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p_r_i_s_c_aTitle: Young Hunter
Character: whee!Chesters
Prompt: don't look behind you.
Word Count: 579
Finished: November 2016
:::
His father had been out on a hunt for about a week. It was a rainy day; the sun did hide all day long when Dean suddenly realized that the demon he was looking for had obviously made a turnaround and was now laying siege to the shabby hut, which was the refuge for Sam and him.
His dad would never be back in time, so it was up to him again to save his little brother. He hated the thought. No, he was not afraid of ghosts, demons, or even death; his father had taught him to think and act like a hunter since he could remember. But to be in charge of the safety and well-being of Sam was literally choking him.
Sam was only five years old, too young to understand what was happening around him. Sometimes, Dean almost hated him for his kid-like innocence. But, of course, he would never forgive himself when something happened to him; Sam was family, besides his father, the only family he still had.
Dean shrugged off every kind of insecurity and forced himself to concentrate on what he had to do. Gently, he patted Sam on his shoulder. The little boy had fallen asleep in front of the fireplace, his old, wooden truck still in his little hands.
„Sammy!“
He blinked drowsily. "Wassup?"
Dean put a finger on his lips to silence him. "Shh. Get up and get dressed again. We are going to play a game."
A smile sneaked on Sam's lips. He loved it when his big brother found some time to play with him; it didn't happen often. "What kind of game? Does dad know?"
"Sure he does," Dean reassured his little brother without showing any sign of his impatience. "He wants us to sneak out of the hut and return to the farm beside the bridge." Where it hopefully would be safe. Enough distance between Sam and the demon.
"Where we got the blueberry waffles yesterday," Sam asked, licking his lips.
Dean nodded. "Yeah. Do you remember the way? It's easy; just follow the creek. You can do that, don't you, you are already five now."
The creek was only small, but the water was torrential; the edge was covered with all kinds of slippery stones and undergrowth. The path alongside was almost invisible, even during daylight. And at that moment, it was raining again, and even the last light started to fade away. To let Sammy alone find his way was a risk Dean would never take under other circumstances. But for now, he had no other choice.
Suddenly, Sam looked unsure. "Won't you come with me?"
„That's part of the game,“ Dean said, patting his back reassuringly. „You go first; I will follow a bit later. And don't look behind you. If you do ...“ He blinked at Sam with a wide grin. „If you do, I will win the game.“
Only some minutes later, he watched Sammy slip out the door, his slight figure almost invisible under the dark gray raincoat. It was silent outside, beside the rain dropping on the trees and the hut's roof. Dean smiled. Sammy was good at sneaking away; he loved to play hide and seek. For him, this was just another game.
The smile vanished when Dean noticed the big, dark figure behind the hut. With slightly narrowed eyes, he grabbed the gun from the wooden balustrade of the porch and waited.
Character: whee!Chesters
Prompt: don't look behind you.
Word Count: 579
Finished: November 2016
:::
His father had been out on a hunt for about a week. It was a rainy day; the sun did hide all day long when Dean suddenly realized that the demon he was looking for had obviously made a turnaround and was now laying siege to the shabby hut, which was the refuge for Sam and him.
His dad would never be back in time, so it was up to him again to save his little brother. He hated the thought. No, he was not afraid of ghosts, demons, or even death; his father had taught him to think and act like a hunter since he could remember. But to be in charge of the safety and well-being of Sam was literally choking him.
Sam was only five years old, too young to understand what was happening around him. Sometimes, Dean almost hated him for his kid-like innocence. But, of course, he would never forgive himself when something happened to him; Sam was family, besides his father, the only family he still had.
Dean shrugged off every kind of insecurity and forced himself to concentrate on what he had to do. Gently, he patted Sam on his shoulder. The little boy had fallen asleep in front of the fireplace, his old, wooden truck still in his little hands.
„Sammy!“
He blinked drowsily. "Wassup?"
Dean put a finger on his lips to silence him. "Shh. Get up and get dressed again. We are going to play a game."
A smile sneaked on Sam's lips. He loved it when his big brother found some time to play with him; it didn't happen often. "What kind of game? Does dad know?"
"Sure he does," Dean reassured his little brother without showing any sign of his impatience. "He wants us to sneak out of the hut and return to the farm beside the bridge." Where it hopefully would be safe. Enough distance between Sam and the demon.
"Where we got the blueberry waffles yesterday," Sam asked, licking his lips.
Dean nodded. "Yeah. Do you remember the way? It's easy; just follow the creek. You can do that, don't you, you are already five now."
The creek was only small, but the water was torrential; the edge was covered with all kinds of slippery stones and undergrowth. The path alongside was almost invisible, even during daylight. And at that moment, it was raining again, and even the last light started to fade away. To let Sammy alone find his way was a risk Dean would never take under other circumstances. But for now, he had no other choice.
Suddenly, Sam looked unsure. "Won't you come with me?"
„That's part of the game,“ Dean said, patting his back reassuringly. „You go first; I will follow a bit later. And don't look behind you. If you do ...“ He blinked at Sam with a wide grin. „If you do, I will win the game.“
Only some minutes later, he watched Sammy slip out the door, his slight figure almost invisible under the dark gray raincoat. It was silent outside, beside the rain dropping on the trees and the hut's roof. Dean smiled. Sammy was good at sneaking away; he loved to play hide and seek. For him, this was just another game.
The smile vanished when Dean noticed the big, dark figure behind the hut. With slightly narrowed eyes, he grabbed the gun from the wooden balustrade of the porch and waited.