A/N: Heya pplz! This is my newest fic. It was done over the course of quite a few months, and with the amazing awesome help of Enkidu07. This whole thing started over writing a sick!Dean story for her. It began small and morphed into this 20,000+ word beast, well, when you add the sequel, too. It's definitely a beast for me, since I haven't written something so long in my life. I know AJWesley has already done a totally wonderful story about the Jersey Devil, but I decided to have my own go at it.
So, infinitely huge credit to Enkidu07. I have nothing but love for her! She helped me with every bit of this story, being a totally great motivator with her wonderful feedback.
I put POV markers before each section, just to avoid any possible confusion. I do love to jump around with those.
Summary: Sam and Dean arrive in New Jersey when they hear of unnatural killings in the area, who knew they'd end up coming face to face with a legend. Sick!Hurt!Dean, Hurt!Sam. Set in Season 1 after Bugs.
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The Demon In Jersey
Chapter 1
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Dean's POV
Shit! Dean Winchester thought for the millionth time that day. If there was anything he hated more than demons and the like, it was that tingly, pressurized feeling he got behind his nose that signified the impending doom of a nasal explosion. He hated it even more when the feeling came and nothing happened. At least the sneeze was a relief of the pressure, otherwise it just built below his eyes and sorely tempted him to punch himself in the nose.
Sam's twitchy I'm-trying-to-figure-out-what-you're-doing face was just another thing getting on his nerves. Sure, his impending sneeze faces probably looked awkward and confusing, but he sure as hell wasn't about to explain to Sam that a cold was coming on. He made it a point to keep Sam unaware of sicknesses he was experiencing as long as he could, and sometimes he even managed to get better with Sam none-the-wiser. Of course, most of those times he'd had the good aid of off-brand benadryl or sudafed. He wasn't so lucky this time around, and he could merely hope things didn't get any worse.
He scowled unhappily as the old Winchester saying "if things can get worse, they usually do" rose unbidden in his mind anytime he used the word hope.
"Careful, Dean, your ugly's showing." He heard Sam say dryly across from him.
He came back to himself with a start, having forgotten where he was for who knows how long. He felt the unhappy pull of his features and carefully smoothed his expression over, smiling smugly at his brother. "I'm devilishly handsome no matter what I'm doin', Sammy." Dean supplied confidently before waggling his brows.
Sam let the comment fly over his shoulder in favor of reaching his daily quota of nagging Dean. "You've been spacing out all day. And you keep making these weird faces. What's going on?"
Dean sat back in his seat nonchalantly, picking up his now heavily sweating glass of sweet tea. He was about to answer after a hearty gulp, but the striking watered down taste stole his already waning attention. He stared into the glass, green eyes narrowing on the sad slices of nearly melted ice cubes. He had no idea what possessed him to get iced tea instead of a beer or better yet, coffee, but when the waitress had sidled up, he'd blurted it out anyway. He guessed that the gradually growing stuffiness of his head was mixing him up.
"-dirty granny pantie stealer. Dean Winchester eats his boogers when he thinks no one is looking."
"Dude!" Dean snapped as he came out of another daze, sluggishly processing Sam's words.
"Oh, you're back." Sam drawled sarcastically, not even having the decency to look Dean in the eye, instead giving his laptop his full attention. He spoke before Dean could even open his mouth. "And thanks for telling me you're sick. We're out of cold medicine, and we're an hour from a decent drugstore, not to mention, we don't have the time to spare to get you some medicine. And don't try and tell me you're not sick. I heard your snotty snuffle when you were in watery tea land." His sharp glare served as a period to his mini-tirade.
Dean returned Sam's glare with one of his own. "I'm fine. It's just a small funk."
Sam frowned and turned his gaze back to the monitor. "Maybe I should do this one al-"
"Whoa, whoa, stop! You're not friggin' doin' anything on your own, Sam! Don't even start this shit with me. I told you I'm fine. We're gonna check this lead out. Keyword, we're!"
Sam's lips thinned into a grim line, eyes challenging his brother, but Dean refused to back down.
After a minute or two, Sam gasped in frustration and snapped his laptop closed. "Fine!"
Dean grinned triumphantly and stood up. He clapped Sam on the shoulder as he passed. "Your treat."
