Disclaimer and notes in chapter one
A/N:Take one phone-phobic, socially awkward programmer trying to organise an Xmas party. Add in a General Operations Manager who hates spending money and an administrative assistant who has lost her voice. What do you get? No, not my NaNoWriMo synopsis… that's my week! Or rather add on a massive workload and a QA deadline that was… erm… today and you have my week so if I'm a bit slow responding to reviews, that's why. They really do brighten up my day though and are so so appreciated.
Even more appreciated is my amazing beta, TraSan, who never fails to cheer me up! Especially with cows with guns.From the moment of Dean's jump attempt on, the music became ever-present, winding and twining around his thoughts like an inquisitive child with a new toy, trying to figure out how all the parts fit together. It learnt quickly how to evoke emotions and memories, turning cartwheeling arpeggios through the most painful parts of Dean's life and forcing the last trace of his mind that was still entirely Dean back into a cage formed from semiquavers of resistance.
The song learnt how to reward. When Dean did what it wanted, when he struggled against the bonds that held him, when he searched for escape, the music became orgasmically sweet, playing fast and loose with Dean's most beloved memories from his mother's last lullaby to the sound of his brother's voice still alive after the traps set by Gordon.
The song knew how to punish. It had access to the remembered pain of every physical hurt that Dean had taken, to the origin of every scar. Worse than that, it knew the root straight down to the secrets Dean hid: to the sound of his Dad's voice as it imparted his last secret or the disappointed anger when Dean had left Sammy alone, unprotected from the shtriga. It had Cassie's smooth voice as she told Dean to get out after he bared his soul to her and the thousand slammed doors of those that left Dean.
Needless to say, the song did not like Sam. Ever since the moment Sam had tackled Dean and stopped him from completing the music, the song turned harsh and grating if Sam was in the room. Just the sound of Sam's voice seemed too loud, too soft, too high, too low and brought flinches of real physical pain to Dean. The pad of Sam's feet were always out of synch with the tune, a beat too fast or too slow to the point that Dean would have to press his hands to his ears, scrunching his eyes shut in an attempt to level out the music once again.
The song could be loud, crashing and thundering in Dean's mind like a waterfall, obliterating any other sound and pushing darkly at his vision. The song could be whisper quiet, the only clue to its presence being the unnatural note of the noise around him that didn't quite fit it. The song was and Dean was reaching the point where he wasn't sure if it ever hadn't been.
---
Sam sat in one of the leather chairs outside the infirmary with his head gripped in his hands, trying to pull together enough courage to walk through the door and visit his brother. He tried to steel himself against the flinches and the winces and then the way Dean's red-rimed eyes would meet his, begging silently for some form of relief that Sam couldn't and would not provide.
Most of all Sam hated the small part of his mind that was glad his brother was like this. Because as horrible as the broken, twisted husk of his brother in that room was, it was better than the brother who joked and laughed and teased Sam about the hunt and then turned around and tried to throw himself off the back of the boat. At least here Sam knew where his feet were, half-hung off a cliff with his hands wind milling to keep the shred of balance but at least he knew.
Sam stuttered to his feet and paced towards the door, grinding to a halt just outside arm's reach of the door and then turned once more to head back the way he came, slumping down into the chair feeling only disappointment at himself.
The sound of door opening didn't even bring Sam to lift his head, expecting the dark-haired doctor making her way out for another progress report. It took Sam long moments to realise the opening door had come from the opposite direction and now Sam's head shot up and turned in the direction, meeting the eyes of Jerry.
The marine looked old, the white of his hair seemed starker and the lines on his face clearer than when Sam had first met him. Sam found he was glad. So many times he and Dean got phone calls of friends of their Dad, so-called friends who didn't seem to mind throwing their dear acquaintance's sons head-first into whatever situation they'd got themselves into. Just for once it was nice to one of them to feel the weight of the consequences.
"How's your brother doing?" Jerry asked, sagging down into a seat next to Sam's, his voice cracked from lack of sleep.
"Got a broken arm to add to his list of injuries," Sam said, "He's, he's practically catatonic, not responding to anything else except what's going on in his head." Or when Sam walks in and he starts screaming out in pain.
Jerry couldn't meet Sam's gaze and just shifted to study the floor, the wall, anything but the man in the chair by him, "I've given the order to turn the ship around. We'll make land in about seven days at full speed and I'll pay for your brother to get the best treatment money can buy."
