Chapter Three
"Dad?" Dean yelled, his voice echoing around the broken tiles. The pool was not that big, maybe thirty feet long and the deep end had the depth line still on the wall saying that it was ten feet deep, although the water level was far below that now. Dean was almost a third of the way in before he started wading through the cold, filthy water, feeling the sharp stab of submerged branches and God only knew what else dig into his legs as he edged forwards.
Mermaid, John had said. But the Jenny Greenteeth was like no mermaid he had ever seen – not that he was an expert or anything, but still. The only thing Dean thought of was when he thought about mermaids was that hot little singing redhead Sam had loved so much, and the Jenny looked nothing like her.
It seemed to be female – long black hair, trailing like seaweed over a pale, vaguely human face. Bulbous reptilian eyes reflecting in the light from Dean's torch, glaring murderously at him as she poked her head above the surface of the water, splashing water at him with her webbed hands and hissing like a Louisiana swamp gator, showing off a mouth full of pale green needle-sharp teeth.
"Give me my dad back!" Dean yelled at her, taking another few steps into the water. His whole body was trembling, hands shaking so badly he worried he would drop the torch and the knife, but it wasn't just from the cold. John had told him stories - usually when he'd come home all beat-to-hell and the exhaustion and painkillers had made him somewhat loose-lipped. He had told Dean about werewolves, and wendigos, angry spirits and poltergeist, and terrible things that hid in basements and under children's beds just waiting to tear the flesh from their bones. John had told him all about the things that should only exist in fairy tales and nightmares and Dean only had to look at his dad's face when he came home from a job to know there were real monsters out there. He also knew one day it was going to be his job to hunt them – his and Sammy's. But no amount of stories could prepare someone for coming face to face with a real-life, living nightmare for the first time.
Slipping the knife into his belt and clutching the silver hook tightly in his fist, Dean took another few steps towards the deep-end, trying to keep his balance on the slippery, uneven tiles – trying his hardest not to think about whatever the hell it was that he was treading on, but a few more steps in and Dean found himself up to his chest as the pool bottom began to slope sharply downwards.
Suddenly, Dean felt hands grab his ankles and dropping the torch and the silver hook, he grabbed wildly for the rotten old tree branches in an effort to hold himself up, but before he had the chance to take another breath, he was dragged under the water.
Thrashing wildly, Dean kicked out and felt his foot connect with something big and soft and opening his eyes, he saw his dad's pale face illuminated in torchlight through the murky water beside him. Lungs burning, Dean kicked off the bottom, and broke the surface again, taking a big gulp of air, before diving down to the bottom of the pool again. John was kicking and struggling to get free of the monster hidden in the dark and Dean grabbed his arm and began to pull him upwards, and a moment later, they both broke the surface once again.
"Dean, get out!" John bellowed, trying to push Dean behind him, away from the Jenny, but that gave Dean a chance to grab his arm, and using every ounce of strength he had left, Dean managed to drag John into the shallows where the big hunter coughed wetly, rolling onto his side as he struggled desperately for breath. And after making sure that John was still actually breathing, Dean pulled the silver knife from his belt and scrambled between his dad and the Jenny, which was swimming slowly up to the shallow end. His hands were shaking so badly he could barely hold the weapon and so cold he could barely feel it, but there was no way that fugly green bitch was coming anywhere near his dad again.
"Get... Out!" John gasped, grabbing Dean's waterlogged jeans, trying to pull him back, but Dean shook him off easily. "No dad. I'm not leaving you..."
John began coughing again but managed to get a tighter grip on Dean's jacket and dragged him back. "We're both g-getting out, Dean. And then I'm gonna t-torch that bitch and send her b-back to hell."
Dean nodded, and handing his dad the knife, he grabbed John's waterlogged jacket and pulled him to his feet, then up the slope towards the rusted steps that lead back up to the patio. He wasn't sure how he was going to get his dad up them; he could barely take John's weight as it was, his back felt just about ready to snap, but they didn't have another option. He could hear the Jenny hissing behind them, the wet thwap of her body hitting the tiles, and glancing round, he saw the creature hauling itself along the floor a few feet behind them.
