A/N: This is based on a tumblr post I saw. Written in like two minutes. Opinions?
Sam: 12
Dean: 16
Dean smirked as Sam lost rock, paper, scissors. Yet again. It was a new ritual that he'd come up with recently after the arguments over who dug the graves had caused Dad to threaten them with press-ups. Sam was getting tired of the arrangement real fast. It was too bad Dean could anticipate Sam's every move. He was so predictable.
"Better get digging, Sammy." Dean handed his scowling little brother a shovel and was unable to contain the grin that engulfed his face. Grave digging was the worst.
"Jerk." Sam muttered as he pushed himself past Dean to where the violent deceased currently resided.
"Bitch." Dean retorted while switching the safety of his pistol. "You're just pissed because, man, you suck at that game."
"Whatever." Sam rolled his eyes.
A couple of hours later the sun was beginning to show. If Dean had been digging this hunt would have been finished hours ago. But no. Even though Sam had dug the last three graves, his jerk of a brother had to insisted on that stupid game. Now Sam was aching all over and he wouldn't have time to finish his essay which was due in tomorrow. Today Sam mentally corrected himself as he glanced at the sky. Hopefully he wouldn't least have time to clean his sneakers before school. He was teased enough without grave dirt covered shoes. Suddenly he heard his brother shout. "Sammy, watch out!" That was the last thing he remembered before he felt himself fly through the air and it all went dark.
Dean shot the ghost full of rock salt before sprinting towards his fallen brother. 'Come on, Sammy.' was his urgent mantra as he shook Sam desperately. After a frantic couple of minutes, Dean was rewarded with a murmured 'Dean?' He leaned back against the tree Sam had smashed into with a sigh of relief before remembering the ghost was still hanging around like a bad smell. In one fluid motion Dean stood up and grabbed the shovel.
Soon he had dug down to aged wooden coffin which he cracked into with a whack of the shovel. While he watched the remains of Mr Robert Gefferty go up in smoke he swore Sam would never loose rock, paper, scissors again. From now on it would be Dean who would be put in danger.