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: Do you know how difficult it is to think of something for Q? I mean fudging Q. Bite me, Q! We're doin' this! One MotW coming up!
This is set after 2x04 "Children Shouldn't Play with Dead Things" because Sammy and a freshly broken wrist… yep. Reasons.
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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Q is for Quetzalcoatl -
Dean leaned his head out the window as he drove, letting the warm wind ruffle his spiky hair and sighed when it brought little relief from the sticky heat. Two days driving east through Arizona and into New Mexico in the dead of summer had been more than the Impala's air conditioning could handle. He was kicking himself for not realizing a problem had developed. He should have taken better care of her. He ran a hand softly over the uncomfortably sun-warmed steering wheel in apology. Dean flicked his eyes to his right and snorted. Sam was asleep leaning back against the passenger door, head hanging out the open window and his legs nearly on the driver's side with Dean, with his freshly casted arm resting in his lap.
A smirk spread across Dean's face. He pulled a strawberry Twizzler out of the pack between his thighs, checked the empty road, and then stretched quickly across the seat. He snickered softly as he managed to get the end of the candy strip up his brother's nose on the first try. Dean straightened, checking the road again, and took out his phone. "Worth gettin' my ass kicked," he muttered and grinned while he opened the camera feature. He flicked his eyes between the camera screen and the road as he held it up, trying to get it to focus and groaned theatrically when Sam suddenly woke up, batting at his face. "Dammit."
"Wha?" Sam frowned, pulled his head up, and slapped at his face when he felt something in his nose. He saw Dean snorting with laughter and pulled a red Twizzler out of his right nostril. "You ass!" He saw his brother pocketing his phone and glared. "If you took a picture of that, I will break your phone."
Dean burst into laughter and had to wipe a hand over his face. "Dude." He shook his head fondly and laughed again when the Twizzler hit him in the temple. "You woke up too soon. Relax."
Sam rolled his eyes and straightened up, rubbing the back of his neck with his good hand. "Where are we?"
"About ten miles from the ass end of blistering nowhere." Dean chuckled. "Almost to Aragorn."
"Aragon."
"That's what I said."
Sam laughed softly. He dug around under the seat for a bottle of water and grimaced when he found one but felt how warm it was. "As long as they have an ice machine and air-conditioned rooms, I'll be happy."
Dean quirked a brow as they passed a cluster of small, dilapidated stone pueblos off the side of the desert highway. "Not sure they've even heard of electricity out here."
Sam shook his head fondly and leaned over to hang it out the window again. The desert air was warm and didn't do much to cool other than drying the sweat on his face. "Can you fix the A/C in here?" He smirked when Dean's face fell and his brother patted the steering wheel once.
"'Course I can. She just doesn't like all this damn sand. Do you, baby?" Dean ignored Sam's snort of laughter.
Sam had to admit, as they drove into Aragon, that it didn't look like much of a town. It seemed to be almost completely confined to one street. The sand gave way to brittle, brown scrub grass, and if it weren't for the cars and the few people braving the mid-day heat, he might have thought it was abandoned.
"Church." Dean pointed to a steeple off to their right. "Cemetery, couple houses." He smirked. "There's a bar."
"Of course there's a bar." Sam chuckled and slapped a hand into Dean's shoulder. "There it is. Only motel in Aragon. Huh." He eyed the long, brown building dubiously. "Looks more like an old mill or something."
"That's encouraging," Dean said sarcastically. "Where's that old fort?"
"By the river." Sam hooked a thumb to his right. In the distance between the sparse buildings, he could see where the brown grass slowly gave way to green in the distance. "It's far enough outside of town we should be able to look around without being spotted by the locals."
"Not that there's many of those." Dean snorted and pulled in to the motel's small parking lot. He looked at the four other cars, each with license plates from different states and sighed. "Looks like we're bunking with our victim pool."
"Maybe we could just lock them all in their rooms until we figure this out," Sam said, only half in jest and opened his door. "I'll go grab us a room."
Dean turned off the car and listened to the engine tick over before he got out. He patted the hood and quickly pulled his fingers away when the hot metal threatened to burn his fingertips. "Friggin' desert." He went to the trunk and opened it to get their bags. The sun beat down on the back of his neck uncomfortably as he tossed the strap of his bag over his shoulder.
