Title: Now I Know My ABC's
Author: Disasteriffic Kaz
Info: A hurt/comfort romp through the alphabet, one letter at a time from A to Z. Each chapter is a stand-alone one shot. There is hurt, comfort, angst, humor, feels and all around fun.
Author's Note: Sorry for the delay on this one. I've been dealing with some family issues after which I'm disowning a whole side of the family. It's a mess and I'm a mess but don't worry. I will always keep fighting. 3 This chapter is set after 11x08 "Just My Imagination". Hope you all enjoy it! Can't believe I only have one left after this! Doesn't seem right!
Beta'd by the always awesome JaniceC678 :D– Friend and Muse's co-conspirator.
**Follow me on Facebook as "Disasteriffic Kaz" for frequent fic updates or just to chat!
~Reviews are Love~
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Y is for Yara-ma-yha-who -
"Dean?" Sam slid to a stop at an intersection in the maze of shipping containers. "Dean! Answer me!" His heart was pounding in his ears, making it hard to hear anything above the thumping. He ducked his head as a frigid wind blew between the containers and brought his shotgun up defensively. "Come on, you bastard! What did you do with my brother?"
Sam grunted, half in pain and half in surprise, as he was picked up bodily without warning and flung to the side. He slammed into a cargo container. The unforgiving, corrugated metal bit into his back and shoulders, and he slid to the floor to land in a heap, gasping for breath. "Shit," he panted. Sam forced his aching body to move and climbed back to his feet, relieved that he'd managed to keep a tight hold of his shotgun in the process. He braced himself against the container and blew his hair out of his eyes. The pain radiating from his right shoulder down to his hip told him he was going to be hurting later, but there was no time for that now.
"DEAN!" Sam bellowed his brother's name and stumbled into the next row of containers. He looked at each, listening for any sound out of place, but it was the sight of frost riming one of the container's latching mechanisms that gave him a spurt of adrenaline. He ran along the row and slid to a stop in front of it. "Dean?"
Sam grabbed the metal handle and jerked his hand away as the cold from the frosted metal ate into his skin. "Dammit." He tugged the sleeve of his flannel down over his hand as best he could and tried again. He gritted his teeth together and slowly pulled the mechanism open. It took another massive effort to pry one of the doors apart, and, when he did, a rush of freezing air blasted out to meet him. Sam's eyes went wide in shock as he stepped inside. The container was refrigerated. Dressed cows hung from hooks down one side, pigs from the other, and in the center was his big brother, curled into a fetal ball and covered in a layer of frost.
"Shit. Dean!" Sam ran inside, heedless of the danger and dropped to his knees beside him. "Dean? Can you hear me?" He put his fingers to Dean's neck and shivered in sympathy. Dean's skin felt like ice and had a faint blue tinge. He could feel his brother trembling slightly, but it wasn't nearly hard enough. "I've gotta get you outta here fast." He reluctantly set the shotgun aside and began the process of uncurling Dean enough to pull him up.
"Dean, come on. Work with me here." Sam slid an arm around his brother's back, pulling Dean's arm over his shoulders and struggled to get to his feet again with his brother's weight. He stopped and looked down when he heard a soft moan. "Dean?" It came again, followed by a cough, and Sam smiled in relief. "Ok, just hang on. We're getting out." He dragged Dean a foot at a time toward the open door. "Hey, take it easy," he soothed when Dean struggled weakly against him.
"B-b-bones," Dean's voice was a bare, shuddering whisper. It took what little strength he had but he managed to fling an arm out behind them.
Sam scowled and twisted to look over his shoulder. He could see their equipment bag that Dean had been carrying, and a pile of fabric of some kind in the back of the container, covered in heavy layer of white frost like everything else. He let out a breath and started toward the door again. "Ok. I got it. I'll get it. You can't stay in here anymore, though." He pulled his big brother out of the container the rest of the way with no resistance. and he could tell Dean was just barely holding on to consciousness. They staggered out and Sam pulled him across the aisle, then knelt and gently leaned Dean against another container. He took off his jacket and his flannel and layered them both over Dean's chest. "I'm gonna go finish it. Just stay here." He patted Dean's chest and stood back up, groaning softly as his back and hip protested the movement.
"Alright." Sam rolled out the ache in his neck and stalked back into the container. He felt a cold wind rush in behind him and he dropped to his knees to scoop his shotgun up from the floor. He spun, bringing the weapon up and fired while the spirit of Jacob Givens started to form in the air between the open doors. Sam shuddered with the intense cold beginning to eat into his body. His t-shirt was nowhere near enough to keep him warm. He shook his head and grabbed the equipment bag. Sam got back up and went quickly to the back wall. He used the barrel of the shotgun to shift the frozen pile of fabric on the floor and was rewarded with the image of a desiccated body beneath.
"Yech," Sam groaned. He shook his head and knelt to pull the salt and lighter fluid out of the bag. He emptied half the salt container over Jacob's remains and then covered them liberally with lighter fluid. He didn't take time to let it soak in as they might usually, knowing the cold could hinder the flames if he did. He tossed the bottle back into the bag, dug a book of matches out of his pocket and lit one. He held it over the body and snarled to himself when the cold air snuffed it out.
"Dammit. Come on." Sam lit another and this time, used it to set the whole matchbook alight. The flames guttered, smaller than they should have been, but they burned. He leaned down and set it carefully on the body and then backed away as the lighter fluid began to catch. "Rest in peace," he muttered. Sam ducked instinctively as an angry roar echoed inside the container. It half-deafened him, and then went silent. He raised his head to find Jacob's body burning sluggishly in the back and smiled.
"Finally." He grabbed the bag and the shotgun and left, wrapping his arms around his chest as well as he could while the cold seeped into him. It gave him a sinking feeling to know that Dean had been trapped in there for nearly a half an hour. "Dean." Sam dropped down beside his brother. He didn't bother trying to wake him up or get him to talk. Instead, he eased himself down to sit alongside him and pulled Dean in against his chest. Sam wrapped his arms around his brother under the meager blanket of his flannel and jacket and held on to him when Dean began to shiver in earnest.
Sam snorted a soft laugh and let his head fall back against the container with a dull thud. "You'd kick me for cuddling if you were awake." He held Dean against him more securely, giving his body heat to his brother and closed his eyes tiredly. His head was pounding from the impact earlier when he'd been tossed. He'd just take a moment to let the ache go away, he thought, and slipped quietly into a restless sleep with Dean's cold form in his arms.
