Summary: Collection of drable-ish oneshots containing naught but hurts in multiple ways because I'm twisted.

I'm not likely to ever expand these scenes and snippets, but that doesn't mean you can't. All I ask is that you drop me a note, a link to the story, nod for inspiration if you decide to elaborate on one. Thank you. :)
I haven't consciously copied anyone's idea/s, but some similarities are bound to occur after a while, especially since Supernatural's already garnered attention of many.

Warning (susceptible to change as the whim dictates): The tense may vary from piece to piece, as will the length and POV.
Rated T because of at least heavy indications, though not necessarily graphic depictions of minor and major offenses (both mental and physical) directed at the Winchesters.
Not likely to contain character death, wincest, mary sues/marty stus.
Consider yourselves warned.

Feel free to inform me of typos and grammar. Occasionally even phrases. ;)
It would be very, very highly appreciated if you'd let me know whether or not I should keep this up, or let it die in the cot...

Disclaimer: None you know are belong to us.

SHARDS, SHREDS, SCRAPS
Drums
by Sade Lyrate

Later, he wakes up to see the sunlight splattering on yellow walls. His left eye hardly opens, his head feels too heavy to even risk rising.
He can't remember what happened.

Suffering is but a dull ache, pregnant with promises of pain, to be born without mercy were he to move. Breathing is okay, at least as long as he keeps it slow and shallow. His ribs introduce themselves with gradual throbs, memories of ugly, shattering sensations ghosting through his mind.

He swallows, and even that smarts.

He turns his head to see, and the headache happily shifts from heartbeat to heavy metal.

But at least he's not alone.