E/O Challenge

Word: hold

Count: 100

A/n: For IheartSam7!! Happy Birthday!! Love you!

Summary: In the mood for some hurt Sam? Then start reading!

The Major Gash

Sam squeezed his hands tighter onto the edge of the rock. He could already feel the blood seeping out of his skin. Another pair of hands grabbed onto him and pulled him up from the ledge.

"Dude, major gash." Dean winced gruffly.

Sam nodded miserably as he ripped a part of his shirt off and wrapped it around his bloody hands.

He tried to walk the best he could but his feet sank into the mud.

"Hold on to my waist. The Impala's not that far away."

"Ow." Sam moaned.

"Yeah I know. I'll fix you up at the motel."


E/O Challenge

Word: Hold

Count: 100

A/N: For The Tribble Master! Happy Birthday!

Summary: In the mood for an oddly drunk Castiel? Then enjoy! Warning!! Takes place during Abandon all hope, MINOR SPOILERS if you havent seen the episode!!

Frying Pan

The turning point of this 'last night on earth' was watching Castiel drink shots. So far he had drunken six and Dean waited anxiously as Ellen poured him six more, and then six more after that. At the eighteenth shot he smacked down the class and hiccupped.

He hiccupped some more and he continually did for a few more hours.

"So this…is what's happens when angels get drunk?"


"Hold me back; he's annoying."


"C'mon! His last night on earth he gets to be hit over the head with a frying pan!"

"Dean, no."

Dean muttered something; Castiel hiccupped.


E/O Challenge

Word: Hold

Count: 126

A/N: Happy Birthday SidJack!!

Summary: If your in the mood for two sick Winchesters then keep on reading! Both boys are sick with the stomach virus.


Dean curled to his side as his stomach ached. Sam gagged from the bathroom and flushed the toilet.

"You suck." Sam stated and wiped his teary eyes.

Dean moaned, "Wasn't my fault you caught it."

"Should of got separate rooms." Sam eased himself onto his bed and took a small sip of water.

"Shut it. Lemme sleep."

A flap of wings was heard and Castiel appeared, "You are both ill, correct?"

Dean stared at him with tired eyes.

"I brought-" He fumbled with his trench coat, "Bobby wanted me to bring you ginger ale, and some sort of pink goop." Castiel waved the Pepto-Bismol.

"Thanks Cas." Dean let a small grin appear over his pale face.

Sam nodded and then retreated back to the bathroom.