Chapter One: The Big Ugly Fucker

The Men of Letters hideaway didn't offer much in natural light but Dean's internal clock woke him up with the roosters anyway. He groggily rolled over in bed, grunting in protest from exhaustion and the ache of his ribs underneath him. His mind was rested but his body was worn ragged. He noticed that he was still fully clothed, and his feet felt heavy. Upon further inspection, he saw he had also left his boots on from the night before. The bed was caked with mud and monster slime. How long had it been since he washed his sheets? He stretched, taking a mental note of every part of him that responded with a jolt of pain.

He and Sam had fought a pack of monsters that they had never encountered before last night. They were huge. They were grotesque. They were strong. Dressed in what looked like judge's robes, their large white heads lay above a neck wrapped in tentacles. The eyes were black and soulless. The little creeps had a single, bony prong that sprung out of each hand like a fucked-up Wolverine. When he had mentioned the resemblance to Sammy, though, he had commented that they were actually like X-23, and proceeded to ramble on about comics for the next hour. Nerd.

The two had ganked all of them but one and that was only due to Sam's protests that he needed to study it. The Men of Letters had an extensive library full of diaries and books of lore, most of which Sam had meticulously studied, and never once had he found an entry on those freaks. They subdued it, bound it, and stuck it in the bunker in the very same room where Dean himself had been imprisoned while overcoming the demon he had become. It made him a little sick every time he saw it. He mostly let Sam do his thing while he stood in the doorway. They hadn't been sure what wardings to use; not knowing what type of demon or spirit this was, but Sam brought out all the big guns just in case.

After the battle, dragging the monster back to the bunker and subsequently getting a little drunk, Dean was beat. However, today was another day and there was surely ass that needed kicking. Dean sat up and rubbed his eyes.

"Fuck."

Dean swung his legs over the side of his bed and stood up. Even after all these years, he still got sore from hunting. He took a step forward and winced. He rolled up his jeans to find a huge, purple bruise covering his knee. He shrugged and kept going.

"Sam? You awake?"

Dean's voice echoed through the bunker. There was no reply. He chuckled to himself as he imagined his lanky little brother slumped over another long, disgustingly boring record of how an original Men of Letters member had slain his first vampire.

Nerd. Dean thought to himself again. He explored the main room, searching for his brother. When his search came up empty, he headed back to bedroom area.

"Sammy?"

Dean turned the corner to Sam's bedroom and saw a dark figure in the doorway. It was staggering slowly into the darkness of the room. Dean's brow furrowed and his heart rate quickened.

"Sam? Are you okay?"

Dean sprinted the rest of the way into Sam's room and saw his brother fast asleep, sprawled out like road kill across his mattress, much like he must have been this morning. Everything was normal except for the damn monster that was making its way to Sam with its one stupid, bony, ugly prong sticking out of its hand. It saw Dean then lunged for Sam.

"Sammy!"

Dean screamed, jumping off of the floor then landing onto the bed on top of Sam. The prong went deep into Dean's side and he cried out in pain. He convulsed and his eyes rolled back into his head. His hands seemed to be trapped at his sides and he was unable to move his feet. Without the knowledge of the Men of Letters, they were clueless as to what this creature could do. Am I dying? He thought to himself. Is this really how I go? Shit. His mind was racing with questions.

He felt another stab; this time on this arm. He stopped shaking and was able to focus on his surroundings once more. A stranger dressed all in white was standing over him, holding a syringe. Dean opened his mouth to tell the man in white what exactly he could do with that needle but no sound came out. He tried to bring his hands to his throat but they didn't budge from his sides. He started to panic; eyes bulging and the veins in his throat stretching from the effort of trying to scream. He was so taken aback that he didn't even have time to wonder where he was or how he had gotten there. It felt familiar somehow, sort of like deja vu. His eyes trailed across the room, noting the stark white walls and the heavy metal door just beyond the man who was towering over his vision. The man smiled; flashing rows and rows of perfect white teeth.

