breath and shook his head in disbelieve. „Just one week, man. ONE damn week and you're outa here. - Might as well do yourself a favor and don't try any shit again."
„Can't promise anything, daddy.", Sam muttered absently, before he sat up and slid with his long legs out of the bed.
Three days down, four to go …
There was no way in hell, Sam'd let the demon do the ritual – no matter under what costs. The past couple of days he had tried to stab, exorcise and overpower the demon.
But he had always failed. Without his demon-killing-knife and a book about knights of hell he was definitely screwed. Screwed, like literally screwed. He had no idea how to get the situation under control, nor how to deal with all that shit.
Even when the demon would truly let him go … what was he supposed to do then? The ritual would've been done by then …
Somehow the demon must've known about Sam's intentions, because when the hunter tried to look for pills, the knife or event he ropes, he didn't find anything. Dean Winchester had hidden all these things from him, so he wouldn't try to attempt suicide.
Dean knew the hunter would try everything to stop him. He had thought about telling the man about his intentions and the ritual. But then again … why should he believe him? He'd think was a liar like all the other demons. He'd get even more suspicious and wouldn't want to make the ritual even more.
Dean had Sam cuffed to a hook he had anchored beside the couch in the wooden floor with a long chain, which allowed the man to change his position a bit while he watched TV or something. There was another hook beside the kitchen-table, and one beside the bed now.
The demon didn't take any chances on Sam to get lucky and get the drop on him or take himself out. Not now, where the new moon was just four days away …
He wasn't stupid. At least not THAT stupid. Why would the human not see that he'd be out of here in less than a week?
Maybe Sam hadn't that much of a say in what was going to happen … he finally had to admit that to himself, hadn't he?
Maybe he had to see, that there was no way to keep the demon from doing the ritual. But he sure as hell would try everything to reverse it afterwards … IF he was going to survive …
He was wondering why the demon hadn't just cuffed him somewhere in the house, got him three meals a day and waited for the new moon. Nope. Instead the monster seemed to try to make it comfortable for him – at least somehow. Dean had gotten him a pair of jeans, a new hoodie and three boxers. There were now shoes and socks too.
How the hell did the demon even get his size right? … And why the hell did he feel bad about trying to get away and screw up the ritual, when the demon didn't even TRY to hurt him in any way possible?
Sam hadn't even said thank you … for the things.
And he didn't have to, had he? The guy held him imprisoned to do a got-knew-what-ritual in about four days … There had to be a hitch in this whole thing … There was no way the demon did it because of the bottom of his heart.
Now he sat here, on the other end of the couch, staring at the screen … watching Bones … While the demon was admiring doctor Temperance Brennan, Sam checked out Agent Seeley Booth.
His trip through the woods three days ago had drained him … as if the spell had sucked all energy from his system. Sam still felt tired and exhausted and prefered to sleep (except when he tried to get a drop on the demon). Now that he was cuffed to the hooks everywhere they were, he had time to sleep.
Dean stole a glance at the human hunter, who sat curled up at the couch, his head resting on the backrest of it and his eyes were mere slits through which a slim line of hazel was visible.
He had never noticed before, how vulnerable the man could look like. Dressed in those loosen clothes, with flushed cheeks and half asleep … Something inside the demon called to him. To get a taste about how this skin would feel like under his finger-tips … How Sam Campbell would have reacted to him if he'd been human and if they'd met under normal circumstances.
He stole another glance at the hunter, his green eyes narrowing. Somehow he felt sorry about holding the man captured … but it was for everyone's good, wasn't it?
Later that evening and while Sam slept, the Demon busied himself in the kitchen. For once they shouldn't eat any shit out of cans. He had bought noodles and chopped tomatoes (okay, they were in cans), to get a Pasta Bolognese done.
Half through roasting the meat, he noticed, that he had none of the herbs he'd need. Only salt and pepper and something that was called lemongrass …
Though in the end it didn't taste THAT bad and it was something different as soup … and peaches.
Dean went over to the couch and released the cuffs from the hook. He then tugged on the chain to wake the hunter up.
Sam's eyes blinked open at the tug on his wrist.
