Author's Note: This is a CW Drabble Challenge, run by Pandorathexplora and Witchcraft13. The challenge word was "crave".

Disclaimer: If anything it's Supernatural that owns me, I frequently feel possessed. Maybe I should start charging rent?

For Whom the Bell Tolls

Dean lay coughing on the rough, dusty floorplanks, head spinning from the last blow, and knew that he wouldn't be able to get up in time to save himself.

The ghost that haunted the old belfry knew this as well and took its time in getting closer, relishing the moment it would satisfy its craving for blood.

My life is B, Dean bitterly decided. Always bleeding, bound, blinded, bruised, beaten, bitten, breaking, branded… And that was when he was saved by the bell, the source of the ghost's power, as it fell from its rotted rope and ended the ghost's unlife.

Dean shook his head in disbelief and sighed, sarcastically asking the world in general: "Oh, we have moved into C, have we? Saved by a cliché".