Sam woke back up with a yelp when something sharp slammed into his stomach. He opened his eyes and it took him a moment to make sense of his brother so close to him and Dean dropped an elbow into his stomach again as he fumbled and struggled to get away from Sam's arms and sit up on his own. "Dean!"
"The hell?" Dean groaned. He shoved away from Sam and nearly over-balanced to roll to the other side before Sam's big hand caught him and steadied him so he was sitting against the container instead. "What? Why were you cuddlin' me like a damn stuffed animal?"
Sam was surprised into a laugh and shook his head fondly. "Because you were a human popsicle and I had to do something to thaw you out, jerk." He pulled his jacket and flannel out of Dean's lap and put them back on. He grimaced, feeling the pull of bruised muscles and bones in his shoulder and back but managed to get them on. "Think you can walk now if I help you? We should really get out of here."
"Shuddup. I can walk," Dean grumbled uncomfortably. He was still freezing and his whole body was shaking in an attempt to warm itself, but he fought to his feet anyway… and would have gone straight back down to the ground if his brother hadn't grabbed him and leaned him up against the nearest container.
Sam smirked but didn't say anything. There was no point in antagonizing Dean and earning himself a brotherly beat down later when Dean was back on his feet. "Just stay there for a sec."
Dean rolled his eyes and wrapped his arms around his chest while Sam picked up the shotgun and the equipment bag. He looked over at the open door of the refrigerated container and gave a shudder, remembering how cold it had been; how Jacob's ghost had thrown him inside so hard, his head had spun and he'd passed out, only to wake up too cold and stiff to save himself or let Sam know where he was. He watched his brother go across the aisle and kick the open door closed with a look of vengeance and Dean smiled. He understood that look. He nodded when Sam came back to him. "We go somewhere warmer now?"
"Yeah." Sam slipped an arm back around his brother and pulled him away from the wall. "Sorry I didn't get to you sooner."
Dean snorted. "Dude. I'm alive instead of a freezie-pop. You got there in time." He rolled his eyes again, this time at himself. "I'm sorry I let that dead bastard get the drop on me." He looked over as Sam huffed out a quiet laugh and frowned, seeing the lines around his little brother's eyes that always meant pain. "You alright?"
"Knocked me around a little. I'm good," Sam assured him. He didn't bother mentioning that every step he took was sending a hot burst of pain from his right hip down into his ankle. He knew Dean would fight to walk on his own if he did, and Sam wasn't sure he would be able to pick Dean up off the ground again. "Stop worrying and keep walking. You're heavy."
Dean chuckled but left it alone. He'd get whatever injury Sam was hiding out of him later.
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Sam opened the bathroom door and leaned against the frame. He sighed and shook his head, finding Dean standing barely a foot away with his arms crossed over his chest and waiting. "Would you go back to bed already? I'm fine."
"Uh huh." Dean gave a derisive snort and waved his arms. "Go on then. Walk back to bed." He watched the stubborn look take over his brother's features and worked to hide the smirk as Sam took one halting step, then a second, and was ready to catch him when his right hip opted out of the whole walking thing and tried to dump him back to the floor. "You wanna try that again, gimp?"
"You're annoying." Sam let Dean half-carry him to his bed, and he sat gingerly down on the side. "It's just a bruised hip, man. It's fine."
Dean raised a brow and shook his head, turning away to get back in his own bed. He had seen the massive bruise on Sam's hip when his brother had tugged his jeans off earlier. It was dark and swelling, and it would likely be days before Sam could walk without the risk of landing on his face. "Just stay in the damn bed already."
"Whatever," Sam retorted grumpily. He eased himself back onto the bed until he was leaning against the wall and rested a hand gingerly on his aching hip. He jumped slightly when his phone rang on the nightstand beside him and hissed a pained breath between his teeth while he grabbed it.
"Who the hell's calling us at ass o'clock in the morning?" Dean asked, seeing it was nearly 3 a.m.
Sam looked at the screen and smiled. "It's Jody." He answered the call and put it on speaker. "Hey, Jody. Everything all right?"
"Heya, Sam. Yeah, we're good." Jody's voice sounded amused. "Unless you wanna discuss the wonders of menstrual cramps and pms, in which case I can grab the girls."
"Hell no!" Dean yelled and chuckled over the laughter coming from the phone. "What can we do for ya'?"
"I've got a little problem. Well, a friend of mine does." Jody sighed through the phone. "He's not a hunter. He's a retired detective. Harry moved to Florida about six years ago."
Sam could hear the smile in her voice. "He's a good friend then?"
"The best. He trained me when I joined the force." Jody's voice took on a fond note. "Anyway, he's been living at this historical estate in Fort Myers. His first love was gardening. Shut up, Dean."
Sam looked over and laughed, seeing his brother with his mouth hanging open and no doubt ready to make a slew of derisive comments about gardening as a hobby. "You struck him speechless. I'm impressed."
Jody's laugh echoed from the phone but quickly died away. "I don't know what Harry's got down there, but bodies are on the ground. Three that he knows of, could be more. He says the local cops aren't talking." Jody sighed. "He found one of the victims himself two days ago. It wasn't pretty."
"Can you send us any information you have?" Sam asked.
"And an address," Dean added. He looked over at Sam and shrugged. "Not like we're doin' anything else right now. Let's go bag another bad guy."
Sam nodded. He gave Dean a critical look and was relieved to no longer see the white skin and blue tinge of hypothermia. "Florida's not a bad idea. You'll stay warm at least this time."
Dean snorted a laugh and leaned back. "We'll get on the road in the morning, Jody."
"Sam, I'll email you everything Harry sent me. You boys be careful, and you call me if you need backup."
"Will do, Jody." Sam ended the call and leaned himself back against the wall. He shifted a little to take pressure off his aching hip.
"You gonna be able to walk tomorrow?" Dean asked and suddenly had second thoughts about taking the job. Sam had been banged up enough to slow him down in a fight, and it made Dean a little nervous. "We could give it a couple days; wait 'til you can walk without fallin' over."
Sam rolled his eyes. "I'll be fine."
"Right. 'Cause you've got such a developed sense of self-preservation." Dean shook his head fondly and slid down in his bed until he could roll and hug his pillow, burying his face away. "Turn off the damn light and go to sleep."
Sam smiled. He pulled his laptop over to him before reaching across and pulling the little chain for the light. He opened his laptop in the sliver of light from around the curtains and squinted into the blue glow as the machine hummed to life. He would just see what Jody had sent them before he went to sleep.
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The Impala rumbled through the streets of Fort Myers. Sam looked out as they crossed a bridge and watched the sun sparkling off the waters of the inlet. He grimaced and resisted the need to shift in his seat and ease the ache in his hip, worried that his big brother would decide they needed to sit this job out and let Sam heal. He shook his head at himself. People were dying. He couldn't afford to take it easy because he had a few bruises.
