Chapter Twelve

Second Chance

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Sam was tired. He had been grieving the loss of his brother's life for over 200 years and now it had started anew with the unexpected reappearance. This small creature resembled Dean but also something completely foreign to him. He didn't care about the fact that he looked so very different, all he cared about was having his brother back. But he had gone and messed it all up. A reunion that lasted no more than a few moments before Dean died in pain. Again.

Sam had sunk to the bottom of the ocean, cradling the limp body in his hand carefully, but also tempted to let go. Unable to look at it because of his overwhelming guilt, but also unable to let it go and be consumed by fish... like last time. He had no idea what to do, so he did nothing. Lost in his memories and grief. Sam wondered what he would have done if he had figured out that this new Dean breathed air. He had... breathed air... Dammit. Sam wiped the thick gooey tears from his eyes with his free hand and shook it in the water off to the side to knock it free of his fingers. Tears that protect his eyes from bacteria and small animals that he couldn't even properly see anymore. Tears that were being produced faster than he had use for, making his eyes blur even more in the dark depths.

Normally he can see quite well in the deep but now he let his eyes go unfocused anyway. He didn't really want to see his surroundings, or the limp object in his hand.

His brother's body had started to cool from the cold ocean water and for some reason, it started to warm again. It wasn't an obvious heat, but it did get Sam's attention after a little bit. He debated with himself if he wanted to look or not. A morbid thought that it was already starting to rot, as rotting organic matter can produce heat.

His hand was curled into a loose fist to prevent the currents from taking the body away from him before he ultimately decided what to do with it. Also to prevent any opportunistic sharks or other predators from taking advantage of a 'free meal'. Sam shuddered and closed off his fingers a bit more, reducing the gaps between to mere slits. Still unwilling to look even though the warmth was getting more noticeable. It couldn't already be rotting. It hasn't even been a full day yet. But what... what if it was the opposite?

He knew it must be his imagination, cruel and unforgiving of his mistake. To trick him into thinking that his brother was somehow alive after going so long without air. His whale and the dolphins taught him how long air breathing things can last underwater and Dean had spent three times as long as that and counting. There was no possible way he was still alive.

Sam's grief circled around his head over and over, his guilt, his torment. Like a shark debating if it wants to hunt and kill.

He finally looked down at his fist and fresh tears sprung to his eyes, wiping away again with his free hand. The only thing poking out of his fingers was the looped string that he'd tied around his thumb. Tethering the body to himself. He knew it was not necessary anymore. Another wave of guilt at tying it in the first place. Recalling Dean's frantic tugging at it to return to the surface, to live, and... to get away from him.

With his free hand he started to pick at the knot that had formed from the thrashing. Biting his lower lip with sharp fangs, worrying at his lip until a whiff of blood trickled out. Holding back a soft sad whimper as he tried to get his thick claws to cooperate with the tiny, nearly invisible string. Unable to get a proper grip on it. He was tempted to forget the knot and just cut it with his claw but then had a horrible thought that his claw wouldn't be enough to break it in two immediately, and it would just tug one of Dean's tails out of the fist, forcing him to look at how lifeless it is. Maybe even tearing it clean off of the small fragile body if he wasn't careful enough cutting the string with his claws. He paused, horrible thoughts racing through his head at the possibilities. Claws clicking in indecision.

He could easily bite it in two, pinching the end that disappeared into his fist with his free hand so nothing was tugged along with the string. He weighed the pros and cons and decided to just do it and stop thinking about it so much.

Sam lifted up his fist and held the one side firmly with not just his free fingers but the last finger and edge of his palm to make doubly sure that the body stayed safe and intact inside his fist. He sniffled and opened up his mouth, baring his fangs.

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Dean felt every bit like a concrete brick. His senses were nearly nonexistent but he had the impression of being curled up in a dark, cold, claustrophobic space. His memories were scattered like chickens with a fox in the pen. Getting a glimpse of one memory only to have it dash away from him. He had been somewhere dark and vast, with a feeling of being weightless and a sense of closeness to another being that surrounded him like a comfy blanket. Safe and metaphorically blanket burrito-ed in space.

