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telarynTitle: Expecting the Unexpected
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
telaryn
Word Count: 977
Fandom: Supernatural
Characters: Sam & Dean
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: None really.
Disclaimer: No ownership implied, no profit obtained.
Summary: A routine stop for gas and snacks takes an unexpected turn.
Author's Note: Written for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
angst_bingo Round 3, for the prompt "shot down".
One of the hazards of being a hunter was that eventually you stopped looking at guns as things to be wary of. Monsters didn’t use guns as a rule, and once you’d gone up against every creature in the book and dozens more that people called you liars for claiming to have seen, let alone killed, you tended to forget that you were mortal. You forgot that the bullet that couldn’t hurt anything but an Old World fae could shred your heart and snuff out your life in the wink of an eye.
If your name was Sam or Dean Winchester, it was a truth that tended to be even harder to remember. When you’ve seen heaven with your own eyes and literally lived to tell the tale, it was tough to keep in mind that someday Death was going to grow very tired of your bullshit.
They’d been arguing as they pulled into the little Mom and Pop gas station that sweltering July afternoon – and for once it wasn’t apocalyptic, end-of-the-world stuff that had them picking at each other’s last nerve.
“Dude,” Sam said as the Impala rolled to a stop near the pumps, “you obviously decided to embrace your inner girl when I wasn’t looking. You sure you’re not trying to have a happy period or something?”
“Chili dog potato chips, Sammy,” Dean repeated as they got out of the car. “And Hershey’s king size with almonds. Don’t fuck it up this time.” He chuckled at the massive eye roll Sam gave him before Sam headed in to pay for the gas and other essentials.
One look at the price per gallon was enough to kill Dean’s good mood, however. $3.87 – Jesus! And that wasn’t even for the premium. Food and lodging being more expensive was one thing, but he knew that if the price of gas continued to go up, it was going to force a radical change in their lifestyle.
Already has, he realized as the pump signaled that he was good to go. Their cash priorities had definitely shifted in the last year – now the majority of the green they got their hands on went straight into the gas tank. Five cents a gallon didn’t look like much of a discount all on its own, but if you lived your life on the road?
It added up quick.
The next handful of minutes as he watched the numbers climb on the gas pump, were a chunk of his life Dean would spend the next several weeks reviewing in his mind. He’d missed something in the weirdly normal setting – something critical – and Sam had paid the price.
The first shot cracked loudly in the stillness, jolting Dean from his near-trance. Adrenaline had him running for the Qwik Mart before the second shot rang out. “Back!” he yelled, drawing his pistol and waving aside the curious onlookers that were starting to crowd. “Get back!”
He struck the door jamb hard, pistol aimed at the ground, eyes searching the scene inside. Sammy…
There were two men inside the store – one with a semi-automatic rifle pointed at something out of Dean’s direct line of sight. The second was behind the counter, frantically cleaning out the cash register. “Shut up!” yelled the gunman, gesturing wildly with his weapon. “Shut up and get down!”
“You really don’t want to do this.”
Dean closed his eyes, wincing as he heard his brother’s voice. God Sammy – for once in your life just stay out of it… It was a vain hope – Dean knew that if their positions were reversed, he’d be doing exactly the same thing as Sam.
“Nobody’s died yet,” Sam went on. “Take what you’ve got and go – none of us will try and stop you. I promise.”
Okay, Dean thought. Civilians…probably hurt. Even if Sam wasn’t assuming Dean was in a position to hear him, Dean knew how his brother talked. Taking a deep breath, he started to pivot – bringing up his gun.
He’d already dismissed the man behind the counter as a threat; all his attention was focused on the man with the rifle. It turned out to be a fatal mistake – the one clearing out the cash register looked up at exactly the wrong moment. Dean was able to get off two quick shots before diving for cover as the man he thought was unarmed brought up a rifle of his own – spraying bullets everywhere.
“Sonofabitch,” Dean gasped, covering his head against a rain of glass shards from the ruined storefront doors. “Sam!” he yelled. “You all right?”
Three quick shots, followed by another burst of automatic fire. Dammit! Dean thought. Desperate, he pivoted again – keeping his body low, but bringing his own gun again. He had a moment to register that the original gunman was still standing before drawing a bead on the man’s skull and firing.
The target went down. Dean continued his turn, pushing to his feet and aiming behind the counter. There was no sign of the second thief, but there were fresh splatters of blood that hadn’t been there before. Still vigilant, Dean stepped over the threshold and moved into the store. “Sam?” he called.
“Dean…”
Somehow Dean managed to holster his gun – made it from where he was standing, to where Sam had fallen. Blood…God… “Sam…God, Sammy – where are you hit?” He searched his brother’s body with shaking hands.
Sam’s breathing was labored, but his hazel eyes still focused on Dean. “Four hits,” he whispered. “Can’t tell exactly where. I don’t…I don’t think anything serious.”
Dean continued searching. The blood had saturated Sam’s shirt, but he couldn’t find anything actively bleeding. 911, he thought, fumbling one-handed for his cell phone. “Stay with me, Sam. We’re gonna get help.”
“I know…” Sam murmured.
His eyes drifted closed, just as the operator spoke in Dean’s ear: “911, what is your emergency?”