"I don't think the average doctor knows how to cure having your mind fucked about with by a mermaid," Sam bitterly stated, keeping his eyes fixed on the door to his brother's room, waiting for Janey to come out. It took a while for the first part of what Jerry said to filter through and Sam swung to face the veteran marine dead-on, "You are turning the ship around again? I told you not to."
"Yes, you did." Jerry said in a calm, quiet voice, "And then your brother tried to jump off the back again. I think this is best for everyone."
"Best for you, maybe." Sam snarled, "You can hang up a poster on your door saying alas, the poor failed cruise director and go back to whatever crappy, safe, little hole that you lived in before now. My brother however is stuck in the real world with no guarantee that sticking our heads between our legs is going to make him better." Sam forced himself to breathe slower, stilled his hands from where they had clenched into fists, "We are staying right here until I figure this thing out, do you understand me?"
"This is my ship," Jerry stated, dark brows lowering over his bright blue eyes.
"And this is my life," Sam retorted, "I'm sure you've heard of REMFs. Well, that doesn't just apply to the military." Sam wanted to get up and pace but forced himself to stillness before turning to Jerry, "Do you have any scuba-diving gear that would fit me?"
Jerry blinked at the change of topic, "Erm, possibly. You aren't the tallest person aboard. Why?"
"Because I always thought I looked good in black," Sam snarked. "Why do you think? So I can go into the water, track down the mermaid and do my job."
"Are you sure that's a good idea?"
"Of course not," Sam said with a laugh on the edge of hysteria, "But hunting isn't about having good ideas, it's about having ideas and when the first one doesn't work, picking yourself up from the pile by the wall and trying the next one. There isn't exactly a handbook for this."
"I'll come with you."
"Like hell you will," Sam replied.
"Have you ever even scuba-dived before?"
"I took a taster session at my college's sub-aqua society."
Jerry shook his head, "I'm not letting you down there without me. Always diving with a buddy, it's the number one rule."
"I know about buddy diving but there's only one person in this world left that I trust to watch my back and he's lying in that room unable to cope with the sound of my voice."
"Your father trusted me to watch his back."
"Fine for him, I'm not my father. I'll trust you to watch Dean's back instead. There's no point me risking everything in the ocean, only to make it all pointless in the end."
"How do you kill a mermaid?" Jerry sounded somewhat intrigued and it annoyed Sam.
"I'm hoping a silver knife to the heart will get the job done. You got any underwater flares? Most things will burn if you apply enough heat." In that moment, Sam missed his brother most as a sounding board, someone that he could bounce ideas off and wait to see which came back more sensible than before, "Dean said the mermaid tried to talk to him. Why would it do that?"
Jerry obviously didn't realise that his role was to be a mute listener as he ventured the comment of "Maybe it was trying to warn him off, telling him not to interfere."
"Makes no sense," Sam dismissed the older man's suggestion without even a pause, "It must have known that it couldn't be understood and whale song isn't exactly threatening. If it wanted to threaten, it could have done it with gestures instead of trying to use its voice."
"Maybe it didn't realise that he couldn't understand it. It could be used to humans understanding it, maybe they make sense underwater like the Harry Potter mermaids."
Sam shook his head and shot a disbelieving look at the man, "Are you suggesting that J. K. Rowling is actually a hunter trying to pass on knowledge with children's books?"
Jerry shook his head, annoyance shooting across his face, "Of course not but she has to do research just like everyone else, doesn't she? Isn't there a chance that she stumbled across a piece of true lore and put it into her novels without realising?"
Sam realised that Jerry was right and somehow that riled him more than ever and he had to look away to stop himself from yelling at the man for having ideas, for being right and, most importantly, for not being Dean. "Fine. I'll go underwater, listen to what she has to say and then if I don't like it, I'll make sure she doesn't hurt my brother again."
"I wish you'd trust me." Jerry said with a sigh.
"I wish you'd stop asking me to." Sam replied before settling down, feeling he owed the man something for taking his bad mood out on him, "I'm sure you were a great marine but this isn't the marines and you can't beat stuff here by jumping in feet first and hoping you learn to fly before you hit the ground. Just let me do what I do best."
