Post by Timur on Sept 4, 2016 19:39:02 GMT
Recently, they had been raided. A lot of their supplies had been taken, a lot of ammunition and weapons, a lot of salt and books that held necessary information. However, they had been in a job. A vengeful spirit had been killing tall guys with long hair, probably because the guy who cheated on her and eventually killed her all those years ago was tall and had long hair. When the girl came back, however, the guy who originally killed her was dead, but she didn't know that so anyone who looked like the guy she killed. Not smart for San to come, was it?
"Dude it's just a spirit, we've caught plenty of those. I'll be fine." Sam insisted with Dean. "Yeah but we don't have all our salt because those friggin demons stole them! You fit the profile of the guys it's been ganking exactly, just wait here and we'll handle it, it's too much of a risk," Dean shot back. "Yeah well it's a ghost. Just salt and burn the body that's all. Simple, and just because we don't have as much stuff as before isn't keeping me from not hunting." Sam said stubbornly. He shoved a shovel into their bag, they would need that to dig up the grave. Dean put one of their remaining rock salt guns into his own bag, and there wasn't as much ammunition as there could be. Yes, they could go out and buy more, but the closest store that sold rock salt was two towns over, and they had a spirit dropping bodies as they spoke. They had to send it away, and they had to do it fast. "Fine, but don't be stupid along the way." Dean said, a little frustratedly. He didn't want Sam going, he thought it was too much of a risk. But Sam o stubborn Sam wouldn't hang back and watch, he would be on the front lines.
Sam put the bags with what they needed in the trunk of the impala, and then closed it. He walked over and got in the passenger side as usual, closing the door and bending down to gently scratch Fawnpelt's ear, who had been at his feet. Ryan and Gavin were in the back, and they had assigned Lark the duty of watching over the kids, so she wasn't coming. "Everyone ready?" Dean asked, and when they all gave the go, he would start driving to the cemetery where their spirit's body had been buried. Dig it up, salt and burn it, bury it again, all a good days work.
Their bags lay besides the hole that was being dug by Sam because it was his turn. He threw another shovelful of dirt over his shoulder, and when he struck the shovel down again he hit something. "Got something?" Dean asked, looking into the hole. "Yeah." Sam replied, and raised the shovel over his head and brought it down hard, to break the top of the coffin so they could pull it off. After that he removed the top, and climbed out of the hole. Then the usual process, but of course it had to be interrupted.
And of course Sam was the target.
He was thrown off to the side, colliding head on with a headstone. "Sam!" Dean shouted, and started to run over. However, he was thrown back as well, though not as roughly, as the spirit was focused on killing Sam. "SAMMY!"
His head hurt, he possibly had a concussion. They got thrown around way to much than what can be good for your health. He was faintly aware of his name being called, more focused on the spirit rushing towards him. For a moment he couldn't move, and he could feel the blood start to trickle where he had hit the stone. However, being punched by the spirit again knocked him out of it, and after that he rolled to the side and got rather shakily to his feet. The head on collision hadn't done him much good.
More screams, but also the voice of the spirit. "You killed me, now I WILL KILL YOU!" it seemed as if that was how she died, a beat down complete with plenty of punches and kicks before a final stab. Maybe if there wasn't the stab, she would of survived and Sam wouldn't be attacked right now. He quickly darted to the side to dodge another punch, and having absolutely no salt or weapons against the spirit, it was all he could do. Unless he got some salt. Dean had thought about that too, and had grabbed a gun "Sam catch!" he yelled, and grabbed Sam's attention for long enough to throw the gun his way. It landed a little short, because Sam was so far away, and Dean tried again to run towards Sam with a gun of his own in his hands, only to be thrown back before he could reach him- before he could even get in shooting range too. Sam dove towards the right to dodge a roundhouse kick. His eyes flashed to the gun, and then to Fawn and Dean, and determination surged through him. He couldn't die, he wouldn't die. He was a hunter, and he had people who cared about him. It was a ghost, he could fight it.
