Hello everyone! I know, I just can't help myself! This idea sprang up in my brain and took off! This was written in about fifteen minutes so I apologize ahead of time if it sucks :) Feel free to drop me a line with your thoughts on this one, it will help decide for me if another chapter is worth doing. Thanks to any who read and I hope you will enjoy!
Of course I do not own anything even vaguely related to Supernatural but I do like to have fun at the boys' expense! :)
Great, now Sam is gonna be pissed. Perfect. Nothing I'd rather hear more than a good I told you so speech from the queen of drama herself. Ah well, maybe he'll still be passed out by the time I get back. But even if he's not he should just chillax, I told him I felt fine and I do. He's the one all sniffly and shit. I sure the hell wouldn't have been able to sleep with all the racket and grossness that has been spewing out of his nose all night. No thanks. He's the one that's sick, not me.
Sure, maybe I had a little headache and not much to eat but is that a fricken crime now? I don't give him the gears when he picks at that stupid rabbit food of his. He always has to be so melodramatic. 'Let's rest for tonight'; 'You don't look good.'; 'I think you're catching whatever I have; 'You can't go after it alone, you need back up.'; 'We go together or not at all.' Blah. Blah. Blah.
But, come on man, what the hell was I supposed to do? Just wait around while some poor sap gets chopped up because Sam might think I'm catching a damn cold or some shit? Nah, ain't gonna happen.
I mean it's not like I haven't gone after a stupid ghost by myself before. Sam was gone for a couple years. So what the hell is the big deal anyway? This was a textbook job. Dig up grave. Pour salt and lighter fluid into grave. Ignite match. Throw match. Bu-bye to evil son of a bitch. Been there, done that.
Okay, so maybe I'll give Sam that it didn't go quite as smooth as it could have but that ain't because of a little, itty bitty headache. That is what one would call the curse of the Winchester. Just par for the friggin course. But still, here I am, mission accomplished. The son of a bitch is dead and at the end of the day that's all that really matters. One more fugly put back where they belong and some other average Joe gets to keep on breathing. Not bad for a couple hours work I say.
And really, what are a couple of bruises and a knock to the head in the scheme of things? Job hazard. It's not weird, or unusual, it just is what it is. It's kinda like the law right? Sam will see, no need to worry, big brother has triumphantly thwarted evil for the good of mankind once again; and I have the battle scars to prove it. Okay, less babbling and more leaving the scene of the crime dude.
I can make it back no problem. Sore muscles and aching head aside I came out of this pretty good. Plus, sleeping beauty back at the motel won't have to worry about trudging out here tomorrow to help. Now he can get the rest he needs and so can I, knowing the job is done.
Alright my beautiful baby, let's get out on the open road and check on Samantha. Hopefully he will still be out of it and I can save being on the receiving end of one of his famous lectures, complete with dramatic eye roll. Well, at least until the morning.
Okay, maybe that isn't so good. Two lanes on a one way highway? Alright, fine, I'll pull over but just for a minute until my head clears. Damn headache. Damn eyeballs. There, safe and sound. Huh, maybe that undead bitch wore me out a bit but that's okay, she won't be filleting anyone else so I still win. I'll just shut my eyes for a minute, wait until this damn throbbing in my head cuts me some damn slack!
Damn it, I hate when Sam is right.
TBC? Will probably be a two or three chapter story, I have too many other on the go to make this one tooooo long and drawn out. Reviews would be awesome! Thanks for stopping by!