Thank you for the positive response to this! In answer to the question I always get - this story is 100% written, start to finish. I will upload chapters daily, so long as my internet holds out.
Chapter 2: A riddle inside an enigma inside a taco
As Sam lost consciousness, his body sagged in relaxation. Dean's heart clenched. His hand shot out, dropping the needle, as he grabbed for Sam's throat. Feeling a strong, if slow, pulse, the older Winchester sucked in a massive breath and worked to steady his own. He nodded to Jody, who had also paused in her stitching with a look of alarm. "He's out. Keep going." As Dean and Jody had worked Sam's bleeding had slowed, but the younger Winchester needed his wounds fully closed, and fast. Dean and Jody sewed on, while Claire continued to clean the puncture wounds with holy water. They bubbled in a desultory way from time to time as holy water found a grain of poison.
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"So you never answered my question." Sam stated, "Where are we?"
"I did answer," replied the catlike monster, sitting back on its haunches in a self-satisfied manner, its tail-serpent lashing from side to side. "Yes I did."
"You asked me where I want to be. That's not an answer."
"It's not an answer you like." The manticore responded. "It is, however, an answer. Where do you WANT to be, Samuel Campbell Winchester?"
Sam winced at the use of his full name, but decided not to call the beast on it. He named the first nice-seeming place that came to his mind. "Hawaii."
"You've never been to Hawaii," the manticore stated, purring again. "Pick again."
"Somewhere I've been? The beach. California." And then they were. The pure white world he'd woken to faded and the man and manticore appeared on a sunny afternoon on a beach. The smell of salt water and a steady warm breeze filled Sam's senses. The manticore padded down the high-tide line, leaving footprints in wet sand and clearly enjoying the feel of the California sun on its back. Sam looked around, remembering this place exactly. It was half an hour from the apartment he'd shared with Jess a lifetime ago. He'd never seen Half Moon Bay empty before though. The silence was broken only by the sound of waves as they erased the evidence of the monster's passing. He pondered, realizing, "You couldn't take me to somewhere I'd never been. This is a memory. We're inside a memory?"
The purring intensified. "Verrrry good, Sam. You might survive this game after all." It continued walking, and Sam looked around before turning to follow resignedly. Where else was he supposed to go, anyway?
"Game?"
"A game of riddles." The beast said, sounding annoyed as his purring stopped. "You chose it. Keep up, boy."
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Dean watched closely as Jody completed her last stitch, nodding at the sheriff's technique. She'd certainly gotten enough practice; between the two of them, they'd placed 121 sutures into Sam's abdomen – 27 of them in the muscle beneath his skin. That was something you couldn't do with dental floss, and Dean was again relieved that Jody and Claire had been at the cabin when they'd arrived.
Claire broke the silence a moment later. "Not a record." She sounded spent, her voice flat and blank.
"No," Dean confirmed, instinctively feeling for Sammy's pulse again. "He's gonna be pissed."
Jody surveyed her living room. It was blood spattered and muddied. Harry Potter lay open and face down in a puddle of pink-tinged holy water near the ruined couch. As she allowed herself to think normally again, Jody realized she didn't know what had happened in the minutes or hours before the Winchesters had crashed through her cabin door, destroying the room as well as her peaceful weekend away. Had it really only been two hours before? She took a breath. "So," she prompted. "Manticore?"
"Yeah." Dean said, staring at his blood-reddened shirt and hands, and lowering his body onto the floor with a groan. The seat of his pants dampened with that same bloodied holy water. Dean didn't seem to notice. He leaned against the couch, his shoulder touching Sam's, taking strength from the sound of his brother's steady breathing. "We tracked it to the area. Been taking hikers over by Allen's Point."
"If it's a manticore, it's a long way from home…" There was a note of question in Claire's voice, asking for confirmation of what she was pretty sure she already knew.
Dean breathed out a cynical 'ha' and turned his eyes upward to the young hunter. "You're not wrong. Someone decided to import it, if you'd believe." He considered Claire for a moment before adding, "That's good. You're reading some of the lore books we sent?" She nodded. "Good. You wanna give Jody the backstory, and I'll fill her in on this hunt?"
Claire half smiled, glanced at Sam, and swallowed the pride she had felt at Dean's compliment. She began "So, OK…yeah…manticores are actually sort of interesting. So get this…" she paused to look at Dean, who had again snorted. No further information seemed to be coming from the man, so she continued, "A manticore is from Persia – modern day Iran - and it's similar to a sphinx. Just like the sphinx, it's made up of a mix of things. Like, it has a body of a lion, a human head, and wings. Depending on what story you read, its tail is said to be either like a dragon or a scorpion…"
"More like a snake, and no wings – that surprised Sammy too." cut in Dean, who'd learned from experience rather than from Pliny the Elder's musings.