He felt a thumping from deep within himself. Starting slowly at first before gaining a bit of speed. Tracing the strange smaller pulses down limbs he forgot he had. Arms, legs, head. The irregular thumping evening out slightly. Pushing a thick fluid through his body that woke it up one piece at a time. His head lolling as he struggled to get his body figured out and settled. It was familiar and strange at the same time. The thick fluid almost 'tasted' differently as it moved around his body. Altering bits of his waking body as it went. He knew most of the fluid was his own but also that some other fluid was somehow added to himself. But that was insane. Right?

The word blood came to mind. It was important. Crucial. He couldn't figure out why and it was frustrating as all hell. Wait... Hell. That sparked a few notions that he simultaneously wanted to know more about as well as run the fuck away from.

He remembered bits and pieces of what had happened, almost like it was a dream, or that it happened to someone else, but knew that it was his own. Feeling disjointed from his own body. Things were changing in him and he wasn't sure if it was his own doing or if some outside source was responsible.

He had a brief memory of having had surgery before. A long scar on his leg from a bike accident when he was a kid. The petal had scraped along his inner thigh and if it weren't for his dad being there when he was, there was a good chance he would have bled out. It managed to nick the femoral artery but he was found and rushed to the er in time. He remembers staring at the scar growing up until it became a thin pink line and then practically disappeared in his teens. He remembers the fear. The blood. The look in his dad's eyes when he'd seen what happened. Unable to stop the pain his son was in.

Dean remembers trying to stop crying to keep his dad from worrying about him. But he was too young and in too much pain to do more than beg his dad, 'please, please.' to which John thought meant Dean wanted his dad to take the pain away.

Dean didn't realize this until much later, but didn't want to bring the accident up after so long. Dredging up the past. Seeing that guilt on his dad's face again.

The past and present were starting to mingle in Dean's mind now. A different face looking down at him with their own pain and guilt. Sympathy. Blood spilled. So much blood. Pain going through Dean's body that he couldn't stop or will away. He wondered for a moment if he had been injured again. That's when he felt his lungs start to burn.

Oh God this hurt. He folded his arms around himself tighter, unable to breath properly as something invaded his throat and lungs. He was so cold but his heart beat powerfully all around his body now. Insisting that the blood it pushed along was necessary for life. But Dean was starting to reconsider if life was worth it, if he had to deal with this kind of pain.

The invading liquid swished around his lungs as he tried to breathe and suddenly a fresh stabbing pain in his sides lanced from his lungs on out. Creating an opening for the burning water as it whooshed out from the bottom of his lungs. The relief he felt at having a way to get that shit out of himself was short lived as his instinct to breathe kicked in with a vengeance, and he just sucked in more liquid into his nose and mouth. He gasped and was distantly aware that the liquid could move out the same way down below instead of above. In through his mouth, out through his sides below his lungs, between his ribs. His lungs still 'bellowed' but this time the muscles pushed the liquid down instead of up again when it was 'done' with it.

Dean's mind supplied him a quick black and white image of a diagram for a human's torso and the important organs inside. A red sharpie pen hovered over top, and drew a line across the diagram in a crude semicircle on both sides where he felt that pain. The exit. Then the sharpie pen drew big red arrows going from his throat on down to those new openings. Showing him what was happening in a way his pain addled mind could comprehend.

His hands hovered over his sides, feeling the current coming out of himself from slits that were still forming between the bottom most ribs. First one that struggled with the flow, then joined by a second slit right underneath. Two slits on each side. The whole area was tender and sore as he gently grazed his trembling fingertips over the slight rippled edges. He tried to swallow down the liquid but it just rushed out the bottom again. Gulping in more and more water in his panic and feeling it shove through his lungs on out the bottom sides. If he clenched his stomach muscles tight just right, he could force the water back up out of his mouth to form sounds. He whimpered at the strange feeling and let the next few gulps of water leave out the bottom again.

Oddly enough, the more he swallowed water, the clearer his head felt. His body warming slightly at first. Fending off the chill that surrounded and engulfed him. His heart working overtime as he felt more changes happening within himself. Squeezing his arms tighter around his middle, willing it to stop because it hurt so bad.

This was wrong. So wrong.

