Sam was thirsty, incredibly so, but not for the cool water that sloshed around in his canteen, no. If only it were that simple.
He sucked in a deep breath, hoping to quell his growing jitters, but the smell of rotting reeds and swamp bog only seemed to make him feel nauseous. Calmly, or as calmly as he could at least, he tried to still the shuddering tremors that racked through his body and ignore the gnawing ache that he felt deep within the pit of his stomach, the all-consuming need, the want, the desperation, the addiction.
Blood. Her blood. Demon blood.
Sam cursed, his boots sinking into the moist soil, nearly swallowing him whole and glanced back at the others. Their cheeks were flushed, beads of sweat collecting on their sun-bitten foreheads. Tandy was hunched over, swatting away the flies from her ankles while Dean stood beside her, sentinel, chugging down a bottle of water. They had been trudging along the banks for hours. It was well past noon now and the sun was beginning to dip lower in the sky. Soon, they'd be out of daylight and that also meant that they would be at a severe disadvantage. Come nightfall, the Aswang would take on its true form and the hunter would become the hunted.
"God damn it." Tandy hissed, slapping her upper thigh and wiping away the blood-filled remains of a particularly plump mosquito.
Sam's gaze lingered on the small, red smear and he bit down hard on the inside of his cheek in an attempt to distract himself, though it did little, if not nothing, to curb his ravenous hunger.
"We should split up, maybe we could cover more ground that way?" Dean suggested as he wiped a trail of water from his chin and readjusted his duffel bag.
"It's not the ground that needs coverin'." Tandy responded, standing to cast her gaze across the ominous waters.
"An Aswang that swims, well, that's a first." Dean grunted.
"Doesn't really fit the profile, does it?"
"I'll keep working the banks if you guys want to hire a pirogue and head on out there?" Sam suggested, more so to put distance between himself and the others than because he actually thought it was a good idea. In all honesty, it was a terrible idea, but he needed some time to collect himself and to work through his bothersome addicts-twitch.
"Hm. We'd be sittin' ducks out there." Tandy said, and although she was a pretty good swimmer, when faced against the savage fangs and sharp claws of an Aswang, her chances were pretty slim. Not to mention all the 'gators and the snakes and the poisonous cat fish that they'd have to contend with as well. Nope. Nope. Hell nope.
"I agree." Dean contributed, drawing out a pocket knife from the depths of his duffel bag. "What this thing needs is a little incentive." He slid the blade over his open palm and clenched his fist, angling it over the lapping waters along the shore. Drops of blood fell, like rubies, into the basin and were carried out with the tide.
Sam squeezed his eyes shut and bit down on his bottom lip, almost drawing blood himself, before taking in another slow and steady breath. Why did everything have to be a constant reminder of what he was so badly jonesing for but could not yet have? He made a mental note to call Ruby as soon as they were back in Thibodaux.
"Hey, you okay, Sam-boy?" Tandy asked, reaching for Sam's forearm with a concerned look on her face.
Sam pulled back quickly, almost too quickly, before her wandering fingers could find his fevered flesh, and nodded sharply. "Just a stomach ache." He muttered.
Dean removed a bandage from the duffel bag and wrapped it around his palm.
"Why don't ya take a seat for a spell? Dean and I can go on further. Give you a chance to catch up?" Tandy offered sincerely, but her eyes betrayed her. They were cagy still, questioning.
"Sounds good." Sam mumbled.
"Will you be alright, Sammy?" Dean asked, worried.
"Yes." Sam replied tiredly.
"You sure?" Dean pressed.
Sam dropped his head and sighed. "I'll be fine, Dean. Go."
"Okay, but you keep the whip and if that thing comes for you, you call me." Dean commanded, more so an order than a request.
Sam rolled his eyes. "Whatever." Dean could be more like their father than he realised at times.
"Sam, promise me." And then, there was that; the sincerity, the unbridled and altogether I-care-more-about-you-than-life-itself-little-brother approach that set him worlds apart from John.
Sam rubbed the back of his eyes with his thumb and forefinger, suddenly feeling penitent for thinking that Dean was anything like their father at all. To be truthful, it was he who had inherited John's more finer qualities, not Dean, and to hold his brother responsible for that would be incredibly wrong of him.
Dean was a god-damned saint and he was nothing in comparison, just a filthy blood junkie who fraternised with demons and lied to himself about how it was for a good cause.
"Okay, fine." Sam relented, somewhat sobered by Dean's austere gaze. "I promise, now just go. It's getting darker."
Dean nodded, quickly pulling Sam into his arms to squeeze him tightly before releasing him. To say that Sam was shocked by his brothers sudden burst of sentimentality would be an understatement. They weren't, by nature, "huggers" but ever since his return from the pit, Dean had made a conscious effort to embrace his little brother as often as he could, even if it was only for a little while. After all, he never really knew when it was going to be their last.
