They call me the Anti-Christ

Sam was well aware that people all over the world ate strange things like bugs, but there was something about Dean watching Survivor that just made him gag. “Seriously, dude, can you shut that off? It’s gross.”

“Hell no, the chicks are barely wearing anything, and what they are wearing is soaked. It’s like porn.”

“If you want to want to watch porn, I can just go to the diner across the street to finish my book.”

“And you not be here when Dad gets back? Hell now. Just shut up and face the other direction.”
Sighing, Sam turned and tried to get back into his summer reading…

“Oh yeah, baby. Take that top off to get the maggots out of your cleavage. You want something nibbling down there, I’ll be glad to help…”

”DEAN!”

He was standing in the junkyard, holding the shotgun in his hand. Of course, he was only seven and probably would get yelled at if his dad saw him doing this, but Dad wasn't around. Neither was Bobby. They had left Dean and him here alone to go talk to Salis.

Sam knew something was wrong. They had left New Mexico pretty quickly after the Ms. Lyle incident. That's what Dad called it. An "incident". Dean wouldn't talk to him about it either and was instead inside with the television and a pizza.

Fine. Then I'll figure this out myself. He had found an old target in Bobby's supply room and put it up on the fence, then took Dean's shotgun and walked away far enough.

The thing was about as big as Sam was, but he had seen Dad teaching Dean how to use it. So he hefted it up onto his shoulder and aimed at the target, squinting his eyes as he pulled the trigger...

... and ended up thrown back onto his ass from the recoil as his shoulder hurt from the kickback. Tears swelled up in his eyes from the pain and he bit his lower lip to keep from crying.

"SAMMY!" Dean was at his side almost instantly, looking at the situation and then checking his brother for injuries. "What were you thinking, kid? You could have hurt yourself."

"I just wanted to learn how to use this," Sam pushed the shotgun away, rubbing his shoulder.

"You don't need to know how to use it yet," Dean said, picking the gun up and checking it over.

Sam pouted, trying to stand up. "All you guys ever do is keep me from doing anything. I know about this stuff now, Dean. I want to help."

Dean pursed his lips and sighed. "Dad will get pissed at me."

"You think I care?" Sam looked Dean in the eyes. "Come on, Dean. What if I have to be the one saving you? Don't you want me to know how to do it?"

Dean nodded, then stood up. "Alright, but if Dad finds out about this, I'm pointing the finger at you."

Sam's face broke out in a grin. "Deal."

"GOD DAMN IT... DEAN!"

Sam stormed out of the bathroom, a towel wrapped around his head, wearing only his jeans. John sat up and looked between his sons as Dean tried to keep a straight face.

"What's the matter, Sammy?" Dean asked.

"You damn well know! I'm starting a new school in two weeks and I'm already the new kid - again - and I don't need you messing with me like this. I never did anything to you to mess with your reputation at any school, and it's not fair that you're going to make my first day hell!"

"Ok, Sam, clam down." John leaned closer, watching them carefully. "Now what's wrong?"

"What's wrong? What's wrong?!" Sam reached up and pulled the towel off his head, revealing a nearly bald scalp, only a few patches of hair remaining. "He put NAIR in my shampoo! I found the bottle in the trash. It'll be weeks before it grows back!"

Dean fell over laughing, and John and Sam both turned to look at him. "Sam, go finish washing up," John told his younger son. "I'm going to have a talk with your brother."

"You should shave all his hair off too," Sam said as he started back to the bathroom. "See if he can get a girl without any hair to cover his deformed head," he muttered as he slammed the door behind him.

Ok, I can do this. Piece of cake, right? Knees bent, balance centered, one foot after another. Kids do this all the time.

Carefully, Sam put one foot out on the ice, then the other. The skates that he was borrowing wiggled a bit under his too long legs as he fought to get his balance. He had already made sure that there was no one around the lake as he decided to teach himself to skate, just in case.

He still thought this was ridiculous, but Sandra McCoy had asked him on a date at the local skating rink, and he wasn't about to admit that he didn't know how to skate. And he wasn't going to ask Dean to teach him - not like Dean was around much anymore now that he had the Impala and Dad was sending him off on small easy jobs on his own.

So it was Sam verses the lake. He took a deep breath, then slowly started to move like he saw the ice skaters on television move...

- and promptly found himself off balance, arms flailing in the air right before he fell backwards onto the ice. His vision was doubled for a moment with the impact, and his butt and back were starting to hurt as he just stayed still a moment.

Maybe she'll let me take her to a movie instead...

We've all seen the old meme: Pick an emotional state and I'll write you a drabble featuring my character and yours.

Now here's your chance to pick a situation and I'll write that drabble with my character flying solo (or with NPC's if needed).


1. Playful!
2. Murderous!
3. Flailing!
4. Incarcerated!
5. Deviant!
6. Ill!
7. Intoxicated!
8. Wildly Inappropriate!
9. Eloquent!
10. Cooking!
11. Naked!
12. Bitchy!
13. Inexperienced!
14. Young!
15. Long-winded!
16. Bored to tears!
17. Jealous!
18. Inquisitive!
19. Confused!
20. Arrogant!

---

Muses Available for this:
likely_evil: Sam Winchester
notsamskeeper: Dean Winchester
mini_dean: Ben Braeden
evilhandissue: Lindsey McDonald

It's the time of the season for kissing! Set up a kissing booth and have at it, you crazy kids. Just be careful you don't catch any diseases!

So first Anna was blaming him for this. But really, it was Dean's fault. It was always Dean's fault. But as they stood there watching Anna, it was his brilliant idea to get them involved.

This was not going to end well. Especially when Dean started to set up his booth.

So Sam got his own booth at the fair and set it up. There might have been a friendly exchange of challenges between brothers over who would do better. And then Sandy sat down next to him with a smile and a wink, willing to help out with any men who came over looking for a kiss.

Ok, the day was looking a bit better. Let the battle of the Winchester Kissing Booths commence. it's for charity... really...

$5 a Kiss! Step on Up!

Total raised so far: $3,410 will update as the day goes on


ooc: yes, there is a kissing booth battle going on, and this is open to any muses in any verse. If you want verse specific, make sure you put it in the subject line. If this is the first time talking to Sam, then feel free to use this as a way to get to say hello! And multiple kisses are welcome as long as you pay for them ;)

Center ring, main event. Biggest show in town. Yellow eyes cracks the whip; the freaks run around. Blackness in veins, who's the best? One thing for sure - one will rise above the rest.

Succumb to your fate, yellow eyes laughs. The freaks fall until two remain.

The audience watching with heavenly eyes. The knife thrower takes aim... bulls-eye! The last freak falls to his knees, eyes cast to the skies.

The bearded lady refuses to sing, taking the freak's place. The knife thrower dead, the freak is left alone in the tent. All he hears is the scream.