He waited for the pain to stop and felt fresh tingles start down his legs. They'd been curled up in this tight space, protecting his core from whatever it was that surrounded him. Sometimes he'd feel his small prison shift and something inside it kept thumping away at a very slow pace that mimicked his heartbeat. His mind taunting him, telling him that he should know what this was but he was too preoccupied with the pain and confusion his body was in.

Dean's feet tingled and he trailed a hand down to see why when he felt his pinky toe where it shouldn't be. It somehow was felt on the side of his foot. He recoiled from it with a jerk but had to know what state the rest of his feet were in now. He tapped it and felt the tingles turn to aches in the interior bones of his feet. The next toe was longer than he thought it should rightfully be, and moved on to the next to only find that one even longer. The length of his hand! His middle toe was as long as his hand and there was a webbing between it and the other's he felt so far. And they were growing longer by the minute.

His feet curled in from the new wave of pain and flung out again as he kicked involuntarily. Briefly overcoming the paralysis his body was in from shock before it gripped him tight again. Locking down his movements unless he really focused on it.

His heel popped inward and upwards. Towards the top of his foot in a sickening way. Both hands shot down to grab where his heel and ankle should have been but found it gone. Embedded completely to make it nearly indistinguishable from his leg and feet. Leaving a slightly rough patch of rounded skin where it had once been. More internal adjustments were felt as his ankle bones shifted around muscles to make it so that his feet and calf were now nearly streamlined. The elongating limb greeted his trembling hands and he forced himself to soldier on and find out what happened with the last two toes on each foot. The big one was far longer than the rest as well as the one next to it, one would refer to it as the index toe. Well now he's feeling like its a damned seal flipper but much longer and thinner than that. His feet were still growing longer and wider and he was too stunned to do more than stare as the pain course through his body.

Spreading all his toes wide, his hands were unable to span the distance between them anymore as skin stretched unnaturally wide. He bit back a scream as every one of the joints in his feet and toes popped in a shuddering spasm and he found them all, every single joint, to be able to move in nearly every direction. Like they'd all turned to ball sockets. Able to bend his toes upwards and side to side and curl inwards to ridiculous degrees. Extremely flexible, as if they were made of cartilage instead of rigid bone. Fuck. Maybe they were now.

He still had control over his feet via muscles and tendons, but he also felt like they belonged to some other creature. Lifting up his big toes and actually feeling the ends of the webbed toes brush against his knees. Fuck they feel more like bat wings than feet, but different. Thicker and stronger. Dean's pretty sure that bats couldn't move their wing fingers in nearly as many directions as his toes can now.

He was so preoccupied with his feet that he failed to notice that his hands were slowly becoming webbed as well. Not nearly as drastically. Fingernails growing much slower than the rest of him but faster than any one's before, going from flat and fragile to thicker and stronger, pushing against the pads of his fingertips at a steady pace. He'd only just noticed it happened when he was feeling along his left leg at the rope that was tied around it, and his fingernails broke off as he tried to pick at the tightened knot.

Dean stared in the dark at his fingers, eyes widening at the different colors that were growing from the quick's. It was all getting to be too much. The paralysis that his mind locked the center of his body in was wearing off. As if he was just waking up and able to move again. Some distant memory of sleep paralysis that everyone is put in by their own brains, so that they don't go reenacting their dreams. The tight space he's in also kept him from stretching out fully and seeing what else was going to happen to his body. What new horror he'd have to suffer through.

Memories were clearing in his head. He had been on the ocean. He had built a boat with... Bobby. Bobby was his friend, his boss, like a father to him. Dean had called up Bobby to tell him something... he was being attacked!

Dean had called Bobby because there was something attacking his boat. It was enormous. He managed to sail away from it but it caught up to him and dragged his ship underwater. Dean somehow stayed afloat and tried to swim away when something wrapped around his legs then torso and pulled him under in an unforgiving grip.

Dean gasped at the memory of the monster that stared at him. The enormity of it all scared him into screaming underwater and it let him go just long enough to get back to the surface and breathe again. He felt himself weakening and then the tug on his leg. That's right. It grabbed a hold of the rope that had tangled around his leg and pulled him under again. But this time splaying him out to take a look at him. Like he was the freak and not the two hundred foot sea monster.