"…and it shoots poison spines with its tail." The two women's eyes shifted to take in the punctures on Sam's leg. "It shoots the spines, and they paralyze the victim. Then it eats people once they're paralyzed. Like, it eats everything. The whole person, clothes, bones, any possessions it can find. Even family of the victim if they can find 'em. Anything that smells like it's been in contact with the person. It's like the person never even existed by the end."
"Right," Dean confirmed without looking up, "and that's what clued in Sammy to the monster's identity. People were disappearing completely, like they'd never existed at all. The hikers, their gear, even the paths they'd hiked to get there were licked clean. Now, that's weird, even for us. But the weirdest thing was, people were disappearing all over the place who had nothing to do with the trails. Friends and family from all over the place – some who were nowhere near here - up and disappeared. The one survivor we could talk to was on the trails with a buddy and said he saw a talking mountain lion, but there aren't any mountain lions around here anymore, and lions aren't really big talkers anyway. He said his buddy got eaten, but the authorities couldn't find any blood or hair or anything. They figured the guy and his buddy got high, got lost, and his buddy wandered off and couldn't find him anymore." He stopped his monologue to consider his brother's face. "It was everywhere. Like, the furthest out was by us, all the way in freaking Kansas. She was the best friend of some guy who was hiking up here. I don't know how he saw the pattern, but Sammy figured it out last week." He looked up at Jody, slowly rubbing his hands together. Dried blood flaked from them. "Lots of people disappearing without a trace, all part of connected groups, but with no seeming connection between the groups. It came onto our radar 'cause we were looking for the Darkness. We thought at first…" he looked down at his hands, "I thought 'till today…it was Amara taking people. But Sammy found the pattern. All of 'em either were hiking at Allen's Point or had a really close friend or relative who was. Since it was in your neck of the woods, we tried calling you day before yesterday."
"We were here at the cabin. No cell phone reception up here unless the wind is blowing just right."
Dean nodded. "Yeah. That's what I figured. 'S why, when Sammy got hurt, I came straight here."
Claire looked at Sam. "So, manticore poison paralyzes its victims, right? Why isn't he paralyzed? I mean, he's not moving, but he's breathing so he's not paralyzed, right? And he walked in here…sort of…"
"A couple of reasons, probably." Dean turned to study Sam's face, which still looked so innocent when the younger man relaxed. Totally unfair. He wished the man would wake up, but with the venom and that kind of blood loss… his hand again reached out as Dean looked for – and found – Sammy's pulse. "First off, Sammy's a freakin' moose. He's a big guy. It takes a lot of poison to put him down, and only 2 spikes got him. Thing threw off like 20. Second, we always have holy water on hand." He locked Claire in a glare. "Keep holy water with you everywhere. Hoard the stuff. We used about a gallon of it before we even got here." And don't that sting like a bitch he thought, but didn't say. "Also, maybe the lore's wrong about the paralyzing thing. It was wrong about the wings." He returned to studying his brother's face, and saw Sam's eyes twitch under his lids. Was his brother coming around? "Sammy? You hear me?" but there was no response. He watched his brother's face for a moment longer, and could almost swear he heard the younger man's voice.
As the pause stretched long, Jody studied Dean. Finally, she cut in, "Are you OK? You're not hurt too, are you?"
Dean's eyes flared, "I'm fine."
'Fine' as defined by a Winchester. Jody sighed, knowing she was defeated before she even started this argument. "At the least, you need to clean yourself up. Sam's not going anywhere for right now." For a moment Jody thought he'd refuse even a shower. Instead, Dean considered his brother's face for a few more seconds, sighed, looked at his own hands and clothing, and stood.
"You'll watch him? Tell me when he wakes up? I'll just be gone a sec."
"Go. Shower's down the hall. I'll be right here."
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The manticore paced down the beach, its feline body writhing in Sam's remembered California sunshine. It purred loudly, a rumbling, discordantly happy sound. "Pleasant. This is a pleasant place. You do have some pleasant memories. Some are not. This one…this is where you wish to be?"
"I WISH to be with my brother. I WISH to go home." Sam's frustration was audible as he stopped following the beast. "Where are you walking to?"
