A 3 x100 word triabble by Amberdreams, Dizzo and Edina Clouds (not necessarily in that order)

E/O Challenge word = kick: triabble word = black

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Blinded by the light

Two weaving flashlight beams sliced through the soupy blackness as the brothers ventured deep into the coiling depths of the long-abandoned mine, their breaths echoing through the damp, swirling vapor which permeated the narrow shaft, resonating softly against a backbeat of work-boots kicking through decades of scattered rockfall.

"Just for once, I wish we could hunt something that haunts five star hotels," grumbled Dean, cursing quietly as he turned his ankle on an unseen boulder.

Sam turned with a shrug; "Hey, c'mon dude; a mine with a two-hundred year history of miners going postal and turning cannibal? What's not to like?"


Five minutes later, Sam was kicking himself while eating his words. Not literally, of course. That'd be stupid.

But he'd lost his flashlight, and Dean, and was stumbling around in darkness so absolute it's as if he's wearing a black velvet blindfold.

"Sam!" Dean yelled.

Unfortunately, it turned out he was actually right next to Sam, so yelling – well, Sam thought he might have burst an eardrum. Shock sent his wits flying as he stated the obvious.

"Crap, you lost your flashlight too then?"

Sam didn't need eyes to see Dean's WTF?-geniusexpression.

"So, any idea which way is out?"


Dean had no time to answer as, moments later he was knocked to the ground.

Pinned down, Dean grimaced, as a rough, wet tongue began licking his neck; smelling his hair. The creature's fetid breath filled his nostril and he heaved.

"Mmmm...fresh-meat," it croaked as Dean kicked out, desperate to dislodge his attacker.

A blinding, heavenly light filled the cave, extinguishing the blackness; both Winchesters closed their eyes as the creature, screaming in agony, was engulfed in a ball-of-flame.

"Dammit Cas, what took you so long?" Dean grimaced, stretching out bruised muscles.

"My apologies, Dean...celestial traffic was a female dog."