Disclaimer: Still don't own supernatural but I'll keep you posted if that changes
Author Note: Sorry for this travesty of a chapter but I realized how fanfiction neglecting I was so I quickly wrote this, so sorry for the update wait if anyone is still sticking with the fanfiction, or welcome new readers, I promise to update regularly as a personal near Christmas present to you ^^ Anyway, yes, travesty of a chapter that is unchecked, unedited, unbeta'd and un-second-read.
The lights in the witches house were out for the night. The family had evidently retired to a soundless and dark sleep. Dark being the operative word for Dean, the cover of night always lending him a helping hand during breaking and entering's.
The front door of the house had been almost pathetically easy to unlock to Dean but he prepared himself with his gun in front of him nonetheless. Knowing witches something was almost definitely going to jump out and knowing witches it would be disgusting and would probably leave a stink that was stick to Dean for a least a week.
Dean navigated easily up the dark stairs and down the hallway stopping at the first door on the left. It creaked slightly as Dean nudged it with his foot after turning the doorknob, gun at the ready. The room was almost completely dark, a little blue nightlight lit the room up in a creepy blue hue but the blue hue seemed to lull a young boy of about nine years old into a deep sleep. Amy's nine year old brother Jude was snuggled tight into blue blankets that matched the colour of his nightlight, Dean breathed a sigh of relief before slowing and quietly closing the door again, breathing another sigh of relief when he couldn't hear the kid stir from within his room.
On the other side of the hall was a door nearly identical to that of the one that Dean had just entered except for the multi-coloured lettering spelling Amy on the door at eye level. Dean rolled his eyes at himself before slowly turning the doorknob, gun more at the ready now that he knew he was actually about to be in the presence of a witch.
"Oh God please don't let there be anything gooey," Dean whispered to himself as the door swung slowly open.
A body that had to be Amy the small, teenage witch lay in the bed and the room – unlike that of her brothers – was utterly dark and devoid of a nightlight. Dean stepped quietly, making sure to lessen the impact of the sound of his footfall on the carpet, over towards the bed. His gun aimed perfectly at Amy, distrust and stress keeping his trigger finger at the get go to fire at a teenage girl if need be.
"Saoire dom fein," screeched a voice as the door bangs shut loudly behind Dean.
The screeching was unbearable and Dean drops to his knees, hands swooping up to cover his ears. The screeching continues and it so piercing that it seems to interfere with Dean's vision. He looks up in the direction of the screeching, to the door where he just entered.
Amy's stuck to the door, feet off the floor, screeching her head off. There's obviously no wind in the room but the witches hair is wind swept and blowing furiously around her head. Her eyes lock onto Deans and the screeching stops along with the gush of wind in the windless bedroom. The room is silent, the world seems to have stopped. And then theres's music. It's as if Dean ears are radio speakers making pop music flow smoothly into his brain. Not music Dean likes at all and it hurts just as much as the screeching, and not just because its pop music.
So Dean does the only thing he can think of, he struggles to his feet and walks over to the witch standing next to the door. Dean's gun handle hits the witch and she falls down unconsciously.
"That was easy," Dean mutters as he bends over and picks up the limp, unconscious form of the witch, "Sonuvabitch, you're way to heavy."
"Oh good, you've got her," Dean swung around at the monotone sound of Castiel's voice.
"Cas, what? Why are you here?"
"I was making sure you had the witch," Castiel said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
"You're kidding, right? You know what, never mind. Let's just, I dunno take the girl to the Impala –"
"What are you doing with my daughter? Eric!" screams the chubby woman Dean recognises at Amy's mother.
A large, bald man runs into the small bedroom to see Dean with a gun holding his dead to the world teenage daughter over his shoulder. He instinctively lunges at Dean.
"Whoa, whoa! It's not what it looks like. Hey! Oh come on. Oof! This isn't fair, you're like the size of a whale!" Dean yells while avoiding the cat like lunges of the large man while balancing a gun and a witch. "Cas!" he calls before noticing the distinct absence of a certain angel, "dammit Cas, you coward!"
Dean manages to slip out of the bedroom door away from a wailing mother and bombarding father and trips running down the stairs, almost falling over and breaking someone's neck – either his or Amy but definitely almost someone's.
As Dean runs crashing out of the front door he hears the familiar click of loading a shotgun behind him. The bang of the shotguns echoes and he sees it bust a hole in the side of a silver ford in the drive way of Amy's house. Dean runs, ducking, to the Impala.
Dean throws the witch into the passenger seat as he slides quickly into the driver's seat. He fumbles with the car keys before sticking them into the ignition, he can see the father running with an aimed shotgun at him.
"Come on, Come on!" the ignition starts, "Yes!"
The car zooms off as another shot fires off, the Impala swerves as Dean flinches before it turns speeding around a corner.
"That was close," says the familiar voice from the backseat
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