"Hey." Sam walked across the parking lot and ducked his head against the sun glare. "We're around the side here." He pointed to a door and then caught his bag when Dean tossed it to him. "The manager said it's the last available room too. We got lucky."
"It's only lucky if there's air conditioning." Dean added the weapons bag to his other shoulder and closed the trunk before following his brother. "Is there air conditioning?"
"According to the manager." Sam shrugged and unlocked the door. He pushed it open and sneezed as the hot, musty air hit him in the face. "If there is, it's definitely not on."
"Awesome," Dean groaned. He tossed his bags on the near bed and blinked to clear his vision once he was out of the glaring sun. "Well, this ain't so bad." It was brown paneling and brown carpet, with multicolored blankets on the beds.
Sam went around the small table and its chairs to the air conditioner mounted on the wall behind it. He flicked the switches and scowled when nothing happened. "Come on." Sam banged his fist into the side of the unit and smiled when it rumbled to life. He straightened as a burst of warm air hit him in the face. "Ok, hopefully we'll have cold air in a few minutes."
"Go get the cooler out of the car. I need beer for this." Dean stripped off his sweaty t-shirt on his way into the bathroom and closed the door. He turned the water on and snarled as it came out of the faucet warm. He splashed it over his face anyway and let it run through his hair, washing away some of the travel dust before turning it off and leaning on the sink. Dean looked at himself in the mirror. He scrubbed a hand over his face, taking the water with it, and sighed. He stared at his own eyes and still couldn't understand why he was alive. Dean shook his head and closed his eyes. He couldn't accept it, no matter how badly Sam wanted him to.
"Dean?"
Dean jumped with the sound of his brother's fist thumping the door. "Yeah. Out in a sec." He straightened, grabbing one of the hand towels to rub it through his hair and over his face. He did his best to wipe the morose look from his face before he opened the door.
"Here." Sam handed his brother a cool beer with a smile. "A/C's actually working now. It's cooler in here." He snorted. "A little anyway." He watched his brother take a long swallow from the beer and frowned. He could tell something was bothering Dean, and he had no doubt it was the conversation they had had three days ago. He wasn't sure how to deal with it yet, the revelation that his big brother wanted to be dead. He swallowed the lump of fear in his throat and filed that worry away for the moment. "So, the manager said they don't usually have a full house this time of year, but…"
"Let me guess." Dean rolled his eyes and dug a fresh shirt out of his bag. "A few gruesome deaths hit the newsstands, and the lookie-loos gotta come check it out."
Sam nodded. "Yeah. They've all pestered him for information about where the deaths happened, where the bodies were found."
"Vultures," Dean said disgustedly. He set his half-empty beer down and pulled on his shirt. "The manager give 'em anything?"
"Not according to him." Sam smirked. "I think he's kind of hoping some of them end up on the menu." He pulled his laptop bag over and took out the thin file of research he had brought. "We should be able to find the kill sites on our own with the GPS coordinates the sheriff's office in Apache Creek gave us."
"At least we don't have to worry about the local cops getting in the way."
Sam laughed. "According to the manager, the local police force consists of Bill, the guy who runs the bar down the street, and his cousin Fred who's pushing sixty and has a limp. We're good."
Dean gave a laugh of his own and sat beside the air conditioner. "Wish we had a clue what we were hunting here. That'd help."
"Well, it's not a werewolf." Sam shrugged. He pulled his right arm into his chest as he sat with his research, trying to ignore the persistent ache of the broken bone. "Obviously, since the killings are happening outside the lunar cycle."
"What else takes hearts?" Dean stretched his legs out and watched the pained expression on his brother's face. "Dude, take the damn painkillers."
Sam looked over in surprise and then shook his head. "It's fine." He purposefully rested his cast on the table to prove he was alright. "Doesn't hurt that bad."
"Uh huh." Dean didn't believe him for a second, but Sam was even more stubborn than Dean himself when it came to admitting his level of pain.
"It's taking blood too, don't forget." Sam pulled out the autopsy reports and handed them over. "The bodies are nearly drained. We can't really narrow it down until we know what the blood's being used for."
"Human slurpees," Dean said irreverently.
"Ew." Sam shook his head at his brother and leaned back. "I think that old fort is our best bet for a den. That or it's living in the Gila National Forest and hunting here." He reached out a finger and tapped a map printout on top of the pile. "It's a big area and not a lot of fresh water outside of the river. Searching that big of an area would suck."
