In celebration of the return of Supernatural this week (it good a good rating YAY) and the grand opening of deandamage(dot)com I have decided to write my first whump story. Who better to whump than poor Dean?
Note: Dont own, never will. Please dont sue, I dont think I could handle prison.
It was dark; Dean could barely see around him. His flashlight died long ago. He should really check the batteries more often, but now was not the time to let his guard down. Something was out there moving and he needed to keep agile.
"Hey, come and get me you son of a bitch." Dean screamed as he kept his focus and scanned the area around him.
All he heard was a bang and he fell quickly to the ground. He was just shot… Really?? Again?? Rock salt…. God that burns… Since when do spirits have rock salt…? OH DAMN IT!
"Sammie……. YOU SHOT ME!" Dean yelled again.
"Dean, is that really you?" A quiet voice asked from a few yards away.
"Yes it's me, you really need to stop shooting me, it hurts like effing hell." Dean says while holding his shoulder. Why always the shoulder?
"My flashlight quit working and I thought I was seeing things. You know how it is?" Sam replies while coming towards the fallen Dean with an embarrassed look on his face.
"Yeah, it is perfectly okay to shoot your brother. I certainly understand." Dean says through clenched teeth. "Salt does not go good in wounds".
"Believe me I know." Sam says evilly as he aims the gun at Dean again. Quickly shooting him in the leg.
"Owww. Dammit!" Dean screams yet again as he aims and fires his own gun at Sam as the spirit transforms and scatters from the salt flying through the air. Dean grabs his phone out of his pocket and dials Sam's number quickly.
"Dean?" The real Sam asks concern evident in his voice.
"Sammie, would you salt and burn the corpse already. The damn thing shot me." The fallen brother answers trying to hide the pain.
"Wait it shot you? How the hell did it shoot you?" Sam asked in amusement.
"Ummmm with a gun you smart ass." Dean snidely replies.
"Yeah, I got that Dean. Since when do spirits carry guns?" Sam asked clearly baffled about the turn of events.
"He was pretending to be you, don't ask me how!" Dean yells his leg now numb from the pain. "Just get the job done already. I can not effing move my leg!"
"Just did Dean, I'm on my way…. You sure you are alright?" The floppy haired of the two asked while running into the forest to the left of the cemetery.
"NO IM NOT ALRIGHT! My head is starting to feel kinda heavy. I think I'm gonna lay down for a while Sammie." The older brother says into the phone, laying his head down unto the hard ground and closing his eyes. Silently willing the numbness to go away. To at least feel something. Fell nothing was never a good sign.
"DEAN, don't pass out. I'm running as fast as I can… Can you tell me where you are?" The youngest of the two asked.
"Trees… lots and lots of trees Sammie." Dean replies, his voice growing softer and softer.
"Dean, we are in a forest of course there are trees. Anything distinguishing? I'm kinda at a stand still here?" Sam says trying to keep up the banter so Dean would stay with him. They should have never split up in the first place. After a few short moments there was still no reply
"DEAN…. STAY WITH ME!" Sam again yelled hoping to get his brothers attention.
"Hehe, wondered if that would get ya…" The voice on the other end of the line said. His voice was getting softer but he seemed to have a hint of laughter in it. Dean at least seemed to be in decent spirits.
"DON'T YOU EVER DO THAT AGAIN YOU ASS!" Sam yelled into the receiver his own laughter taking hold over the anger. As he wiped the sweat off his brow and looked around again as his surroundings. Noticing a dark figure on the ground ahead of him lit up by the pale moonlight overhead. Racing over he stops quickly and leans down to check vitals and wounds.
"Are you in much pain?" He asked checking for all possible problems before giving a huff and picking up his brother's dead weight. Receiving no answer from Dean at all.
"Dean it was kinda funny the first time, it is not funny anymore!" Sam says to the body in his arms. Again receiving no answer.
Sammie sees how pale Dean's face really is as Dean huffs out a small answer.
"Not funny at all really." Dean manages to get out.
Sam takes off running the way he came which was quite a site to see with a body as big as his snuggled like a lost puppy in his arms. Eventually getting out of the evil horde of trees and into the ever welcoming graveyard. Irony in its best.
Dropping Dean off in the passenger seat, he would make fun of Dean later for getting to drive his baby. Starting up the Impala and pushing petal to the metal towards the nearest hospital.
Dean awakes with a start, now in a familiar bed. His arm and leg ache all over but he is pretty sure he is flying high on some good pain meds, for one thing the hospital bracelet and paper gown are long gone and have been replaced with Mickey Mouse pajamas.
"Mickey Mouse… Really Sam?" Dean yells at his sleeping brother. Watching as Sam startles awake and falls right out of bed.
"They were on sale in the gift shop; I couldn't exactly sneak you out in bloody clothes." Sam smiles back.
"You just wait till it is your turn, how do you feel about Dora the Explorer?"