Dean glanced at Sam and smirked. Sam obviously thought he was an idiot if he thought Dean couldn't read 'pain' in every line of his posture. He rolled his eyes and looked back out to the road. He'd allow Sam to play it off for now, so long as it didn't endanger his life. "So. Run the case for me. What'd Jody send?"
Sam sucked in a breath and held it as he shifted on the seat to sit upright and face his brother. He managed a smile and cleared his throat while his hip screamed at him. "Uh, not much. There were some pictures of the victims, coroner's reports, and they didn't have much useful information. The bodies they found were drained. Jody's friend is convinced there are more victims than they've found."
Dean frowned. "Drained how?"
"Multiple bite wounds, and they're screwy." Sam shook his head and wished he'd printed out the information so he could look at it again. "The bites are small. Definitely not a vampire." He sighed. "I'm not sure what it could be without getting a look at them myself."
"We'll go have a look after we meet this Harry dude and find out where he's gonna put us up." Dean smirked. "No shitty motel for us this week."
"Yeah; but more people around to ask questions," Sam pointed out and smiled at Dean's annoyed look. "We'll have to be careful."
"Don't rain on my parade, Negative Nancy." Dean slapped Sam's shoulder before turning back and following the signs to the Edison and Ford Winter Estates. His brows rose as they neared and he saw the top of a massive house peeking above the trees ahead of them. "That is some house."
"There's supposed to be a whole collection of Thomas Edison's equipment in the house." Sam smiled and ignored Dean's chuckle.
Dean grinned and shook his head fondly. "Remember when you were ten? Dad had that job in Niagara Falls. I turned my back on ya' for like two seconds and you were gone and I was flipping out." He snorted a laugh. "Remember where I found you?" He glanced over and saw Sam with his own grin and light blush of embarrassment. "Curled up with a book in the lap of the Nikola Tesla statue like you owned the place."
Sam laughed and nodded. "Father of modern electricity. That was so cool."
"Geek." He slowed the Impala as the car emerged from the tree-lined road and gave a low whistle as the estate spread out in front of them. The house rose up, white walls with black shutters, red clay roofs, and a porch that wrapped around it with palm trees swaying gently on the lawn. "Where the hell… never mind. Parking lot." Dean headed past the house and turned into a small parking lot, empty but for a blue pickup truck parked at the back. "Looks like we won't be dodging too many tourists."
"Harry sent me an email and said to meet him at the main house. I think it's that one we just passed." Sam opened his door once Dean had parked and braced a hand on it as he cautiously unfolded himself from the passenger seat. His hip protested the movement, screaming pain, and with a humiliating yelp, Sam's leg went out from under him and he ended up sitting on the hot pavement. "Dammit." He pulled his good leg under him and planted a hand on the seat above him as he heard Dean coming up behind him. "I'm fine. Just sat too long in one position is all. Don't freak out."
Dean rolled his eyes. He bent, sliding his hands under his brother's shoulders and ignored Sam's protests while he pulled him to his feet and made sure he stayed there. "I'm serious, Sammy. You know the rule; don't hunt injured. And, little brother…" Dean paused and watched Sam limp heavily back to the trunk. "… you are one gopher hole away from crippled."
"Shut up. It's fine." Sam groaned and waved at the trunk. "You wanna open this so we can grab our bags?"
Dean rubbed a hand over his face and nodded. "Yeah. Sure." He popped the trunk and looked up into the blue sky. The Florida heat was almost stifling with the humid air sitting against his skin like a wet blanket. He shrugged off his jacket and tossed it into the trunk before taking out the weapons bag and his own duffel. "Think I miss that freezer."
Sam chuckled and slipped his bag over his shoulder. He didn't wait for Dean and started walking back toward the house. He concentrated on making his right leg cooperate and keep his hobbling to a minor limp instead. "You coming?"
"Stubborn ass," Dean grumbled. He closed the trunk and followed close behind Sam, ready to catch him if or when his leg gave out yet again. He smirked as Sam wobbled once to his right before straightening out again. He let his eyes roam over the manicured lawns around them as they walked toward the old house. Dean saw great, bushy tree tops rising beyond the house and wondered if that was the botanical garden Sam had mentioned where some of the bodies had been discovered. "Searching this place is gonna be a pain in the ass."
Sam nodded and climbed the stairs onto the wide porch. He looked up as a screen door squeaked open and smiled at the tall, dark-haired man who emerged. A tuft of silver hair streaked back from his left temple and a puckered scar traveled from that temple, down his cheek to his jaw and curled out of sight there. "Detective Harry Knox?"
"Retired." Harry held out a hand and shook Sam's. "You'd be Jody's friends."
"Sam Winchester." Sam smiled and gestured to his brother as he came up beside them. "My brother, Dean."
"Older and wiser." Dean grinned and shook the hand Harry offered.
Harry chuckled. "Jody said you two were a handful but also the best. Wouldn't tell me what you were the best at…" He trailed off and raised his brows. Harry snorted a laugh when both men simply stayed quiet. "Right. Not gonna tell me either." He opened the door behind him and waved them in. "I promised her I wouldn't go digging so long as you two didn't give me a reason to. Come on in."
Dean quirked an amused smile at his brother and followed Harry inside. He gave a soft whistle for the white walls, brown trim, and furniture and décor that looked as though it had been plucked out of Casa Blanca. "Nice place."
"You break it, you buy it," Harry said and chuckled at the look on Dean's face. "Got you guys in a guest room at the back of the house. Kitchen's back there." He waved a hand. "Your room's up these stairs." He led them up and smiled over his shoulder at them. "Anything you find in the kitchen's fair game. Eat what you like. There's only me and two groundskeepers here right now. Oh, and the maid. She cleans the house and keeps it looking good for the tourists." He led the boys down a hall along the back of the house and pushed open a door. "This is you. Two beds, bathroom there, and a flat screen with no cable. All the comforts of home."
Dean chuckled and nodded with a smile as he went in and dropped his bags on a small couch in the sitting room. He could see the beds through a wide door on one side, the bathroom beside it, and a long set of windows were opened with a beautiful view of the gardens behind the house. He gave a low whistle of appreciation. "Nice."
"Thanks for this," Sam said and set his own bag down. He sat on the arm of a chair beside the couch and smiled. "Usually, we end up in the motel of the week."
"We could tell you horror stories." Dean grinned as Harry laughed. He dropped down onto the couch and leaned back. "Alright, fill us in."
