So I just found other documents from this series of drabbles in my computer. I'm not even in the fandom anymore, but thought I should share. Set freestanding somewhere in the earlier seasons (remember when everything was so simple?)
poltroon \pol-TROON\, noun:
1. A wretched coward; craven.
adjective:
1. Marked by utter cowardice
"Dammit, took him long enough!" Dean muttered as he dusted himself off.
They had been hunting a restless spirit that was racking up a death toll of unfortunate night guards patrolling the library. It had ended up being Edward Bismarck, a bartender, who had been stabbed to death four months ago. It had been in the alley shared between the Devil's Tongue bar, where he tended bar, and the city's library. Upon leaving after a shift, the twenty-five year old was jumped and mugged. Bismarck ended up being stabbed to death when he fought back; left dying in the alleyway. The night security found him minutes after he died, and also never found his killers. As a ghost he had redirected his anger on the guards, or any other poor schmuck in the area at 2am for that matter, as opposed to the vagrants who had murdered him. Dean thought the ghost was an idiotic child; Sam thought he was misdirected. Typical Sam. The ghost had gone down, but not before attempting to kill a library assistant that was reordering shelves. The spirit had been purified moments before attempting to shank Dean and the rumpled librarian.
The librarian ogled at him, eyes round and frightened as he peeked out from behind a book cart. Dean rolled his eyes. "I'm not going to hurt you, the ghost is already gone."
At Dean's voice, the librarian shrank down more, as if he was folding into himself. Dean rolled his eyes again and made a move towards the frightened man. The librarian scooted backwards into a shelf, wincing at the pain at the collision. When Dean continued to approach, the man raised his hands to his face, and cowered. Dean reached to comfort the stranger, but at his flinch, Dean turned towards the door.
"Stop being such a coward! The danger is gone. You're welcome for me saving your life!" Dean exclaimed as he started to leave.
"Wait," a meek voice called. Dean turned and stared at the librarian, finally getting a good look at the man he had just saved. He had big brown eyes were now red and puffy; his face was long and drawn. His chest was heaving and he struggle to get to his feet. He was rather short and scrawny, with a tousled mop of blond hair on his head. He wore a pair of rumpled black slacks, and a white button down shirt. Dean pegged him at twenty, tops.
"What do you want, kid?" Dean asked, impatient. He had never been very good with dealing with the people afterwards; that was Sam's forte.
The boy stuttered for a moment before settling with, "Thanks."
Dean shrugged, "Don't mention it. And I mean it too; because if you do, then they'll lock you up for the rest of your life."
The kid nodded, surveyed the books strewn about from he ghost's struggle, and said, "I'll clean up the mess and pretend nothing happened."
"Smart idea, kid," Dean said as he turned on his heels towards the doors.
"Charley."
"Pardon?" Dean asked as he once again stopped and faced the young man.
"My name. It's Charley; not 'kid'," the man- Charley- said.
"That's nice, I'm leaving. Now go live an apple pie life, with 2.5 kids. And always, always, check under the bed for monsters." Dean said as he left to get his brother from the cemetery.
Just because he saved people for a "living" didn't mean he had to be nice about it; mind you, Sam would obviously disagree.
