Title: Beast of Beaver Bay
Author: Disasteriffic Kaz
Info: A lighthouse on a cliff, mysterious deaths and random fires…nothing is ever easy for a Winchester. Post 6x16 "And then there were none" tagged to previous story "What Evil Lurks" angst/hurt/caring/awesome!sam/dean
Author's note: This story is tagged to a previous story of mine: "What Evil Lurks". While you can read this without that, I'd recommend going ahead and reading it first. :D
Beta'd by the always awesome JaniceC678 :D – Friend and Muse's co-conspirator.
Do please Review once you've read. :D Every comment and vote of support helps keep me writing. Not to mention if I've pooched anything, someone can always tell me. :P
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So close, no matter how far
Couldn't be much more from the heart
Forever trusting who we are
And nothing else matters
Trust I seek and I find in you
Every day for us, something new
Open mind for a different view
And nothing else matters
Never cared for what they say
Never cared for games they play
Never cared for what they do
Never cared for what they know
No, nothing else matters
~Nothing else matters, Metallica
CHAPTER 1
Dean had a long moment to consider the ways in which he had screwed up this hunt as he flew through the air. He could see Sam grappling with the mutant bear they'd come to kill. Dean had been convinced it was a werewolf, and they'd come out in search of it with handguns and silver bullets. He'd dismissed the witness reports calling it a bear as the usual confused idiots who didn't understand what they were actually looking at. Turned out he was the confused idiot. The silver bullets had barely penetrated its hide and only served to piss it off. He grunted as he crashed through a mass of branches. Leaves rained down on him as he fell, and Dean tried to turn and grab one of the passing limbs to brake his fall. He hit the ground faster than he thought and saw stars as the air was knocked out of him.
"Dean!" Sam groaned, as the bear's strength forced him to his knees. He was only barely holding its powerful jaws from his throat. He saw Dean hit the ground and then lay unmoving. "Dean!" Fear for his brother gave Sam new strength. He dropped to his back and swept the bear's legs with his own, toppling it to the ground. Sam scrambled away from the growling beast and to the weapons bag they had dropped when the bear had ambushed them. He tore it open and pulled out the long knife, slid it from its sheath and threw himself to the side as he heard the growling cough just behind him.
The bear's lethal claws passed through the air inches from his head as Sam rolled and came up on his knees. He studied the beast's chest, deciding on the best place to find its heart and narrowed his eyes as he noticed an unusual burn pattern in its hair near the center of its chest. Sam didn't wait for it to come to him. He lunged forward under the reaching paws and slammed the blade into the mark on its chest, pushing with all his strength. The bear screamed and reared back. One of its arms caught him in the chest and sent him sliding across the ground.
"Crap!" Sam scrambled quickly to his feet and groaned again, realizing he'd left his knife in the bear's chest. It stood on its hind legs, stretched to its length with its head thrown back, and then, finally, it fell over backward into the ground with a heavy thump. Sam inched forward, alert for any twitch or sign of life. He breathed a small sigh when he saw the sightless eyes staring up.
"Dean!" Sam jumped the carcass and ran to where his brother still lay unmoving, sliding to a stop on his knees next to him. "Dean? Speak to me." He took Dean's head in his hands and peered down at him while panic drove his pulse to pound in his ears.
"G'off me." Dean groaned, and opened his eyes to glare up at Sam's concerned face so close to his own.
Sam leaned back slightly and moved his hands to Dean's shoulders instead and smiled. "Scared me."
"That's 'cause…you're a girl." Dean rolled his eyes and let Sam pull him up until he was sitting. He slapped a hand to his back with a moan. "Son of a bitch. That's gonna hurt later."
"Are you alright?" Sam moved around behind him and pulled up the back of his brother's jacket and shirts, ignoring the punch aimed at him. He hissed in a breath. "Bruises are already coming up."
"Knock it off." Dean shoved his hands away and straightened his shirts. "My pride's taken enough of a dent already."
Sam smirked and raised his hands in surrender. "Need a hand up?"
Dean gave him a dirty look and slapped Sam's knee as he stood. "I got it. Is fugly dead?"
"Yeah," Sam nodded and hovered until Dean was standing again. He smiled and went back over to the bear. Sam knelt by its side and leaned over to pull his knife free. It slid out covered in blood and he cleaned it on the bear's hide while looking more closely at the burn pattern. "It's cursed."