Sam watched silently, stunned, as Dean and Tandy took off along the banks and disappeared into the dense foliage.
"Something seem a little off about Sam to you?" Tandy asked once they were out of earshot.
Dean shrugged. "He said he had a stomach ache."
"Right, and you believe that?" Tandy countered, disbelief in her tone.
"Well, it is Sam we're talking about. The guy's a walking gas tank." Dean shot back. Why was he being so defensive? Maybe it was because he knew that it wasn't completely the truth, and yeah, okay, so maybe there was something slightly off about Sam lately, but geez, he'd just spent four months in Hell because Dean was literally in Hell. If he could cut the guy some slack, why couldn't everyone else?
Tandy paused, considering Dean's response. "M'kay. Yeah. I guess so. I mean, y'are his brother after all. If anyone could sense that somethin' was wrong, it'd be you."
Dean stopped walking then and turned to face her. It almost sounded as though she were challenging him, and no one challenged him in regards to his relationship with Sam, not even her.
"Don't get me wrong." Dean started. "I worry about the kid. Heaven knows it, too. I always worry about him. But we've been through a lot and when something is so important that we need to talk about it, we usually do." He confessed.
"Really?" Tandy asked, raising a sculpted brow.
"Yes." He retorted, although somewhere in the back of his mind there was a loud and resonant No!
Dean silenced the chanting by shaking his head and looked meaningfully at Tandy. "Any way, enough on that subject, how about you?" He asked more gently.
"How 'bout me what?" Tandy responded, flippant.
Dean smirked, though it was grave, devoid of its usual cheekiness. "Don't pretend that there isn't something eating you up inside. I know when something's got you all worked up. You forget that we've known each other for years."
Tandy scowled, overwhelmingly and unexpectedly furious. "Huh. But not long enough to share the small details about, oh, I don't know, being dragged down to Hell though, right?!"
And there it was, all out in the open, like a turd on the carpet, blatant and ugly.
Dean almost winced. She was certainly deflecting something, but she was also very clearly and very gut-wrenchingly hurt.
Dean suddenly felt incredibly guilty. "Okay. Fair call. Maybe we do owe you an explanation but look, don't take it personally, Sam and I, we, we just didn't want to burden anyone else with our crap."
"Don't take it personally?" Tandy spat back, exasperated. "How could I not take it personally? You personally chose to not confide in me. Good god, my mama is a voodooiene for Pete's sake. I could'a helped you, Dean!"
She was raising her voice now and this time Dean did flinch. She was so far from the naive, young hunter that he had met those few years before and right now, glaring at him the way that she did, her eyes like thunderous storm clouds and her lips a thin, hard line, it obviously showed.
Dean sighed and cupped the back of his neck, feeling incredibly small despite the fact that he was so much larger than her. "I mean, even so, what's done is done, Tan, we can't change the past and honestly, I guess ... I guess I just didn't want you looking at me any differently."
But I am looking at you differently, she thought, helpless.
Tandy brushed those thoughts far from her mind and instead chose to channel her emotions into pure rage.
"Differently." She repeated icily. "And that bein' as opposed to what? Cool indifference?"
Okay, now it was Dean's turn to feel hurt. Ouch. What she said truly stung, but he wasn't willing to show her that and he also wasn't willing let her venomous words deter him from prying the truth from her lips. He knew there was more to it than that but what he didn't understand was why she was avoiding it. If she felt something, like he did, why didn't she let herself feel it?
"Is that what you call it?" He chuckled, derisive. "You're trying to be funny. It's cute, I'll admit, and you almost have me fooled but you see, the thing is, I think there's more to it than that."
"Oh, do ya now?" She asked, coiling inwards, like a snake ready to strike.
"I do." Dean confirmed.
Tandy rolled her eyes and scoffed. "Boy, someone sure has tickets on himself. Don't you have enough notches in your headboard, Dean?"
Dean frowned, released a dry chuckle and shook his head. "Tandy, it's not like that. Believe me. For once, it's not like that."
"So, what? You sayin' you don't want to get hot and heavy with me in the backseat of that pretty black car'a yours then?" She questioned, genuinely curious now, but still more than ready to attack if need be.
Dean grinned, nervous. "Well, I never said that."
Tandy sneered. Typical. "Ha. See. Surprise, surprise. Still the same old Dean. Carin' more about what's sittin' on top'a my heart than what's in it."
"And what is in it?" Dean asked quickly. He seriously wanted to know. Now more than ever.
A low and inhuman growl echoed across the bayou then and Tandy looked up, alert.
"Did you hear that?" She asked quietly.
Dean nodded, solemn.
"Let's double back. Better we get to that whip before that thing gets to us." She instructed.
Dean nodded again. "Sure, but just so you know, we're not finished with this conversation."
Tandy turned on her heel and offered Dean a cold yet fleeting glance over her shoulder. "Oh, but sugar, I think we are."
