supernatural one-shots [requests closed] UNDER EDITING

crowley || f • r • i • e • n • d • s

|| not edited

"Do you feel that draft?" asks your hunting partner, Sarah.

"It's a crypt. It's gonna be cold, Sar." You can see the breath you exhaled with that sentence. One of the indicators that a ghost is present. "Shit." You cock your gun and hold your crowbar in the other. "You ready?" No answer. "Sarah?"

You turn around and see the ghost you're hunting. He has his palm pressed against Sarah's forehead. Her eyelids flutter and her body is seizing. He's killing her, the same way he did the other vics.

"Oh, hell no," you growl, shooting the ghost with your gun. He vaporizes and Sarah falls to the ground, unconscious. You don't have time to check to see if she's okay; you need to burn the bones. You use the crowbar to pry open the top of the tomb. The ghost appears next to you and you slice the iron rod through the air. He disappears, but he'll be back soon. You blow a piece of hair out of your face as you drizzle gasoline over the bones. This is a lot easier with a partner.

You flick the lighter with your thumb and it thankfully lights on the first try. You drop it into the coffin just as the ghost pops up before you. You smirk as it goes up in flames.

You turn to see Sarah and your face pales. Her head rests on the step of the crypt and a pool of blood surrounds it. She must've hit her head when she fell.

"Sarah!" you cry, rushing forward. You raise her head, hoping that it will quell the bleeding, but she's lost a lot of blood. "Sarah, open your eyes!" Tears begin to gather in your eyes when she doesn't respond. You press two fingers to her carotid and sigh in relief that she has a faint pulse. You lift her up and drag her into your car, rushing her to the hospital.

-|-

"...did everything we could...vegetative state...extremely rare...not wake up."

You're trying to listen to the surgeon's words, but they're fading in and out, as is the black in your vision. "No."

The surgeon purses her lips and gazes at you sympathetically. "...we're sorry....if you would like to...you may have a moment...shut the machines off."

You shake your head wearily. "No. I don't need a moment."

She opens her mouth to protest. "Ma'am-"

"No," you repeat, and you walk out. Silent tears stream down your face as you mourn yet another person that you got killed.

-|-

You look at the picture in your hand. It's about five years old, showing you, your parents, and your little brother and sister, from before you first started hunting. You can tell that by looking at the picture. Your hair is long versus the short cut you have now that you learned a female hunter needs. You're a little heavier in the picture, just because you didn't have to be as fit as you do know. Years of outrunning monsters has slimmed you down. Your face is happy and your eyes look hopeful. You're sure you've lost that ambience. And of course, everyone but you in the picture is dead now. Their deaths were the reason you got into this life.

You slide the picture into a wooden box, along with a black cat bone (don't ask how you got it), yarrow, and a handful of dirt from the graveyard you stand in now. You bury the box. Nothing happens. You scream, "Well come on out then!"

"Alright, dear, no need to get your panties in a twist." You turn in the direction that the rich, accented voice came from and see a man wearing an all black suit and a smirk. His sneer deepens at your surprised expression. "What, never spoken with a crossroads demon before?" The answer was yes, you had, but you've never come across one this... easy on the eyes. He chuckles lightly. "Well come on, then. Propose a deal."