"Settle in and come on down to the kitchen and I will." Harry went to the door. "This'll be better with coffee, and I keep a secret stash of Kona in the kitchen."
Sam's eyes went wide and his mouth practically watered. "Real Kona? Or a blend?"
Harry snorted derisively. "Blend, my ass. I get mine shipped straight from Hawai'i; Costs me an arm and a leg, but it's worth it."
Sam smiled as Harry left and closed the door. "I may stay just for the coffee. Never mind the job."
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Dean chuckled as he watched his little brother cradle his coffee cup under his nose with his eyes closed and a smile on his face. He shook his head and saw the same amusement on Harry's face as the former detective leaned against the aged wooden counter in the kitchen. "So what wasn't in the stuff you sent Jody?"
"A lot more missing than the police are accounting for." Harry nodded when both men's eyes fixed on his. "Near as I can figure, people started disappearing around here about eight months ago."
"Wait." Sam held up a hand. "The report you sent said the first victim was found two months ago."
"That was just the first body they found." Harry sighed and sipped his coffee. "So far, I've found thirteen people missing in the Fort Myers area, and every last damn one of them was here right before they vanished. Don't ask me how the hell the local PD's missed that particular fact, but they have." He rolled his eyes. "And they're not listening to me. They just keep telling me to keep my nose out of their business and enjoy my retirement." He gave a disgusted snort to illustrate what he thought of them. "Useless assholes."
"Thirteen?" Sam set his coffee aside with a thump and met Dean's eyes. "We need to get in to the coroner's office and look at those bodies."
"Too late. They've all either been released to the families or cremated already." Harry smirked. "However, I may or may not know a guy with a love for computers who may or may not have found himself in possession of the coroner's reports and accidentally emailed them to me." He grinned. "I can't confirm or deny any of that of course."
Dean laughed outright and gave Harry a friendly slap on the shoulder. "Dude, you're alright."
Harry pulled open a drawer beside him and took out a thick folder, tossing it on the table between the brothers. "What exactly are you guys looking for?"
Sam opened the file and slid half of the thick sheet of reports to his brother. He started with the pictures himself and narrowed his eyes as he looked at the mangled remains. It wasn't pretty. "We're looking for bite marks, tool marks… anything out of place."
"The cops have looked for all of that." Harry moved to look down at the photos over Sam's shoulder. "Hell, I have. Only evidence there is are those little bite patterns." He shrugged. "Wildlife got at them before they were found."
"Yeah, but what wildlife?" Dean asked and took a photo when Sam handed it to him.
"You see that?" Sam tapped the image of a man's blood-soaked arm. "Look at that radius."
Dean held the picture up, studying the small bites in the flesh and nodded. "Two solid rows, sharp teeth overlapping the human teeth."
"Yeah." Sam checked another picture, and then another. "They're all like that. But what kind of vam… animal has that pattern? 'Cause that's not human. Way too small."
Dean shook his head. "I'm thinkin' there's more than one. Have to be to overpower grown men. They swarmed him."
"So some kind of nest." Sam sighed and set the picture down. "And they just weren't killing people until eight months ago?" He shook his head. "Not likely. Which means they came here eight months ago." He stood up. "I need my laptop. You have WiFi here?"
"Uh, yeah." Harry nodded, a little bemused listening to the two men. "I'll write down the password for you." He watched Sam leave and took his seat across from Dean. "What the hell do you guys hunt?"
Dean snorted. "All the things that law enforcement doesn't believe in." He leaned back and looked at Harry, taking the measure of the man and decided they really had no choice but to trust him to be able to handle the truth. There was no way they were going to be able to hunt something on the grounds of the estates without Harry seeing them carting weaponry around. "Human breaks the law, you send in the cops. If a bear mauls some poor sucker on the street, you call animal control. But there's other shit out there; shit none of you got a clue about how to deal with. And when one of those things goes Cujo, we get the call."
"What other things?" Harry narrowed his eyes curiously.
"Ok, this is where you just gotta go with me." Dean licked his lips and met Harry's eyes evenly. "Vampires for a start." He watched Harry's eyes widen in surprise and smiled grimly when the man started laughing.
"Jody's pullin' my leg, isn't she?" Harry shook his head. "This is a joke. She put you up to this."
"No joke." Dean took the picture Sam had given him and handed it to Harry. "Look at those bites. See that weird pattern to the teeth?"
"Here." Sam returned to the kitchen with his laptop and tossed their father's weather-beaten journal down on the table beside Harry. He had known that Dean was going to try to explain to Harry. It's what he was planning to do when he came back if Dean hadn't. "I know it sounds ridiculous, but pretty much every monster and spook you've ever heard about is real." He tapped the picture in Harry's hand. "And those are very small vampire bite wounds. Only one thing has teeth like that. So, whatever we're hunting here, it's some tiny cousin to a vampire. WiFi password?"
Harry stared between the two men. "You're serious." He set the picture down. Harry grabbed a pen out of his pocket and scribbled the WiFi password on a slip of paper, then tossed the pen away and shook his head. "No way."
"Look through the journal while I do some research." Sam smiled and tapped their dad's journal again.
"I'm willin' to bet you had a few cases over the years you couldn't solve." Dean quirked a brow at the man. "Couldn't explain either. Weird shit that got written off 'cause no one had a better explanation."
"That's… I mean…" Harry blew out a breath. "Man, every cop has a few of those."
"Gimme one," Dean said. He pulled over the journal himself and flipped it open. "Just the victim details." He smiled. "We've been doin' this all our lives. We're pretty good at narrowing shit down in a hurry."
Harry chewed on his bottom lip, staring at Dean, and was confused when all he saw in the man's eyes was complete sincerity. "You really believe this." He shook his head. "Alright. Fine. Third year on the force. We had a serial killer. Real sick bastard. Near as we could figure, he was working with a dog. All the victims were clawed and missing their hearts. Four months after he started killing, he stopped. Either moved on or got dead somewhere."
Dean chuckled. He didn't even need to dig too deep for that one. "Let me guess; all the murders happened on the full moon." He flipped through the journal to the page he wanted and then slid it across to Harry. "Werewolf. Perfectly normal people the rest of the month, but they turn into cold killers on the full moon. They live off human hearts." He rolled his eyes. "Well, they can live off animal hearts if they want to, but it's like putting a carnivore on a Vegan diet. Not very satisfying."
Harry looked down at the journal and read the pages in front of him in disbelief… and yet, he couldn't help but notice how the information lined up, how the impossible things he was reading explained every inexplicable detail of a case he had never been able to solve. "If this is true, why did it stop?"
