Starships Were Meant To Fly ♦ with go_downswinging

One day Donna was determined to phone Dean for something that didn't involve monsters. Maybe a chat or a drink. Anything that didn't involve the killing of and/or almost being killed by monsters. That day was not today.

She pulled out her phone and dialled Dean's number. As usual she got his voicemail. She knew that one of these days she was going to leave a message and it'd never get heard because he would be dead or something. It was hardly the safest of careers, after all.

"Hi, Dean. It's me. I know, I know. I only call when I want something, typical woman. I'm in the hospital, don't worry, I'm not dead, yet. Just a little beat up. See, there were these deaths and it sounded pretty vampy so I came to check it out. And I found one, and it attacked me - don't worry it didn't bite me. But it was pretty weird, see, it had the fangs but it also had this weird spike thing on it's wrist. Well, I beheaded the bastard before it could kill me, but I dunno, the deaths don't seem to've stopped.

Give me a call if you can?" She also left the details of her location, just in case.