Chapter Four
"Alright, how's it going?" asked Dean.
"Um…could you get me some pants?" asked Sam, his face red.
Dean turned to see that Sam's legs had mostly returned to normal. The only scales left were around his mid-section. Pretty soon, those would be gone, too. And the way that Sam got there…in the shower…
"Uh…yeah," said Dean. He turned and grabbed a pair of jeans from Sam's duffel, tossing them to him.
Sam hastily pulled them on, comfortable with letting the scales dry off under the denim.
"Shall we go get something to eat?" asked Dean.
"Yeah, just, uh…no seafood, alright?" asked Sam, grabbing a shirt from his duffel.
Dean chuckled. "Can't promise anything."
Sam rolled his eyes as he pulled his shirt on and grabbed a jacket. He and Dean drove to a diner and sat down at a booth. After a minute or so, a waitress walked up to them.
"What can I get you boys?" the woman asked.
"I'll have a bacon cheeseburger, extra onion, side of fries and a Coke," said Dean.
"I'll take the grilled chicken sandwich, side of mashed potatoes and a water," said Sam.
"Alrighty," said the woman.
Dean rolled his eyes. "Why do you insist on eating healthy food? It's not natural."
"Whereas meat covered in deep fried bacon with greasy fries and carbonated sugar is perfectly natural," Sam pointed out, cautiously sliding the salt shaker over to Dean's side of the table.
"Just the way God intended it," smirked Dean.
Sam smiled, shaking his head. "Whatever you say, Dean."
The waitress walked back with their drinks. "A Coke…" She set the glass down in front of Dean.
"Thank you," smiled Dean.
"And a water for—" began the waitress.
As she was about to set the drink down, a little boy ran past, knocking into her legs. The waitress stumbled a little, spilling a quarter of the drink onto the table…on one of Sam's hands. Sam gasped as he and Dean watched the aqua scales erupt on the back of his right hand and the fin grew slightly from his forearm. Luckily, the waitress was preoccupied with making sure she didn't trip the kid or anything. Sam quickly stuffed his hand under the table.
"I'm so sorry," said the waitress.
Sam smiled. "Oh, it's okay. Kids, right? What can you do?"
"Yeah," said the waitress. "I can get you another water."
"Oh, it's fine," Sam told her. "This still has plenty of water. I'll just finish it."
"I'll just grab a rag," said the waitress, hurrying back to the counter. She returned soon with a rag and wiped the table off. "I'll be back soon with your food."
"Thank you," smiled Dean. When she walked away, Dean grabbed Sam's glass. "I'll dry that off."
Dean grabbed a napkin and dried the outside of the glass off so it didn't affect Sam. "Here ya go, buddy." He leaned down a little to pass Sam a napkin under the table.
Sam grabbed the napkin and tried to dry his hand off. It didn't really work. "Dammit."
"We need to buy a hair dryer?" asked Dean, smiling.
"Very funny," said Sam, using his dry hand to throw the napkin back onto the table.
"So, where to next?" asked Dean.
"I don't even know," said Sam. "Do you really think we should be going anywhere? Shouldn't we wait to see what Bobby digs up?"
"Well, what are we gonna do in the meantime?" asked Dean. "Just sit around and do nothing?"
Sam shrugged. "I don't know. How helpful am I gonna be when I have to avoid water and iron and salt?"
"Well, you can be research boy, as usual," said Dean.
"Gee, thanks," said Sam, taking a big gulp of water. "You even have a bead on a hunt?"
Dean shrugged. "Yeah, maybe."
Sam stared at him.
"Okay, no, not really," Dean admitted. "We can look, though."
"Yeah, whatever," said Sam.
The waitress walked back to their table with their food.
"That was fast," said Dean.
"Well, we pride ourselves on service and speed," the waitress smiled. "The bacon cheeseburger…" She set the food down in front of Dean. "And the grilled chicken…" She set the plate down in front of Sam. "Let me know if you need anything."
"Will do," nodded Dean, already digging into his food.
Awkwardly eating one handed, Sam took a few bites of his sandwich before switching to the mashed potatoes. After a couple bites, Sam froze. Something was wrong. His mouth was incredibly dry…too dry. Sam grabbed his glass of water, chugging the rest of it.
"Geez, Sammy," muttered Dean around his mouthful of beef. "Bobby wasn't kidding about mermaids needing water."
Sam slammed the glass down on the table, but the water didn't help. His mouth felt—literally—like a desert. He grabbed at his throat as it scratched at itself.
