Rule 15: Don't hunt if you're allergic to what you're hunting
"So you're saying you have a… um… double homicide on your hands, Sheriff?" Dean asked as he and Sam, posing as FBI, met with the sheriff of the small community of Green Lake, Wisconsin.
"We have crabs," Sheriff Richardson told them grimly.
"Crabs?" Dean asked, laughter bubbling up which he quickly squelched and turned into a cough.
The sheriff looked at him curiously, "Are you all right, Agent Keifer?"
Dean nodded, one fist in front of his mouth as he pretended to cough.
"Sheriff Richardson," Sam took over for his brother, "You said you have three dead bodies in the morgue. What does this have to do with crabs?"
"Honestly Agents, I wouldn't believe it if I hadn't seen it myself," the sheriff shook his head and sat down behind his desk.
"Our town was named after the lake we sit beside," he continued, "And for years no one has ever seen anything bigger than a Canada goose in it."
Sam frowned, motioning with one hand for the sheriff to continue.
"Up until last week, our biggest problem was the beavers."
Dean snorted again but once more began to cough. The Sheriff turned to peer at him suspiciously.
"What did you see?" Sam asked quickly, glaring daggers at his immature sibling.
"When we were called to investigate those two kids, we saw… crabs... as big as car tires… eating… eating the bodies."
Sam frowned, "Are you sure you saw… crabs?"
The sheriff nodded, "Yes, indeed. My deputy even shot one. We brought it here, hoping the coroner would be able to do something with it."
"Is this a problem for us or should we call PETA?" Dean asked, trying to keep from smiling.
"Can we see it?" Sam asked before the sheriff could answer Dean's question, "And the bodies?"
"Of course, Agent," Sheriff Richardson told him, reaching for the phone on his desk, "I'll call Dr. Brittingham right now and let her know you are on your way."
As the sheriff spoke with the coroner, Sam eyed his brother wondering if this was a case for them and not the Environmental Protection Agency. Dean seemed to have pulled himself together and shrugged slightly.
"Okay, Agents," Sheriff Richardson drew the brothers' attention, "Dr. Brittingham would love to have you come by and give your opinion on the matter."
"Thank you, Sheriff," Sam said, "Hopefully we can help."
The Winchesters shook hands with the Sheriff before leaving and climbing into the Impala parked out front of the police station.
As soon as they were settled, Sam turned to his brother, "What are you, Dean, five year old?"
"Oh come on, Sam," the older sibling, groaned, "You have to admit you were trying not to laugh."
Sam just glowered at him for a moment before muttering, "Grow up."
Dean scowled, "Who spit in your salad?"
W
The drive to the coroner's office, located in the basement of the town's tiny hospital, took no time at all and within minutes Sam and Dean were standing in front of the bodies of sixteen-year old Chelsea Rothstein and her boyfriend, eighteen-year old Mason Williams. Both bodies were pale white in death, slightly bloated, and covered with open wounds revealing pink, red and purple viscera.
"Did they die as a result of their injuries?" Sam asked the coroner.
Dr. Brittingham shook her head, "The injuries you can see occurred post-mortem."
"So, what killed them?" Dean asked.
"They both drowned," the coroner answered.
The hunters both looked at the woman confused.
Sam frowned, "But they were found on the beach, not in the water."
"Can we see the, uh, specimen?" Dean asked and the coroner nodded, moving to the third table and moved aside the white cloth covering the crab.
Both Sam and Dean stared down at the crustacean that, other than being unusually large, appeared to be a regular crab.
Dean, grabbing a pair of latex gloves from the box sitting on the table, pulled them on and turned the specimen over onto its back.
"What do you think, Sam? Could one of these, or maybe even two or three, drag a couple of teenagers into the lake and drown them?"
"I guess it's possible," the younger man agreed, "But normally crabs don't work as a team. And they don't kill, they're generally scavengers by nature."
Dean looked up at him, lifting one of the crab's large claws in his hand, "Maybe they got tired of eating the leftovers."
