Title: Mischief Madness

Disclaimer: I own a whole bunch of merchandise but unfortunately don't own the boys or the show.

Summary: In retrospect, it was probably one of the dumbest things that Sam had ever thought of.

A/N: Yeah, so I'm not dead. Although it seems like that lately. But no, just seriously bogged down with school and work. My Dad passed and I'm having to sort through a whole bunch of crap with the will etc and it's taking up a lot of my time. So please forgive the long time between Infernal Scars and this.

As for what can I say about this? It's a random crack piece that I pulled out of my Incomplete folder and decided to finish for something to post. I suppose it can be seen as a reflection of my own fear of zombies that I'm broadcasting through Dean lol.

I'm kind of working on a short weird little sequel thing to Catevari. I'll see how that develops. At the moment it's only a paragraph or so sitting on my hard drive.

Anyways enough of my babbling, here's the story, and I hope you enjoy it :)

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In retrospect, it was probably one of the dumbest things that Sam had ever thought of. After all, both he and his father knew that Dean was terrified of zombies, even if he would never admit it under pain of death. And not the re-incarnated talking still has half-a-brain zombies, oh no, more the Romero re-animated flesh eating, corpse zombies.

Dean went through a silent stage of being scared of them at night around the time he was seventeen. He would start sleeping with his Bowie knife under his pillow and a loaded gun in arms reach. His Dad had assured him that even if those types of zombies were real, which they were so not, just like vampires John always said, that the Winchester clan had enough fire power and such to hold them off. However none of his Dad's assurances had really worked, especially seeing as Dean was pretty sure that if there was some kind of zombie outbreak, then the whole world was fucked, no ifs or buts about it.

Because seriously, Dean had watched every zombie movie he'd been able to get his hands on, trying to kick his 'irrational' fear, but all that has succeeded in was burning the images of gaunt rabid beasts chewing on live people into his brain. Sam didn't help with it either, saying things like, 'You know how zombies are made from humans? Humans don't have sharp teeth Dean, so they'd have to grab a chuck of flesh and bite down hard until it burst open under the pressure.' the little shit! Saying things like that when it was night time and Dean was trying to freakin' sleep!

So yes, Dean Fucking Winchester was afraid of zombies. Therefore one of the dumbest things Sam ever did was dress up like a zombie (but dude, the make up and fake blood these days was the shit. He almost scarred himself looking in the mirror!) while their Dad was out on a hunt, and it was just him and Dean alone, trapped in the two bedroom rented apartment John has left them in.

In Sam's defense, Dean deserved it. Their three month on going prank war was really starting wear thin. Seriously, who put Nair in shampoo?! His brother was such a jerk, and it was time he got his pay back. So Sam being the evil, conniving, little shit that he was, took the time to plan out his attack.

He got the makeup he would need to make himself look like a full blown creature of the dead, hell even whitted out eye contacts! He got Dean to rent all the zombie movies they could get their hands on under the guise of research, to get his bother in that fucked up headspace he got in to when he would watch them. The one where he would start planning escape routes, hideouts, food and water situations, ammo in case of a zombie plague.

Then when the time was right he pulled his prank. Yeah Sam really should have seen it coming.

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Dean was asleep, sprawled all over his bed and drooling on his pillow, when something woke him. He wasn't sure what it was so he laid there for a few seconds, keeping his breathing even and sharpening his hearing for any noises out of the unusual. He didn't hear anything for awhile and was about to go back to sleep when he heard it. A low, gurgling growl.

His eyes sprung open in shock and he reached slowly under his pillow for his knife, then quickly rolled over and sat up. There at the far side of the bedroom, only just illuminated by the thin stream of moonlight coming through the curtains, stood a fucking zombie!

His breathing hitched and he could feel his blood pressure and heart rate shoot up from nothing to adrenaline-filled-panic so fast he was vaguely surprised he didn't have a heart attack.

