Disclaimer: This is a transformative work of fiction based on the original creation of E. Kripke. All hail our glorious leader. All fun, no profit.

E/O CHALLENGE

A/N: I'm playing a little fast and loose with the WOW. Please forgive me...

WOW: play

Word count: 100 on the nose! Just like the rules say...

"Dean?"

Sam watched his brother massaging the window sill with the bright-colored clay. Blood was trickling into both his eyes and collar. If the blood wasn't clue enough, Dean's current activity screamed concussion to Sam. Dean was obviously flashing back to childhood.

"Grab a container and do the damn door, Sam! I'm fine!" Dean growled.

"What?"

"Get a can of play-doh and line the bottom of the door with it. It'll buy us time."

"It's a ghost Dean, not a toddler. Not even the ghost of a..."

"Do you know how much salt there is in this shit?"

"Really?"

"Really!"