Dean was brought to the chest and his air squeezed from his lungs. Then. He drowned. He remembers dying. He remembers the black void that followed. He sort of remembers what happened in there. Something about a deal. A promise. A bond that he supposedly had between him and the monster.

Dean turned in his limited space to be upright, looking frantically around himself. Seeing the rope around his leg being moved by something beyond his reach. A grumbling sound that reverberated the water that surrounded him.

A pressure around his body made him suddenly remember what it felt like. The thing's hand. He was in its HAND. He sat up slowly to face the area where the end of his rope led and started in on the knot on his end with earnest. His newly formed claws scratching around at the rope. He had to get loose of it. He had to escape. To get away from this thing.
It was moving him upwards now. He could sense the currant shifting outside of the fist he was in.

Dean turned his head to try and see through the gaps the fingers were making and saw several huge white fangs just outside of the hand, a mouth opening wide as the hand he was in was brought closer and closer.

It was going to eat him!

Dean screamed.

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Sam was just about to make the first bite at the rope when he heard a high pitched scream coming from inside his hand. His hand jolted open and the force of the sudden move made the body inside fly back to lay splayed out, belly side up. Bouncing slightly against his fingers. His mouth was still open, fangs out and lips curled back. Belatedly realizing what that would look like to the small one when it flailed backwards with more screaming. It sounded high pitched to his ears and he winced at the intense fear in it.

Sam was so stunned that the body was not as dead as he thought, but was in fact very much alive and moving. What the... Sam's jaw working near soundlessly. Only able to make half formed words as the little one clawed at his palm, pushing against the wrinkles in his hand to get away. The rope digging into the tail on the left. Traces of blood leaking into the water from the rope burns.

"Wait..." Sam managed to say past his tight throat.

The little one flipped over onto its belly and flopped its two tails around, apparently trying to use each of the fused fins on the ends of the tails to dig in and propel it forward, but unable to get a grip. Like a fish's fins against sand, there was no traction to speak of.

Sam marveled at the movements and scowled to himself. He was sure that the two tails looked differently before. That the ends were much more narrow and compact. With teeny tiny fingers instead of fins. And indeed, as he watched the little one flail about, the end fins spread out wider and bent more like his own do, but not quite the same. His five fins were separated and evenly spaced all along the sides of his tail from his hip to tip, while this one had them still attached to each other and flaring out at the end, webbing between the fingers pushing awkwardly at the water.

"What happened little one? What's happening to you?!" Sam didn't expect an answer back but had to ask anyway. The little one still looked like Dean but now it was changing its shape. He thought he was dead! Was he just unconscious? No. That can't be right. It definitely breathed air before. It definitely struggled to reach the surface. Sam had lived long enough to see what happens when air breathers stay under too long. They die. They don't come back to life suddenly. And especially not with changed bodies.

Oh no, that looks painful. That's not normal.

Sam brought the little one closer to his eyes to see the two tails better and noticed that there were gills on the sides of it's torso now too. Now he is absolutely SURE that those weren't there before. He looked. He knows he checked. They couldn't have just... grown. Right? These things don't happen. What is this? Is he hallucinating? Is this a dream? Wishing his long lost brother was alive again and suddenly able to survive underwater? Is this a trick?

It's cruel.

Sam glared down at the struggling thing. It sure felt real enough... but if it's fake, if this is all just his mind breaking he'd rather deal with it in a less traumatic way. He doesn't need his mind coming up with a scenario where his brother comes back to him in a bastardized Mer body. Suddenly able to survive underwater. A part of him wishing that side of his mind that was skeptical would just shut up and enjoy the fact that Dean's alive again. Even if it's fake. False hope.

But can Sam do it?

He brought his other hand up and gently poked the small being in the side of one of it's tails. It flinched back terribly and started to punch at the closest fingers. Then those tiny hands started scrabbling at the rope around its left tail.

Sounds that resembled speech coming from it, almost like cursing if he had to guess. Sam stared on for another few moments as it struggled and squirmed. It seemed to remember something because it stopped moving and looked up at Sam's face for just a few seconds before digging around in that thing that wrapped around it's hips. Pulling out something small and shining and moved it down to the string to start sawing away at it.

A knife?