The manticore paused, looked back, hissed, and raised its too-human eyebrows. "I am walking nowhere. And you will go nowhere either until and unless you answer my riddles correctly. We're playing a game, remember?"
Sam sighed, crossing his arms and standing braced on the shoreline, the lines of his body clearly saying 'get on with it then.'
The manticore's purr returned, the sound obviously his equivalent of laughing at this obstinate human's impatience. "Stubborn. Stubborn." Purr. "This is what your brother calls 'bitchface'?" Purr, "Appropriate…well… Then let the games begin." It sat, resting on its haunches and facing the younger Winchester brother. "There will be ten humans. I will place them in a line, in height order, with the tallest human – that would be you," (purr) "in the back, and the smallest human – a child – in the front. Each of you can see all humans ahead of you, but if you look behind you, I will eat you all."
Sam frowned. No such line appeared. "What are you playing at? What child?"
"SILENCE" the manticore trumpeted, hissing once again. "Each of you will wear a hat of my choosing. Each hat will be either black or white, but you will not know what color your own hat is. You may each state one word, either 'black' or 'white'. If you say any other word, I will eat you all. If you attempt to signal to one another, I will eat you all. I am inside your mind, as you know. I will see immediately if you cheat in our game." It squinted its eyes, smirking at the tall man before it and wearing a considering, all-too-human smile. "I will start my dining with the child. You will be last. You may watch." Purr. Purr. Purr.
"This is a riddle. There is no child."
"DO YOU WISH ME TO EAT THE CHILD? I WILL SHOW YOU THE CHILD. I will eat it. As your brother says, YOU WILL SHUT YOUR FUGLY FACE, and speak again to me only when you know the answer to my riddle."
Sam shut his mouth, and waited.
"I repeat. If any of you tries to signal the others, or speak any word other than 'black' or 'white', or if you look right, or left, or behind you, I will eat you all. Your challenge is to guess the color of your own hat. If no more than two of you guess incorrectly, you may live. If three state the incorrect color, I will eat you all. Before we begin, you and your compatriots have three minutes to plan a strategy. What strategy will you choose?"
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Dean emerged from his shower less than five minutes after he'd left the living room, hustling to rejoin his brother. The man remained where he'd been. "How is he?"
Jody, seated in the room's only armchair, looked to the wounded man on her couch. "No change." In the few minutes he'd been gone, she and Claire had cleaned away the medical supplies and mopped up the gory mix of spent holy water and blood on the floor. Nothing to be done about the couch. It's going to have to be tossed. They'd also placed a blanket over Sam's resting form. He looked now as if he was sleeping. Not a comfortable sleep; the younger Winchester's face was tight, lines of stress obvious to any. He's always had such an expressive face. Dean put his hand on his brother's browline, smoothing the wrinkles there and feeling for fever. None yet. With such severe injuries, it was likely a matter of time. Dean looked around, expecting but not seeing Claire.
"She went out for supplies," Jody answered the unspoken question. "Food – you eat more than we do – and I'm guessing more holy water. She thinks you'll need it."
"She's probably not wrong." Dean moved to the front of the couch, again seating himself on the floor, close enough to touch his brother at need. His own need, more likely than Sam's. Sam had lost a lot of blood. He'd likely be out for a while.
"How far from the cabin were you when it happened?" How long was he bleeding? She didn't dare ask it that way. Dean was worried enough.
"About ten minutes from Allen's Point. Took us about twenty to get here." As he spoke, Dean's eyes never left his brother. Winchesters are a single-minded lot.
Jody considered the pair for a moment. There was concern, worry, on Dean's face, but something else as well. Guilt? She began to ask him about it, but in an instant the expression cleared. Dean's body drooped, his breathing evening out as he relaxed to the floor soundlessly.
"Dean?" She leaned forward, checking the man's pulse, opening his eyes. "Dean?" No response. Scared she'd missed something, Jody searched the man's body for wounds, but found none beyond scratches and bruises. These she dosed with the last dregs of Claire's holy water, but got no bubbling response. She ran to grab her laptop. The likelihood that Wikipedia would have an authoritative entry on manticores is thin, but when it's all you have, it's where you start.
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Nine men, women, and children appeared on the beach in front of Sam. Dean was there, as were Jess, Bobby, and Jo. A clerk from the bookstore nearest the bunker in Kansas and a waitress Dean flirted with each morning at a local diner looked bewildered to have appeared here. The child was a playmate from Sam's youth; upstate New York if he remembered correctly. Memories, each and every one, they were not all the 'close personal friends' who had died in previous manticore attacks. Sam and Dean had precious few of those.
