I'm horrible...I realised that ages ago...I haven't updated in two months...so I wrote this in hopes of updating...
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The darkness engulfed them both and Dean heard a slight splash come from the tub and goosebumps appeared on his right arm. "Sammy?" Dean called, his voice trembling slightly.
There was no reply.
Dean reached forward to his brother, reached out to grab hold of him, to at least know he was there and too scared to speak, at least know that he could get rid of whatever it was and protect his brother. But all Dean grabbed at was air and in a rush, that air attacked him and flung him against the bathroom wall.
"Sammy!" Dean cried in a weak voice as he slid to the bathroom fall, pain shooting throughout his body. "Sammy!" he called out in a stronger voice.
Still there was no reply and Dean could feel his stomach tightening, close to giving him a cramp. He pointed his gun in front of him and pushed himself awkwardly up, almost slipping in the bathtub. He managed to stagger out of the bathtub, gun still pointed forwards.
"Sammy!" he tried again, his voice louder than before. He heard a muffled cry from behind the bathroom door. He couldn't make out who or what had made the sound or even what had been said, yet he stepped cautiously forward, one hand pointing the gun, the other feeling for the exit. Once he caught hold of the handle he turned it slowly, gun poised at the opening of the door as a precaution. He swung the door open but only found himself meeting darkness.
Suddenly, he was blown back and smashed into the back wall of the bathroom, where he slipped down to the tiled floor, feeling numb all over. He felt something warm trickle down the back of his neck and didn't even bother to reach his hand out of confirm if it was blood or not. All he knew was that his little brother was nowhere to be seen and it was all his fault. He felt like a failure...
...and so this was the punishment that he deserved...
A moment later, he zoned back in, having dazed out and here was when he smelt it. Foul. Something so awful-so foul that it smelt like dead, rotting carcasses. Dean barely managed to cough as he choked on the heavy smell. He suddenly realised that the smell was becoming stronger which only meant one thing. The thing was coming closer to him.
Dean attempted to move his arm, but even his finger wouldn't twitch.
'I'm paralysed!' his voice screamed in his head. 'I'm paralysed and I'm going to die! I'm going to die and I couldn't save Sammy! I couldn't save him!' Dean's voice screamed silently as he desperately tried to move even just a finger. Yet, he knew now was the end. He shut his eyes tight, waiting for death...
...a gunshot.
...he heard a gunshot instead.
Even with his eyes closed, he could tell the lights had come back on.
"Dean! What the hell are you doing?" shouted a familiar voice.
Dean winced at the sound of anger in his father's voice. He opened his eyes slowly to meet his dad's furious face. He noted that he still held the smoking gun, meaning he had been the one who had shot the...
...he glanced down at the dead, rotting human corpse on the floor and wrinkled his nose in disgust. A zombie? He was losing against a pathetic zombie? But that couldn't be it...there was something else that had interfered with the electricity...something else that had knocked him against the wall...
"Dean!" John's angry voice interrupted him in his thoughts. "That was utterly pathetic! You can't even defeat a zombie? What is wrong with you? Even poltergeist are harder than zombies! Are you telling me that you don't want to fight anymore? You want to wait 'til you're older and less pathetic to fight? Is that what you want Dean? Because if it isn't, it sure as hell looks like it."
Dean hated it when his dad lectured him. He hated to disappoint his dad and receive those harsh lectures. "I'm sorry...I just didn't know what to do...I kind of freaked and because-(Dean hated admitting his weaknesses) because of that I was sort of paralysed in fear and I-"
"You DIDN'T know what to do?" John repeated in an exasperated tone, throwing his hands up in the air. "What have I been teaching you all this time Dean? What have I..." John froze in mid-sentence. He put his hands back down and looked around the bathroom.
Watching him with a puzzled look, Dean raised an eyebrow, wondering what his dad was looking for.
"Dean...where's Sam?"
In a flash, Dean was at his feet and dashing out of the bathroom, trying to ignore the flickering of the bathroom light and the racing of his heart.
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Apologies...please review...