Sam vaguely remembers making knives with Dean centuries ago out of sharp black rocks that were faintly see through at the thinner parts. Sam's confused expression turned to one of awe and delight. This must be Dean. Dean was the one to show him how to make knives to begin with, and it seems that even in this new form, Dean didn't stop making them. Admiring how this one seemed to shine like the metal from the floating things.

Carefully, Sam used two fingers to pinch Dean's small wrist and lift it up from the rope. Dean startled at the sudden contact and looked fearfully up at Sam but he was more interested in looking at the knife. Dean cried out when the claws must have pinched a little too hard because the knife was jerked out of his hand as it was forced backwards slightly.

Sam was shocked and sorry for the hurt he caused, but watched helplessly as the sliver of a knife started falling down next to him. Tracing it with his eyes until it's shine was lost on the ocean floor's sand and rocks. He dove his free hand down and shifted around to better see the ocean floor and brought Dean down too. Sifting his hand around in the sand causing it to billow up.

Dean pulled himself with his hands to the edge of the hand holding him up and made a few angry calls at the accidental dropping. Aiming his anger up at Sam's face while pointing down at where he thought it had fallen.

"I'm sorry!" Sam said a bit too loud as Dean clutched the sides of his head with both hands, curling in slightly on Sam's palm.

"Sorry." Sam whispered again. "I'll find it. Don't worry!" but the more he sifted the more sand billowed up and he had to admit he was probably making it worse. Looking between Dean and the ocean floor, knowing that the smaller being could probably find the sliver of knife easier. But. That meant that he'd have to untie him from his hand.

Sure that was what Sam had intended before, to untie him, but that was when he thought Dean was dead. Now? If Dean was loose he could try and escape him again. Sam looked up and around at all the fish swimming about. Potential predators hiding in the shadows. Dean would be easy prey to half the animals down here. Sam had to make Dean understand that his best chance of survival is with him.

For now, he pretended not to understand Dean's gestures for Sam to cut him loose from the string. Shaking his head and wincing slightly at the renewed angry vocalizations. He compromised and lowered the hand holding Dean down to the ocean floor and let him crawl off.

Dean wasted no time at all looking around for his knife. Hands digging and moving the sand around, looking under every rock until he felt the tug of the rope around his leg. Kicking didn't do any good when he's still tied up, but at least the huge monster understood what he wanted and moved his hand so Dean could continue the search for his knife. Dean felt the water move through his toes and it was scary as hell to look at his altered feet for too long. A part of him convinced that they're no longer part of his body. It's just a costume. A hoax. But the sensations coming from his feet and ankles that bent in nearly every direction kept killing his delusions.
At least the pain is ebbing away. Dean's pretty sure that means that the transformations are complete. Grateful for that, but also horrified. It means that he's going to be stuck like this. For the rest of his life. Fuck. He felt like crying but he vaguely remembered that this is what he signed up for. In that 'other' place. He knew that to return to life meant he had to change... he just didn't think about how much that would be. Dean had to decide now. To push aside his thoughts and feelings dealing with this malformed body and look for a way to escape, or sit here and sob his eyes out at the whole mess.
Option one had slightly more hope. Dean shook his head and decided to deal with one problem at a time. Find the knife.

Dean jolted when he felt the huge hand move again as the monster allowed his search area to expand. Dean knew that it might be futile to keep looking for the pocketknife. That big bastard moved tons of sand with just one hand swish. It might be only a few inches down below the sand, or, five feet and he'd never be able to find it. Dean grit his teeth and kept looking. Focusing on that instead of the bigger issues he should be facing right now.

If he could delay it for a little longer, maybe it wouldn't seem so dire. Once he gets his knife back, he can attack the rope again, or hell, attack the monster directly. Cut one of those arteries that are the width of his fist that he'd seen in the big wrist and forearm. It would be hard to miss at this size.

Dean ignored the eyes that bored into him from above, the twitching free hand that was as large as a bed to him that was too close for comfort. Finally it seemed like the monster was done waiting and brought in a few digits to 'help' search. Dean shied away from it, crawling over to a new patch of sand to search there, overturning rocks and shells and bones that littered the floor.