"Oh shit, Dad!" Dean yelped. Up close and out of the water, the Jenny was even more monstrous - mottled and bloated frog belly flesh on her top half, melting into a spiny scaled fish tail where her legs should be, and Dean could hear her razor-sharp nails scraping along the tiles as she dragged herself up to get them. But as John turned to see where the creature was, he lost his balance, taking both of them down once again, and seizing the opportunity, the Jenny reared up, and pushing off with her tail, she sprung forwards with surprising agility, and caught hold of Dean's ankle.
Dean's cry of pain echoed loudly round the sides of the pool as her claws dug through his jeans and into the flesh of his calf, and a moment later she had dragged him out of John's grasp. Dean frantically tried to kick her off, but he was caught like a fish on a hook and the Jenny burbled with sick glee and began to pull him back towards the water.
"Dean!" John yelled in horror, dragging himself up and knife in hand, he took a deep breath and launched himself at the creature. Rearing up onto her tail, the Jenny hissed wildly, teeth bared and dropping Dean, she held out her claws ready to defend herself, but John was ready too, and going in shoulder first, he tackled the Jenny, rolling literally head over tail until they were back in the shallow water again.
"Dad?" Dean yelled, scrambling to his feet, trying to ignore the stream of hot blood trickling down his leg and into his boot. "Get out of the water, Dad!" And realising there was nothing he could do other than get in the way, Dean hobbled to the steps, and with the last reserves of his strength, he pulled himself out of the pool and dropped to the floor beside the duffel bag that held their supplies.
Upending the bag, he spilled the contents out in front of him. There was salt, holy water, a can of gasoline, a flare gun, another couple of knives along with the handguns and ammo. None of which seemed to be of any use. He wasn't going to risk trying to shoot the thing in the dark while it was rolling around with his dad, and somehow, he doubted that the salt was going to do much good. This wasn't a spirit – this was a living breathing monster - then he remembered what his dad had said just before the thing had grabbed him. He was going to torch the bitch.
Grabbing the gas can and the flare, Dean scrambled to the pool's edge, and peered over just in time to see his dad bury the silver knife up to the hilt in the Jenny's left eye.
The creature let out an ear-piercing screech, flopping backwards like a speared fish and arms flailing, it writhed wildly, churning up the filthy water. And John, realising that this was his only opportunity to get out, dragged himself up and stumbled unsteadily up to the dry end, where he fell back down in a heap against the wall, yelling his son's name.
"I'm here!" Dean yelled and John looked up to see Dean brandishing the gas can and the flare gun.
"That's it, Dean. Burn the bitch!" He yelled back and watched Dean empty the gasoline can over the Jenny's writhing form then point the flare gun, only hesitating for a split second before pulling the trigger. A moment later, the Jenny and pretty much the whole surface of the pool was up in flame and both Winchesters watched transfixed as the creature writhed and hissed and screamed for what seemed like an eternity before bursting open with a wet squelch, sending black goo and chunks of white flesh flying splattering against the sides of the pool.
"Holyfriggingcrap!" Dean gasped, dropping the gas can and flare gun as his legs turned to jelly, and he sank heavily back to his knees. He'd done it. He'd killed a real-life monster. He was officially a hunter now, just like his dad, so why did he feel like puking his guts up all over the broken patio? Breathing hard, he rocked back on his heels and peered up into the night sky, gulping in the cold night air until he was sure his dinner was going to stay put and stayed like that until his dad's face loomed above him, dark eyes blazing orange in the glow of the fire. "You okay, Kiddo?"
Dean nodded, not sure if he was okay or not. Everything was getting a little bit fuzzy round the edges, and he swallowed dryly and blinked hard against the sudden dizziness as John pulled him to his feet.
"You're bleeding pretty good there, Dude." John said gently through chattering teeth, trying to stifle another fit of coughing. "Come on, let's get back to Sam. Get you fixed up." And kneeling down to gather up their scattered weapons, John packed up the duffle, hoisted it his shoulder and began walking slowly back towards the gates where they had left the car.
Dean peered down at his torn-up jeans – he was bleeding pretty good, but he was so cold he could barely feel anything, and he was obviously not bleeding enough for John to be worried, so he guessed he was going to be fine. And with a final glance over his shoulder at the burning pool, Dean began to limp after his dad back to Sam.