Dean shrugged. "Odds are a hunter ganked him."
"Werewolves," Harry muttered. He looked back down at the victim photo, feeling a little numb with shock. "And vampires."
"Ghosts, poltergeists, shapeshifters, and…" Dean broke off and shrugged. "Well, a lot more you don't even wanna know about. We wish we didn't know about it."
Sam glanced up and rolled his eyes at Dean's smirk. He watched Harry thumbing slowly through their father's journal and then got to work.
Harry scowled as he went through the little book page by page. They were mostly handwritten; notes on every creature imaginable and some that weren't, pictures, diagrams, even incantations. He swallowed hard and realized not only did these two crazy bastards believe all of it, he was beginning to as well. He thought back to the case he had told them about as he read a section on werewolves and shook his head. It all made a sort of twisted sense. He sat back and finally met Dean's gaze. "This is… does Jody do this too?"
"Sometimes." Dean smiled. "She's a pretty kick-ass hunter, actually. She's saved our asses more than once."
"Holy shit." Harry scrubbed his hands though his hair, allowing his world to realign itself slightly and nodded. "Alright. Alright. So what are we dealing with here? You said - can't believe I'm gonna say this - vampires?"
"Not vampires," Sam said suddenly and brought his laptop over, setting it down on the table. "It's a guess, but a pretty good one." He turned the screen so both men could see it. "Right before all this started, a cargo ship docked on the Caloosahatchee not far from here."
"What's a cargo ship have to do with this?" Harry frowned. "Those things come up all the time. Cheaper to offload here than anywhere else."
"This ship was towed in. The crew was gone." Sam nodded as both men looked up in surprise. "Ghost ship. The news articles I found said the authorities figured the crew was hit by pirates. They found blood evidence all over the ship but no bodies."
"Where was it from?" Dean asked, tugging the laptop around to him.
"Australia." Sam shrugged. "Could be a few different things. I won't be sure until we can get a look at it. Still need to look at the bodies." He met Harry's eyes. "How uncooperative are the locals? Think we'd be able to get in if we were federal agents?"
Harry's brows flew up his head. "You impersonate feds? Are you cracked?"
Dean chuckled. "Hell, no. That'd be illegal." He grunted when Sam slapped his shoulder. "Knock it off."
Harry shook his head in disbelief. "Much as I'd like to see that, I guarantee the chief would check your credentials. Guy's a first class asshole. Doesn't trust anyone, and he'd blow your cover in a heartbeat, knowing him."
"Well, shit." Dean sighed.
"We've seen the photos." Sam moved his laptop to look at the pictures beneath it again. "And the coroner's report. That'll have to do." He held up a hand when Dean opened his mouth to argue. "We do not need to end up on the most wanted list in Florida, dude. We've got enough problems."
Dean closed his mouth and nodded. Sam was right. "Yeah, ok."
"What problems are you guys having?" Harry asked. He watched them both close down with a glance at each other.
"Nothing." Sam smiled when Harry snorted. "Nothing you want to know about. We'll figure it out."
"Yeah, we will. First, though…" Dean stood. "Let's grab some gear and go have a look around this garden of yours."
Harry scrubbed his hands over his face and nodded. "You know, it's more like a nature preserve out there, right? We're talking acres of trees. You're gonna need another pair of eyes to search the grounds here."
Dean studied Harry for a moment, then glanced over at Sam who gave him a small nod. "Alright. You're in. Meet us out back in ten. We'll bring the toys." He grinned and followed his brother out of the kitchen.
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Dean walked easily between the trees, a shotgun loaded with rock salt held easily in his hands. He had his pistol at his back in case the salt proved useless and a machete dipped in dead man's blood strapped to his hip. He looked to his left and saw Sam emerge from behind a tree and glanced in the other direction to find Harry looking up into the canopy above them. He'd made sure they were all equipped the same. Dean didn't want to take any more chances than they had to. They were taking a big enough chance as it was walking into the territory of a creature they hadn't yet identified.
The breeze was hot as it blew across Dean's face, the shade doing nothing to cut the heat of a Florida summer. He looked toward Harry again and froze when he saw the older man stop suddenly. "You spot something? Sam! Hold up!"
"Yeah!" Harry called back. "I think… hey! No, you don't!" he shouted and took off at a run away from them.
"Harry, stop! Shit!" Dean ran in pursuit of the man and heard Sam somewhere behind him, following. Dean charged between the trees after the man. "Hey!" he called again. He sped up as Harry slid to a stop ahead of him and raised his shotgun. The sound of the shot echoed beneath the trees, making Dean's ears ring as he finally reached Harry and stopped beside him with his own gun up. "What the hell'd you think you were doing, taking off alone like that?" Dean demanded angrily. "You've got backup for a damn reason."
"I saw something." Harry flicked his gaze to Dean and felt a momentary stab of guilt. Dean was right. "Sorry, but…" He waved a hand ahead of them. "I know I hit something."
"Stay behind me." Dean turned. "Sam, watch our six." He took two steps and spun back when there was no reply. "Sam?" Dean started back the way they had come and there was no sign of his little brother. "Sammy!"
"Shit. Oh, shit." Harry shook his head, and that little stab of guilt became a flood, growing with every moment that Dean's younger brother failed to appear. "It was distracting us, wasn't it? Whatever it is. It was drawing us off."
"Splitting us up for easy pickin's," Dean snarled. He followed the tracks of their passing over the ground and only then took notice of the massive, gnarled trees they had run into. "What the hell kind of trees are these?" They looked as though they had melted, sending white, slim, vine-like trunks into the ground beneath massive bows like supports. He rapped his knuckles on one, expecting it to give, and found hard wood instead.
Harry shook himself. There'd be time to wallow in his guilt later. "Moreton Bay Fig trees. They call them Banyans." He stopped in surprise and grabbed Dean's shoulder before he could walk away. "The trees… they're native to Australia."
"Like that damn cargo ship." Dean groaned. "No way that's a coincidence. Sam!" He started off again and began running when he saw Sam's shotgun discarded between the roots of one of the banyan trees. He knelt, grabbing the gun, and could easily read the signs in the dirt. Something had dropped his brother, and it worried Dean that whatever had taken Sam down had done so without giving Sam time to call for help. Even more worrying was the fact that his brother was nowhere in sight. "Where the hell did he go?"
"Did he walk?" Harry asked as he moved further away in an effort to spot any other footprints on the hard-packed earth. There were none, save theirs as they had run through the first time.