Shocked, Dean managed to see the glint of metal when one of the fingers grazed by an area he'd already searched, digging a few inches deeper than he had. He stared intently at the area and had to wait patiently for the fingers to move away. Darting over and grabbing it as he flipped onto his back to look up at the monster.

Its eyes snapped to Dean and all the plans he'd had to attack the arteries fled his mind. He would never get away from the punishment that would be sure to follow such a futile attack. He secretly slipped the knife back into his pocket and buttoned it up out of sight from those huge eyes.

The monster's brow furrowed slightly before he frowned in sympathy. Muttering something at Dean that he assumed was another apology. Dean scowled on up.

The other hand came over and gently scooped Dean up into the hand he was tied to again. Dean punched at the fingers some more, yelling in frustration at how easily he was manhandled. Tugging angrily at the rope around his leg. It should have slid right off of his ankle now that it's more streamline than before but now his webbed toes were too wide to get it to move past where the ball of his foot used to be. He tugged and yanked on it, leaving angry red marks all along his leg and feet. Leaking blood from the new wounds.

The monster clicked in disapproval at him and with a few fingers, pinned Dean's chest down to the palm again. Dean's anger turned quickly to fear as he pushed and shoved at the fingertip that was nearly as big as his torso, the claw curved down next to his right shoulder.

The monster was trying to say something else at him but he couldn't really care about that when being pinned down like a bug. His legs bent upwards and Dean felt his knees pop just like his ankles had done and suddenly he could clearly see his calves and feet above the finger that pinned him down. The fresh pain shooting up his legs a second later had him screaming.

The finger jerked up and away from him as Dean's hands grasped around his right leg that had popped first and reluctantly moved his eyes to the left, lifting that one up next and feeling that painful pop in his knee right after. A new fresh wave of pain racing up his spine. He gasped and panted through it, unable to stop from crying. His poor legs looked like they had been in a car accident. Feet run over and smushed, legs bending in all directions that would signal horrible breaks. His head insisted that this should hurt far worse than it does and acted accordingly, shoving pain and panic signals everywhere in his head. Dean clutched at his knees, forcing them back into their normal positions and curling his toes in. Hands moving between his grinding knee caps and his feet, trying to fold them back to normal.
His head throbbing in time with the stress of it all.

"No... no no nonono..." Dean muttered with tears streaming from his eyes. He didn't want this. The memory of the blackness, and the conversation he'd had when he was there didn't prepare him for this. That all encompassing being never said anything about this level of body mutilation. Dean punched himself in the calf several times. This was wrong. This was all wrong. He thought he'd just be able to breath underwater, like that being said. But this? He didn't think he'd loose his ability to walk again. Loose his title of human looking at the claws forming on his fingers, the gills between his ribs, the webbing spreading from his toes on up the outsides of his legs. Slowly at first. Fuck. Now he really looks more like those mermaids from all those movies. If his legs were connected together to make one big one, the feet would look just like the wide fan at the end of some depictions of mermaids. He was determined not to put his legs together for fear of them sticking and doing just that. Plans running through his head once he gets topside again of going to some plastic surgeon that can cut off these abominations. Give him prosthetic feet instead. Do something. He can probably teach himself to use his knees like normal people. Even if they want to move all around at the moment. To stretch and bend upwards. It was so wrong. He'll also have to figure out the whole breathing water thing later when he's free of this monster's hold on him and heading towards shore.

Crap... he's going to have to figure out a way to call Bobby once he gets closer to the shore so he's not picked up by some people that would think he's a damned mermaid.

He paused briefly. Coming up short with how to explain away the fact that he probably is a mermaid now... merman. Whatever.

Dean hugged himself tighter, bringing in every bit of his body as close as possible and wept. Fuck. This was not what he had hoped would happen. Sure he's alive but at what cost? He looks like some bad B horror movie monster. Dean's afraid of what would happen if he tried to breath air again. Assuming he'll ever escape this monster's grip.

The monster in question was laying more or less on it's vast belly from what Dean could tell. Elbows propping up a torso that could rival most stores. Those wing like protrusions from its back were slowly splaying out on either side while the head was now lowering down to better see Dean in his hands that were about 10 feet off the ocean floor. Cupping him in a bowl. Dean ducked his head down again. Trying to find some measure of privacy.