"No camping." Dean glared at the map. "We should go check out the fort now. It's hot enough all the tourists are probably cuddling the A/C in their rooms."
"Yeah, I guess." Sam didn't want to leave the relative comfort of the room either, but Dean was right. "Maybe we'll get lucky and gank the thing first time out"
"Right." Sam snorted a laugh and got up, careful to keep the wince off his face as his arm throbbed. "When does that ever happen to us?"
"Don't be such a Debbie-downer. Come on." Dean gave the dial on the air conditioner an extra crank, hoping it would be arctic cold in the room by the time they returned. "Let's get moving. It ain't gonna get any cooler out there."
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Dean leaned against the rough bark of a leafless tree and wiped the sweat from his face. He heard Sam puffing behind him as he neared and shook his head. "Think we should have left this hunt 'til winter."
"And let it keep eating people?" Sam shook his head. "You can sweat off all that pie you ate yesterday." He grinned and dodged away before the fist Dean lashed out with could hit his shoulder. "Keep up."
"Pain in my ass," Dean grumbled. Still, he rubbed a hand over his stomach and then shook his head. "I do not eat too much pie." He didn't have the energy to catch up with too-long-legged little brother and beat the smart-ass out of him; not in that heat. "Kick your ass later. Hey! Wait up!"
Sam slowed as he neared the top of a rise and shaded his eyes. "There's the fort." He drew his brows together as he took in the scene. "Or what's left of it. The river's even lower than I thought it would be." The fort stood on a slight rise below them, surrounded by sand and the scrub brush they were becoming all too familiar with. It looked like a cross between an old cantina and a turn-of-the-century church with its central tower and huge scaled roof that rose to a point high above an arched, wooden door. The stones were brown and gray, weathered with age, and in some places covered in the bare, clinging branches of vines.
"Bigger than I thought it'd be," Dean said and frowned at the building. "Lots of tight places to hide in there. Underground?"
Sam nodded. "Probably. Old forts like this dug food storage and powder rooms underground to keep them cool." He pointed to the left. "And there's the cemetery." Just visible around the left side of the large structure were a few weather-beaten crosses. "Should be a whole field of them back there."
"Right. Come on." Dean started down the hill with Sam at his side. His eyes scanned the surrounding area for any sign of a threat, but there was nothing apart from the oppressive heat slowly roasting them alive.
"Won't be much cooler inside," Sam panted. "But at least we'll be out of the sun. Two of the bodies were found inside the fort." He drew his gun as they neared, seeing Dean do the same, and stopped cautiously outside the wide entrance doors. He put his ear to them for a moment and then shrugged. "Don't hear anything."
Dean nodded and gave the right of the pair of doors a shove with his shoulder. It swung slowly in with a loud creak of wood, and Dean stepped out of the sun and into the gloomy shadows. The air was thick with heat, nearly stifling to breathe, but still gave a small measure of welcome relief from the sun. The wide room was empty of all but a few ramshackle chairs and overturned table, and he waved his brother inside. "Looks clear."
Sam groaned softly in relief once he was out of the sun. He leaned against the wall beside the door for a moment, cradling his broken arm, and closed his eyes. "Holy crap."
Dean heard the soft whisper and shook his head. "You gonna be able to do this with that broken wing?" He held up a hand when Sam glared at him. "I'm not sayin' you can't take care of yourself, Sam. But it's only been three days since you broke the damn thing."
"Since Angela the zombie broke it." Sam corrected, rolling his eyes, and forced himself to straighten. "I'm fine, Dean. I can handle this. It's just a little sore." He looked at his cast and sighed. It was dusted with sand and grime and, as he pressed the fingertips of his left hand into it, he'd swear the heat was actually softening the thing. "There's a chapel on this floor where both bodies were found. Should be near the back in the sacristy."
"Hell of a place to butcher people." Dean took out a flashlight and clicked it on. "You go left, I'll go right. Meet in the chapel. Scream like a girl if anything jumps you."
Sam glared at his brother's cheerful grin and flipped his middle finger at him. "Try not to get eaten. I don't want to have to clean blood off the car keys."