Dean shook his head. "Something had to carry him outta here. Fuckers must be fast," he muttered the last and got back to his feet. "Alright." Dean swallowed back the rage in his gut, letting it simmer in the background so he could focus on finding Sam. "Let's go see what you shot. Then we're gonna find Sam." He turned fierce eyes to Harry. "And we're gonna find him alive. He's not dead, you hear me?"
"He's alive. We'll find him." Harry nodded seriously to Dean and turned away.
Dean followed closely behind Harry, but his eyes scanned the surrounding trees. They were beautiful and creepy at the same time with their white limbs melting all around them and massive roots curling along the ground like they were alive. He strained to hear anything other than themselves in the forest, but there was nothing, not even birds singing which told him whatever had taken Sam was still close. "Where is it?"
"Here, I think." Harry skirted a large bush at the base of one of the trees and he stopped, staring in shock at the thing lying beside its base. "What… the fuck?"
Dean went around him and knelt beside the creature. It was small, not even four feet in length as far as Dean could tell. Its skin was a strange, deep shade of red and its head looked massive atop such a thin neck. Other than the size of its head and the color of its skin, it looked almost human. "What the crap are you?" he whispered. He set Sam's gun down and pulled his knife, using it to poke at the creature's shoulder and turn it onto its back.
"Whoa."
"Yeah," Dean said and narrowed his eyes. The creature had a mouth that seemed to take up half of its huge head. He prodded the jaw open and found no teeth inside it. "What are they chomping people with?" He stuck the knife blade into the dirt and cautiously picked up one of its hands. It was tiny, half the size of Dean's hand, and he gulped. The pad of each of the creature's fingers had a tiny mouth all its own and each mouth was filled with double rows of vampire teeth. "Son of a bitch."
Harry shook his head and took a step back. His mind was reeling that something like that even existed. He didn't want to believe it even as he stared down at it himself. "What is that thing? Seriously, Dean. What the hell is it?"
Dean shook his head and dropped the creature's hand. "Can't remember what they're called. yowie-somethings. Sam'll know. But yeah, they're from Australia. Don't think anyone's ever seen these things outside of there." He stood and handed his shotgun to Harry. "Hold that."
Harry took the gun and watched Dean unsheathe his machete. "But it's already dead."
"Can't be sure." Dean raised the machete up and then swung it down, severing the creature's head from its neck. "These things are like distant, twisted cousins to the vampire. That's the only reason I know about 'em. First time we ran into vamps, Sam went research happy." He smiled sadly as he kicked the thing's head away to roll up against another root.
"How long ago was that?" Harry was still trying to accept the absurdity of the thing lying at his feet and seized on anything else to focus on.
Dean ran a hand over his face and sighed. "Uh… thirteen years ago; give or take a few decades for me and centuries for Sam." He raised a hand as Harry opened his mouth. "Don't ask. Just…" He blew out a breath and started back toward where he'd found Sam's gun. "That kid saved the world once and he's got nothin' but crapped on since he did it. Come on."
"Saved the world?" Harry followed numbly behind Dean. "How… what? I think I would have noticed if the world almost ended."
Dean gave a short, humorless laugh. "Maybe I'll tell ya' later." He slid his machete back into its sheath and took his gun back. In his head screamed a desperate need to find Sam before it was too late; because if he did lose him, Dean wasn't sure he gave a damn what happened to the world anymore. "We gotta find Sam fast."
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Sam groaned softly as consciousness slowly came back to him. His mind spun with confusion as he tried to remember what had happened. He had heard Harry yell, seen his brother take off after him. He vaguely remembered limping heavily behind Dean in a sad attempt to catch up with his bad hip as he passed beneath a tree and then... he thought perhaps something heavy had struck him in the head. Sam felt pain crashing through his head, the kind of pain that only came from a concussion. His body hurt everywhere, especially his much-abused right hip. That was a white-hot agony that made him want to pass out again. He stubbornly fought to not lose consciousness again and cracked his eyes open to narrow slits. Sunlight gleamed through dense foliage high above his head. He knew it was still daylight and could feel the heavy thickness of the humidity in the air, and yet he was shivering.
"Dea…" Sam broke off and coughed as the attempt at speaking nearly choked him. He tried to bring a hand up and felt the first stirrings of panic when it didn't move. "Wha'? He slowly tipped his head up, blinking to clear his blurry vision and startled badly. Small, red creatures were spread across his body, a half-dozen of them at least. They held his arms and legs and two were wrapped like lovers around his chest.
"No!" Sam wrenched his body to throw them off, but the effort was weak at best. He shuddered as they looked up at him and hissed through horrifyingly wide, black mouths at him. His shirt was in ribbons, looking as though it had been clawed to pieces, and Sam's mouth fell open when one of the creatures lifted a bloody hand from his chest and held it up. He watched small mouths at the ends of the creature's fingers open and close, snapping razor-sharp teeth. "Oh, God," he breathed. Sam let out a hoarse yell when the creature dropped that hand to his chest and he felt those teeth slice into his skin.
"Yara-ma-yha-who," Sam gasped as his head fell weakly back to the ground. "You're… Yara… crap." Now that he was alert enough, he could feel his blood being slowly drained from his body through dozens of points, everywhere their hands touched him. He began to chuckle as he shivered and shook. He had wanted a glimpse of what they were hunting so he would know what is. "Got… got my… wish," Sam gasped and knew he had to sound a little insane. He wondered what Dean would think if he saw him then. The thought of his brother sobered Sam instantly. Part of him very much wanted to slip back into oblivion and let it happen, let the creatures drain him to the point of death. There had just been so much crap and so much pain for so long, one crisis after another, and he was so, so tired of it. It would be easy to let go. It was a tempting thought, but there was still Dean. He couldn't leave Dean alone no matter what. His big brother couldn't fight the Darkness without him, and Sam would never walk away from him again.
"Dean." Sam closed his eyes and tried to get his body to cooperate with him. Blood loss was making him weak and cold. His head was still spinning; whether it was from the blow the yara-ma-yha-who had given him, the blood loss, or both didn't matter. He took in a deep breath, gathered what strength he had and threw himself to one side.
The yara-ma-yha-who screamed indignantly as Sam tumbled to the side. He came up short against the base of a massive tree with a grunt. He didn't allow himself the luxury of rest, convincing his abused body to move. Sam sluggishly pulled his machete free of its sheathe, grateful that the little creatures didn't know enough to disarm him and that his brother had dipped it in dead man's blood before they'd left. He tried to stand, but his right leg refused to do more than twitch while his hip sent a fresh bolt of agony up into his head that nearly took him back under.
