Chapter Two

"Alright, come on, I'll disinfect you," said Dean.

Sam followed him to the bathroom counter, where Dean had set up the first aid kit. Dean tilted Sam's head back, raising an alcohol wipe up. He froze.

"Huh…" said Dean.

"What?" asked Sam.

"It looked worse in the dark, I guess," said Dean. "You're not bleeding." He threw the alcohol wipe away and let go of Sam.

Sam frowned. "I'm not?" He raised his head a little to look in the mirror.

"Nope," said Dean. "Just scratched."

Sam saw the places where the cuts had been…it was just red scratches now. He was so sure he'd been bleeding earlier.

"Huh…" said Sam, lowering his hands. "That's weird…"

"How's your chest?" asked Dean.

"It feels sore, but the ache is already gone," said Sam.

"Good," said Dean. "I'm beat. You need anything?"

Sam shook his head. "No, I'm fine."

"See you in the morning," Dean told him, heading to bed.

"See ya," said Sam.

Suddenly very thirsty, Sam turned on the faucet, filling a small cup of water and gulping it down. Sam drank through ten cups before he realized what he was doing. Frowning, Sam put the cup down and headed to sleep.

***********************************************************SPN*******************************************

"So, we got a beat on Lillith, or what?" asked Dean.

"What?" asked Sam, looking up from the laptop.

Dean frowned at Sam's distant eyes. "You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," said Sam.

In fact, he was more than fine. Sam woke up to find the bruises on his neck and chest were completely gone. Sam had been pondering how he could have healed so fast. He was also worried about how much water he had been drinking lately. He had been woken up in the middle of the night by a sore, dry throat…fifteen times. And he'd drunk five glasses of water this morning already…and he had only been up for two hours. Funny thing was, he'd only had to relieve himself once so far.

"Well, we got anything on Lillith?" asked Dean.

Sam huffed in annoyance. "You know, you could help with the research."

"Nah, that's your department," said Dean. "My job is to kick ass and look pretty." He smirked.

"Well—big surprise—Lillith is turning out to be not as easy to track down," Sam snapped frustratingly at him. "So, just get over here and help out."

Dean leaned forward a little, glaring at Sam. "Geez, Sam, I'm the one that's dying here. Would it kill you to be a little sensitive?"

Sam had winced at the word "dying." He looked away from Dean and huffed out a sigh. "You just had to bring that up, didn't you?"

"Of course I did," said Dean pointedly. "I mean, come on, I got less than three months left, here, Sam. That hellfire at the end of the tunnel is getting brighter and brighter. So, yeah, I brought it up. Deal with it."

Dean folded his arms and leaned back on the bed, staring at the TV. Sam rolled his eyes, shaking his head. He went back to his laptop, searching for Lillith clues.

Sam could not believe his brother was acting like that. Even after admitting that he did not want to go to hell and that he wanted to get out of the deal, he still acted so callous about it…like he didn't care after all. It infuriated Sam; Dean's attitude almost always did. Dean was always such a smartass.

After a sulking moment, Sam began absently humming. It was some Bon Jovi song he had heard recently, and he couldn't get it out of his head. He hummed the song softly, keeping his eyes out for anything suspicious.

Man, I wish Dean would just be nice for once, Sam thought as he hummed.

After another moment, Sam heard Dean speak up from the bed.

"Hey, you need some more water, or something?" Dean asked, gesturing to the empty glass on the table in front of Sam.

Sam glanced up at him. "No, I'm good for now, I think."

"Alright," said Dean, shrugging. "Can I get you anything else?"

Sam looked up at him, confused. Dean never took care of Sam; not like this, anyway.

"No…I'm fine," Sam told him.

"Okay, okay," said Dean, nodding. "You sure?"

Sam frowned, looking closer. Dean did not have a sarcastic trait on his face whatsoever; no cocky smirk, no glimmer in his eyes…only the earnest honesty written all over his face. Sam had never seen Dean looking this caring and considerate.

"Are you okay?" asked Sam.

"Yeah, why wouldn't I be?" asked Dean with a sincere smile. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, Dean, but—" began Sam, starting to worry about Dean.

"But, what?" asked Dean urgently. "What's wrong? What can I do?"

"Nothing," said Sam quickly. "Nothing's wrong…except, maybe, you."

"Me?" asked Dean. "What's wrong with me?"

"That's a good question," said Sam. "Why are you acting like this?"

"Like what?" asked Dean.

"You're being so…pleasant, all of a sudden," said Sam.

"What, I can't be nice for once?" asked Dean genuinely.

Sam shook his head before freezing. "Wait, what'd you say?"

"When?" asked Dean, eager to help Sam.

"Just now, when I asked why you're being so pleasant," said Sam.

"That I can't be nice for once?" asked Dean.

Sam froze, thinking back to what he was thinking while he was humming—that he wanted Dean to just be nice for once.

"When did you start thinking you should be nice?" asked Sam.

"Um…well, you were humming Bon Jovi's It's My Life—excellent choice in song, by the way—and I just started thinking that I should be nice to you," said Dean. "After all, you are my brother…Isn't that how brothers should treat each other?"

Sam stopped breathing just then. The lore he had been reading about mermaids.

They entice with their song… Sam thought. It can't be…

Sam looked carefully at Dean and began humming once again. Dean's eyes suddenly became unfocused and glassy. The more Sam hummed, the more Dean seemed to become hypnotized by his voice. Taking another leap, Sam began urgently thinking as he hummed.

I wish Dean would just go back to normal, Sam thought.

He stopped humming and waited for what would happen next.

Dean clenched his eyes shut, shaking his head a little. He opened his eyes, looking down at his magazine. "Whew. Got a little dizzy there."