"Huh?" Dean brushed twigs and leaves off his clothes and stretched, ignoring the disturbing number of pops and cracks from his back.
"This looks like Vaudun." Sam pointed to the burned hair and looked up. "Someone burned this into him."
"Voodoo? In friggin Connecticut again? Come on." Dean shook his head, thinking of the hotel they had stayed in all those years ago and the bound spirit, creepy doll collection and mother and daughter they'd saved. "This mean we have to go looking for a witch bitch?"
Sam chuckled and stood over the body. "Probably not and that was Hoodoo, not Voodoo. There's a difference."
"You're a nerd. You know that right?" Dean told him with a disgusted look.
Sam smirked and bent back to look at the markings. "This is old and we know this bear's been munching on hikers for several years at least."
Dean hobbled over to their bag and bent to pull out the salt and lighter fluid. He stopped halfway with a loud groan. "Shit!"
"What's wrong?" Sam looked over, stared for a moment and then snorted. "Uh…tell me you're not…stuck like that."
"Shut the hell up, Sammy." Dean managed between clenched teeth. "I am NOT stuck." He was stuck. His back was stubbornly refusing to straighten out again and he growled as he put a hand out to support himself on the nearest tree.
Sam worked hard to smother the laugh and cleared his throat. "Uh, why don't you just…stay there. I'll take care of the bear." He knelt next to Dean and took out the salt and lighter fluid, studiously avoiding looking at his face. He knew it would set him off again.
Dean listened to him move away and peered over his shoulder as Sam dusted the corpse in salt. "Dammit." He dropped his head and tried to use the tree to straighten himself. It didn't work. He heard the whoosh of flames behind him and then Sam was there with a gentle hand on his back and another on his shoulder. "I can do this."
"Stop complaining." Sam chuckled and wrapped his fingers over Dean's shoulder as he pressed his other hand above the small of his back. "Take a breath."
"Dude…no." Dean tried to stand again, grimacing as his back screamed. "No. Seriously, I can…" He broke off on a pained cry as Sam's hand pressed into his back while the other pulled his shoulder and he was forced upright. Only his brother's grip on him kept him standing as stars exploded in his vision and his knees threatened to buckle. "Hate you."
Sam laughed. "No, you don't." He pulled Dean's shirts up again while he was distracted and got a better look at his back. He felt along Dean's spine and smiled. "Nothing out of place. Just some impressive bruising."
"When you're done feeling me up," Dean stepped away and smoothed the pain from his face to glare at Sam, "can we go, please?"
"Yep." Sam picked up the bag and slung it over his shoulder. "I'm driving."
"Like hell you are," Dean returned and slapped Sam's shoulder. The motion made his back pull and he groaned as he walked.
Sam was driving after getting the keys from Dean's pocket with a minimum of struggle. Dean sat ramrod straight in the passenger seat, planning ways to humiliate him his brother later. He'd refused to lie out in the back like an invalid. He was beginning to regret that decision and made himself resist the urge to squirm. He growled as the car bumped over yet another pothole.
"Are you trying to find every damn crater in the road?" Dean looked over at his brother angrily.
Sam glanced over at him apologetically. "No, Dean. I'm not." He kept his eyes on the road. It was pockmarked with holes, old as it was, and he was having trouble avoiding them. Each time the car jolted filled him with guilt for the pain he was causing his brother. "Five more minutes, we'll be back at the motel."
Dean shook his head and went back to pretending his back wasn't a misery of pain. His phone rang, making him startle and wince. He fished it out of his pocket and flipped it open with a glance at the screen. "Hey, Bobby. Whatcha got?"
"A job for you two idjits if you're up for it." Bobby picked up his whiskey bottle and scowled as it was empty. He set it aside. "Got some very suspicious drownings up in northern Minnesota."
"How suspicious?" Dean slapped Sam's arm and motioned to the glove box.
Sam chuckled and leaned over to open it and pull out the notepad and pen they kept there. "Job?"
Dean nodded and settled the pad on his thigh. "Shoot, Bobby."
"Couple bodies fished out of Lake Superior with teeth marks."
"Aw come on, Bobby. I've seen the catfish up there," Dean said with a laugh. "That's not suspicious."
"Would you shut your hole and lemme finish?" Bobby growled. "How about the three people who drowned on dry land? That suspicious enough to catch your attention?"
"Ok, ok. That's suspicious. Sorry." Dean grimaced and sighed. "So, where we going?"