With renewed energy, Sam dove again towards the gun. The spirit turned and watched him with rage as Sam successfully picked the gun up, and shot it. An angry scream sounded but was cut short as the rock salt cut through it, and however like spirits tended to do, it materialized just behind him and punched him in the spine before Sam could do anything. He was knocked over into his face. The spirit was fast, and landed another blow to his head- one more than he could take. Sam didn't pass out, but his ears rang and his head hurt like hell. So, he was virtually defenseless until he recovered from that blow, which would take too long.
"SAM!"
His attacker took full advantage of that. Another series of punches and kicks landed, and he was tossed a few feet away like a ragdoll. He weakly raised his hand above his head in an instinctive show of defense, however wasn't strong enough yet to fully defend himself, not to mention he didn't have the gun anymore. Another kick from the spirit straight in his gut, forcing a moan of pain out of him. However, with another fleeting glance to the others, another wave of determination and his stubborn nature crashed over him, and Sam barely managed to roll out of the way of another kick. He couldn't die here, he couldn't die now.
Curse spirits being fast. Curse having taken so many blows to the head. In fact, he was still bleeding from where he had hit the stone. It had slowed down, but still bleeding. Sam didn't have time to wipe the blood out of his eyes where the edges of his vision were turning black. He could only take so much, and the spirit was going past those limits. The spirit used telekinesis and picked him up, only to punch him right where it knocked the breath out of you and let him fall to the ground again. That was too far for Sam, too many punches, too many kicks. He didn't want to die, that was the last thing he wanted to do, but he couldn't help it. He was too weak and beaten at this point to defend himself, and those that wanted to defend him were held back by the spirit.
Meanwhile, Dean had tried to get a move on on burning the bones. As quickly as he could, he spread salt across the bones. He gave a quick glance to Sam, who was having the crap beat out of him. However, they didn't know that she had had a child who was also killed on the same night and buried with her. A child no older than birch. That child would manifest and defend the grave, while its mother was over beating Sam. A malicious grin on its face, it raised a hand and blew the four back, back away from the bones that if burned would save Sam. Dean scrambled and picked up a gun, shooting it at the spirit, but the spirit teleported out of the line of fire and instead blasted the gun away too, along with their bags of supplies.
And that's when the spirit decided to give the final blow. The stab that would kill him. A cruel smile came across the spirit's face, a smile that had shown that she had gotten her revenge. For now at least. The knife slid down, and in a last resort effort Sam managed to barely roll, however it wasn't enough to prevent the inevitable. The knife came down, and stabbed him right in the gut. A flash of pain which caused Sam to cry out, and then the spirit was gone. It knew he wasn't going to live, they couldn't get him to a hospital fast enough and he was barely conscious. However, with the spirit of the mother and the child leave, the others could get to Sam.
Dean ran as fast as he could towards his little brother. No. No he couldn't die. Not again. "SAM!" he yelled, falling to his knees when he got there, ignoring the pain in his knee when he landed on a sharp rock. "Come on Sam, hang in there, we'll get help." Dean said, voice stumbling over the emotional pain. Sam wasn't dead yet, and Dean would put a hand over where the bloodstain was, aka where he had been stabbed, to try and stop the bleeding or get it to slow down. No Sam wasn't going to die on his watch again.
The edges of his vision were black, but Sam o stubborn Sam was clinging onto life for as long as he could. A stab to the gut, multiple blows to the head, and various punches and kicks. This would spell out his death. However, he still had a precious few seconds to live as the stab wound bled, his energy was drained, and he could do little more than focus on his breathing, to keep him alive just that little bit longer. A considerably large bloodstain had formed on his shirt where he had been stabbed, that wound was what would ultimately kill him. Dean and Fawn were the first to arrive by his side, and he felt more pain where Dean put pressure on his gut. This caused him to grunt. An honorable act, but Sam knew he was on his death bed. Weakly, Sam would grasp Fawnpelt's hand and put a massive effort into raising his head even if it was only a couple inches off the ground. He drew in another shaky breath, wanting to say something to them before he died. Oh Fambi, his brave, strong, beautiful Fambi. And there was Dean as well, who he loved in a brotherly way. They would have to live on without him, he just hoped they didn't feel as if his death was their fault. It was him that insisted on going after all. "I love you Fambi." he rasped, his words punctured by the need to inhale again. "Take care of each other for me... ok?" and those would be his final words, his last action in life before his head hit the ground again and his hand went limp, his breathing ceased and they wouldn't find a pulse on him.
