Sounds Like Shadows
Well, here it is. Thank you for all the encouraging reviews and thank you to the kind person who told me I had anonymous reviews blocked. I'm sorry if it caused problems for anyone else.
Sam helped Dean to lean against the side of the car. It had been a slow painful process to get back to the road. Dean's leg was almost completely useless and grabbing him around the waist had been awkward thanks to the gashes in his side. Sam had yet to see to see the full extent of the damage, but he knew it was ugly. Add to that his own skewered shoulder and the matching claw marks across their backs and offering any sort of support had been difficult.
Still, they had managed through worse.
Sam opened the door and tried to brush the glass out of the seat. Thanks to the surprise trip through the barn wall, Sam's ribs protested as he leaned into the car, but he ignored it. There was nothing he could do about it at the moment.
He got as much glass as he could out of the seat and then stood to help Dean. His brother was exhausted and leaned heavily on him as they moved. Dean was lucky the woman hadn't hit an artery in his leg. She'd done quite enough damage as it was though. How they were supposed to explain this to a doctor, he had no idea. You just didn't get claw marks like that from anything that lived in the Midwest.
Dean sat down heavily and Sam had to help him turn and get his feet into the car.
"Gun," Dean mumbled. "Need my shotgun."
"It's after sunrise," Sam said, leaning down so he was at eye level with his brother. "You don't need it."
Dean started to struggle to get back out of the car and Sam physically held him down.
"All right, all right. I'll get it," Sam sighed. "But if we get stopped, you're going to be the one explaining it to the cops."
Dean grinned, letting his head fall back against the seat. "Tiger hunting."
"I'm sure they'll love that explanation," Sam rolled his eyes. He got Dean's preferred sawed-off shotgun out of the trunk. Sam grimaced at the size of the dent seen in the daylight and quickly decided not to remind Dean of the damage. Instead, Sam got into the driver's seat and handed the shotgun to his brother.
Dean set it in his lap and sighed as if a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He patted it like a long lost friend and closed his eyes.
"Less thinking. More driving."
Sam smiled and started the car, which immediately roared to life. He pulled out onto the road and the air coming through the open windshield was bracing to say the least. He had to drive one handed. His injured shoulder just wouldn't comply with the need to steer.
They would have to come back later and see what they could do about the couple. The woman's body had been dumped down a well, she said. That was going to be a pain to take care of, but they'd worry about that after the doctor and some rest.
"Hey," Dean said, clearing his throat nervously. "What she said about Jess…"
"It's all right, Dean," Sam said simply and meant it. "She… she just surprised me is all." It was like an old wound. Normally, he could deal with it, but she had snuck up on him and gone for the throat. But he knew Jess. The ghost didn't. It was as easy as that.
"I think I just swallowed a bug."
Sam had to laugh, ignoring his bruised ribs. "We'll get the windshield fixed."
"That chick tried to total my car just because she and her husband were fighting about who wore the pants in the family," Dean huffed. "Where's a marriage counselor when you need one?"
Sam surreptitiously looked at his brother, remembering what he'd said in the barn. It might have just been a flippant remark, but with Dean you never knew. "You ever think about getting married?" Sam asked.
Dean half turned his head to look at him, still leaning back against the headrest. "I'm going to need some flowers if that's a proposal. I like petunias."
"Can you be serious?" Sam asked, trying to read the suddenly blank expression on Dean's face.
"What do you want me to say? That I want a nice, cozy house out in the country? Fat, happy kids and a dog named Chester? A wife who'll ask me how my day was, kiss me when it's bad and promise she'll make it all better?"
Sam hardly dared to look at his brother. "Yeah," he said. "Something like that."
"Dreams are dreams, Sammy," Dean said tiredly. "Chester will just have to wait."
"Wait for what?"
His brother didn't answer and Sam knew well enough not to push. Sometimes there were no answers.
Dean cleared his throat. "So where were we before this trip turned into freak-show central?
"Fine," Dean sighed and shifted in the seat to make himself more comfortable. "New round. MacGyver vs. Indiana Jones."
There you have it… As promised, all done before I had to go out of town. Hope it gave you a little chuckle if nothing else. While I'm gone, I'll try to write something new and cross my fingers that you'll like it…