"Beaver Bay, Minnesota. Specifically, Split Rock Lighthouse." Bobby pulled over the newspaper he'd been looking at earlier. "Last two victims who were drowned on land were the lighthouse keepers."
"Beaver Bay?" Dean asked suggestively and glanced at Sam with a lascivious smirk, unable to let the name slip by without commenting. Sam rolled his eyes with his best "What are you? Twelve?" expression, and Dean could hear Bobby's long-suffering sigh on the other end of the phone. "Ok, ok, we'll check it out. You guys got no sense of humor." Dean scribbled down the information. "Thanks, Bobby."
"I should probably tell ya, I got you a cover." Bobby said smugly and smirked. "Dean and Sam Jennings. Brothers applying for the job of lighthouse keepers."
"Wait, what? Dammit, Bobby…" Dean yelled but was cut off by Bobby's laugh and then the line going dead. "Son of a bitch."
"What? Is something wrong?" Sam asked as he turned in to the motel and parked in front of their room. "What did he say?"
"Oh, you're gonna love this." Dean groaned and got out…or tried to. He managed to get one leg out and was stuck clinging to the door to stay standing. He glared as Sam came around and took his arm and his weight. "Laugh and I will kill you in your sleep."
Sam smiled but wisely didn't laugh. He helped Dean out and let him hobble to the room himself while Sam went to the trunk to get the bags. Dean had the laptop out by the time he got in the room and was already opening a beer with the bottle of painkillers in his other hand. "Here." Dean waved a hand at the laptop and went to his bed. "Look up Beaver Bay, Minnesota."
"Ok." Sam watched him lower himself to the bed and sat in front of the laptop, waiting for it to boot up. "What's in Beaver Bay?"
Dean started to grin again, but then caught sight of Sam's glare and went back to business, Dean quickly filled him in with the information Bobby had given him and then scowled. "Bobby had a bright idea to give us a cover. We're going to be friggin' lighthouse keepers."
"Wait. Lighthouse keepers?" Sam stared in surprise. "Us? What do we know about running a lighthouse?"
"Not a damn thing." Dean leaned back with a groan against the pillows he'd piled up. "Do they still use boilers?"
Sam rolled his eyes and brought up his browser. "We are so screwed."
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Sam woke with a start and blinked into the darkness of the motel room, trying to decide what had woken him. A rustle from the next bed and a soft moan made him sigh. Dean. "You alright?" He asked softly as he sat up, looking at the bright red digits of the alarm clock. It was three in the morning and only four hours since they'd pulled off for the night in Illinois. Dean had insisted on driving and had been hunched over the steering wheel for hours, determined to drive through the whole twenty hours. Sam had put his foot down at their last gas stop and gotten his way.
"M'fine." Dean's exhausted voice came from the nest of blankets.
Sam smirked. "No. You're in pain. Hang on." He climbed out of bed and went to the bathroom, flicking on the light. He looked into the ice bucket and sighed. It had melted while they slept. He dumped it out and headed for the door. "Back in a sec. Need more ice."
"Dude, I'm good." Dean insisted, unwilling to admit just how much pain he was in. It was his job to take care of Sam, not the other way around.
"Shut up, Dean," Sam chuckled and went outside. He danced on his bare feet for a few steps. The sidewalk was freezing and he wished he'd thought to at least pull some socks on as he jogged down to the corner and the laundry room. He pushed the door open and went to the ice machine in the back, shoving the bucket in and hit the button to turn it on. The door opened behind him and he turned, smiling at the man who came in with a duffel bag behind him. "Hey."
"Evenin'."
Sam watched as he went to the row of washing machines and set the duffel on the counter beside them, pulling it open. He turned his attention back to the bucket as the first few ice cubes clattered into it. The thing was slow and he silently urged it to hurry. His feet were turning to ice.
"Hey, man. You got any quarters?"
Sam turned back at the question with a shake of his head. "Sorry. Just got out of bed." He gestured to his t-shirt and sweatpants. "Try the office."
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Dean shifted for the hundredth time, trying to find a comfortable position and groaned. "Ok, Sam. I give. You can come back with the ice any time now." He turned his head to see the clock and frowned. He'd been gone over ten minutes. Warning bells went off in his head. "What the hell?"