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Sam tried to make himself as small as possible since the little one looked so scared of him. Lowering himself to lay down fully, angling the rest of his body away from it. Even lowering his back fins to the side, tucking them around his sides to keep them out of view. It seemed to work for a moment. The little one looking up at him with misery before curling back in on himself.

Sam tentatively moved his thumb up to stroke carefully along the tail that still had the string attached, muttering as quietly as he could to not startle it, "I'm sorry. I can't remove this yet."

Sighing some water through his sides. Not knowing what to do now. At least the little one isn't thrashing about, hurting himself even further. Sam was glad that the long gash on the side of it's chest was healed. Leaving a long white scar that looked as if it had been healing for years instead of hours. He spied another white scar on the inside of one of the tails. Almost missing it because it was so small. Sam wondered if those two tails had been a normal single tail at one point. Wincing at the pain the little one must have felt cutting it apart. But, that didn't seem right. There should have been a matching scar on the other side but it was still clear of any marks he could see. It wouldn't explain the bones inside either. How there were apparently two full sets instead of the normal single string of bones that could bend the tail in any direction. Going from the side hip fins on down, splitting off for each of the side fins like a normal Mer. This little one didn't really look like any animal he'd seen before.

Sam guessed, it was similar to the seals that he'd played with once a long time ago, when he ventured far enough into the freezing cold waters. But their bones were only vaguely similar. Seal bone structure in their back flippers resembled this one's only in passing. Sam was itching to play with the back flippers of this little ones to see their range of motion now. Where the bones laid and ask where they had been. And above all, why he looks the way he does. Best he could settle for now was to watch silently and wait for answers.

Sam took the time to look at as much of the little one as he could. Studying him. The fins at the end of the tails uncurled and curled. As if he couldn't decide what he wanted them to do. Sam waited even longer, but it didn't look like little one was going to relax anytime soon. His patience was running thin and his stomach was starting to growl. He'd have to hunt for some food for both of them but he can't do that when he still needs to learn what the little one is. Let alone what it eats.

Sam might as well do a more active role in studying the body while little one is still upset. No sense waiting for it to be OK, then traumatize him all over again. Get it done in one quick event so the healing can begin right after Sam's curiosity is satisfied. No sense drawing it all out. Making little one think that 'the torment' will never end. Like yanking out a sea urchin that's stuck in his gills.

Sam debated with himself for a few more moments though. If he was being too hasty. Deciding that he needed to know what the little one was capable of. He braced himself emotionally for the fear and anger that he's sure to cause. Sam promised himself and the little one that he'll still be gentle and considerate. He's not callous to his plight.

Sam nodded to himself and cleared his throat to get little one's attention. He wanted to call it Dean so badly, but wasn't sure if Dean would appreciate knowing that Sam knew him already. It was clear as crystal that Dean did not recognize him at all. It might scare him even more, so Sam told himself to keep on referring to him as 'Little one'. Even in his mind. Distinguishing his memory of his brother with the being before him now.

He moved slowly as he angled the hand Little one was laying on into a tighter bowl, moving his thumb towards the center of his curled up body. Sam freed up his other hand which moved even slower towards the two tail fins, finger and thumb angled in such a way so that his claws were aimed away from the fragile skin to keep the risk of scratching down. He grazed his forefinger along the tail that wasn't tied up and it flinched back and coiled in beneath the tail that was tied up. Little one's head popped up and looked at the fingers before looking higher into Sam's eyes. The expression was one he expected but still hated to see. Sam looked back down at the tails instead of those wide terrified eyes and pinched the free one between his fingers, tugging it slowly from the body to lay out straight, the Little one scooted closer to it, trying in vain to hide it again next to his body but felt the other tail being pulled in the opposite direction when he reached the end of the string.

A pained grunt drifted up when the tails were separated as far as it looked like they'll comfortably go so Sam relented and let it get closer again to ease the tension. He was gentle as he moved the tail up and down, left and right and saw how the bones moved in far more directions than they did before. Occasionally looking towards the face and listening for any more sounds of outright pain from him before dragging his finger over the flexible fingers at the end. Watching them curl and uncurl around his thumb as he rubbed them.