"No," Sam panted. "No." He clumsily swung the machete out as the first creature rushed him. The sharp blade sliced into the yara-ma-yha-who's shoulder. It screamed and collapsed to the ground on a low, pitiful moan. The other creatures gathered around it in a rush, staring down and running their fingers through its blood.
Sam took the reprieve, however short it would be, and began to pull himself up and over the huge root beside him. He bit his lip to keep the pained noises to himself, not wanting to pull the creatures attention back to him. He slid over the top and down several feet to the ground and couldn't hold in the moan of agony as his right hip moved. "God," he whispered. Sam rolled sluggishly to his back so he could watch for the yara-ma-yha-who and keep his machete between him and them.
He had managed to drag himself nearly a yard from the strange, twisted tree before the creatures appeared over the root as though following the trail of blood he was leaving behind. "Dean!" Sam bellowed his brother's name in earnest. He shoved up with his left arm and swung the machete out again before they reached him. His arms were weak, making the machete feel as though it weighed a ton and he fought to keep it up, keep it moving. The blade nicked another of the creatures and left it as insensible as the first. Its collapse seemed to enrage the others. Their high, piercing screams rose up around Sam, deafening him, and they rushed forward all at once to overpower him.
Sam fell back, trying to keep his machete upraised between him and the creatures, and nearly yelped in shock when Dean leaped into view over a root to his left. "Dean," Sam gasped in relief. He smiled, letting his head thunk back into the dirt beneath him and closed his eyes in the sure knowledge that Dean would save him.
The sound of Sam's voice shouting his name was enough to let loose the angry fear for his brother that Dean had choked back. He let out a roar of his own as he vaulted a root as high as his hips and landed on his feet beside Sam's prone body. "No, you don't," Dean snarled. He swung his machete and beheaded the first of the yara-ma-yha-who as it raced up Sam's long legs. He saw Harry climb over the same root and pointed his left hand to his brother. "Check him. I got this."
Harry nodded silently. He dropped to his knees beside the taller man and rested a hand on his shoulder. "Damn, Sam," he muttered. The man was covered in blood and freely bleeding bites like the other victims. His skin beneath the blood was pale; too pale. He set his fingers against the side of Sam's throat and smiled in relief as he felt the pulse fluttering there, weak and fast but there. "He's alive."
"Damn right he is." Dean swung his leg back and kicked another creature before it could tackle his left leg. He took the head of a third and swung back, stabbing the one he'd kicked and grinned when it flopped to the ground, helpless.
"Sam?" Harry kept one eye on Dean, but it seemed the older hunter was going to make sure nothing got to his brother again. He set both shotguns down and cradled Sam's lax face in his hands. "Hey. You need to wake up. Sam."
Dean stomped a foot down on the last yara-ma-yha-who and drove the point of his machete into its throat. He twisted the blade and messily cut off the head with its too wide mouth, wincing as he felt something bite into his calf above his boot. He looked down and saw the creature had thrust one hand up beneath his pant leg. He grimaced in disgust and kicked himself free of it, feeling the tiny teeth tear out of his flesh as he did. He breathed heavily and looked around for any sign of more of the creatures, checking the melted-looking trunks and branches around them, but thankfully saw nothing.
"Shit." Dean turned and went to his brother, kneeling on his other side across from Harry. He slid his machete back through the loop on his belt and then tugged Sam's from his brother's hand, setting it aside.
"He's lost a lot of blood." Harry tugged the remnants of Sam's shirt away from his chest and swallowed at the bites that littered the skin there. "Jesus."
Dean shook himself and reached out. He gently pulled Sam up until he was resting against Dean's bent knee with his head on his shoulder. He tapped his brother's cheek firmly. "Come on, buddy. You've had worse than this. Wake up, Sammy."
Harry picked up Sam's let arm and found more bites. "Dean…"
"He'll be fine," Dean said firmly, daring Harry to argue with him. When all the older man did was nod, Dean gave one of his own and hitched Sam a little higher against his shoulder. Now that he had his little brother in his arms, he could breathe again. The terror of having Sam taken out from under his nose —again - was going to haunt him, along with all the other times he had failed to protect him. "Come on, little brother. You're freakin' out the civvie here. Wake up already." He smiled as Sam twitched suddenly. "That's it, Sammy."
Sam struggled to obey his brother's voice and open his eyes. His body felt heavy, weighted, and cold. He felt Dean's arm around him and shivered as his brother's warmth soaked into him. He blinked and found his brother's worried face looking down at him. "Dean." He coughed lightly, moaning as it drove fresh pain through his body, but looked up at Dean with a weak smile. "Took you… long 'nuff."
Dean chuckled. "Yeah, whatever. Always lyin' around on the job, Sammy."
Harry smiled, shaking his head while he watched the brothers together. "Get the feeling this is a pretty common scenario for you. Can't believe you guys do this crazy shit for a living."
Dean glanced over at him with a shrug. "Just another day at the office." Turning his attention back to his brother, he knew he had to try to get him to his feet. "Take it easy," Dean coached as he eased Sam up.
"Stop. Stop," Sam gasped. Sitting up made his right hip scream at him and brought tears of pain to his eyes. "Crap."
"What?" Dean leaned down for a better look at Sam's face and didn't like what he saw.
Sam clenched his teeth together and shook his head. "Hip," he hissed.
"Ah, hell." Dean looked up at Harry and sighed. "We're gonna need a hospital." He felt Sam tug on his shirt and cut him off before he could start. "Dude, you've lost, like, half your blood volume, and I'd bet my favorite skin mag that hip's dislocated now, so shuddup. You're goin'."
Harry snorted a laugh. "Let's get him back to the house and I've got a van we can take to get him to the clinic. Nearest hospital's an hour out, but the clinic in town is good."
"Alright, buddy. You heard the man. Let us do the work." Dean slid his hands under his brother's right arm while Harry did the same on the left.
"No… no problem." Sam gritted his teeth together and couldn't hold back the whimper as they dragged him to his feet. "Yara-ma-yha-who… gone?"
"Toast," Dean reassured him. "Harry and me'll come back out here after we get you taken care of and make sure we got 'em all, won't we?"
"With prejudice," Harry promised and grunted. Supporting Sam's much larger body wasn't easy. "What do you feed him?"
"He eats his spinach," Dean said dead-pan and grinned as Sam groaned, from pain or annoyance or probably both. He pulled his brother's arm over his shoulders and slid an arm around his waist, trying not to think about how much blood he could feel soaking in to his shirt. He saw Sam try to stand, caught him as he staggered sideways on a gasp, and was left supporting his brother's dead weight with Harry. "Sammy?"
Harry looked over at Sam's face and sighed. "Passed out. Must be in some serious pain."
