Deviant Muses - Born to be Wild
The Winchesters
Supernatural
Author: goth_huntress
Rating: R for swearing - bad Dean
Word Count: 400+ not counting the song lyrics
Song: Born to be Wild, Steppenwolf, 1968
Topic: May 2006 - Song in my head
I tried so hard to stop humming the song in my head. I knew better than to make a sound when we were hunting. Dad had taught me that as soon as I was old enough to carry a gun, and watch his back. Next time we went hunting Born to Be Wild would not be the last song I heard on the Impala’s stereo. Maybe something from the Muppet Show would be better?
I couldn’t see where my brother was, but I could feel that Sammy was at my back. I tried not to call him Sammy to his face much, unless I was trying to ruffle his feathers. His feathers had been ruffled plenty since dad came back into our lives.
“Dean,” Sam crouched low besides me as we looked down into the warehouse, both of us counting the sheer number of zombies that were hoping to eat our brains for dinner. “I can’t see dad.”
“Sammy,” I knew I rolled my eyes. I didn’t mean to, but sometimes I just had to. “Dad’s the best hunter there is. He’ll let us see him when he wants us to.” Sam had that look on his face, the one where he’s about to give me shit and start an argument, but the cries of one of the zombie captives reminded him that we weren’t there for a picnic.
I pointed the site on my gun at the head of a man dressed in ornate robes with mystical symbols painted on the sleeves. He raised his hands lifting a large bowl of something, and tilted it over onto his undead followers. I felt my stomach churn as I saw the severed parts of bodies fall into the mass of teaming undead flesh as they fought over his offering of food. I knew that Dad had told us to wait for the signal, but was this it?
“Was that it Dean?” Sam asked like he was reading my mind, which for all I knew he was. “We can’t let this go on. We’ve got to stop it.”
“I know.” Why does he always think he needs to tell me what I already damned well know? He and dad just can’t get along, and I know why. It’s because they are two of a fucking kind. I saw a flash of light, the reflection in a hand held mirror. It was dad’s signal. “Now Sammy!”
I like smoke and lightning
Heavy metal thunder
Racin' with the wind
And the feelin' that I'm under
Yeah Darlin' go make it happen
Take the world in a love embrace
Fire all of your guns at once
And explode into space
I could finally hum my song. Letting it go as I went, sending the innocent victims of a crazed voodoo nut job to the peace they deserved.
Like a true nature's child
We were born, born to be wild
We can climb so high
I never wanna die
Born to be wild
Born to be wild
We both came up, guns willed with rock salt and ground glass. It was hell on the shotgun barrels, but it was even worse on Zombies. As we pumped our guns, in perfect rhythm, and shot, each taking up the slack to blow the heads off of the fuckers while the other reloaded. I could see dad taking on the evil overlord.
Supernatural
Author: goth_huntress
Rating: R for swearing - bad Dean
Word Count: 400+ not counting the song lyrics
Song: Born to be Wild, Steppenwolf, 1968
Topic: May 2006 - Song in my head
I tried so hard to stop humming the song in my head. I knew better than to make a sound when we were hunting. Dad had taught me that as soon as I was old enough to carry a gun, and watch his back. Next time we went hunting Born to Be Wild would not be the last song I heard on the Impala’s stereo. Maybe something from the Muppet Show would be better?
I couldn’t see where my brother was, but I could feel that Sammy was at my back. I tried not to call him Sammy to his face much, unless I was trying to ruffle his feathers. His feathers had been ruffled plenty since dad came back into our lives.
“Dean,” Sam crouched low besides me as we looked down into the warehouse, both of us counting the sheer number of zombies that were hoping to eat our brains for dinner. “I can’t see dad.”
“Sammy,” I knew I rolled my eyes. I didn’t mean to, but sometimes I just had to. “Dad’s the best hunter there is. He’ll let us see him when he wants us to.” Sam had that look on his face, the one where he’s about to give me shit and start an argument, but the cries of one of the zombie captives reminded him that we weren’t there for a picnic.
I pointed the site on my gun at the head of a man dressed in ornate robes with mystical symbols painted on the sleeves. He raised his hands lifting a large bowl of something, and tilted it over onto his undead followers. I felt my stomach churn as I saw the severed parts of bodies fall into the mass of teaming undead flesh as they fought over his offering of food. I knew that Dad had told us to wait for the signal, but was this it?
“Was that it Dean?” Sam asked like he was reading my mind, which for all I knew he was. “We can’t let this go on. We’ve got to stop it.”
“I know.” Why does he always think he needs to tell me what I already damned well know? He and dad just can’t get along, and I know why. It’s because they are two of a fucking kind. I saw a flash of light, the reflection in a hand held mirror. It was dad’s signal. “Now Sammy!”
I like smoke and lightning
Heavy metal thunder
Racin' with the wind
And the feelin' that I'm under
Yeah Darlin' go make it happen
Take the world in a love embrace
Fire all of your guns at once
And explode into space
I could finally hum my song. Letting it go as I went, sending the innocent victims of a crazed voodoo nut job to the peace they deserved.
Like a true nature's child
We were born, born to be wild
We can climb so high
I never wanna die
Born to be wild
Born to be wild
We both came up, guns willed with rock salt and ground glass. It was hell on the shotgun barrels, but it was even worse on Zombies. As we pumped our guns, in perfect rhythm, and shot, each taking up the slack to blow the heads off of the fuckers while the other reloaded. I could see dad taking on the evil overlord.