The Cat

BA Canon: No

Timeline: After The Schism of Fire and Water

Original Post: Sam Verses Cat ( you wanted Dean, here he comes! This will be a little bonus prompt )


( Part 1 of 2 )

Dean paced through the house, searching for any sign of a spirit. The EMF reader was silent in his hand as he went, taunting him with its silence.

Dean grumbled, hitting it on the side in annoyance. Was it acting up? Surely there was a spirit at work…

His thoughts trailed off when at the edge of hearing he heard a cat yowl. Dread started to creep up on him.

Sam was in that direction.

Dean sprinted down the hall, almost skidding past the door that the noises were coming from. To his great relief, the cat wasn’t sitting there with a bloody set of clothes in its claws, but it was trying to swipe at something hidden behind the cabinet.

Dean stalked over, grabbing the cat by the nape of its neck and hauling it off the ground. He tossed it out of the room, sealing the door shut. Upset meows made it through the wooden door.

Putting that out of his mind, Dean walked carefully over to the cabinet to see what the cat had trapped. Getting down on his knees, he dug out his flashlight and shone it into the crack.

A small, huddled form flinched away from him and the light, a tiny silver knife at the ready. “Sammy,” Dean breathed. “Thank god you’re okay.”

There was no answer to his voice, no sign that Sam even heard him. Dean’s brow furrowed in concern. “Sam,” he tried again. “Can you walk? I can’t reach you back there.”

With no response still, Dean was getting worried. “Alright,” he muttered to himself. “I’m gonna assume that means you can’t come out here on your own. Hang on, kid.”

Getting up, Dean grabbed the dishware on top of the cabinet, dropping it all on the table. He gripped the side of the cabinet, shifting it away from the wall to put Sam in reach.

The moment Sam was in sight, Dean stooped to pick him up. Before the older hunter could react, a cold metal blade slashed at his hand, Sam lashing out in a panic.

“Crap, Sam. It’s me!” Dean hissed. He stuck his thumb in his mouth for a second for the bleeding, snatching at Sam with his other hand. The fingers curled around the small hunter, trapping the knife-wielding arm between Dean’s index finger and middle finger.

Dean gently pried the knife from Sam’s grip. “Sammy, it’s me. It’s just Dean. You’re safe, I promise. That cat’s nowhere near us right now. I took care of it.”

After a few minutes of cajoling, Sam finally peered up at Dean. His small eyes were wide, panicked. The look of a hunted animal. “D-Dean?” he stuttered out.

“That’s right. Just me.” Dean took a seat at the dining room table, unfurling his fingers.

The reason for Sam’s panic was revealed.

Blood coated Dean’s hand where it had wrapped around Sam’s back.

Fuck.”

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