The visitors wore no hats; Sam guessed these would be added when the 'game' began.
Sam's mind raced.
"Focus," Sam said aloud, bringing the attention of the confused group to himself. "If it's real, it's real. Either way, we answer the riddle." He heard a chuffing, purring laugh behind him.
"Oh, it's real, silly human. Play my game. Play it well." The manticore began to pace away, but turned and reminded Sam over his shoulder, "I will return in three minutes."
"Three minutes?" Dean's eyes focused on Sam, "What does he mean? What game?"
"Riddles." Crap. Could he remember the entire riddle? He began to outline it for the assembled group, who stared at him in disbelief and horror.
Ten people. He looked around. Check.
Black and white hats – not yet, but expected.
Only able to see the people in front of you.
No signals.
Each of the nine members of the group had been elsewhere a moment ago, and each struggled to understand if they were in a dream. Each independently came to the decision that he or she would act as if this were at the least a nightmare-driven imperative. 'Not real and therefore not important' was not a risk any was willing to take.
Several had been in heaven a moment prior. They knew this was real. There are no nightmares in heaven.
"So what if we just say the color of the hat in front of us, then the person in front of us says that color, and he's safe, right? We just tell each other what hats we're wearing." Dean answered, stepping forward.
"No," said Sam, having already considered that and discarded it. "Then every second person risks being wrong. I tell you your hat is black. We both say 'black'. Maybe we're lucky, but maybe you're right, but I'm wrong. Then Jess tells Bobby his hat is white. Maybe her hat is white, maybe it's black, but she'll never know. It goes that way down the line. There are five right answers, and five 'maybies'. And we only get two wrong answers."
Dean followed the logic, impressed as usual with his brother's quick mental gymnastics. Jess had been nodding along, as if she'd also worked through that non-solution. She walked forward, taking Sam's hand. Not for the first time, it occurred to Dean that Jess would have been a good match for his brother. He sighed. "So… what then?"
Jess answered. "It's a code. We need a code with two code words; black and white."
Sam picked up the train of thought immediately, adding, "A binary code, which gives the receiver one piece of information – what hat am I wearing – while cluing in the next person in line as well. We can't have every other person guessing."
Now Jo spoke, "Binary code seems simple, but with enough repetitions it can get complex. Each repetition you add another to the set of ones or zeros." She looked around to the sound of a surprised snort, shrugging as she saw Dean's incredulous look. "I have a lot of time these days, and Ash likes to talk."
Sam smiled at her. It was good to see her; real or not. "Right. So, with ten of us saying either 'black' or 'white', each next person in line will get one byte of extra information. We need a binary…code…I've got it."
The group's focus shifted entirely to him.
Dean's eyebrows rose nearly to his hairline. "You've got it?"
"Yeah. So get this…"
Less than fifteen minutes after he'd fallen inexplicably unconscious, Dean awoke. His first words were "I'll be Damned. Again."
Claire was beside him in a moment with a bottle. He took a swallow, wrinkled his nose, and looked at it closely. Not whiskey.
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"Holy water?" Please tell me there's a reason I just drank water.
Claire nodded. "We were worried you might have been poisoned too. You passed out. Jody's researching some longer-acting poison antidotes now."
Dean took a moment to collect his thoughts, and then explained what had happened.
"So…what was the answer?" asked Jody when he finished.
Dean turned to look at his brother, pride evident in his face. "A code. He stood in back. He told us he'd say 'black' if the number of black hats in front of him was even, 'white' if the white hats were even. He said black. So I knew that, including me, there were an even number of black hats in front of Sam. I saw two black hats. So I said 'white' – the color my hat HAD to be, 'cause if it was black, I'd see an odd number of black hats. Then Jess, who stood in front of me knew that to me, there were still an even number of black hats. She only saw one black hat in front of her, so she knew hers must be black. And it went on from there." He checked Sam's pulse. "You're a smart mother fudger, you big old nerd."
"So was it real?" asked Claire quietly. "And if it was, why did you come back but not him?"
"I don't know."
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On a remembered beach in Sam's weary mind, the manticore purred his pleasure.
"Very good, Samuel. You play our game well."
"I've played it. I won. It's time to let me go." His anger and impatience showed in his glare, and was reflected back with a flash of the manticore's eyes.
"Go?" it snarled, "Go. Yes. This time I believe I will choose the setting of the next riddle. Somewhere warm, I think. Ah, here."
And they were in the cage.