Author's Note: Ahhhhhh the guilt! I have to be the most inconsistent, lazy writer on , and for that I truly apologise! In my weak defense I have spent the past six months living in France for an exchange, and I felt my English would be of no decent standard. However, all poor excuses aside, due to your endless encouragement dear readers, I'm going to get off my ass (well on it, more accurately) and attempt to scribble a few more lines Thank you for all your kind reviews, I surely do not deserve them.
Oh, and on another note, if anyone is interested in continuing this story, considering I clearly do not have the patience or updating skills, I would be more than happy to pass on the torch, as it were. I don't know how to give a story to someone, or even if you can, but let me know I'll give it a try! :D
Eric Gaston choked and spluttered his way to the puke coloured cafeteria doors and heart racing a mile a minute, he pushed his way through. His eyes were accosted by some sort of Jason Bourne action scene, the kind that makes you cling to the edge of your seat. Somehow in the 25 second head start Dean had accumulated due to Eric's lack of running skills and general inability to move with any sort of speed, Sam had been freed from David Cho's death grip. Both Dean and Sam had launched a well-coordinated counterattack, which involved a lot of punching, spinning, cracking of noses and what appeared to Eric as epic ninja moves.
He watched mouth agape, as the bad guys were floored, evil was conquered and the heroes prevailed. In Eric's only semi-conscious mind, the thirty second debacle became an entire film, plot, action and happy conclusion.
It was some moments later, after Dean had checked Sam over for injuries, that the Winchester's attention was finally returned to Eric. Eric was standing stock still, gripping a greasy table for support, completely ashen faced and stunned. Dean and Sam exchanged nervous, shifty looks, afraid that perhaps the young overworked teen had seen too much. The military precision in which the two Winchesters had executed themselves during the fight, was quite clearly beyond the level one might hope to achieve simply by getting into a few scuffles. Dean hoped feverishly that Eric's mind and judgement may be adequately clouded due to the excitement and adrenaline.
Eric took a few deep breaths to try and clear his mind, and steady the dangerously rapid palpitations of his heart. There was something very not right about the situation, but his compromised logic could not seem to place it. Sam and Dean approached him slowly, and nervously, concerned looks on their faces.
"You all right there man?" Dean asked worriedly, "You look as white as a ghost."
Sam shot Dean a reproachful glance, as if Dean had let slip something he shouldn't have. The older Winchester rolled his eyes and mumbled something back at Sam that sounded oddly like "What? It's an expression, Jesus…".
Eric could not seem to make any sense of the situation, nor the nervous conversation that ensued. He did his best to reassure the two brothers that he was totally fine, and why were they worrying about him anyway? Sam was the one who had been hurt…
Same laughed at this observation, and brushed off the severity his painful looking wounds with a reassuring bashful grin.
"I think that's going to be that last time they try to interfere with us" Sam smiled, gesturing to the unconscious lumps on the ground that were Michael, Justin and David.
Eric glanced at the Winchester's victims, and wondered apprehensively if they were badly hurt. The bell signalling the end of lunch time would be ringing soon, and there would surely be more trouble if any of the bullies had actually been injured. He voiced his worries aloud.
"Umm, Guys… What happens if they're really seriously hurt? If they tell a teacher we're screwed…" Eric mumbled nervously, picturing his 5.0 average floating away into an abyss of youth detention centers, and minimum wage jobs. He did not know the punishment for fighting in school, but he imagined the very worst.
Dean waved a slightly bloodied arm dismissively as if Eric's concerns were totally unfounded.
"Don't worry Eric, the worst they can do you for fighting is detention or suspension, if it's a first time offense. Besides, you didn't even touch them, and all Sam did was exercise his right for self defense. Plus, we made sure we didn't hit them too hard, and we avoided the temple, and other sensitive areas. I checked them over a few minutes ago; they'll be right as rain!" Dean grinned jubilantly.
Sam was massaging a sore shoulder and nodding appreciatively at everything Dean had been saying.
Eric looked anxiously at the three still breathing (thank god) lumps on the grimy cafeteria floor, and prayed that Sam and Dean knew what they were talking about. They certainly did seem confident about their convictions, more accurately they seemed to be totally in their element.
Eric took a very deep breath to steady his nerves, and asked the question that had been pressing on him since he'd witnessed the whole shebang.
"So what do we do now?"