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purenightshade's birthday wing!fic originally started but I kinda closed the file and didn't go back to it... I actually abandon fic quite a lot... just don't like where it's going, can't feasibly see where I'm going to take it or have painted myself into a corner.
I think it's interesting to look at pieces like this and wonder how I drove it into the ground... or maybe I'm just being too hard on the poor little guy. I think probably the warning sign should have been that I actually thought of a title first off... that never ends well.
This piece was going to be called Hunter's Moon.
I'll possibly resurrect this when I start the next piece...
---
They’d been laughing.
Debating stupid crap like who was hotter, Betty or Wilma. Sam had been circling around and Dean had been calling out. They thought they were alone and Dean could’ve kicked himself for not being more careful, more aware of their surroundings. With Sam up high like that, Dean had felt a kind of awesome invulnerability, like they would see the thing they were hunting way before it saw them.
Other hunters on the other hand, whole different story.
There’d been a kind of whisper-snick that Dean recognised but before he could call out he saw Sam jerk. All the paintball clay pigeon target practice in the world wouldn’t prepare Sam to dodge something he didn’t see. Jerked and fell, wings folded down around his body like a bird who’d hit a window.
Sam disappeared behind a warehouse and Dean ran for it. By the time he circled the building, slowed down by a chain link fence he had to vault, Sam was gone, nothing but the fading screech of tyres to say he was ever there.
Dean cursed long and loud, did a circuit of the clumped together buildings just in case he’d misjudged where Sam had fallen and called Sam’s name until he was hoarse. He dug out his cellphone and called Bobby and then Missouri because Sam was just gone and he needed help.
purenightshade's birthday wing!fic originally started but I kinda closed the file and didn't go back to it... I actually abandon fic quite a lot... just don't like where it's going, can't feasibly see where I'm going to take it or have painted myself into a corner. I think it's interesting to look at pieces like this and wonder how I drove it into the ground... or maybe I'm just being too hard on the poor little guy. I think probably the warning sign should have been that I actually thought of a title first off... that never ends well.
This piece was going to be called Hunter's Moon.
I'll possibly resurrect this when I start the next piece...
---
They’d been laughing.
Debating stupid crap like who was hotter, Betty or Wilma. Sam had been circling around and Dean had been calling out. They thought they were alone and Dean could’ve kicked himself for not being more careful, more aware of their surroundings. With Sam up high like that, Dean had felt a kind of awesome invulnerability, like they would see the thing they were hunting way before it saw them.
Other hunters on the other hand, whole different story.
There’d been a kind of whisper-snick that Dean recognised but before he could call out he saw Sam jerk. All the paintball clay pigeon target practice in the world wouldn’t prepare Sam to dodge something he didn’t see. Jerked and fell, wings folded down around his body like a bird who’d hit a window.
Sam disappeared behind a warehouse and Dean ran for it. By the time he circled the building, slowed down by a chain link fence he had to vault, Sam was gone, nothing but the fading screech of tyres to say he was ever there.
Dean cursed long and loud, did a circuit of the clumped together buildings just in case he’d misjudged where Sam had fallen and called Sam’s name until he was hoarse. He dug out his cellphone and called Bobby and then Missouri because Sam was just gone and he needed help.