The coroner listened to the conversation, frowning.
"I think that the teens drowned in the lake, washed up on shore and then were scavenged by the crabs," she told the agents.
"Dr. Brittingham, is there anything around here that would cause mutations in the animals living near the lake?" Sam asked.
This entire case made him queasy. Crabs should not be growing to the size of car tires, and they certainly didn't live in fresh water. The only crustaceans he knew to live in lakes were crayfish and they only grew to be between four and thirteen centimeters. Nowhere large enough to do any serious damage to a human.
"There's a nuclear power plant on the other side of the lake, Agent LaBar, but it's been abandoned for years," the coroner answered.
Sam and Dean looked at each other.
"Thank you, Doctor," Sam told her, "You've been very helpful."
The coroner nodded faintly and the brothers took their leave.
"So what is this?" Dean asked his brother as they left the hospital, "Are we looking at killer crabs or Jason Voorhees?"
Sam shook his head, "I don't know, but I'd like to take a look at that power plant."
W
"I can practically feel my insides melting," Dean complained as he and his brother walked carefully through the disused nuclear power plant.
Sam sighed and rolled his eyes.
"We'll be fine," he assured his sibling, "It looks like they closed everything down properly. You're not going to get radiation poisoning."
Dean sniffed and looked at his brother incredulously.
"I don't think we'll find anything," Sam continued, "There's no history of accidents or spills."
"Good, we can leave," his sibling turned abruptly around.
"Why are you in such a hurry to leave?" Sam asked.
"This place creeps me out," Dean snapped, "And I don't feel like turning into a mutant or something gross like from the Chernobyl Diaries."
The younger hunter sighed and followed his brother's lead.
"Why aren't you in a hurry?" Dean asked curiously.
Sam shrugged, avoiding the question.
"It's because of those crabs, isn't it?" Dean asked, a smile forming on his lips, "Isn't it?"
"No," Sam replied quickly, too quickly and knew he'd just given away the real reason he was hesitant to stake out the beach where the kids' bodies had been found.
"C'mon Sammy, no one's asking you to eat one!" Dean crowed, "Though I wonder what they'd taste like."
Sam hunched his shoulders and didn't answer.
"Let's just get out of here," he muttered, "I'm feeling kind of dizzy."
"Oh, no you don't!" Dean insisted, "You said it yourself that this place isn't dangerous!"
Sam picked up his pace; flashlight held tightly in his fist and didn't rise to his brother's bait.
"Sam? Sammy, c'mon, I'm sorry," Dean called after him, jogging to keep up, "It's not funny."
The elder Winchester knew exactly what his brother was thinking about and actually felt bad. It hadn't been funny at the time, either; he'd been terrified his little brother was going to die.
He'd never seen anyone go into anaphylactic shock so fast and he hoped never to do so again.
All because John hadn't been thinking and had ordered a Fillet-O-Fish for his youngest son.
That was when they found out just how deathly ill Sam would become if he ate seafood, any seafood, fish or shellfish. That was why the younger man mostly ate salad; he was terrified of eating something that may have touched seafood. He had an EpiPen with him at all time but thankful hadn't had to use it.
Catching up to his sibling, Dean reached out and placed a hand on Sam's shoulder, stopping his progress.
"Why don't you sit this one out?"
Sam shook his head, "You're right Dean, we're just going to kill the crabs, not eat them with butter and lemon."
Dean didn't smile at his brother's attempt at a joke.
"Okay," he muttered and let go of his sibling's shoulder, "If you're sure."
Sam nodded, "I am."
W
Dean glanced over at his brother for the nth time, biting his cheek to keep from suggesting Sam go back to the motel and let him take care of the crabs.
The elder hunter zipped his jacket up and peered out at the lake, quiet in the gathering darkness.
Sam had insisted they investigate the lake a night because crabs were generally more active when the sun went down.
"Coffee?" Dean asked his sibling, holding out the Thermos mug full of hot java to Sam.
The younger man shook his head, eyes fixed on the lake.
