Time froze. For a moment everything was quiet. The snake easily doubled Sam's size, head held high and the bottom half curled on the bed cobra-style. The evening sun highlighted the snake's long feather-like scales, black and dark red. Gleaming eyes fixated on the sleeping Sam.
Then Linda screamed. Sam's eyes shot open and the snake darted down with bare fangs. Instead of Sam's throat it got a mouthful of pillow while Sam rolled out of the bed and landed on the floor. His legs still tangled in the covers he fought to get away from the monster and its snapping mouth.
Dean stood still frozen. Memory overlapped with what he saw. In his mind he saw the shtriga feeding on little Sammy while his eyes told him there was a giant snake trying to eat big Sam's face off. Eyes on the monster Dean reached for a weapon and half expected to find a shotgun when his fingers curled around the shaft of the spear still leaning against the wall where Bobby had left it.
"Get off my brother!" Dean screamed and grabbed the spear with both hands. It threw him off balance – that thing was heavy – and he stumbled two steps towards the snake and the still struggling Sam. With the snake pinning one end of the covers on the bed Sam had no chance to get his legs free. He reached for the next thing he could use as a weapon and when the snake came after him he hit it with the water bottle from the nightstand. The snake hissed – most likely more surprised than hurt – and snapped at Sam again.
This time Dean was there. He could barely hold the spear up and there was not enough force behind his attack to penetrate the skin. The obsidian head ruffled the feather-like scales as it scratched over the skin but it got Dean the snake's attention. An annoyed fling with its tail and Dean hit the wall. He got the wind knocked out of his lungs, his vision grayed on the edges and for a horrible second he was sure he'd pass out.
"Dean!" His brothers voice startled him enough to shake off the dizziness. Most of it. There were suddenly two snakes coming after him and he had no idea which one was the real thing and which was just his double vision.
"C'mon, bitch!" He heard himself screaming and when the snakes' heads came close – all gleaming eyes and mouth and teeth and venom – he rammed the blunt end of the spear in the edge where wall and floor met and aimed the sharp end in the middle between the two snakes he was seeing. The impact ripped the shaft out of his hands but at least he had hit something. It screamed in agony and hot blood sprayed all over Dean. Then the snake crashed down on him.
Dean tasted blood and feathers and he couldn't breath. Panicked he tried to struggle free but the weight of the dead monster pinned his whole body down. And he couldn't breath. He was going to die. His lungs burned but he couldn't draw in a single breath. Blood filled his mouth but no air.
"Dean!" Suddenly Sam was there. The weight lifted and he could breath. Sort of. Coughing blood he curled on his side, caught between the need to get air in and blood out.
"Dean? Are you okay? Dean?" Sam sounded far away but his big hands were right there, stroking the hair out of his face, wiping the blood from his lips.
"Not my blood." Dean choked out between two coughs.
"Are you hurt?" Sam's fingertips already ghosted over his scalp and spine searching for any damage.
"Head hurts." Dean admitted. "Chest."
The hands were under his sweatshirt now probing his rips.
"Don't think anything broken." Sam finished his examination. "But your bruises got bruises now. Did you pass out? Nausea? Double vision?" Hands on his cheeks Sam hold Dean's head in position while he looked him straight in the eye.
"Saw two snakes but it's better now." When Sam let go of his head Dean looked at the thing he killed. It was one snake and the spear went right through the mouth and back out at the base of its head. Dean had no idea how he had managed to do that. One hell of a lucky shot, he guessed.
Sam wanted to say something but he was cut off by Linda.
"Are you hurt? We need some help here!" She screamed. The sound pierced right through Dean's head. "What the hell just happened here? What is this? Is it dead? Are you hurt? I'm calling 911. Oh, god. What is this thing? It's dead, right? Blood, so much blood. It's everywhere."
With every word her voice climbed an octave till it was just an incoherent shriek of nothingness.
"Linda." Sam had left Dean's site and was now holding Linda at her shoulders. "It's okay. It's over. Everything is going to be okay."
The screaming stopped for which Dean was thankful but she was still panting. However, when the dead snake started to decay the screaming was back on high volume. More fascinated than disgusted Dean watched as the body dried and crumbled and finally turned into dust.