A grin started to form on Sam's lips as he found the underside of the fins to be apparently ticklish as Little one started to squirm and look uncomfortable, huffing a laugh between frustrated grunts. Normally, Sam would have had some fun tickling them but he didn't want to give the wrong impression. The Little one wasn't a toy or a pet. And Sam had some work to do.

He let go of that tail and moved to the other one, hampered slightly by the string, it seemed to be the same in shape and movement. Sam wondered how fast Little one could swim once he learns how to use these new flippers. At the moment, it was apparent that the new shape of them was something that he wasn't accustomed to, which arose all sorts of questions in Sam's mind.

Sam let go of that tail and used the thumb the other end of the string was tied to, to keep Little one's tails laying flat out on his palm. He did NOT like that. Sam pushed lightly against his chest to straighten out the body more and saw the ends of the two tails flip about wildly as his hands scrabbled more frantically at the thumb restraining them.

Sam clicked soothingly at him but it didn't seem to be calming him down so he sighed again and waited out the panic. Not moving anything besides his eyes to watch how he moved and struggled. Learning that with the exception of the new claws, nothing much else had changed above the strange coverings over it's waist. Just the addition of gills at the lower ribs and a hint of webbing between the fingers at the base. The frantic movements eventually slowed to petulant punches and scowls. That is until Sam wondered what Little one was covering up with that strange material around his waist. Surely the mating cloaca was hidden from view and not so different from his own. There should be no need for coverings. In the old Pod he followed, some of the young ones would find thick enough kelp leaves and weave them together to make wearable sheets. The kids loved watching them billow in the water as they swam, and wrap up in them at night. He had forgotten all about that till now. Wondering if Little one was mimicking the behavior or ashamed of his cloaca.

Sam moved his thumb that had the string tied to it lower on the tails, and then used the middle fingers on his other hand to hold the chest of Little one against his palm. Exposing the full area around the covering. Sam then moved his first finger's claw downwards along the stomach towards the top edge of the covering, seeing how it was attached to the Little one. Pulling it down a little and exposing a small indent that was in the dead center of it's belly.

Sam thought he found the cloaca and was confused why it was up higher on the belly instead of slightly below the waist like his own. The coverings must be for some other reason. He tugged them down a few more inches and suddenly the small body underneath his fingers buckled wildly. Fresh shouts of anger and embarrassment startled him into letting go of the Little one completely. Jerking his free hand up and away and even the one that was holding him from underneath moved back. Tugging on that tail and making Little one jerk to the right.

He yelped again at the harsh sudden jerk of the string but still went to curl up around his center again. Both hands moving towards the covering and staying there. Shouting up more high pitched words that Sam just didn't understand.

Was he injured? Were those bandages? Sam had no idea. He apologized but it looked like all trust dissolved then and there. Now that he knows that the coverings were like the kelp bandages from his youth, and not just for fun, he left them alone entirely. Maybe Little one was injured before he even got on the floating thing. Since he was wearing it the first moment he'd seen him. Poor thing.

Sam wondered if he'd appreciate more coverings for his tied up tail. The redness around the rope was upsetting to look at. But, Sam didn't have any kelp on hand. He closed his fingers around the small body and turned to the side, looking for the sunken floating thing. Finding it a few hundred feet away. He could tear off some more of that white material from it and hand it over as a peace offering.

Sam didn't have to move far so he just lifted off of the ground and used his free hand and tail fins to glide the short distance away. There were things strewn all over the place from it when it sunk. Sam didn't dare touch any of the tiny things, remembering how easily he'd lost the knife in the sand. Keeping his hands free of the debris, he saw the unfurled materials wafting in the waves. Opening up his occupied hand and letting the Little one slide down to the sand so that he could use that hand to prop himself up over the arm length wreck.

Little one spun around and scowled once again up at him but his eyes went towards the wreck and started to try and swim towards it in earnest. Sam frowned at the desperate moves and decided to let him get within reach. Sam lowered his body back to the floor and moved his hand closer to the main part of the wreck. Hoping to earn a bit of trust back. He had to fix this somehow. It had been too long since he'd had a friend, even longer since he had family, and he was doing a crap job at making him feel safe and loved.

Sam vowed to himself to make things right between them. To protect Dean from harm. He can do this.