"Bitch," Dean said over his shoulder and smiled, hearing the muttered 'Jerk' in response. He swept his light around the new room and shook his head at the pile of empty, crushed beer cans left in the corner, most likely from some group of idiot teenagers. He shoved through a half open door into a new hall. A window overhead let sunlight stream in, making dust motes dance in the beam of light. He stopped beside a massive hole near the base of the wall and knelt down.
"What the hell is this?" he muttered. The hole was easily big enough for a large man and tunneled into the floor. He shone his light down, but it failed to cut through the gloom below. It made him nervous. If it had been made by whatever was killing tourists… "You are one big son of a bitch. Shit." Dean stood and brought his gun up with his sense of 'something wrong' beginning to tickle at the back of his neck. He debated turning back and following Sam or just moving ahead to meet him in the chapel before whatever it was found them first.
"Dammit." Dean groaned softly and went through the hall toward the back of the fort. He had to trust his brother to take care of himself or he'd never hear the end of it. The thought of Sam whining at him made Dean smirk as he walked. He paused beside the door at the other end, hearing a heavy thump through the walls. "Sam?"
Something was wrong; he knew it. That inner sense of his that had been attuned to his little brother's well-being since childhood was rarely wrong, and it was screaming at him now. Dean turned and sprinted back along the hall, past the hole, and into the entry of the fort. "Sam!" he yelled and took the door Sam had gone through only minutes before. Sam had yet to answer him, and Dean knew he should have. There was no good reason for his brother to remain silent.
Dean slid through a door his brother had left open and into a wide room with tall weapon racks lining one wall; an old armory, long since emptied of its weaponry. "Sam!" His voice echoed as he stopped and stared. Streamers of sunlight from cracks in the crumbling wall to his right and the beam of his own light showed him another large hole in the center of the floor. Rubble surrounded it, and even then, dust floated in the air as though it had only been created moments before. Lying beside it was Sam's gun, discarded. And his brother's flashlight, now dead with the glass from the light scattered around it.
Dean was frozen with fear and then shook himself out of it. "Sammy!" He knelt beside the hole and yelled down into it. He knew that's where his brother had gone, where he had been taken. "Dammit, no." He growled in frustration under his breath. Did he dive headlong into the hole after his brother or finish searching the rest of the fort in hopes of finding him? It took a long, agonized moment before Dean could move away from the hole. He had to assume it went down into the rooms under the fort. And if so, there had to be a safer way to reach it than sliding through a tunnel he knew nothing about and risking its collapse in the process. No to mention the possibility of sliding headlong into whatever it was that was doing the killing.
"Ok. Alright." Dean backed away toward the far door, collecting Sam's gun as he went, and tucked that into his jacket pocket. "You hold on, Sam. You hear me?" He wished he at least knew what they were hunting, how to kill it. "Don't you die on me, Sammy."
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Sam groaned softly as he slowly woke. His head hurt, and, as he lay there, he realized the rest of him was pretty damn sore as well. He blinked and had a moment's panic, fearing he had gone blind when his addled brain finally informed him that he was simply in the dark lying on his stomach. He tried to remember what had happened. He knew he had walked into the armory, and he had a vague impression of the floor giving way beneath him… or maybe exploding up from beneath him; he wasn't really sure which. He frowned and pulled his arms beneath him to push up.
"Ah!" Sam's voice rose in a pained, cracked shout as agony tore through his left side and his right arm. He carefully rolled onto his right side and pulled his casted right arm to his chest. He didn't need light to feel that his cast was no longer straight. It felt cracked. "Damn," he moaned and huffed pained breaths through his nose until he could breathe somewhat normally again. Sam tentatively put his left hand over the pain in his side and gasped when he felt the wet cloth of his t-shirt. It was warm and thick, and he knew it was blood.
He coughed as dust from the floor tickled his nose and had to brace an arm around his middle in pain. "Dean," Sam gasped into the silence. He fumbled his left hand into his pocket and pulled out cellphone. He pressed the button and groaned when there was no answering light. He ran his left thumb over the screen and could feel a spiderweb of cracks. "Great." He put the phone back and dug instead for his Zippo. He pulled it out, spun the wheel, and slammed his eyes closed in the glare of sudden light. He blinked slowly, letting his vision clear and looked around to see where he was. The earthen floor and heavy beams crossing the ceiling above him, cobwebs hanging like drapes near the wall, and the darkness told him where he was.