Dean rolled carefully to his side and got upright with much grunting, groaning and cursing. "Too old for this shit." He slid his knife out from under his pillow and went to the door, opening it and stepping outside. "Crap." He shivered in the sudden cold and looked up and down the building. There was no sign of his brother. "Dammit, Sammy. You better have fallen asleep on the damn ice machine." He pulled the door shut and headed down the building to the laundry room. He'd seen the ice machine through the windows when they pulled in. He wrapped his arms around himself against the chill and looked in the windows as he reached it. It was empty.
Dean pushed the door open. "Sam?" He looked to the ice machine in the corner and felt a new chill that had nothing to do with the cold; the machine was still running and ice was running over the top of the bucket to scatter across the floor. "Shit." He turned to glare around the parking lot. "Sammy?"
"Dean?"
Dean spun, slapping a hand out to the wall as his back protested and followed Sam's voice around the corner. He took a moment to absorb the scene and let his pounding heart calm. Sam stood with one hand clasped to his shoulder next to a police officer and a third man lay on the ground between them, moaning.
"What the hell's going on?" Dean hastily tucked his knife in the back of his sweatpants and straightened, going to his brother. "You alright?"
"Yeah." Sam nodded. "This is my brother." He nodded down to the man. "Idiot tried to jump me in the laundry room."
Dean took the hand Sam had wrapped around his shoulder and pried it up. "Looks like he did more than try," Dean growled, his own pain instantly forgotten. There was a tear and blood beneath his hand, and Dean glared down at the would-be mugger with murder in his eyes.
"Hey. I'm ok. It's just a scratch." Sam nudged Dean back a step, concerned that even the officer's presence wouldn't stop his big brother from exacting some revenge. "Do you need anything else, officer?" He asked the cop, and smiled when the man shook his head.
"Naw, you can go." The officer pulled his handcuffs loose. "Pretty sure this is the guy who's assaulted three other people over the last week. I'll take him in as soon as he's completely conscious again." He looked at Sam with a satisfied grin. "Shame he just fell like that."
Sam smirked. "Yeah, it is, isn't it? Thank you. Come on, Dean." He took his brother's arm and turned him. "In the room," He muttered. They rounded the corner and he stopped. "Hang on." Sam dashed into the laundry room and grabbed the over-flowed ice bucket, slapping the machine off as well. He rolled his eyes when he came back out and found Dean still standing there, alert for danger. "Dude, relax."
"Right. Relax." Dean slapped a hand up the back of Sam's head. "When my little brother goes to get ice, at 3 in the morning, no less, and manages to get himself friggin' mugged? Yeah, I'll relax. Get in the damn room already."
Sam scowled at him but stayed silent. He knew Dean's anger wasn't actually directed at him but at the asshole lying on the pavement outside. "Lay down again."
"Forget it. Sit and lemme see that shoulder," Dean ordered. He went to his bag and pulled out the first aid kit.
"It's nothing," Sam argued but found himself being shoved into a chair and rolled his eyes.
"One of these days you're gonna roll those eyes and they're gonna stay in the back of your head." Dean smirked and thumped the kit on the table.
Sam snorted and pulled his shirt off with a stifled hiss of discomfort. "It's really not that bad."
Dean got his first look at the cut and nodded. It was shallow but bleeding profusely. He pressed a pad of gauze to it. "Hold that."
Sam clamped his hand over it. "Came at with me with a lousy pocket knife." He sighed. "He wouldn't have gotten me at all, but I checked the stupid ice bucket." Sam shook his head at his own lapse. "I deserve this."
"Bullshit," Dean said angrily and waved at him to move the gauze. "That stupid son of a bitch deserves to be in a gutter somewhere with my boot print on his face." He carefully taped a bandage over the cut and patted his hand over it, making Sam wince. He smirked. "Although next time you let your guard down like that, I'll kick your ass for you."
Sam chuckled and stood. "Yes, Dean. Can we fix your back now? I'd like to get some sleep tonight."
"Bitch. Bitch. Bitch." Dean flipped him off with a smile and went back to his bed. He crawled onto it, carefully to move his back as little as possible and lay down with a thump and his face in the pillow. He listened to Sam bagging ice and flinched as the first one was set along his spine. A moment later he groaned happily and sank into the mattress as the cold began to soothe the bruising.
Sam propped three bags over where he knew the worst of the bruising was and folded the blanket over Dean's legs. "Night, Dean." He went to his own bed and flopped down on it, nearly asleep before his head hit the pillow.
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To Be Continued…