Sam and Dean () Supernatural One Shots

"I cannot cry for help, O brother, can you save my soul?"

The shotgun was locked and loaded, the pistols ready to shoot, the brothers were excited, and the demon was looking for a fight.

In other words, in Dean's world, absolutely perfect. He had Sammy, he had his beloved weapon, and the Metallica was rolling through the '67 Impala, baby smooth riding down the highway to kick some ass.

What was wrong, according to Sam? Demons possessing the eldest child of a family and killing mass amounts of livestock.

Not hard to believe in a small town like Bennett Colorado, but disturbing all the same. Also, the loud music was getting on his already- tense nerves.

"Where do I turn?" Dean asked, his low voice comforting but not comfortable as the two struggled with a map.

"Irondale. Easy on the corner, I see like 8 graves."

The two looked around as they tried to find the small, tan house where the demon last possessed a child. The little girl, Sicily, remained at Children's Hospital with her parents- the brothers needed a look around.

The gravel driveway threw rocks at the speeding Chevy, making the eldest brother wince.

The daylight was just starting to wane, only 7 pm, but the winter weather and daylight time reduced the visibility by two-fold.

No, there was no clear sign of any haunting. But low light ruins any calm mood in a situation like such, doesn't it?

What kind of bliss would be living in a country home where there was no decent weather? Sam wondered.

The paranormal activity sensor in Dean's hand was silent until the boys poked around the barn. Their visible breath streamed out from their noses and mouths as they walked and discussed livestock killing demons.

Whiiiiiiizzzzzzz.... ZzzZzzZzzZzzZzzZzzZzzZzzZzzZzzZzzZzzZzzZzz-!

"Holy shit, that thing got going quick," Dean observed the obvious. He was about to bust into the barn before he was stopped by a strong hand on his shoulder.

"Dean, wait." Sam had his usual concerned-but-strong voice on.

"What!? We have a heifer-hating pet demon to kill!" Dean turned around with an impatient whine.

"Maybe I should just go. What if it gets you and..." Sam's face wrinkled. "You, ya know, slaughter livestock?"

"Is this because I'm older?" Dean yet again stared the question right in the mouth.

"Yes, you jerk. I don't want to risk anything we don't have to!"

"So, what, you," he stuck a reading finger on Sam's nose, "Sam Winchester, are scared that I might hurt a cow?"

Sam smacked away his brother's hand.
"No, idiot. Not when you put it like that. Never mind, I guess."

"That's what I thought." And Dean picked the lock, entering cautiously.

"Not gonna be my fault if you get posessed..."

"This thing doesn't kill people, as far as we know, right? So we're gonna be fine!"

"Well, it's not like it's desperate! If that thing was desperate, it might."

"Yeah, so would anything. Come on."

The two stalked into the dark barn, the pigs squealing and horses snorting indignantly.

"What was that?" Sam jumped.

"What was what?" Dean lowered his raised shotgun and turned towards his brother, who was looking around, clutching his forehead.

"I dunno, come on." He brushed past Dean, knocking on the wood.