„Dinner's ready, Sammy.", Dean said with a wide grin. He knew how much the hunter hated it to be called like that …
„Don't smell anything burnt … you sure you're done, Dean-o?", the hunter gave back groggily and let his head roll back to face the demon. His gaze got immediately caught in the man's deep green sparkling eyes.
Dean tore his gaze away from the hunter and tugged on the chain again. „You hungry or not?", he asked grumpily, his grin fading.
Sam groaned and sat up on the couch. He then looked towards the table where he saw two plates with something red and steaming on them … and if he wasn't completely wrong it smelled like pasta …
The Campbell followed the demon towards the table and sat down on the chair beside which the hook was.
Dean locked the cuffs again and then took his seat opposite of the hunter.
Sam eyed his own plate first and then the demon's. Dean had chopped the spaghettis on Sam's plate and there was a spoon. Dean's noodles on the other hand were whole and he didn't just have a spoon, he also had a fork …
Sam grumbled something. He took the spoon and started to mix the red meat-sauce with the noodles.
Dean eyed him curiously, while he twisted his fork in the noodles. „Dude. - Don't poke around in it … It's FOOD and already dead."
Sam glanced up through his long bangs and scooped up a spoon full. „Wasn't entirely sure about that ...", he gave back. „Where did you get the meat from?"
A sly grin formed on the demon's face as he stuffed the first fork full of noodles into his mouth. „Was hunting.", he answered with his mouth full of noodles.
„WHAT were you hunting?", Sam asked curiously and eyed the noodles and tiny bits of meat in the tomato-sauce.
Dean's eyes narrowed. „Found no rabbit, so I got us two snakes ..." He eyed the hunter warily, awaiting the plate flying towards him the very next moment.
Against the demon's awaiting, Sam just shrugged and put the spoon in his mouth. Okay … it didn't really taste any different from what he had awaited. At least not because of the meat anyway. He have had worse than snake …
Dean shrugged then too and concentrated back on his own plate.
When they were done, their plates were scraped clean and their glasses with orange juice were empty. Sam leaned back in the chair and laid his hand on his full belly, rubbing over it in content. That was definitely the best meal the demon had been capable of cooking since … well, ever since he tried himself as cook. At least Sam figured.
„Wasn't that bad ...", Sam admitted silently.
Rather surprised, Dean cocked both eyebrows. „Not THAT BAD? Man, it was fantastic. Amazing. Awesome."
„In your dreams, douchebag.", Sam gave back. „It ain't that bad because I hadn't have something warm in my stomach that didn't taste like shit ever since you kidnapped me from the hospital."
Dean chuckled. „Yeah? Is that so? You'd be dead if I wouldn't have kidnapped you from the damn hospital, hunter." He obviously was offended. „I saved your sorry ass back there!"
Sam looked down, his features changing drastically in a way Dean hadn't seen on the man before … it made him feel … sorry?
„I didn't ask you to save me.", Sam muttered barely hearable. There was something honest and utterly sad in his voice, what the demon couldn't place just then.
Dean Winchester frowned as he grabbed their plates and headed towards the sink. It nearly sounded as if … „Were you counting on not surviving this?"
Sam didn't look up, nor gave an answer right away. „None of your business.", he muttered after a very long while.
The hunter hadn't been counting on surviving his injuries … and though he had sought help in a hospital … humans were definitely weird and hard to understand.
„Bathroom?", Sam asked out loud, when the demon put the glass aside.
The Winchester gave him a sharp nod. „Sure."
He walked over to the hunter, who still couldn't meet his gaze and bowed down, uncuffing him from the hook. Sam waited for the man to rise and go with him (as it had been since the new cuffs had come up). But Dean didn't move. He just stood there and stared at the hunter confused.
„What're you waitin' for?"
Sam rose and shuffled towards the bedroom. „Good night …?"
Dean followed the man with his gaze until he disappeared behind the door and sighed heavily. Maybe there was a lot more about the hunter than just a handsome body and amazingly shining hazel-eyes …
Sam didn't try anything until the day of the ritual. It kind of seemed as if he was resigning to whatever would come. He accepted to be cuffed to wherever he sat. He didn't try anything to open the cuffs, or leave the cabin. The hunter didn't even try to overpower the demon in any way anymore …
All in all, it felt pretty comfortable as it was at the moment.