---
One hour later found Sam suited up in sleek black rubber and seated in one of the lifeboats next to the anchored cruise boat. Jerry had given Sam a crash course in the scuba-diving and tried once more to invite himself along on the trip. Sam had threatened to cold-cock the man there and then to stop him coming along which had finally got Jerry to back down.
Sam scanned the foreboding surface of the dark water for any bubbles or breaks that might indicate where the mermaid was lurking. He found none so in the end, he just stood on the side of the boat and let himself fall backwards into the water. It was as cold as he remembered but this time he had the wet suit trapping the moisture against his body, letting his body heat warm it as a protective layer. Sam twisted in the water and started kicking with the flippers before adjusting to the scissoring movement necessary to propel himself. One hand clicked on the light attached to the side of his mask and a weak light cut through the growing murk.
A needle in a haystack had nothing on a mermaid in the ocean as Sam glided through the water, turning his head from side to side to watch for any movements. A couple of times a fish slid by Sam and it was hard not to tug the knife from its sheath at his ankle and spear it on instinct alone.
Sam pulled one of the wet flares that he'd got off Jerry out of a loop in his belt. He twisted the top, watching it flare to life in a sickly green before letting it drop down into the water, eyes following its progress and tracking for any movement in its vicinity. Just as Sam was about to give up, a dark shadow blocked the green for a split second. Sam didn't pause, just looped in the water and sped after the shape.
It occurred to Sam during his frantic swim that maybe chasing down after something which had a habit of luring sailors to drown in the depths wasn't the best idea. He slowed a moment to check his air gauge, relieved as the steady needle told him he had plenty of air left, and continued the headlong chase. When the thing stopped mid-stream and swung about, Sam was unprepared and almost swam into it. He twisted at the last moment, feeling a wrench in his side from the effort of pushing through the water but pushed the pain down to face the thing.
'Huh,' his mind registered while it groped to pair up the fairytale image of mermaids with the thing in front of him, beauty and scales and glistening silver eyes and scales and beauty. Sam reached down for his knife and realised a slight flaw in his plan. The breather in his mouth prevented any attempt at conversation so he just gestured threateningly with the knife and hoped the thing would get the idea.
"then prepee na east-eh etho." What came out of the thing's mouth sounded nothing like the whale song that Dean had said and Sam silently awarded another point to the growing apology he would need to make to Jerry at some point, "een-eh etho perimenee."
Sam tried to make a 'I've got no fucking clue what you are saying' gesture, wishing he had mastered his brother's expression that managed to convey exactly that. Sam had often suspected Dean had developed that look especially for his little brother.
The thing hissed, a startlingly human sound and propelled itself towards Sam. Sam swung the knife, missing flesh by a hair fine fraction as the mermaid jerked itself backwards. "sas proeethopees." It stated, Sam wasn't quite sure whether to credit it as female despite an uncertain feminine cast to its features and the slight swell at the chest that could have been breasts, "airhet-eh."
Sam could have sworn it was almost fear in the inhuman eyes and his grip on the knife loosened for a moment. Their father had often growled at Sam about over-thinking the hunt, much like Sam had muttered under his breath about his father under-thinking.
The mermaid seized that opportunity and looped under his grip to grasp his arm in webbed hands, tugging him sharply upwards in the direction that Sam assumed was the surface, "peeganet-e tora part-e ton athelfi sas k-e peeganet-e." Sam struggled in the grip on his knife-holding arm but it was surprisingly strong for such a fragile looking creature, "tha stamatis-e peeganet-e tora."
Sam finally freed himself and kicked backwards away from the creature, pulling his knife out in front of him to swing around before the mermaid could attack again. Sam felt disoriented and watched the bubbles rise from his breather, relieved at least that the mermaid had been pulling towards the surface rather than down into the depths. It still didn't explain why.
Sam felt the movement rather than saw it, a current of water at his back that wasn't there before. He had no time to turn and try to see what it was before he was choking, the air out of the breather ceasing with no warning, leaving Sam no choice but to hold the dregs of his last breath in his lungs and hope it was enough. Both boys had large lung capacities, had tested each other on how long they could stay underwater but that was when they had been able to take a large breath before submerging, not when left just the shallow air from a normal breath.
