Disclaimer:I own absolutely nothing.
Warnings: None.
Pairings: None.
Spoilers: Minor 2.17 Heart [Based on the fact that Dean and Sam hunted a werewolf when they were kids.]
A/N: Sorry I'm uploading this so late. The internet of the coffee shop I was relying on to post today's drabble decided to spontaneously become incompatible with my computer so this is the first opportunity I've had all day to post.
"A werewolf, Sammy. A werewolf." Dean was bobbing up and down with barely contained excitement. "This hunt cannot get more awesome."
Which is to say, Sam thought it wasn't awesome at all. Sure, this was their first werewolf, but his life's blood wasn't fueled by the hunt and he could spout off twenty things he'd rather be doing right now, namely—school, english term paper, latin translation, soccer, reading, not this, more school. Unfortunately, Dad thought this was a "priceless opportunity for hands-on training" on how to properly, as Dean phrased it, "go Terminator on a werewolf's ass."
So now he's scrunched up in the back of the Impala, staring out the window, waiting for the sun to set so they can grab their shotguns, traipse ten miles into the woods, shoot the bastard, then march back another ten miles. Whoop-de-frickin'-do...
He wanted a book.
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