Author:
telarynWord Count: 977
Fandom: Supernatural
Characters: Sam & Dean
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: None really.
Disclaimer: No ownership implied, no profit obtained.
Summary: A routine stop for gas and snacks takes an unexpected turn.
Author's Note: Written for
angst_bingo Round 3, for the prompt "shot down".One of the hazards of being a hunter was that eventually you stopped looking at guns as things to be wary of. Monsters didn’t use guns as a rule, and once you’d gone up against every creature in the book and dozens more that people called you liars for claiming to have seen, let alone killed, you tended to forget that you were mortal. You forgot that the bullet that couldn’t hurt anything but an Old World fae could shred your heart and snuff out your life in the wink of an eye.
If your name was Sam or Dean Winchester, it was a truth that tended to be even harder to remember. When you’ve seen heaven with your own eyes and literally lived to tell the tale, it was tough to keep in mind that someday Death was going to grow very tired of your bullshit.
They’d been arguing as they pulled into the little Mom and Pop gas station that sweltering July afternoon – and for once it wasn’t apocalyptic, end-of-the-world stuff that had them picking at each other’s last nerve.
“Dude,” Sam said as the Impala rolled to a stop near the pumps, “you obviously decided to embrace your inner girl when I wasn’t looking. You sure you’re not trying to have a happy period or something?”
“Chili dog potato chips, Sammy,” Dean repeated as they got out of the car. “And Hershey’s king size with almonds. Don’t fuck it up this time.” He chuckled at the massive eye roll Sam gave him before Sam headed in to pay for the gas and other essentials.
One look at the price per gallon was enough to kill Dean’s good mood, however. $3.87 – Jesus! And that wasn’t even for the premium. Food and lodging being more expensive was one thing, but he knew that if the price of gas continued to go up, it was going to force a radical change in their lifestyle.
Already has, he realized as the pump signaled that he was good to go. Their cash priorities had definitely shifted in the last year – now the majority of the green they got their hands on went straight into the gas tank. Five cents a gallon didn’t look like much of a discount all on its own, but if you lived your life on the road?
It added up quick.
The next handful of minutes as he watched the numbers climb on the gas pump, were a chunk of his life Dean would spend the next several weeks reviewing in his mind. He’d missed something in the weirdly normal setting – something critical – and Sam had paid the price.
The first shot cracked loudly in the stillness, jolting Dean from his near-trance. Adrenaline had him running for the Qwik Mart before the second shot rang out. “Back!” he yelled, drawing his pistol and waving aside the curious onlookers that were starting to crowd. “Get back!”
He struck the door jamb hard, pistol aimed at the ground, eyes searching the scene inside. Sammy…
There were two men inside the store – one with a semi-automatic rifle pointed at something out of Dean’s direct line of sight. The second was behind the counter, frantically cleaning out the cash register. “Shut up!” yelled the gunman, gesturing wildly with his weapon. “Shut up and get down!”
“You really don’t want to do this.”
Dean closed his eyes, wincing as he heard his brother’s voice. God Sammy – for once in your life just stay out of it… It was a vain hope – Dean knew that if their positions were reversed, he’d be doing exactly the same thing as Sam.
“Nobody’s died yet,” Sam went on. “Take what you’ve got and go – none of us will try and stop you. I promise.”
Okay, Dean thought. Civilians…probably hurt. Even if Sam wasn’t assuming Dean was in a position to hear him, Dean knew how his brother talked. Taking a deep breath, he started to pivot – bringing up his gun.
He’d already dismissed the man behind the counter as a threat; all his attention was focused on the man with the rifle. It turned out to be a fatal mistake – the one clearing out the cash register looked up at exactly the wrong moment. Dean was able to get off two quick shots before diving for cover as the man he thought was unarmed brought up a rifle of his own – spraying bullets everywhere.
“Sonofabitch,” Dean gasped, covering his head against a rain of glass shards from the ruined storefront doors. “Sam!” he yelled. “You all right?”
Three quick shots, followed by another burst of automatic fire. Dammit! Dean thought. Desperate, he pivoted again – keeping his body low, but bringing his own gun again. He had a moment to register that the original gunman was still standing before drawing a bead on the man’s skull and firing.
The target went down. Dean continued his turn, pushing to his feet and aiming behind the counter. There was no sign of the second thief, but there were fresh splatters of blood that hadn’t been there before. Still vigilant, Dean stepped over the threshold and moved into the store. “Sam?” he called.
“Dean…”
Somehow Dean managed to holster his gun – made it from where he was standing, to where Sam had fallen. Blood…God… “Sam…God, Sammy – where are you hit?” He searched his brother’s body with shaking hands.
Sam’s breathing was labored, but his hazel eyes still focused on Dean. “Four hits,” he whispered. “Can’t tell exactly where. I don’t…I don’t think anything serious.”
Dean continued searching. The blood had saturated Sam’s shirt, but he couldn’t find anything actively bleeding. 911, he thought, fumbling one-handed for his cell phone. “Stay with me, Sam. We’re gonna get help.”
“I know…” Sam murmured.
His eyes drifted closed, just as the operator spoke in Dean’s ear: “911, what is your emergency?”
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