chapter 7 I doooo believe...

thanks for sticking :)

this one's a little longer.

"SAM!"

"Dean...m'fine! keep her moving!" Sam held his side. There would be one big ole rainbow bruise there tomorow.

If they lived through tonight.

Sam ran back to the ruffled earth and pulled at the gouge he'd already made.

He felt the tip of something cold, solid and smooth and he prayed to god they weren't bones.

A metallic cup soon sat in his fingers, symbols encrusted on the side and what appeared to be some sort of binding symbol on a peice of cloth inside it, the compact dirt keeping them together.

"How dare you touch another's possessions..." The spirit hissed in Sam's ear, the next thing he knew he was forcefully slapped round the face by an inhuman stregth hand and the chalice fell back into it's grave, Sam falling with it.

Dean chose the wrong time to find Sam, he was met with the sight of the witch lifting Sam's head, her hand's holding the back of his neck as he lay motionless.

She was whispering something, it all sounded like a static hiss as she caressed Sam's pale face with a boney finger.

Dean faced Sam's dig site, made sure there was nothing else buried and silently tipped over the salt and doused it in lighter fluid. He made damn sure it was in a puddle of flammable fuel when he lit the match, the strike matching the witches hiss as she turned, dropping Sam and screamed as the flames ate her form away.

Reaching out to Dean a walking fireball she fell and dispersed before she could lay a hand upon him.

Dean shook his head.

"Friggin' legends of friggin' witchy friggin' ghouls..."

Sam mumbled something.

"Sam?" Dean went to stand beside him. "Sammy?"

"I said...s'not a local legend...these things are always...changing their own rules..." Sam opened his eyes and winced.

"You're tellin' me, for once I'd like to keep the witches in Salem and the vamp's in Translvania...and the rest on their own turf. C'mon limb-jockey...let's get you cleaned up."

"'Least I wasn't...short bait..." Sam grinned, a dark patch of blood on his temple.

Dean looked insulted, then confused, he frowned. "You're the...short bait...dead-wood."

End.

wow...thank god it's over, I was like possessed writing this, anything and everything wrong blame the demon- it ain't that clever...