"Great. Cellar." Sam set the lighter on the floor carefully and then pushed up slowly until he was sitting. He looked down at his chest and groaned. His once-gray t-shirt was red with his own blood on the left side. He lifted the hem and grimaced. A row of punctures curved along his ribs and he could feel matching wounds on his back. He let his head rest back against the wall for a second then picked up the lighter. It was warm in his hand as he held it up, trying to get a better look around him. His gun was gone. That made him nervous. He still had no idea what they were hunting or how it had grabbed him so easily and now he was unarmed.
"Shit." Sam used his good arm and the wall to slowly gain his feet. The effort left him leaning hard against the stone wall, breathing heavily with his eyes closed until the pain at last dropped back to a manageable level. He opened his eyes and looked down, finding that he'd dropped the Zippo. It guttered on the floor at his feet and he groaned. He looked down at it and out into the darkened room and decided he really did have to bend down and pick it up.
"This is not my best day ever," Sam muttered and began the painful process of bending over enough to reach the lighter. It was warm in his fingers and he narrowly avoided singeing them when he picked it up. It was a meager source of light, but it was all he had until he could let Dean know where he was. That, of course, meant finding out where he was for himself first. "Move, Sam."
He walked haltingly along the wall to his left and kept his right arm pulled protectively in to his chest. The pain radiating from his broken wrist was a new level of agony that seemed to pulse in his ears with each beat of his heart. It was near deafening in the silence. The flame from the lighter only illuminated a couple feet around him. It made him feel like he was walking in a bubble, and he had the growing sensation that he wasn't alone, that something was watching him. Sam stopped for a second and tried to listen over the pounding of his heart for any sound that didn't belong.
"Dean?" Sam called as loud as he dared. He slumped when there was no response. His head was beginning to spin a little between blood loss and the heat. He squeezed the lighter up a little higher in his fingers to avoid burning them. "Crap." He took another shuffling step and staggered to a stop. Something soft slithered in the room somewhere behind him. Sam turned and held out the lighter. He squinted into the darkness and froze as the slithering, dragging sound came again.
"Shit," Sam whispered. He started moving again, sliding along the stone wall to his left, desperately hoping to find a door. He shook his head at his luck when he instead found himself at the corner of the room and started along the wall again. The sound, whatever it was, was becoming louder. Sam's eyes went wide as a low hiss carried through the room. It was stalking him, toying with him. "What are you?"
The creature hissed again more loudly, and Sam jerked hard to his left; it sounded as though it was beside him. He whipped the lighter around and cursed when the flame guttered and went out. He flicked the wheel, blinking as it sparked twice without lighting. "Come on. Come on!" He heard Dean's voice then calling his name.
"Dean!" Sam shouted at the same moment the wick finally caught. The lighter flared and Sam reared back in shock, faced with a glistening black snout and a mouth full of pointed, brown- and red-stained teeth. The flame of the lighter wasn't bright enough to give him more than a fleeting look at the creature before Sam threw himself to the side, avoiding the rush of its head. It slammed into the wall behind him as he hit the floor and rolled. The impact knocked the breath from him and made his wounds scream with fresh pain, but he couldn't allow himself the luxury of passing out. He pushed himself away from where he thought the creature was, but he had lost the lighter when he fell. It flickered faintly on the floor a few feet away. "Dean! Down here!"
Sam grunted as something heavy slammed into him. He rolled again and panted, trying to breathe under the weight of whatever was lying across his chest. He slammed his eyes closed as bright light streamed into the room suddenly and had a moment where he saw the creature close above him clearly.
"Sammy!" Dean took in the scene with a blink; his little brother on the ground, weighed down beneath the body of some screwy, feathered serpent. He brought his gun up and fired quickly at the creature's head, trying for an eye as the best way to kill it, if he was lucky. If not, he could at least scare it enough to turn on him and get the hell away from his injured brother.
Sam felt the creature's weight collapse more heavily on him as soon as the gunshot rang out, and he pushed at the length of the serpent's body on his chest, heedless of his broken arm, shoving with his feet until it rolled off of him. He started to get to his feet and felt his brother's hand slide under his left shoulder and pull as the bizarre monster began to stir again. "Dean."