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Sam's POV
Sam slipped into the passenger seat of the Impala just as Dean was tossing a tape into his makeshift collection box with one hand while the other popped in ACDC's "Back In Black" album. Sam promptly rolled his eyes. It wasn't like he hadn't heard this one for the fifty millionth time.
Sam stopped his brother's hand from turning the volume up as they exited the roadside diner parking lot. "Intel, Dean. Can't exactly hear me when your ears are bleeding."
Dean flashed Sam an annoyed glance as he settled his hand back on the wheel. "This job is takin' us nowhere, Sam. I'll admit the stories are strange, but come on, a bunch of small towns full of drunk bumpkins? They're just casting around for excuses to freshen up their dull, tree-filled lives. And my volume stays at a perfectly respectable level."
"Dude, people's pets, local wildlife. They're all being found in random places, chewed up with their bones broken from high falls. Plus, there's numerous sightings of a flying creature in the area. Oh, and let me reiterate that this is where the Legend of the Jersey Devil originated. It couldn't hurt to look into it." There was a pause before he went on. "Your idea of respectable volume levels are warped by years of gun handling, by the way."
"Details, Sammy, details." Dean muttered, waving a hand vaguely. "So we're going to Tanya what's-her-name's house, right? The one with that Little Miss... Pretty Princess poodle?"
Sam sighed. "Just Miss Princess, Dean. And her name's Tanya Walton."
Dean nodded like he'd processed the information, but it was apparent it went in one ear and out the other. "Just remember when she's sobbing all over you that this was your idea. People who name their animals froofy names are always trouble."
"Whatever." Sam grumbled in exasperation.
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Sam's POV
Your idea...
Dean's words echoed throughout Sam's head as he held the distraught middle-aged woman in his arms. He kept giving her awkward pats on the back as she wailed mostly incoherent exclamations of her late dog. "So young!" She'd screech, or "Shmoopykins!"
Dean, of course, was grinning madly from the one-seater on the other side of the coffee table. Sam looked over at him in time to see his brother mouth 'told ya so!' No sense in being subtle with Dean... cause it wasn't like his entire body language wasn't screaming the words.
It was about ten seconds later that Dean let loose a monstrous sneeze, startling both Sam and Mrs. Walton. The younger hunter watched with barely contained glee as his brother cringed, hand still over his face.
"Uh... bathroom?" Dean said from behind his hand, shooting Mrs. Walton an apologetic look.
"Oh...of course, dear. Down the... hall and to... the left." She supplied, sniffing frequently in-between her words as she dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief.
Sam gave his brother a brow raise that spoke volumes. Dean glared petulantly over his fingers and stalked off down the hall.
Getting back to business, Sam put a comforting hand on Mrs. Walton's arm and turned the puppy eyes up a notch. "I understand this is hard, Mrs. Walton,"
"Please, call me Tanya."
"-Tanya, but in order for us to catch this thing and put it down, I'm going to need a recount of last night."
Mrs. Walton, to her credit, seemed to pull herself together and sit up straighter. "Yes, of course. I was very upset last night. I'm sure the police report was just ghastly." She took a deep breath, seemingly preparing herself. "Well... it was about six thirty when I let Miss Princess out for her evening tinkle."
Sam nodded, encouraging her to go on with a brief squeeze of her shoulder. He was glad Dean wasn't in the room, because he was pretty sure the older hunter would've found Tanya's reference to a pee break downright giggle-worthy.
"I always stand by the back door and wait so I can let her in right after. Then I give her a bath and..." Her voice faltered briefly. "And I feed her supper. My little baby was doing her business when there was this ungodly screeching. She...she started to run back toward the house, but... she just wasn't... her little legs..." There was another round of eye dabbing. "Needless to say, that horrible creature swooped out of nowhere and took my Princess away." Mrs. Walton heaved a heart-broken sigh. "They found her out in the woods about a mile from here... I'm sure you know the rest." She shook her head, shoulders slumping. "It was... unnatural... the short glimpse I got was even more than I'd ever like to see... it's head... like a... a horse.. or some kind of large nosed dog... a bull terrier perhaps.. yes.."
Sam watched as her brow creased in thought. Dean reentered the room then, scratching at the tip of his nose. He walked over and sat down without jarring Mrs. Walton from her thoughts.
