Disclaimer: Yeah, though I walk through the darkness of the confusion of the mind I shall fear no mix up as to what is mine. These guys aren't. Yet the DVDs and the convention ticket comfort me.
Author's Note: HAPPY BIRTHDAY Anjelicious and Nana56! May your well-considered wishes be fulfilled:-)
Challenge: Anjelicious wished for weechesters and Nana56 for Hurt!Dean and Caring!Sam. The words were "time" and "glimmer". Then there was the third week and that word was "ankle". Since I have been away on vacation I am squashing it up a little, turning all three into one story, but both the wishes are in there. I hope you like it because I didn't keep the receipt.
Word count: 100 for each word in each paragraph, you won't find me cheating:-) (I cover my tracks too well)
A Midnight Walk
Dean had lost track of time as he trudged after the hunter along the silent, moon-dappled road. Every now and then he would look up at his little brother, hanging limply across the man's shoulder. Sound asleep. He didn't know this hunter or the one behind. It had been tough to be brave and not cry, but if he had shown reluctance to go with them Sammy would have kicked up a fuss too. He almost had anyway, but when Dean had taken his hand he had come quietly, walking until he dropped. Dean wished it wouldn't hurt to walk.
When Dean looked up next he felt the air freeze in his lungs because the stranger was nowhere in sight. He had thought all his energy spent, but with Sammy gone he found that the body holds a fresh supply for emergencies. It filled him now, making him suddenly believe he could run all night, searching, calling… Then a hand on his shoulder steered him off the road onto a dark, near-invisible path. He caught a glimmer ahead and between him and it the hunter with his sleeping burden. Despite the pain, fueled by relief, he sprinted to catch up.
The light turned out to be a cabin and Dean promptly fell asleep too. But by dawn he woke up whimpering as Sam touched the swollen ankle that he had been stubbornly walking on. Sam's earsplitting scream of sympathy awoke the room's other occupant – John – who tumbled to the floor, gun aiming at the doorway before catching up. Then he fetched a packet of ice, handed it to Sam along sleepy instructions, and squeezed onto the bed with his sons. And Dean, relieved of responsibility, fell asleep on his father's arm with Sam cooing and doctoring, applying ice and comfort.