"Yeah, I know. Come on." Dean pulled Sam behind him and fired at the creature again before it could rush them. "Door's behind me! Move!" He was overwhelmed with relief at having found Sam alive and seemingly in one piece, but he knew they weren't out of danger. "We do not have the firepower for this bitch! Hey!" Dean shouted and shot. He saw the serpent's head fly back with the bullet's impact and used that moment to grab Sam and run. Dean pulled his brother along the hall as fast as he could, flicking the flashlight behind them every few feet to make sure it wasn't following them.
Sam hunched over his arm and wounded side as well as he could. He could hear the angry hissing and thrashing of the serpent behind them and it spurred him on. "Never even saw it coming," he panted as they ran.
"Left up here. Stairs." Dean gave him a nudge and followed with a last look behind them before they rounded the corner out of sight. "You ok?"
Sam nodded out of habit. "I'm fine."
"You're full of crap." Dean pushed him up the stairs ahead of him when Sam started to slow. "We need a hospital?" He didn't believe for one second that Sam wasn't hurt; his only concern was just how much he was hiding. "Don't you bullshit me, Sammy."
Sam huffed out an annoyed breath and collapsed against the wall at the top of the stairs. The sunlight coming from a small window over his head blinded him when he looked up, and he groaned. "Uh… bit me. Left side." He didn't argue when Dean slipped an arm around him and started him moving again. "Also, think it re-broke my arm."
Dean rolled his eyes. "Awesome. No, this way." He stopped him when Sam tried to turn toward the front of the fort. "There's another of that thing's tunnels in the hall up there. Not gonna risk it." He half-carried Sam through the hall, into and through the small kitchen, and kicked open the door to the chapel. He shoved it closed behind them and took Sam over to the altar. It had the benefit of sunlight filtering down from three windows, long empty of their stained glass, high above. "Sit down. Easy."
Sam slumped over himself on the dais beside the altar and closed his eyes. He was exhausted and in danger of throwing up his breakfast. "Think I'm gonna be sick."
Dean nodded as he knelt beside him and got a good look at the blood-soaked left side of Sam's t-shirt. "No shit. Probably blood loss. Move your arms. I need to look at this." He moved his brother's arm and lifted his shirt. Dean shifted to let the light illuminate his chest, and he ground his teeth together. The serpent thing had done a damn good job at trying to take a chunk out of Sam. Blood still seeped sluggishly from the puncture marks, and already deep bruises were appearing around the wounds and even across his chest, likely from where the thing had rolled over him. "Jesus, Sam. This is bad."
"It's not so… uh-oh." Sam grabbed a fistful of his brother's shirt, moved him aside and bent forward as his stomach rebelled.
"Crap." Dean held on to Sam's shoulder to keep him from toppling to the floor as he heaved and spat vomit onto the dusty floor. "Breathe through it. That's it." He raked his eyes around the room while Sam calmed, relieved that there didn't seem to be any of the creature's tunnels, at least not that he could see. There was, however, a disturbing stain in the center of the room that was no doubt from their victims.
Sam gasped to catch his breath when his stomach finally settled and leaned into the arm behind him. "Ok. Maybe lost some blood."
"Ya' think, Sherlock?" Dean patted his shoulder and stood. "Stay put. Gotta be another door outta' here. Here." He pulled Sam's gun from the back of his jeans and handed it down. "Don't lose that."
Sam smiled and settled the grip of the gun in his left hand, wishing he could hold it with his right instead. He looked around the room and tried to make his sluggish mind work. "Ok. So, feathered serpent."
"Freaky snake thing, yeah." Dean glared around at the stone walls. "Thought there was supposed to be another room back here."
"Uh, yeah." Sam raised his head up and looked blearily around. "The sacristy. Door's probably hidden. Old fort like this, sometimes they were paranoid."
"Great. Go on. Snake thing. What the hell is it and how do I kill it?" Dean started tapping the butt of his flashlight along the walls.
"This part of the country, feathered serpent that big…" Sam's eyes went wide in recognition. "Holy crap. I think maybe it's a Quetzalcoatl."
"A huh?" Dean spun and aimed his gun toward the doors at the front of the chapel, hearing a thump from somewhere further into the fort.
"It's Mayan." Sam rested his gun on his bent knee. "He was the patron god of learning." He looked up at the room they were in and snorted. "Also priests, so maybe that's why it's hanging out here."
