Author's Note: Written for the E/O Challenge. The word to include was "shoulder".

Disclaimer: Not mine, but this is my way of rubbing shoulders with famous people

Word Count: 100 in each

Warning: The first one happens in In My Time of Dying, the first episode in season two, the other two are just possible scenarios that might at some point have happened.

Happy Birthday 88Ivories! You asked for angst, which I'm really bad at, but I gave it a shot. So here's yours. I hope it's dark enough to, er, lift your spirits!

Pluck out mine eyes

John had shouldered horrible things in his life, but three weighed unbearably on him. The first was the war; shredded bodies and screams of terror haunted his dreams still, as did the knowledge that he'd participated. The second was the impossible sight of Mary, dead and suspended on the ceiling. But this third triumphed them both – Dean, pale as death and a machine away. He looked at his eldest and remembered the first time he held him. I'd die for you, he'd thought. He'd considered the words a cliché, but now he knew he'd meant them. That was some comfort.

Happy birthday Kiwiplasj! You asked for "drabbles where Dean gets a pet". Well, the word get can mean both receive and become. So I took some liberties and there are two for you. Take your pick:-)

Pretty little chick

Dean was eleven, way too old for a babysitter, which he had pointed out. But dad had left them at the Sorensen's farm anyway. Still, he took advantage of the opportunity to leave Sammy with Mrs. Sorensen and roam around alone for a change. He shouldered into the chicken coop, intending to tease the hens. But they were disappointingly complacent and instead he fell asleep in the hay… to be awakened by insistent chirping. Five downy chicks were nipping at his hair. He tentatively reached for one, and, since he was alone, he softly cooed and marvelled at its silkiness.

It's a dog's life

"I've always wanted a dog", Sam dreamily stated and swayed. Drugged and concussed, Dean judged. But at least he held the key to the chain around Dean's neck. Which probably looked like a dog-collar to his dim brother. It took all of Dean's patience to keep to his voice gentle; "Come here, and we'll get you one." "Really?" Sam asked hopefully and ambled forward, absentmindedly clutching the key. "Sure", Dean promised. One of those dogs that look like they're wearing clown wigs, he thought darkly and roped Sam in by his shoulder, snatching the key from his grasp. Some rescue!

I hope you liked at least one of them.