It was the day of the new moon, when Sam woke and was unbound. No cuffs. Not even a single one on either his wrists or ankles …
He could try to come up with some PLAN … but he didn't want to. Tonight would be the ritual and he'd do it for the demon's sake. Then it'd be over … Not that it had been THAT bad with the demon anyways. Actually – besides their bickering which was kind of amusing at times – it wasn't what he had thought it would be.
There had been no blood, no pain … no torture … (except at the beginning and the frist try of Sam to screw things up).
If the man would kill him it'd be okay … if not … well … then he high likely would get a chance to set things right.
Sam lay in bed for a long time this morning, before he went into the bathroom to take his – high likely – last shower. When he got out of the stall, he snatched two of the big towels from the recliner and wrapped one of them around his waist before he dried his hair off.
When he came out – in just the towel around his waist – there was the demon, standing in the door of the bedroom. He leaned in the door frame, his arms crossed in front of his chest, his bow legs casually lingering over another. He wore a serious expression on his face as he took in the half-naked hunter from tip to toe.
Sam stopped in his tracks and frowned at the man with rosen eyebrows, awaiting him to say something. But he didn't. Dean stood just there and took him in, as if he was thinking about eating him … or at least taking a bite …
„Like what you see?", Sam asked with a challenging glint in his eyes.
A range of emotions crossed the demon's face, before his lips curled up in a cocky way. „Sure. - We'd still have time for a lill' sex-session ...", he gave back slyly. „Sammy."
Sam huffed out a laugh and threw his head back. Dean couldn't do anything else but look at him.
„Dream on." The hunter paused, gaining his composure back, „And it's SAM for fuck's sake." He glared at the man.
„Well … at the moment you're lookin' more like a Sammy to me, kiddo." The demon's lips curled further up and morphed into a grin.
„Fuck you too." Sam glared a bit more, before he turned towards the bed.
„I'd like to. - It's you who doesn't want to."
„Bite me.", The hunter hissed annoyed. Sam felt heat crawl up his face.
„If you want me to ...", Dean offered, amused that the hunter was so easy to tease.
„Shut up."
„You started it – now I can't stop.", Dean bit down on his lower lip, watching the muscles in Sam's back flex under tanned skin, as he reached for his hoodie on the bed.
„Would you just ..." Sam pulled it on and turned half around. „... give me some privacy for fuck's sake?"
Dean tilted his head to the side as if he was considering it and pursed his lips. „Nah – the view's pretty good from here … besides, I've seen your ass already and I gotta say:-"
Sam glared at him again. „Shut up!"
With a low chuckle, the demon turned around. „Fine … I'm backing off ..." He made an attempt to leave the room but stopped again. „Ya know? .. We could have some real angry hunter-demon sex when the ritual's done ..."
„Not ever.", Sam huffed out, as he worked on it to get into his boxers without dropping the towel.
Dean glanced back over his shoulder and snapped with his fingers. And the towel slid to the ground, revealing two globes of firm muscles and strong thighs.
Sam yelped and hurried up to get the boxers up the rest of his lean body.
There was the light sound of chuckling and footfalls that disappeared from the bedroom immediately after.
„You ASS!", Sam yelled furiously after him.
While Dean had breakfast, Sam stayed in the room. When lunch was ready and the demon called for him, Sam wasn't hungry.
The hunter also skipped lunch and coffee … He didn't even come out to watch some TV …
Sure, Dean had checked on him, so that he wouldn't have a chance to do something stupid, that could possibly screw up his plan.
Sam had been lying on the bed all damn day, sulking and obviously aware of the upcoming new moon …
Dean felt himself tempted to tell the hunter. But if he'd tell him now and when the ritual would be done, he wasn'T sure if Sam Campbell wouldn't still want to kill him. And Dean Winchester in his human form was way more vulnerable than Dean Winchester as a demon.
So he planned on sticking to his plan.
The hunter would have to get into town, call one of his hunter-friends and just then he'd come back here. What would buy Dean a couple of hours and distance between himself and Samuel Campbell.
They'd never see each other again after this ritual.