At least we don't have to care about the body, he heard his dad's voice in his mind and couldn't help but smile. His first kill. It felt kinda good. But he could do without the foul taste of blood in his mouth.
The next few minutes went by in a blur. Dean remembered Sam rushing him to pack their stuff, something he could do in his sleep and he assumed he just did because the next thing he remembered was sitting in the Impala with Sam behind the wheel and the motel in the rear mirror.
How Sam had gotten rid of Linda Dean didn't know and at that moment he didn't care. Cars with flashing lights and sirens came their way and Sam just kept driving.
With a white-knuckled grip at the steering wheel Sam squinted against the sun low on the horizon. Sweat pearled on his forehead and he had blood on his hands and clothes. Dean on the other hand looked like he had bathed in blood. Oh yeah, it'd be fun if they were pulled over. But Sam drove carefully and it was getting dark so maybe they were lucky. And hopefully they would get the strains out of the seats later.
Dean didn't want to distract Sam – he shouldn't drive in his condition – so he sank into the seat and closed his eyes for a moment. He didn't asked where they were going. Away was their destination.
Thinking about what happened it hit him cold. He'd done it again. The same stupid mistake.
"I'm sorry." Dean said and sank deeper into his seat. "I went out. Just for a second, I'm sorry." The voice of his father echoed in his mind: I told you not to leave this room. I told you not to let him out of your sight!
Dean stared down at his hands in his lap, he couldn't look Sam in the eye. Afraid to see the way Sam would look at him. Different.
But Sam surprised him once again. "You're sorry for what? Saving my life?" Sam shook his head. "It wasn't your fault, you couldn't know. It was probably lurking around for a day or two, waiting for a chance to jump us. You did good. Really good." And Sam smiled at him. He looked beyond tired and ready to pass out but he smiled like he meant it.
Dean thought about it for a moment. He couldn't have known. Or could he? When he had spoken with Linda the first time there had been something in the bushes, hiding in the shadows. And something had toppled over the trashcan. He had assumed it was a raccoon but he hadn't made sure.
"Sam, I ..." He started to confess but Sam didn't let him finish the sentence.
"No, Dean." It came out harsh. "Not your fault. You hear me? Whatever you think you should have done different, it was not your fault. You couldn't know. You killed it. You saved my life. That's what you did. I'm proud of you. And so should you."
"But ..."
"No buts." Sam was trembling now. It cost him every bit of energy he had left to keep the car on the road that much was obvious so Dean kept his mouth shut to prevent a crash.
They drove for nearly an hour before Sam admitted that he couldn't go any further. Sitting in the car Sam washed his hands with water from a bottle and hid his bloodied clothes under a jacket. Now he looked decent enough to get a room. As soon as he would have gathered the strength to get out of the car. How he was still awake Dean had no idea.
"Shouldn't I change?" Dean asked into the silence of the car.
"What?"
"Uncle Bobby said the magic would end with the snake-thing." Dean explained while Sam stared at him wide-eyed as if he was speaking in tongues. They needed a place to crash and fast, Dean realized. If Sam passed out here in a damn parking lot, Dean didn't want to think about the consequences.
"Let's figure that out in the morning." Sam opened the door and got out of the car. It took him ages but eventually he came back with the keys.
They took shower in turns – while Sam was in the bathroom Dean stayed close to the door just in case – and then Sam massaged the cream into Dean's new bruises on his chest before he handed him a t-shirt which Dean could wear like a tunic. His other clothes were beyond saving and he had no idea what to wear in the morning but he couldn't care less at the moment. He did care about where to sleep. He'd like to share a bed with Sam like they had done before but he didn't dare to ask. He'd sound like a baby.
"Here take one." Sam shook three painkillers into his palm, two for himself and one for Dean who didn't hesitate to take it. His head and chest were killing him.
Then Sam tucked him in and without a word climbed into the bed behind him. With a sigh Dean relaxed, his back against Sam's chest and Sam's arm around him holding him tight without putting pressure on his injuries.
"Thanks." He whispered still baffled by the way Sam just knew what he needed.
"You're welcome." Sam answered already half asleep. Dean drifted into sleep as well when Sam suddenly spoke again. "Think we should call Bobby and tell him the monster's dead?"