"It had... bat wings.. or something like it. I don't quite remember that part very well. Just its body. Long legs and some kind of thick tail. Black fur... or possibly brown... it was dark out." She looked up, forehead lined with her concern. "I'm sorry... that's all I really have for you... I dare say it shouldn't be hard to identify if you come across it."
Sam nodded, sharing a look with his brother. "Thank you for your time, Tanya."
"Yes, well, you boys be careful. As it is with that awful Jersey Devil myth going around for so long, I am apprehensive about that thing's capture. It's unfortunate, but I think I'll be moving far from here." She sniffled. "Too many memories..."
Sam offered a few more rueful pats, catching Dean's insensitive eye roll out of the corner of his eye.
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Sam's POV
Sam smacked Dean across his jacketed shoulder before rounding the Impala to the passenger side. "You're a jerk, you know that? Just cause it's a dog, doesn't mean the friendship is any less important."
Dean gave Sam the stink-eye from across the stretch of metal roof. "Hey, I didn't say anything, did I?"
Sam flopped down into his seat and sighed. He considered arguing his point, but Dean was obviously in a surly mood thanks to his encroaching cold.
"Wh-wh-"
Sam looked over in alarm as his brother sneezed noisily out the driver side window. Sniffing afterwards, he turned back to Sam trying to look unaffected. "Where to?"
The corner of Sam's mouth curled slightly, but Dean's warning look kept it from turning into a smirk. "Rufus Higgins. Another witness. He lives to the north of the Pine Barrens."
"Giddyup." Dean said flatly as he pulled out onto the road. His hand lashed out and thwacked Sam in the chest a moment later.
Sam shot him a murderous look and raised a fist.
"Ah! No hitting the driver! Those are the rules of the road, Sammy." His big brother said with the utmost seriousness even though he leaned more toward his door and poised his right elbow to shield from a counter attack.
Sam lowered his arm, and sank down into his seat. "I'll just have to wait till you're not driving then."
Dean promptly stuck his tongue out like the five year old he was.
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Sam's POV
As they ground up the drive to Rufus's house the screen door opened and the man himself stepped onto the dingy porch. The thing that immediately stood out about him was the shotgun grasped in his hands.
Dean and Sam shared an apprehensive look as Dean parked the Impala a reasonable distance from the house, both brothers stepping slowly from the car.
"If he shoots my car, I'll never let you hear the end of it. Not ever." Dean growled under his breath.
Sam only refrained from rolling his eyes so he could keep his attention on their latest witness.
"Who're you two?" Rufus called gruffly, fingers drumming along the pump of his Remington 870.
"I'm Scott Young, and that's my brother, Brian. We're animal control, sir," Sam responded, unable to continue as Rufus interrupted him skeptically.
"Ain't no animal control I ever seen be drivin' a car like that."
"It's a family business, Mr. Higgins. We don't use our van unless we have an animal to transport. We're just here to ask some questions about what you saw, then we'll be out of your hair."
"The police hire you guys or sum'in?" Rufus more stated than asked, grip relaxing on his shotgun.
"Yes sir," Dean cut in. "A few of the guys know us down at the station. We mostly do our business over in Pennsylvania, though."
"So you must be pretty good, huh?"
Dean offered a believably friendly grin, but Sam could tell he wanted nothing more than to get this over and done with.
"Show some ID, if ya don't mind." Rufus grumbled next, leaning forward when both brothers stepped up to the porch railing, wallets flipped open to their Animal Control badges as well as the regular IDs that went with them.
"Mhm hm," the older man grunted in approval before he sat down in an old wooden chair and propped his shotgun against the wall of the house. "Come on up here an' take a seat an' I'll tell ya about what I saw."
Sam smiled in thanks and partly in relief as he started up the short stretch of steps before the porch. It was always a relief to avoid being chased off someone's property, especially if they were wielding a shotgun.
When Dean purposefully rounded Sam and dropped into the chair closest to Rufus, the younger hunter had to stamp down on his annoyance. Dean's protective measures were starting to get on his last nerve. And even when he'd brought it up, Dean simply replied with excuses like "What if someone's tryin' to steal my baby? I'll have to hop your giant ass to get out the door." or "You didn't see the funky stain on that chair?"
Sam sat down begrudgingly next to Dean who gestured for Rufus to go on.