"Sammy?" asked Dean, staring at him.
Feeling like his mouth and throat were made of sandpaper, Sam darted up from the table, rushing towards the bathroom. Dean watched Sam go, staring in shock. The waitress walked over.
"Is he alright?" asked the waitress.
"Yeah, it's, uh…" said Dean. "What was in that food?"
"Um, tomato, lettuce and mayo on the sandwich," said the waitress. "Butter and salt in the mashed—"
"Salt?" asked Dean, eyes going wide. "You put salt in the potatoes?"
"Yes," said the waitress. "It makes the potatoes taste better if we put salt into the mix before we cook it."
"Dammit," muttered Dean, looking over at the bathroom.
"What is it?" asked the waitress.
"Uh…salt…allergy," Dean made up.
"People can be allergic to salt?" asked the waitress.
"Oh, yeah," said Dean, nodding. "It's, uh…very rare. Something about the sodium and the…sodium."
He quickly darted for the bathroom, finding Sam with his face in the sink, drinking straight from the faucet.
He's probably been that way ever since he got in here, Dean thought.
Dean put his hand on Sam's back. "You okay?"
Sam held up his scaled hand, telling Dean to wait a moment. He continued to gulp water for another full minute. He finally shut the water off, gulping for air.
"What…" Sam rasped out, his throat still dry as hell, "what…happened?"
"They put salt in their potatoes," explained Dean.
Sam glared at him.
"I didn't tell them to!" said Dean. "Don't look at me like that!"
Sam shook his head, grabbing at his throat. "Can we…just get…out of here?"
"Yeah, I'll get doggie bags," said Dean, heading back into the dining room.
Sam turned on the faucet and gulped down some more water before heading out into the dining room, stuffing his right hand into his jacket pocket. Dean waved him over to the front door, holding two bags in his hand. Sam climbed into the Impala with Dean, and they sped towards the motel.
"You doing better?" asked Dean.
Sam rubbed at his scratchy throat. "I'll live." His voice was still a little raspy.
"You better," said Dean. "What am I gonna do without my fish boy brother?"
Sam glared at him. "Ha-ha. I can't die just from salt, remember?"
"No, but I bet it hurts," said Dean.
Sam nodded, thinking back to the whole immortal thing. He was still wondering about that. If he was immortal, did that mean they could get out of the deal without Sam dropping dead?
******************************************************SPN*******************************************
Sam glanced over at Dean's bed to see him fast asleep. Sam walked over to Dean's bed, wanting to make sure he was asleep.
"Dean?" Sam whispered. "You awake?"
There was no response.
Sam smiled a little. "Dean, I'm gonna go paint the Impala pink."
Dean took a deep breath. "Whatever ya say, S'mmy…" He turned his head a little more into the pillow, still fast asleep.
Sam smiled and shook his head, heading over to Dean's jacket slung over a chair. He pulled the car keys out of Dean's pocket and snuck out to the Impala. He climbed in and drove to the nearest crossroads. He had to find out the truth.
Sam grabbed the box out of the Impala and headed to the middle of the crossroads, digging a hole in the ground and burying the box. Sam stood up and looked around, waiting for the demon to show up.
"You know, this is already getting old, Sam," came a voice from behind him.
Sam turned to see a blonde woman in a black dress standing in the crossroads.
"How many 'no's' does it take to get through to you?" asked the demon.
Sam just glared at her, walking closer.
"You gonna shoot me?" smirked the demon. "Word on the street is you lost the Colt." She shook her head, tsk-ing at him. "Should've kept a closer eye on it, huh?"
Sam got right down to it. "Does the deal still stand?"
The demon frowned. "I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about."
It was Sam's turn to frown. "You haven't heard about me?"
"What, you going all Ariel? Yeah, we know. So?"
"I'm immortal. Which means if Dean and I find a way out of the deal, I won't drop dead."
The demon sighed and stepped closer. "The deal was…you get to live…and Dean gets to go to hell. Now that you're immortal…" She smiled wickedly. "Well, you get to live forever. And don't forget…" her smile morphed into a glare. "You may be immortal now, but you can still be killed. If you two try to weasel your way out of that deal, I will find an iron dagger coated in salt…and stab it through your heart. 'Kay?" She smiled sickly sweet.
Sam glared at her. "You're an evil bitch."
"And you're a selfish dick," she said. "I'm glad we got that cleared up." She turned, walking away from him. "Best go enjoy your last few months with your brother…" She disappeared into the night.
Sam stared at the spot she had vanished…wondering what he was going to do now…