A fact, which made the demon a bit sad. Somehow the sasquatch had grown on him … or maybe he was just overreacting and he had gotten used to have someone around …
Either way. Tonight was the night and after that everything would change.
The night had broken over the land, when Dean Winchester threw another couple of logs into the fire. He had shoved the couch, the coffee table and the chairs aside to have enough space on the wooden floor. The demon had drawn a sigil with white chalk on the dark wood. It had the shape of the Jing Jang symbol. The both dots were bigger and were sigils on their own. One of them symbolising the darkness within the light and the other one the light within the darkness.
There was the same brassbowl they had used for the cleaning-ritual, filled with other herbs.
Dean hesitated for a moment before he knocked on the bedroom's door and entered uninvited. He lurked inside – more hesitantly than anything else and looked around the dark room. Instantly his gaze got glued to the figure on the bed.
„It's time, hunter.", he said calmly.
The form on the bed shifted and moved.
„We better get goin'.", he added.
Now the figure rose and walked towards him. A pair desperate looking hazel-eyes met his emerald-green ones. Sam looked nervous and anxious and more like a regular civilian than the hunter he was.
Dean led him towards the sigil on the floor and pointed at the dot on the other side of the circle. With his other hand he pulled out a piece of paper and thrusted it into the hunter's hand.
„Yours.", he said.
Sam looked at the man. The demon sounded at least as nervous as he himself about this. Maybe he didn't want to do this … „We don't have to do this, Dean.", Sam spoke up assuring.
Dean huffed out a nervous breath. „I've been waiting for this night longer than you can think, hunter. I won't stop NOW." With that he gave him a careful shove towards the dot that was meant for the hunter. „And now sit down."
Sam sighed heavily and did as he was told.
Dean took his place on the other side in the circle, sitting down in the other spot and pulled another sheet of paper out of his pocket.
Now the brass bowl was in between the both of them. They sat opposite of each other.
Sam eyed the spell on his sheet curiously, while Dean laid a dagger to his left and his zippo to his right on the wooden floor.
„How's it gonna work?", Sam's voice broke. He sounded raw and nervous, his hands shook.
„Easy and fast.", Dean answered, keeping his cool facade up. „We say our spells together. When this is done, we're going to cut each other, smear the blood on the paper and put it in the bowl. Then I will burn the ingredients and it's done."
Sam eyed the man curiously. „How will you know if it worked?"
Dean shrugged. „I guess we'll see."
„What if it doesn't work?", Sam kept on asking.
Dean glared at him as if he had said something real bad. „Then it's your fault and I'm gonna bury you behind the house and leave you to be eaten up by worms, hunter.", he answered clinically, as if there wasn't any other option.
Sam drew his lower lip up over his upper one and thought for a moment.
„No matter if it works or not ...", Dean started then, „you're allowed to go when we're done."
Sam's eyes narrowed. „You're going to pick someone else like me, won't you?"
The demon shrugged again. „High likely."
„I won't let you.", the hunter said in a warning tone.
Dean chuckled. „Cute." He huffed out a breath. „It wasn't that bad with me, was it?"
„You damn nearly broke my jaw, asshole!", Sam blurted out.
„And you DAMN NEARLY broke my junk, bigfoot!", Dean shouted angrily. His eyes flashed black in the very moment, as his features changed into something damn well lethal. As fast as it had come it was over again and he cleared his throat. „Lets just get over with it and go separate ways."
Sam gave him a short, surprised nod. „Fine." Actually he had thought the guy was ripping his lungs out at the very moment.
„Fine."
The both of them said their latin spells together. Sam's eyes narrowed and his eyebrows furrowed more and more the further he read the words out loud.
This wasn't like any spell he had ever seen. While he didn't quite understand the demon's mumbled words, he couldn't tell what HIS part was about. Just that he would give something to the darkest of souls willingly …
Dean cut his palm first and then did Sam – with the same dagger. They smeared their blood on the papers and laid them into the bowl.
The demon then sat the ingredients on fire.
Both were waiting and staring into the bluish flames, as the herbs and papers flared up into ashes.
For a moment happened nothing. But then, there was a small pulsating blue-white light raising slowly from the ashes of the bowl.
Dean smiled. A honest to god smile. His eyes were bright, like those of a child in front of the christmas tree. For the first time he felt something like warmth and hope and LIFE deep inside him.