"I got a dog, you see. An old bloodhound, been with me for years. He's rassled with black bears and coyotes. He's a mean son'a bitch. Ya know where he is now?" Rufus growled, before thumbing to the house behind him. "In my room hidin' under the bed like a coward. Ever since he seen that damn flyin' beast, he won't come out for nothin'. He won't eat neither, not even when I push it under the bed for 'im."
Dean sneezed into the crook of his elbow. Sam couldn't help but smirk behind the hand scratching at his nose. At least his brother was getting better at catching them now. This one was far less noisy, and devoid of snot.
"Sorry. Allergies." The older hunter explained lamely, attempting to sniffle quietly.
Rufus just nodded and continued on. "We was out last night about ten yards or so into the Pines, just a routine gatherin' of wood. We're both old men an' all, so the chill gets to us easily these days. It was just about sunset, dyin' light filterin' through the trees when there was this cry of somethin' awful. Could hear branches snappin' above as whatever it was grew closer. Buddy starts scramblin' around me, whimperin' and barkin' so I put myself low and right up against a tree. I know this thing is in the trees, so I'm figurin' if it can fly I better stay out of openin's."
The older man rubs at his beard stubble then, a haunted look entering his eyes. "It came down on the tree I was leanin' on, right behind me. This big paw swipes around just as I leap away an' down onto the dirt. That's when I saw it." Rufus shudders. "Had it's ugly ol' head craned around the trunk, lookin' directly at me. Looked like some kind of furry T. rex, 'cept it had ears. Course it was only about the size of an adult bear. Pretty sure I saw wings on its back, but it had 'em drawn in. Its paw looked more like a tiny clawed hand when I got a better look at it clingin' to the bark."
"Did you get a look at the rest of its body?" Sam questioned in a somber tone.
"Aw hell naw. I looked over at Buddy, shakin' in his furry boots, and I get up and hightail it. I yell for 'im to get a move on, an' he does thankfully. I didn't look back, just went about zig-zaggin' through them trees. I'll never forget the sound of it tearin' after me though... went after Buddy at one point, could barely tell their screechin' apart. Made it to the house, and Buddy tore in so fast after me nearly swept me off my feet. That's when he parked himself under the bed. There was some rustlin' outside a bit after it was all over, but I haven't seen the thing since. Course, that was two nights ago. I'm assumin' its a night creature, but that don't stop me from carrying this baby around." Rufus rumbled on, patting the shotgun next to him. "I know I looked pretty whacky comin' out with a shotgun, but the hell if I'm lettin' that thing get the drop on me."
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Sam's POV
Dean heaved a tired sigh as he dropped into the driver's seat. "I'm almost afraid to actually see the damn Jersey Devil. It's probably just as fucked up as these people are describing it."
Sam waved to Rufus on the porch, the man merely nodding back since he had his shotgun in his hands again. "Hell if I know..." Sam replied, just as tired. "I can't make any sense out of what they're seeing... It's nothing we've ever dealt with before, that's for sure. I don't think Dad even bothered to take the Jersey Devil myth seriously. There's just so much crap on it and so many different witness reports, I think he wrote it off as a scary bedtime story that got way out of control." Sam sighed and pushed his bangs back from his face while Dean started up the car and pulled out onto the road.
"With these violent attacks on people's animals lately... the only thing I can really come up with is that it is real, and people are growing too close to the Pine Barrens. It's upsetting the thing. Could be some kind of territorial deal... especially if it is anything like a dog..."
Dean rubbed at his forehead with one hand. "So do we scope out the area around Walton's house? That's where it was last... and if we're gonna use the fact that it was at Rufus's before that, we can guess it's going South."
Sam nodded. "It's the best plan we have, but if we don't run into it tonight we're leaving in the morning to get your ass some medicine."
Dean made a face and rolled his eyes.
Sam's hand whapped him upside the head. "Whoops, my hand slipped." He explained, all innocent eyed at Dean's betrayed look.
"Rules, Sam!"
"My hand slipped! Ow, hey!" Sam cried, rubbing his arm.
"Whoops, my hand slipped." Dean parroted, fending off Sam's next attack. "Hey, hey! Don't make me sneeze on you!"
TBC...
A/N: This story is totally self-indulgent for me, lol, especially concerning the boys. Just to put that out there. Most of the humor in here is humor I myself enjoy, which can get excessively childish and stupid. It's why I love movies like Superbad. =D