“I know it’s too late to say this, but I think this idea of mine might actually be bad."
“Ya’ think? What part of this whole thing did you even think was good?! I especially loved the flare gun, Dean!” the sarcasm was burning in his voice.
Dean sent his little brother a bit of an annoyed glare, though he knew that he did have a good reason to be angry - his plan had backfired monumentally, more so than it’d ever crossed his mind that it could. “Oh, come on. You went along with it, too.” He pointed out. “Now can we just focus on how the hell we’re gonna get out of this one? ‘Cause I don’t know about you, but I wasn’t planning on becoming monster chow today.”
“Yeah-- well, you didn’t give me much of a choice.” Additionally annoyed, Sam knew it would be only moments before they would be found by the pair of werewolves that they were originally hunting. They had to act, fast. With a hefty exhale, Sam scanned the area around them for something to use in their defence. Trees. It was the only option he could think of in a rash mind. “We have to get up those trees, Dean. It may be our only chance at ambushing them..”