Time seemed to drag on, and it didn't take long before both brothers were cold and chilled to the bone with the damp air coming in off the lake.
Sam in particular, was shivering but trying not to show it.
"Do you have any coffee left?" he asked Dean hopefully.
The older brother shook his head, holding the Thermos container upside down to allow two drips of coffee to land in the sand.
Wondering if perhaps the sheriff and the coroner had been mistaken and the giant crab in the morgue was just some fluke, some freak of nature, Dean was about to suggest they head back to the motel when movement at the edge of the lake caught his eye.
Crawling slowly up out of the water on armored legs was a crab as big around as a car's tire.
"Shit," Dean breathed, sitting up straighter.
Sam reached out and grabbed the shotgun he had brought, fingers tightening around the cold metal barrel.
The crab scurried up onto the sand, making a hissing sound as its stalk eyes swiveled, and moved closer and closer to the hunters.
Splashing and plopping sounds drew the brothers' attention away from the single crab on the beach to see the water writhing and bubbling with dozens of crustaceans all climbing from the waves.
"Shit," Dean repeated, louder now.
BANG!
The hunter jumped as Sam fired his shotgun, the first crab that had made it to land exploding in a spray of pink flesh and brown carapace, entrails scattering on the sand. The crabs just making their way from the lake, hissed and clacked their claws, rushing forward to scoop the remains of their comrade into their greedy mouths.
"I don't that shotgun's gonna be enough, Sammy," Dean commented, eyeing the army of crabs still crawling up the beach towards them.
Sam nodded, looking more than a little nauseous but Dean smiled.
Reaching down to the sand beside him, the elder Winchester picked up the one weapon he had always wanted to use but never got the chance- John's rocket launcher.
"Wait," Sam cautioned, raising one hand, "Wait until they're almost on top of us."
Dean glanced at his brother, "You sure?"
Sam nodded.
Dean rested the weapon on his shoulder, watching carefully as the crabs drew closer and closer.
The older hunter wanted nothing more than to blow the creepy crustaceans to smithereens but he trusted his brother's judgment and waited as the crabs marched ever closer towards them.
Suddenly one of the crabs hissed loudly, claws clicking, and leaped at Sam.
"DEAN!" Sam shouted and the older Winchester stood, pointed the rocket launcher at the middle of the army of crabs and fired.
The force of the weapon knocked Dean off his feet and onto his backside, hard, and he swore out loud, though he couldn't hear his own voice for the ringing in his ears.
Rolling onto his hands and knees, he searched the beach for his brother and caught sight of Sam crouching in the sand, holding his wrist as his hand bled from a gash in the fleshy part between thumb and forefinger, the skin split clean through.
SAM! Dean shouted, his words falling on his own deaf ears.
His brother, whether he could hear him or through some instinct knew he was calling, turned his head to look at him and smiled.
Dean breathed a sigh of relief and saw that the crab that had jumped at his brother lay in the sand, its shell cracked down the middle and oozing green goo.
Raising his gaze to the lake, Dean saw that chunks of shell and limbs lay in a deep crater in the sand, the crabs that had escaped the blast running as fast as their legs could carry them back to the water.
Standing, grabbing the rocket launcher in one hand and his brother's uninjured wrist in the other, Dean pulled Sam to his feet and they slowly made their way back to the Impala.
SPN
Dean gulped down the last of his beer and grinned at Jody.
"That is not what happened," she said incredulously, eyeing Dean suspiciously.
"Sure it did," Dean insisted, "Hey Sammy! Come over here and show Jody your hand!"
Obediently, the younger Winchester walked into the kitchen where his brother and the sheriff were sitting and showed off the white scar bisecting the web of skin between his right thumb and index finger.
Jody shook her head and laughed, "You two."
Sam looked to Dean; the older brother chuckling and winking.
Author's Note:
Prompt comes from AnitaRez.
Thanks to StyxxsOmega, whimsicalbarwench, SamDeanLover28, and Jenjoremy for reviewing.
Please leave a review and a 'rule' if you think of one!