Okay so… Pretty much I don't deserve a single word of praise from you lovely people who continue to say nice things despite my terrible updating skills. I know this is unjustifiably short, but I figured I owed you guys at least a tidbit :)
Discalimer: If I owned Sam, Dean and/or the impala, I would be out hunting ghosts, not writing stories ;) Enough said.
As soon as Eric had launched his chocolaty attack on his adversaries he made a mad dive for the safety of the table. Without looking back he crawled hastily over banana peels and around peanut shells (he was allergic), and forced himself through a narrow gap between two benches at the other end. Egged on by the sound of yells and punches behind him, he sprinted for the cafeteria door that led to the playing fields. A quick glance at the scene behind him, showed that while Sam could certainly hold his own, parrying blows with skillful movement, this fight could not end well for anyone. Eric knew he must find Dean, and quickly. Without further ado he burst through the doors and raced for the sun-lit bleachers at the other end of the field, running faster than he ever had in his life. Coach Wilcox would have been proud, Eric supposed.
Dean Winchester had always had a certain fondness for bleachers. They provided cover in otherwise open fields, and faculty either had no idea what the students chose to use them for or they just didn't care. In any case Dean appreciated said bleachers very much. At this particular moment his new favorite cheerleader Stacey was just demonstrating one of her most acrobatic cheer moves, when Dean spied a scrawny kid flailing madly across the field, shouting his name and attempting not to trip over his feet. Dean's immediate thought was that it was Sam and he was running away from some evil spirit. But Sam could always book it real quick under pressure, and the kid was too damn proud to run from a ghost all the while shouting his big brother's name.
Dean sadly had to classify the panicked shouts erupting from the kids mouth as the sound one makes in an emergency. He excused himself from Stacey's cheer show, and ran to meet the screaming boy. Eating up the distance quickly, he was surprised to see Eric Gaston practically barfing up his organs trying to reach Dean as fast as possible.
"Woah there, I mean I'm all for you trying to practice your sports, but maybe you should take things a little slower." Dean joked, but then his voice turned serious. "Eric, what's going on?"
Eric gasped, his knees were shaking and his heart seemed to have transformed in to a giant beating drum, pounding even louder than coach Wilcox could shout, a seemingly impossible feat.
"Dean," he panted, "Sam and I were in the cafeteria, and Dean, I think he's in trouble. There were three of them and they were real big, Dean…"
Eric's words were barely intelligible but Dean only heard three; Sam, trouble and cafeteria. Without looking back or asking for any more information Dean booked it for the school doors.
In the distance he heard Eric wheezing, trying to keep up and make sure his only two friends were okay, but Dean was too focused to pay him any attention. He covered the distance in a record amount of time, and barreled through the sturdy doors as always, ready for anything.