I'm attempting a Supernatural fic this time…I apologize to anyone if I totally butcher it; this one has a bit of a different tactic, so I'm hoping I can actually pull it off. I don't own Sam or Dean; they are entirely the WB/CW's (God that sounded so wrong!), so no one sue me. Please.
Hellhound
He was running through the field as fast as he could, but it wasn't fast enough; the damn hellhound was catching up, and he would have to stop to make a stand eventually. He looked around, scouting for the most advantageous spot. At least his attempt to draw the thing away from Sam had worked; maybe geek boy would show up at the last second to save his ass. Probably not. He hoped not; hellhounds were a bitch to kill, and if he got himself killed, it was all over for Sammy. He crested a hill, and crouched behind a tree, praying to whatever god was listening that the hound would miss him. And it did. He breathed a sigh of relief while he checked to make sure his gun was loaded. It was. Now all he had to do was aim and – Damn it! What was Sam doing here? He was going to get himself killed! He left his hiding place, making as much noise as he could, trying to catch the hellhound's attention before it noticed Sam. "Hey, ugly!" The beast turned its massive head towards him. "Yeah, I'm talking to you!" With its shaggy coat, glowing red eyes, and the fact that its size alone put a Great Dane to shame, the hellhound could, hell, probably had, scared even the bravest guy to death. But Dean wasn't the bravest guy; he was just an average guy who did this kind of thing for a living. And if he didn't watch out, the thing he was hunting was going to eat his little brother for breakfast. Literally. He ran towards the hellhound, squeezing off rounds at it as he went. He wasn't expecting to hit it, not while running, but maybe he would actually manage to tag it, which would make his life easier when he actually reached it. But no dice.
When he reached it, the damn thing launched itself at him, simultaneously knocking him over and knocking the gun out of his hand. It landed just out of reach. Damn. He got the wind knocked out of him, and with the hellhound's huge paws on his chest, it was kind of difficult to breathe. "Dude, you need to get a breath mint, or use Listerine, or something, 'cause your breath reeks!" Unfortunately, the beast was not amused, as it began to dig its claws into him, eliciting a groan from him as it did so.
"DEAN!" He turned his head to see Sam, standing not ten feet from him. What was he, stupid? "Sam, I've got this! Get the hell away!" Unfortunately, the hellhound chose that exact moment to dig its claws further into his chest, trying to tear him open more than he already was, which didn't help his case at all. But Sam did back up a little bit, if only to try to get a better angle to shoot it. Dean swore, and groped around on the ground, trying to reach his gun and failing. The hound decided at that moment that he was no longer a threat, and removed its paws from his chest to launch itself at Sam. It landed on him, knocking him over as it had Dean. Dean watched in horror as it began to slash at Sam with its claws, drawing blood and creating huge gashes in his flesh. "NO!" yelled Dean, getting to his feet as fast as his injuries would let him and grabbing his gun in the process. Sam began to scream, a death-scream that chilled Dean's blood. "You BASTARD! Get the hell away from my brother!" Dean yelled, emptying the chamber of his gun into the hellhound. It collapsed, bleeding from numerous holes. As Dean ran over to his brother's body, the hellhound caught on fire, and within seconds was nothing but ash. Dean knelt beside his brother, taking in the huge gashes across his torso and the puddle of blood he lay in. His own injuries were forgotten as he cradled his dead brother in his arms and wept, screaming in frustration at the unfair world he lived in. How could this have happened? He was supposed to be the one lying dead here, not Sammy. He was supposed to protect him, and he had failed.