Chapter Text
Sam groaned as he was slammed into a wall by an intense presence in the air. He had lied to Dean, had told him he was going out to gather more research when he had actually come to fight the big bad monster all by himself. It wasn’t that he didn’t want Dean’s help, he could always use his brother’s help with assholes like this one, but the fact that it was a witch, made it a little difficult. Dean hated witches, and he sometimes lost his head when he was fighting them.
Was coming by himself a risk? Hell yes. Was it worth it to spare Dean from the damn witch? Fuck yes. So, Sam let the witch toss him around like a damn ragdoll, cackling as she flicked her hand back and forth, his limp body following the movements beyond his control.
So okay, Sam was in a bit of a bind as he is now being hung upside down from the ceiling, bound by invisible ropes. But would he call for Dean (if he could, that is), for his big brother to come in and save the day? Not this time. Nope.
Because apparently, he didn’t have to. He heard the harsh snap! as the front door was kicked in by a heavily worn boot, and the mad stomp-stomp! of the boots as they raced into the room. The witch just laughs and rounds on him, another flick of her hand and Dean’s trusty gun is gone, skittering across the floor before he too is hung upside down next to his brother.
“Research huh?” Dean grunts as he struggles against the invisible bonds. The witch is still laughing, a high-pitched noise that grates against the two brothers eardrums.
“I had it covered,” Sam mumbles, a snort coming from his brother as green eyes meet hazel in the musty room.
“Sure you did Sammy. That’s why we’re both tied up now. And will probably get killed. Fucking witches man.”
“I know,” is all Sam said as the witch approached them, her laughter quieted now as she looks from one brother to the other.
“The Winchesters. So nice to finally make your acquaintance,” she says, grinning. To the normal person, hell even to a Hunter, she looks like any other human - plain brown hair pulled back in a ponytail, soft brown eyes, relatively young-looking compared to some witches they’ve met; and dressed in a fucking pink sweatervest with a white shirt underneath and a black skirt that fell just right above her knees, she looked like she could be anyone. This witch happened to have inserted herself into the local library, which is how she got her victims - possessed and cursed books. “You can call me Sally. It’s the name I’m using this time around. Fitting, don’t you think?”
The brothers don’t answer, their faces slowly turning red as all the blood rushes to their heads. She giggles now, switching over quickly from deranged psycho to innocent bystander in minutes. It freaked them out just a bit - most witches were just ‘here’s a curse, fuck you’ but this one - Sally, as she so politely called herself - seemed to bounce from human to witch and back in the span of a heartbeat.
“You know, books are so great,” she says, looking away from them now as she walks over to a low bookshelf, overflowing with fat, water-damaged books. ‘They’re so… magical,” she says softly, snapping her fingers so the two brothers crash to the floor; she had been nice enough to make a broken sagging mattress appear for them to land on. Her back was to them, not seeming to be worried in the slightest that they had intended to kill her. “I think you two need a little more magic in your lives, don’t you?” She turns now, a smile lighting up her face, a small cracked book in her hands. The brothers stand up slowly, both reaching for knives they have hidden on their bodies. She still just smiles at them as she flips open the book. “Tell me, what’s your favorite story?”
The two of them lunge, perfectly in sync as usual. She laughs, high and loud, and snaps her fingers.