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Summary: Twenty-four prompts, twenty-four fics, twenty-four days till Christmas. Brought to you by Wishlist_fic on LiveJournal.

Categories Author Rating Chapters Words Recs Reviews Hits Published Updated Complete
Multiple Crossings > General > Ficlet Collections - Other(Moderator)AvaFR152023,98815714,9601 Dec 1027 May 13No

Target Practice

Title :: Target Practice
Word Count :: 735
Rating :: FR13
Disclaimer :: Supernatural and all related characters are copyright Eric Kripke, Kripke Enterprises & The CW Network. No infringement intended. The Walking Dead and all related characters are copyright Robert Kirkman, Tony Moore Image Comics, Frank Darabont and AMC. No infringement intended.

Prompt :: Demona/Supernatural, The Walking Dead/Dean, Sam/Zombies are people too!

Target Practice

Tattered pants caught in the tall grass, slowed the walker’s steady progress through the cars left abandoned outside the mom’n’pop gas station he and Sam had run across while making their way back to a fortified Bobby’s with more supplies. Dean’s left eye closed and he focused his right through the scope of the rifle they’d salvaged from a farm thirty miles back and sighted across the station’s parking lot. Brought the dead thing making its way towards the building he was currently making himself comfortable on into his crosshairs and stilled. His breath eased out, slow and steady, before his finger tensed and he pulled the trigger.

The rifle jerked back against his shoulder and he moved with the impact, absorbing it as the crack of the shot echoed through the small clearing and down the road. The clatter of footsteps told him his cavalry, while not needed, was still a coming and he watched with grim satisfaction as the walker collapsed forward. It scrambled against the weeds and grass, its left knee useless without a kneecap and the lack of blood told him this particular fellow had been dead quite some time.

It rolled onto its side and began to crawl forward, dragging itself over a water-filled tire and absently kicked outward with its good leg—well as good a leg as a dead thing could have. Dean dropped his chin, sighting down the scope once more and smirked as his next shot took off the walker’s right hand. Something close to a moan escaped it and Dean shook his head before lifting it as the door leading to the roof of the gas station banged open and Sam clambered his way towards him.

The kid was a quiet as an elephant sometimes.

“Dean!” The disgruntled shout of his name had him rolling onto his back and propping the rifle against his chest as he stared up at his little brother and quirked a brow in question. Sam shook his head and made his way towards the edge of the roof as he asked, “What are you shooting at? And why?”

“A walker and I thought shooting it before it eats us would be a good thing,” the ‘duh’ was clearly evident in his tone and Sam shot him a narrowed look.

“So bringing every walker within ten miles to us is just an unavoidable consequence?” Dean sat up, letting the rifle fall to lay across his lap, but before he could mouth off Sam was rattling on with, “Dean, you didn’t even go for a kill shot.”

“Target practice.”

His shit-eating grin only had Sam shaking his head as little brother went into blahblah lecture mode and whined, “They’re not target practice. They’re people—”

“Those things aren’t people.”

His interruption only seemed to egg Sam on further as he snapped, “They use to be people, Dean. That should give’em some rights.”

A brow quirked. “Rights?”

“Fine,” Sam sighed and corrected, “Respect. Being human once should get them some respect.”

With a sigh Dean rolled back onto his stomach and had his eye glued to the scope within moments. The walker had made it only a few feet with one arm useless, but the other was doing a fine job of tugging and pulling that dead carcass along. A deep breath, a jerk of his shoulder and the walker’s head snapped back, blood splattering its back before the thing collapsed.

Dean snorted with Sam’s muttered ‘thank you’ as he pushed himself to his knees and then onto his feet. He turned to gaze at his little brother a moment before propping the rifle against his shoulder and strolling past him. They made it to the door before Dean turned, offered Sam his profile as he stated, “Maybe you’re right,” the slow spreading of Sam’s smile wilted with Dean’s next words as he finished, “And maybe you need a wet nap to get that sand out. I’m sure they have some down stairs.”

He turned back to the door and opened it, letting them inside the sticky hot building. Their shadows stretched across the wall in front of them as Dean led the way towards the stairs. The shove forward caught him unawares and Dean laughed even as he stumbled down the first few steps.

Sometimes little brother was like a stampeding elephant and other times the sneaky bastard was like a ninja.

The end.

Note :: Thank you for reading and blamethank FaithUnbreakable for spreading the insanity that is 24/24. I am no longer accepting prompts, but I hope you still continue to read and enjoy these ficlets and remember reviews are like presents. ;)
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