Sam still stared closely at him, waiting for whatever reaction he would get.

Dean looked at Sam, frowning. "What's wrong with you?"

"I think I should be asking you that question," said Sam carefully, still watching him closely.

"Oh, what, now you gotta head-shrink me?" asked Dean. "I told you, Sam, I'm onboard with the whole 'break the deal' thing. Does that mean I don't get to be upset about it anymore?"

Sam frowned, still staring at him. What is Dean talking about? Everything that just happened had nothing to do with Dean's deal…

On the upside, it looked like the spell, or whatever, had broken…maybe.

"Would you blink or something?" asked Dean. "You're starting to creep me out, you weirdo."

Sam finally let out a held breath, relieved. Not only was Dean back to normal, but it looked as though he did not remember what had just happened. Sam looked down at his research, starting to get a little worried.

I just got Dean to do what I wanted by singing… Sam thought. That's what mermaids do…and needing to drink all that water?

Sam absently shook his head a little. No, that's not it…It's my psychic thing acting up…and I'm dehydrated. It has nothing whatsoever to do with the mermaids…

And that's what Sam went with the rest of the day, as he continued to drink more and more water…until that afternoon.

"Hey, load the weapons, will ya?" Dean asked as he grabbed the duffels and headed out the door.

Sam headed to the empty bag on the floor and hauled it up onto the bed next to the knives and guns spread out on the mattress. He stuffed the shotguns and pistols into the bag and reached for the knives, stuffing them in, too. He grabbed two iron knives left on the mattress.

"Ah!" Sam hissed as he dropped the knives.

His hands were smoking a little from where the iron had touched him.

Sam's eyes widened. No…it's not true…

Sam reached tentatively forward and placed his fingers on the iron blade, but he quickly withdrew them as the iron burned his skin.

What the hell is going on? Sam wondered.

"You ready?" asked Dean from the doorway.

Sam jumped a little and looked at Dean. "Yeah…Yeah, just about."

"Alright, let's hit the road," said Dean.

Sam nodded and turned toward the knives, being very careful to grasp only the handles. He stuffed them in the bag and left the room, heading to the Impala. They piled in and started driving, heading west.

Dean finally glanced at Sam about half an hour into the drive. "Hey, there's one thing that doesn't make sense."

Sam looked at him. "What?"

"That whole, 'kill mermaids with salt' thing," said Dean. "Aren't oceans saltwater?"

"Yeah," said Sam, thinking about it. "Maybe…maybe it's because ocean saltwater is so diluted. But salt in its purest form…you know, actual salt…is their weakness. I mean, after all, fish live in saltwater, but if they touch salt, they dry out, right?"

Dean thought about it for a moment, shrugging. "Huh…that kind of makes sense…I guess."

Sam chuckled. "Since when does any supernatural weapon or remedy actually make sense?"

Dean laughed. "That's true."

"Where we headed, anyway?" asked Sam.

"I don't know," said Dean. "Just away from here. I've had it with mermaids."

Sam chuckled. "You've only been here for, like, twenty-four hours."

"Yeah, and I'm already sick of it," muttered Dean.

Sam shook his head, laughing softly. He stopped, frowning. "Does it…I mean, doesn't it seem that we wrapped this hunt up…a little too quickly?"

Dean frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Well, it usually takes us at least a couple days to figure everything out and then track down the monster," Sam told him. "We not only figured the situation out but also tracked down the mermaid and killed her in, like, twelve hours. Does that strike you as strange?"

"Maybe a little," said Dean. "Maybe the universe is finally cutting us a break."

Sam looked down at the floorboards, frowning. If I'm right about what's happening to me…then we are definitely not getting a break.

They finally stopped at a motel about two hours away from Myrtle Beach. Dean grabbed the remote and flopped down on one of the beds, flipping through channels until he found one of those cop shows that has clips of car chases. Sam grabbed a change of clothes and his shower items and headed for the bathroom. Hanging a towel on the wall next to the shower, Sam undressed and turned the shower on. He pulled the curtain aside and stepped into the water's spray.

"AH!" Sam yelled.

Dean heard Sam's cry and then a bang—a clatter—from the bathroom.

"Sam?" Dean called as he jumped up from the bed, rushing to the bathroom door.

There was silence coming from the room—alarming silence.

"Sam, you okay?" asked Dean. He reached for the door handle. "I'm coming in."

"No!" Sam exclaimed. "Don't come in!"

"Why not?" asked Dean.

"'Cause…I'm not wearing anything," Sam said hesitantly.

"But I heard a pretty bad bang in there," said Dean. "You okay?"

"Yeah," said Sam quickly in a high, squeaky voice. "I'm fine. I'm okay."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Sam, you sound like you been sucking on helium, man. Something is definitely not okay."

There was disconcerting silence, so Dean grabbed the doorknob.

"I'm coming in," Dean told Sam.

He opened the door to find Sam sitting in the tub of the shower, the curtain tangled around his waist and legs. Sam's hands were also hidden in the curtain. The water still sprayed down from the showerhead, so Dean turned it off. He couldn't see that anything was broken.

Dean stepped over to the tub, raising his arms in questioning. "So…what? You slipped and broke your leg, arm, fingernail, what?"

Sam winced. "Not exactly."

Dean frowned. "What exactly does 'not exactly' mean?"

"It means I should have stayed home from this hunt," Sam told him.

"What are you talking about?" asked Dean.

Sam glanced down at his legs, which were hidden by the shower curtain. "As soon as I climbed into the water…this happened."

Dean stared at him a moment longer before slowly reaching down and grabbing the curtain, pulling it away from Sam. He stared in shock at Sam's legs as the curtain slipped from his fingers to the floor.

Sam's legs had vanished. What Sam now had from the waist down…was a merman tail.