"He was barely walkin' yesterday, so yeah. Dammit. Come on, while he's still out." Dean shifted and slid behind his brother, supporting him with his arms beneath Sam's shoulders and around his chest, letting Sam's head tip back onto his own shoulder. "You grab his feet. This'll be faster." Dean made sure his grip was secure and was comforted by Sam's short, fast breaths puffing against the side of his neck. "Hold on, kiddo."
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Dean strode outside onto the wide, wrap-around porch of the big house and found his brother where he'd left him, stretched out on a wicker lounge chair with his right leg propped on a stool, and a book in his hands. He smiled. "Hey." He held out one of the two cold beers in his hand.
"Thanks." Sam took it and quirked a brow at Dean. "You're giving me a beer? After how much blood I lost?"
Dean snorted. "Dude, that was yesterday, and I know you haven't taken the pain meds for your hip yet, have you?" He chuckled when Sam rolled his eyes and shook his head. "So, you can have a beer." He held up a finger. "One beer, and then you're takin' the damn pills or I'll sic Harry on you."
Harry smiled, hearing Dean's words as he joined them on the porch. "I still think you should be in the hospital for another day at least."
"I'm fine," Sam said for what had to be the hundredth time. He chuckled as Dean made a point of stepping over his stretched leg to get to his chair.
Dean sat beside his brother and held out his left arm to show the Band-Aid taped there. "The two pints of awesome I donated says you're not fine." He smirked. "Five bucks says you can't even drink that beer without tossing it back up, Captain Blood Loss."
"Shuddup." Sam glared over at him, took a sip of his beer to prove he was fine, and had to swallow hard as it hit his still empty stomach.
Harry burst into laughter and leaned against the railing across from the boys with his own beer. "You just turned three shades of green, kid."
"Not a kid," Sam protested. He leaned back in his chair and set the beer on the porch beside him. He rested a hand over his sore hip and tried not to move too much. It annoyed him that his brother had been right and he'd succeeded in dislocating his hip, probably when the yara-ma-yha-who had attacked him. "I'll be good to go in a couple days."
Dean snorted again. "More like a week. Get comfy, Sammy."
Sam looked over and met his brother's eyes seriously. "We've got things to do, Dean. We can't afford to take a week off."
"Yeah, we can," Dean argued and settled back with his beer. "If we were home, you'd be doin' the same thing there you're doin' here." He pointed at his brother. "Takin' the damn week off to rest up and exercise that geek brain of yours with every book I can toss in your lap."
"Sounds like you boys have something important to do," Harry observed and didn't miss the way they both slid their eyes away from his. "You don't have to tell me. Just, you know, warn me if I should batten down the hatches for the end of the world or something." He chuckled.
Dean took a deep breath, raised his bottle, and drained his beer in one, long pull before meeting Harry's eyes again. "Batten down the hatches."
Harry's laugh died away and he saw nothing but seriousness and even a little fear in the eyes of both men. "Shit. How bad is it?"
"We're working on it," Sam said hoarsely. He cleared his throat and set his book down as the familiar guilt flowed through him for his part in releasing the Darkness into the world.
"Knock it off, Sam." Dean reached over and rested a hand on his brother's shoulder for a moment. He sat back once Sam gave him a nod and briefly looked down at the spot on his arm where the Mark of Cain had once been. He had his own guilt to live with, no less suffocating than Sam's. He looked back to Harry and shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. "Just live your life, dude. We've got a pretty good track record with this shit. Hopefully, our luck will hold this time, too. And if crazy comes knockin' at your door again, you know who to call. We'll be here."
"Yeah. My very own Ghostbusters." Harry ran a hand through his hair. "Thanks for coming down here." He shook his head and handed his still full beer to Dean with a grin. "I still think most of this is crazy, but crazy's starting to not look so bad. I'll get those steaks on."
Dean grinned and raised his beer to Harry before the man went back inside. "Love me some steak."
Sam chuckled softly. He looked over at the satisfied smile on Dean's face and then out to the estate grounds and the odd, melted-looking banyan trees he could see in the distance. He let out a slow breath and smiled. "You know, days like this are why I didn't need Sully anymore."
Dean's head jerked around in surprise to stare at his brother, but Sam's gaze was fixed out into the gardens with a small smile. He frowned. "You never really did tell me why you sent the imaginary dweeb packin' when you were a kid."
Sam nodded slowly. "I never really thought about it, you know? Until Weems said…" Sam shook his head and felt his face coloring because it still seemed odd to be discussing his childhood, imaginary friend as a real being with his big brother. He flicked his eyes to Dean, meeting his gaze, and looked away again. "It was twenty years ago, so try not to get pissed off here, alright?"
"What?" Dean asked innocently.
Sam rolled his eyes. "I was running away." He held up a hand as Dean's face darkened. "It's not the point, Dean."
"Again. You were running away again," Dean corrected and couldn't help the thread of anger in his voice.
"Yes, alright? I wasn't happy." Sam sat back sadly and shifted with a grimace to try and relieve the ache in his hip. "I was lonely. When I was little, I always had you. But then we got older. Dad started taking you on hunts; and me?" Sam shook his head sadly as he remembered how cut adrift he had felt back then. "I got left behind. Alone. Just me sitting around and feeling useless and scared to death that my family was never gonna come home. But then Dad called." He smiled, softly however, with the memory. "He called and said he was bringing me on the next hunt with you, and, uh… turns out that was all I wanted. I was so happy about it." He looked down at his hands and chuckled. "I was actually looking forward to hunting with you. I was happy." He braced himself and looked over to Dean. "Sully was trying to help me run away, and I didn't want to anymore. I got what I wanted, and I told him to get lost. He did."
The anger Dean still felt toward his brother and Sully slowly began to seep away with the knowledge that Sam had stayed because, at least at that point in his life, he'd wanted nothing more than to hunt with his brother. He smiled and nodded. "Too bad you couldn't hold on to that particular happy. Would'a made your teens a lot less annoying."
Sam laughed. He picked his beer back up from the floor and reached across, holding it out until Dean tapped his own bottle against it. "I found it again. I think that's all that matters."
"Yeah." Dean smiled briefly at his brother and then took a drink of his beer. He pulled the bottle of painkillers out of his pocket and tossed it across into Sam's lap. "Yeah, it is." He let a grin ease over his face while Sam chuckled. He didn't know how they were going to fix the mess they'd created, but he knew that somehow they would, because they were both where they wanted to be - alive and together, saving people and hunting things. And that was enough.
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The End.
Last Chapter: Z is for Zmeu