Sam leaned against the car with the end of the pen against his lips. He'd been staring at the journal page for about ten minutes while Dean packed up their gear. He was at a loss for words what to put down for this hunt.
He turned to his brother. Only true desperation driving him to look to Dean for answers.
"What the hell was that thing?"
Dean gave a small shrug. He finished the task of oiling the small sword he'd used to kill the thing, sliding it back into it's sheath on the lid of the weapon hatch.
"I dunno," he ventured, "Some kind of wing-a-ling dragon?"
"Wing-a-ling dragon, Dean?"
His brother shrugged again, shutting the trunk and heading toward the driver door. Sam slid into the passenger seat and buckled in, balancing the journal on his knees.
"Could have been some kind of tulpa." He reasoned. It sounded better than Dean's answer, anyway. He wrote it down as a possibility. "It looked like a badly drawn-- I mean, it had an -arm- coming out of it's neck!"
Dean looked over at his brother, his face painted with that long-suffering expression he sometimes wore when Sammy was thinking about things too much. He couldn't keep a hold on it, though, his mouth splitting into a grin.
"Dude, I don't care! I just killed a freakin' DRAGON!"
And the TROGDOR comes in the NIIIIIIGHT!!
For those of you who have never heard of Trogdor: http://www. homestarrunner. com/sbemail58. html (remove spaces)