"It's okay, Dean. Just relax. The sedative is kicking in. You're having another of your episodes. Take slow and steady breaths. Everything is going to be just fine."

The man spoke with an intoxicatingly slow, southern drawl. He bent down, shining a pen light into Dean's pupils. He was face to face with Dean now, so close that if Dean were in charge of his body at the moment, he could have headbutted him and made his escape. He started to feel dizzy, and he fought the urge to close his eyes. The room swam in front of him, but somehow the man's form stayed perfectly static. As Dean's vision continued to fade in and out, he struggled to focus on the man's features. The piercing blue eyes stared deep into his own faded green eyes. Suddenly, recognition hit him like a ton of bricks. Before he could react or call out, his body drifted to sleep. His mind was the last thing to power down, and the last thing he could hold onto was it whispering over and over: Bennybennybennybennybennybennybennybennybennybennybennybennybennybennybennybennybenny.

Then everything went dark.

"Dean? Dean. DEAN!"

Sam's voice cut through the darkness. Dean drew a heavy, gasping breath. He sat up so quickly that his neck pulsed from the whiplash.

"Holy shit!"

Dean roared as he felt the searing pain in his side. He held his wound as he was sitting on the floor and took a moment to take in his surroundings. Suddenly, he remembered the monster lunging for Sam but stabbing him instead. Dean was on his feet before Sam could even react.

"Where's that big ugly fucker, Sam? Where?" Sam held Dean's shoulders and gently turned him toward the other side of the bed. The monster lay sprawled out on the floor, unconscious, in a small pool of green slime. Dean could see a fragment of the bony spike sticking through the creature's hand.

"I took this out of your side," Sam said, holding up the other, and longer, end of the spike. "It stabbed you pretty deep, Dean. When I pulled it off of you, the prong just snapped. Its head hit the ground pretty hard. I think I knocked it out. Your eyes were rolled back in your head. I couldn't get you to wake up. I think I screamed your name for ten minutes straight."

Sam was rambling, and it was making Dean nervous. He only rambled when he was anxious. Dean sat down on the bed. He looked up at his brother and crossed his eyes while scrunching up his nose.

"Don't be such a bitch." Dean quipped. He watched with relief as the worry faded away from Sam's face as he replied with his lopsided smile.

"Jerk."

Dean kicked the monster in the groin or, at least, where a groin would be if it had one, hoping it would make him feel better for getting knocked out of commission from one quick stab in his side. It didn't. He sighed and sat down on Sam's bed. Sam joined him, watching the monster with a hawk's eye. They sat in silence for a moment. Dean was the first to break it.

"How long was I out for?" Dean asked. Sam, not looking away from the monster, replied.

"At least ten minutes. I told you. I was screaming your name over and over again. I thought you were having a stroke or a seizure or something. What happened? Do you remember anything?" Sam's voice was frantic. Dean cleared his throat and breathed in deeply.

"I, uh, I had a ridiculously vivid dream. I don't know what kind of hallucinogens are in that thing's venom, Sam, but I haven't tripped so hard since that Metallica concert." Dean laughed but Sam didn't join him. "It was just a joke, Sammy. Lighten up."

Sam was studying him.

"What was in the dream?" Sam inquired. Dean adjusted his weight, wincing as he leaned toward his wound. Sam was putting his detective hat on, Dean knew. He must think the dream had something to do with the giant monster. Dean was less convinced. He had had nightmares like it before. When you're a hunter, life is pretty must one huge nightmare, and there's really no escape from it; not even in sleep. Dean would humor Sam, though. He always did.

"Well, break out your Dream Dictionary, Sammy, cause it was pretty fucked up. I don't really know where I was. I think I was strapped to a bed? I couldn't move my arms or legs. There was some dude standing over me. He was dressed like, uh, a nurse or something? He was wearing all white and had a syringe with god knows what in it and he injected it into me. I started fading out and... And—" Dean's voice wavered. Sam lifted his gaze from the monster to his brother.

"And what, Dean?" Sam asked. Dean locked eyes with Sam.