Sam was dead.
/word count: 1947
"Dude it's just a spirit, we've caught plenty of those. I'll be fine." Sam insisted with Dean. "Yeah but we don't have all our salt because those friggin demons stole them! You fit the profile of the guys it's been ganking exactly, just wait here and we'll handle it, it's too much of a risk," Dean shot back. "Yeah well it's a ghost. Just salt and burn the body that's all. Simple, and just because we don't have as much stuff as before isn't keeping me from not hunting." Sam said stubbornly. He shoved a shovel into their bag, they would need that to dig up the grave. Dean put one of their remaining rock salt guns into his own bag, and there wasn't as much ammunition as there could be. Yes, they could go out and buy more, but the closest store that sold rock salt was two towns over, and they had a spirit dropping bodies as they spoke. They had to send it away, and they had to do it fast. "Fine, but don't be stupid along the way." Dean said, a little frustratedly. He didn't want Sam going, he thought it was too much of a risk. But Sam o stubborn Sam wouldn't hang back and watch, he would be on the front lines.
Sam put the bags with what they needed in the trunk of the impala, and then closed it. He walked over and got in the passenger side as usual, closing the door and bending down to gently scratch Fawnpelt's ear, who had been at his feet. Ryan and Gavin were in the back, and they had assigned Lark the duty of watching over the kids, so she wasn't coming. "Everyone ready?" Dean asked, and when they all gave the go, he would start driving to the cemetery where their spirit's body had been buried. Dig it up, salt and burn it, bury it again, all a good days work.
Their bags lay besides the hole that was being dug by Sam because it was his turn. He threw another shovelful of dirt over his shoulder, and when he struck the shovel down again he hit something. "Got something?" Dean asked, looking into the hole. "Yeah." Sam replied, and raised the shovel over his head and brought it down hard, to break the top of the coffin so they could pull it off. After that he removed the top, and climbed out of the hole. Then the usual process, but of course it had to be interrupted.
And of course Sam was the target.
He was thrown off to the side, colliding head on with a headstone. "Sam!" Dean shouted, and started to run over. However, he was thrown back as well, though not as roughly, as the spirit was focused on killing Sam. "SAMMY!"
His head hurt, he possibly had a concussion. They got thrown around way to much than what can be good for your health. He was faintly aware of his name being called, more focused on the spirit rushing towards him. For a moment he couldn't move, and he could feel the blood start to trickle where he had hit the stone. However, being punched by the spirit again knocked him out of it, and after that he rolled to the side and got rather shakily to his feet. The head on collision hadn't done him much good.
More screams, but also the voice of the spirit. "You killed me, now I WILL KILL YOU!" it seemed as if that was how she died, a beat down complete with plenty of punches and kicks before a final stab. Maybe if there wasn't the stab, she would of survived and Sam wouldn't be attacked right now. He quickly darted to the side to dodge another punch, and having absolutely no salt or weapons against the spirit, it was all he could do. Unless he got some salt. Dean had thought about that too, and had grabbed a gun "Sam catch!" he yelled, and grabbed Sam's attention for long enough to throw the gun his way. It landed a little short, because Sam was so far away, and Dean tried again to run towards Sam with a gun of his own in his hands, only to be thrown back before he could reach him- before he could even get in shooting range too. Sam dove towards the right to dodge a roundhouse kick. His eyes flashed to the gun, and then to Fawn and Dean, and determination surged through him. He couldn't die, he wouldn't die. He was a hunter, and he had people who cared about him. It was a ghost, he could fight it.
With renewed energy, Sam dove again towards the gun. The spirit turned and watched him with rage as Sam successfully picked the gun up, and shot it. An angry scream sounded but was cut short as the rock salt cut through it, and however like spirits tended to do, it materialized just behind him and punched him in the spine before Sam could do anything. He was knocked over into his face. The spirit was fast, and landed another blow to his head- one more than he could take. Sam didn't pass out, but his ears rang and his head hurt like hell. So, he was virtually defenseless until he recovered from that blow, which would take too long.