The thing made another sick sounding snarling noise and then moved forward a step so its face was illuminated in the moonlight. There with a vicious bite mark to the neck, blood covered mouth, pale grey skin and dead eyes, was his baby brother Sam! Dean's heart skipped a beat and he made a noise that sounded like a choked off sob. Flashes of multiple zombies from the movies he had watched a few hours before, flashed through his mind and his body started shaking.

The zombie snarled, then with the speed of those fuckers from Dawn of the Dead (the remake) ran across the room, arms out in front of it, straight for him. Dean won't admit it and he knows Sam will never talk because of the death threat over his head for this, but Dean actually pissed himself. He didn't even register it before the zombie was on him, snapping and making these noises that hurt Dean's ears.

His training kicked in and he grabbed it around the throat, pushed its head up so it's mouth was away from him and it wouldn't be able to bite him.

For fucks sake this was his little brother! And who knew how fast this thing is spreading! His Dad was out there! What if it gad gotten John too and Dean was the only one left?! Fuck!

He pushed his knee into the thing's chest and flung it off him where it landed on the ground with a thud. But the fucker moved fast and he knew it was going to be back at him in the blink of an eye, unless he could stop it. So with lightening quick movements, Dean reached into the bedside table's draw and pulled out his .45. He pointed it at the zombie. His eyes stung and were blurry with tears as he watched it get to his feet, more slowly than he thought it would, seeing how it was almost acting as if its in pain, when Dean knew it was not because it was fucking dead damn it! He chalked it up to adrenaline and panic running through his veins and putting everything in slow motion.

The thing looked at him and opened it mouth, then threw its arms up in front of it, and Dean knew that was it. He was going to have to shoot now because the fucker was about to charge him again. His finger squeezed the trigger just as he heared his brother's voice choke out a desperate 'Dean', and he tried to pull the shot wide but it still hits. Luckily not the head shot he was going for.

The thing cried out in pain and it's in that split instant when Dean realized that it's not a thing. It was Sam. His stupid fucking kid brother, and if he hadn't already killed him, he was damn well going to now for pulling a stunt like that!

Dean dropped the gun like it had burnt his hand and rushed to crouch to where Sam was holding onto his shoulder; blood seeping between his fingers. And all Dean can do is stare and then swear and yell and scream and cry.

But Sam was okay, the bullet wasn't going to kill him. Doesn't mean Dean won't, but he still drives his brother to the hospital. Oh fuck Dad was so going to kill him.

--

Hours later John barged into the ER like a Momma bear after her cub, and saw his oldest sitting in the waiting room, so pale he was almost transparent and shaking like a fucking leaf. He stared into the bloodshot wild eyes and then had to grab Dean, wrap him up in a hug because his son, his baby boy was crying and not breathing, then breathing too much and almost passing out in John's arms while he recounted what had happened in between his sobs. Well if John hadn't put a stop to those fucking prank wars then he was defiantly going to now!

Sam left the hospital two days later, arm in a sling but otherwise fine. Dean had hardly spoken in days since telling John what had happened, and John is fucking furious. He tore Sam a new one because exploiting Dean's fear like that was just weak and cruel and what the hell was he thinking?! He also banned Dean from watching any more zombie movies ever again damn it!

Sam for his own part was apologetic to his brother, he had never meant it to end up like that. It took a bit for Dean to get over the shock of shooting his brother and the hurt that Sam would use his fear against him like that, but after a week Dean could look Sam in the eye again and started to be himself again. His first act as newly recovered Dean; he broke Sam's nose with a well placed punch. Hell it was worth cleaning the weapons twice over. Served the littler fucker right.

Because in retrospect Sam should have fucking known better. Besides, Dean knew Sam's fear of clowns and now his little brother was going to get it big time.

Paybacks a bitch.

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Okay, that's it. Hope it wasn't too dreadful to sit through. Please let me know what you think and I'll keep you guys updated via my profile as to what's going on with my other fics.

Mishka xXx