Sam was on the edge of panic when he felt a blinding pressure building in his ears, like they'd popped but far worse, leaving him dizzy and sure he was falling, that he was plummeting back down into the depths despite the fact the sensation from his limbs gave him no indication of that. He struggled, trying to fight the blackness that was beginning to cloud his vision. He swung out with the knife and felt it connect once with flesh, having no idea whether it was the mermaid in front or the one behind him.
He felt a clammy hand close around his wrist once more and he was being tugged along, having no idea whether it was up or down, "leepam-e." A voice softly said and then Sam felt the blessed cool of the night air as his head broke the surface of the lake, the breather fell from his mouth as he sucked in large gulps of air, trying to quell the nausea that coiled in his belly. His black-dotted vision could make out the shape of the boat and Sam didn't wait to make a swift pace towards it, wanting out of the water and away now.
Sam hauled himself up into the wooden cradle of the boat and lay there for a long moment, flat on his back, sucking air back and forth into his lungs and revelling in something he had always taken for granted until the moment something tried to take it away. He felt a chuckle bubble through his throat, another 'Sammy gets choked' episode to add to the list.
Common sense told Sam to get the boat out of the water and get himself out of the water as quickly as possible, to put as much distance as possible between himself and whatever had just made a very good attempt to kill him. Common sense was fighting against the dying whine of an adrenalin rush and the night chill against Sam's wet-suited body which sent tremors running through his body. Sam just stared up at the night sky, seeing how many of the stars he could name and not wanting to move ever again.
Before Sam could drift off to sleep, there was a bump against his boat and panic flooded through Sam once more at the thought that the things could be back. Sam bolted up to a seated position and felt the nausea that had been resting uneasily in his stomach leap up to his throat and he had to bend to empty his stomach back to the water.
"Damn, lad. I thought you were dead, you lay so still." Jerry's worried voice cut into the panic jabbering through Sam's mind and Sam turned his head towards where Jerry's boat now rested against Sam's, "Are you alright?"
"Peachy," Sam said in a weak voice, holding up thumb and finger in a tired imitation of the A-Ok gesture before realising he still had a clasped grip on the silver knife, dark ichorous green smeared the edge of the blade and Sam ran a curious finger along the edge.
"Of course you are," Jerry growled. "You'd think one of you boys would have managed to get a lick of sense between you." Sam felt his boat sink a little lower in the water and rock as Jerry levered himself in and took hold of the oars, ignoring Sam's protests as he rowed towards the lift.
The lifting motion of the boat set Sam's head to spinning once again and he jerked forward, emptying the rest of his stomach haplessly onto the bottom of the boat, very nearly splashing it onto Jerry. The man didn't even flinch back, just let go of the oars and shifting himself around to sit next to Sam, right in his personal space. "You boys are going to age me before my time," He said, gruffly, "And Janey is going to start thinking you have a crush on her."
When the boat reached the gap in the railings, Jerry offered an arm up to support Sam. Sam lurched up to his feet and stepped out onto the relative stability of the deck and promptly had flashbacks to the time he'd watched Bambi, he felt like Bambi on ice, four legs and all with different ideas of which direction it's a good idea to go in. It was only the swift intervention of a steady arm from Jerry that prevented Sam from measuring his length on the metal floor.
"Did I forget to mention damn stubborn?" Jerry cursed, hauling Sam up a little and stringing his arm over the veteran marine's broad shoulders, "You could at least do me the courtesy of shrinking if I've got to go to all the effort of carrying you."
Sam's brain scrambled for a witty retort before his soul informed him that this wasn't Dean and so he didn't need to. Instead he just focused on making some locomotive effort towards the infirmary. Janey took one look at the entering pair and motioned them to the room Sam had occupied before, instructing them to have him peeled out of the wet suit by the time she came in or she'd peel it off him piece by piece.
Sam felt a little humiliated as Jerry had to do most of the work. Sam's attempts to move left a spinning blur in his mind and his eyes, though now clear of black spots, were refusing to bring anything into absolute focus, giving the world a hazy tone to it. When the last bit of the rubber monstrosity was hauled off an uncooperative ankle, Sam flopped down onto the hospital bed before promptly rolling to spew into the conveniently close tray, chest jerking painfully.
He felt himself being covered with a large blanket, big hands smoothing it down around his still shaking body and Sam let himself lapse into fitful sleep.
A/N: For extra points, the language used by the mermaid is real, admittedly translated online from English and then transcribed phonetically so it may not be accurate. Points to anyone who gets what the language is!