"SAM!"
His attacker took full advantage of that. Another series of punches and kicks landed, and he was tossed a few feet away like a ragdoll. He weakly raised his hand above his head in an instinctive show of defense, however wasn't strong enough yet to fully defend himself, not to mention he didn't have the gun anymore. Another kick from the spirit straight in his gut, forcing a moan of pain out of him. However, with another fleeting glance to the others, another wave of determination and his stubborn nature crashed over him, and Sam barely managed to roll out of the way of another kick. He couldn't die here, he couldn't die now.
Curse spirits being fast. Curse having taken so many blows to the head. In fact, he was still bleeding from where he had hit the stone. It had slowed down, but still bleeding. Sam didn't have time to wipe the blood out of his eyes where the edges of his vision were turning black. He could only take so much, and the spirit was going past those limits. The spirit used telekinesis and picked him up, only to punch him right where it knocked the breath out of you and let him fall to the ground again. That was too far for Sam, too many punches, too many kicks. He didn't want to die, that was the last thing he wanted to do, but he couldn't help it. He was too weak and beaten at this point to defend himself, and those that wanted to defend him were held back by the spirit.
Meanwhile, Dean had tried to get a move on on burning the bones. As quickly as he could, he spread salt across the bones. He gave a quick glance to Sam, who was having the crap beat out of him. However, they didn't know that she had had a child who was also killed on the same night and buried with her. A child no older than birch. That child would manifest and defend the grave, while its mother was over beating Sam. A malicious grin on its face, it raised a hand and blew the four back, back away from the bones that if burned would save Sam. Dean scrambled and picked up a gun, shooting it at the spirit, but the spirit teleported out of the line of fire and instead blasted the gun away too, along with their bags of supplies.
And that's when the spirit decided to give the final blow. The stab that would kill him. A cruel smile came across the spirit's face, a smile that had shown that she had gotten her revenge. For now at least. The knife slid down, and in a last resort effort Sam managed to barely roll, however it wasn't enough to prevent the inevitable. The knife came down, and stabbed him right in the gut. A flash of pain which caused Sam to cry out, and then the spirit was gone. It knew he wasn't going to live, they couldn't get him to a hospital fast enough and he was barely conscious. However, with the spirit of the mother and the child leave, the others could get to Sam.
Dean ran as fast as he could towards his little brother. No. No he couldn't die. Not again. "SAM!" he yelled, falling to his knees when he got there, ignoring the pain in his knee when he landed on a sharp rock. "Come on Sam, hang in there, we'll get help." Dean said, voice stumbling over the emotional pain. Sam wasn't dead yet, and Dean would put a hand over where the bloodstain was, aka where he had been stabbed, to try and stop the bleeding or get it to slow down. No Sam wasn't going to die on his watch again.
The edges of his vision were black, but Sam o stubborn Sam was clinging onto life for as long as he could. A stab to the gut, multiple blows to the head, and various punches and kicks. This would spell out his death. However, he still had a precious few seconds to live as the stab wound bled, his energy was drained, and he could do little more than focus on his breathing, to keep him alive just that little bit longer. A considerably large bloodstain had formed on his shirt where he had been stabbed, that wound was what would ultimately kill him. Dean and Fawn were the first to arrive by his side, and he felt more pain where Dean put pressure on his gut. This caused him to grunt. An honorable act, but Sam knew he was on his death bed. Weakly, Sam would grasp Fawnpelt's hand and put a massive effort into raising his head even if it was only a couple inches off the ground. He drew in another shaky breath, wanting to say something to them before he died. Oh Fambi, his brave, strong, beautiful Fambi. And there was Dean as well, who he loved in a brotherly way. They would have to live on without him, he just hoped they didn't feel as if his death was their fault. It was him that insisted on going after all. "I love you Fambi." he rasped, his words punctured by the need to inhale again. "Take care of each other for me... ok?" and those would be his final words, his last action in life before his head hit the ground again and his hand went limp, his breathing ceased and they wouldn't find a pulse on him.
Sam was dead.
/word count: 1947