Sam stared at the glowing thing curiously and then he tore his gaze towards the demon. His frown deepened, when he saw the child-like expression on his face …
This didn't seem like something earth shattering dangerous … not at all …
Suddenly the blue gleaming ball burst like a rainbow bubble … and Dean Winchesters face fell. The spark in his eyes vanished in the very second and if Sam Campbell wasn't completely mistaken, there were tears shining in the demon's eyes.
For a moment neither of them was able to say a single word.
Sam opened his mouth to ask what this was … but shut it again, as he watched Dean wipe over his face and then his eyes to cover the evidence of honest tears on his face.
„You can go ...", Dean muttered devastated. „You're off the hook, hunter ..."
Sam frowned. His look darted from the bowl to Dean and back at the bowl, just to return to Dean.
„You … honestly?" The hunter didn't know what to think, nor what to say. He actually had awaited that the demon would put him down as soon as the ritual was over. No matter about the outcome … „But ..."
„It didn't work, Sam." Dean didn't look up. He just kneeled there, his shoulders slumped and his head bowed forward. „It's over."
The hunter swallowed thickly. For a long moment he was tempted to stay and get to the bottom of this. A part of him wanted to know how it was possible, that a demon – a freaking demon – could act that emotional …
He wanted to ask Dean Winchester if he was okay … if he needed something. But he cursed at himself, when he reminded himself that this man was a demon. A freaking demon with blood on his hands (at least he thought so).
Sam couldn't tell why his hands were shaking and his knees buckling, as he rose from the floor. He looked at the front-door and back at the hunter … „I … it's just … the spell?"
Dean stole a glance at the younger man and nodded. He looked lost. The demon looked lost and shattered to the core. An expression, Sam had just seen on the faces of victims so far …
The demon cleared his throat. „Yeah well … about that ...", he started. The man sounded broken and all his cockiness gone all of a sudden. It was as if Sam could see streight into his soul … into his heart … and it was so much more human-like as he could've ever imagined.
He felt sorry for the demon …
Suspicion rose in the hunter's guts right then. He had known that something was off about that … The demon didn't want him to leave, did he?
„The spell, Dean.", Sam said. He failed to hide his confusion.
„You mind ..." Now Dean looked up, straight into the hunter's eyes. „... It's gonna take some time with the spell … and … maybe … If it's okay … can we do this tomorrow?"
Sam was utterly confused by now. The way the man looked at him. Broken and pleading as if someone had killed his puppy. Those big green eyes, huge and … damn it, that guy looked straight out vulnerable. Hell if he wanted he surely could tie the guy down right there and he wouldn't even be bothered …
„Okay ...", Sam swallowed again and made a step back. This was beyond weird. The air felt palpable with the demon's emotions. All thick and heavy and as if someone had just died. „... you promise?"
It wasn't like he truly trusted a demon on his word. Neither did he expect the man to answer honestly. Though he needed some kind of reasurance that he was a free man …
„Promise." Dean looked back down into his lap. His hands wringing. „I'm gonna take the bedroom tonight ..."
Sam just nodded. Too stunned about the recent situation to even think about of saying no. After all this was the demon's house …
It was in the middle of the night when it happened.
It had started off as a low rumble somewhere from the outside … slowly growing in intensity and noise. First off, Sam hadn't realized what was going on outside and around the cabin.
Just when the couch on which he had fallen asleep started to shake .
Before he even opened his eyes, his forehead creased. The second thing he senses was the noise … like a storm or something …
Just when curiosity overtook him, his eyes flew open.
That was about the moment, the bedroom-door flew open and a furious, black-eyed Dean Winchester appeared.
„We gotta get outa here!", Dean yelled and tossed a pair of boots towards the couch, where Sam was already sitting upright and staring out of the window.
„What the hell's that?!", he yelled towards the demon.
„Get in your boots. We gotta run!", was all Dean had to say, before he hurried towards the front-door and ripped it open.
…... to be continued
I suppose this story is crap and I think you're right …
actually I'm stuck a bit …
call it a writer's block … or the knowing about having failed of making up a prompt-story …
i got 9 chapters done by now which I'm going to post ...