"I could have sworn it was Benny. The voice, his eyes... It was him, Sam. It had to have been. But I can't figure out what all of it means. After I blacked out in my dream, I woke up. Have you figured anything else out about this thing? I know you must have stayed up late trying to find any trace of it in the archives"

"No," Sam sighed, "and as much as you're going to hate this—"

Dean stood up, quickly and violently.

"You're keeping the damn thing, aren't you?" Dean growled. Sam sheepishly looked from his brother to the monster.

"Dean, I have to. I mean, who knows what lasting effects this venom might have on you. You could grow a second head. Your brain could pour out of your ears. You could spontaneously combust. We know nothing about it. Until I find out, I really don't think killing it is the best idea."

Dean felt his brother's words hit him harder than the Undertaker's Tombstone Pile Driver. He's fucking right, Dean thought. I could be dead in the water right now, and no one would be the wiser. I hate it when he's right. He gets Dad's smug asshole face when he's right. He forced out a smile, trying to keep the mood light.

"Why's it always the negative with you, Sammy? Isn't it just as possible that I could turn into Spiderman or something?" Dean quipped. Sam chuckled lightly in spite of himself. A low growl cut his laugh short. The brothers looked toward the monster in unison. It was beginning to stir. They needed to move quickly, and both of them knew it. Sam stood at Dean's side and motioned for him to take one of the creature's arms. They took hold and silently dragged it back toward the warded chamber. The monster didn't struggle but Dean could see its eyes moving behind the lids. It gave him a feeling of dread in his stomach.

"Hey, Sammy?"

"Yeah, Dean?"

"How'd this thing get out anyway? I mean, the chamber has way too many protection spells and wardings for a stupid blobfish of a creature like this one to break through." Dean asked through a strained voice. Sam's brow furrowed.

"I hadn't considered that. Maybe I left it open after studying it last night? I'm really not sure."

The Winchesters' paces slowed as they reached the door and both of them stood in apprehension for an awful moment. The door of the chamber was just as they had left it; sealed and charmed. They placed the creature against the wall. Sam examined the door.

"Okay, this is weird." He gently unlocked the door and they moved into the room. Dean watched his brother go as stiff as a possum playing dead. He struggled to see what Sam was looking at over his stupid, broad shoulders. He had always thought it to be extremely unfair that his little brother was much taller than he. He got that from Dad, of course. Dean was shorter, like he remembered his mom being. He shook himself from his reverie and pushed Sam playfully.

"Hey, you're too gigantic to just stop in front of pe—." Dean's voice caught as he heard a feral snarl. He shifted to his brother's side. There, sitting bound in the chair in front of them, was their monster. Sam cleared his throat.

"Well, that answers your question."

Dean stood still, his mouth opening and closing like a fish gasping for air as he tried to think of something funny to say. He had turned hiding behind comedy into a lifestyle. Whenever he was most afraid, nonsense would come out, and it both calmed him and made Sam believe that one of them was sure things would work out. Right now, he was speechless. How many of these things were there? How did this one find them? What would happen if more descended upon the bunker? Without another thought, Dean took out a pocket knife from his jeans. Sam was still focused on the monster in the room, so Dean took his time unfolding the blade; trying to be as silent as possible. He knew Sam would try to stop him if he knew what he was doing.

In one swift movement, Dean brought the knife down straight through the skull of the monster. It let out a strangled keening sound, and its whole body shook violently. Sam whipped around, taking one look at the monster and his brother and screamed.

"Dean!"

The monster in the chamber matched its dying brother's wail, and a sound unlike any other filled the bunker. Sam and Dean both fell to their knees, holding their ears. Just when they thought their heads would explode, the sound stopped, and the monster outside of the door fell to the ground and subsequently melted into nothingness. The remaining creature had gone silent, but its black eyes were shining in an unmistakenable rage. Sam looked at Dean with almost the same intensity, and he shrugged and deadpanned.

"We can't keep every stray that walks in here, Sammy."