"Why is a Mayan snake god offing tourists? Couldn't find any rats big enough?"
Sam chuckled and shook his head. "I dunno."
Dean watched his brother, the expression on his face, and smirked. He knew that look; Sam was sifting through the library in his head to figure it out. "Keep an eye on those doors," Dean warned him and turned away to look for the hidden entrance to the sacristy again.
"The victims." Sam leaned back so he was resting against the alter. He was dizzy with blood loss and pain but determined to watch his brother's back. "The hearts are taken and they're drained of blood."
"Which means what?" Dean could hear his brother weakening. He needed to get him the hell out and soon before Sam was too weak to make the walk back through the sand and heat.
"It's a ritual, I think." Sam shook his head, trying to dispel the dizziness that was making it feel as though the floor was spinning beneath him. "There's lore about, uh… Quetzalcoatl and his brother creating the earth and the sky; that they killed and devoured a couple female… I don't know, reptilian monsters of some kind. Bobby's got a book on it. The Mayans used to appease them by giving sacrifices of blood and hearts." He looked around at his brother in sudden worry. "Dean, this thing wouldn't just do this on its own."
"Ha!" Dean grinned when he found a hollow section of wall and gave it a push, smiling even more widely as it spun to the side. "Found the bastard! And?"
"Someone's controlling it. Dean!" Sam stumbled to his feet when his brother was pulled out of sight through the newly revealed door. He staggered across the chapel and went through the door with his gun up. "Dean?" Sam stared in shock. The sacristy was half the size of the chapel, lit by the light of dozens of candles along a long table at the back of the room. The table was covered in bowls and jars. Blood stains darkened the table and the floor beneath it, and in the center of the room, Dean knelt. His brother's face was furious as the man behind him held a wicked, curved stone knife beneath his jaw just hard enough to draw a line of blood.
"Next time, how about a little more warning, Sam?" Dean gritted his teeth and tightened his fingers around the gun he still held. The man had caught him completely off guard, and he wouldn't be forgiving himself for that any time soon. He wasn't yet willing to risk having his throat torn open so he could shoot the bastard.
"Give me the gun," the man demanded.
"Not gonna happen. Sam, shoot him!"
Sam watched the man's dark face above his brother. Brown eyes watched him with a hard glare. "You don't have to do this. Just let him go."
The man smiled as he took in Sam's bloodied appearance. "The god has already chosen you. But this one…" he pulled Dean's head back a little further with the knife. "… this one I'll kill myself if you don't give me the damn gun. Now!"
"Sammy, don't!" Dean grabbed a hold of the man's wrist with his left hand and tried to pull the knife away enough so he could move. "Son of a bitch!"
"Don't!" Sam shouted. He could see that the man had no issue slitting his brother's throat, and Sam couldn't watch that. "Alright! Dean, give him your gun." Sam lowered his own slowly but didn't hand it over. "You let him go, you can have my gun." He glanced down at Dean and back up. "And me, alright? Willing victim."
"Like hell! Get off me!" Dean snarled when the knife bit painfully into the flesh beneath his jaw and was forced to sit still. "Don't you do this!" he yelled at Sam and fixed his little brother with a desperate look. "I can't do this again, Sam! Don't you fucking dare!"
Sam was confused for a moment and then he understood; Dean was afraid of having someone else he loved trading their life for his as their dad had so recently done. He gave Dean a sad smile. "You think I can just watch you die? Not if I can stop it." He ignored the curious look on the face of the man holding his brother, and willed Dean to understand that he deserved to live. He saw a growing sense of horror in Dean's eyes. Sam shook his head slightly and took a step toward them, ready to hand the man his weapon. Dean's eyes went even wider, now in shock, and before Sam could understand the change, something heavy slammed into his back.
"NO!" Dean bellowed it as the serpent, the Quetzalcoatl, appeared behind his brother and took Sam to the floor from behind. He watched the sinuous coils of black scales and blacker feathers roll and wind through the open door. The creature's appearance seemed to have startled the man holding Dean hostage as well. He felt the blade at his throat move away and the grip at the back of his neck slacken. Dean wasted no time in taking advantage of it.
Dean jerked the knife away from his neck and spun, delivering a hard elbow into the man's groin. He rose quickly to his feet, grabbed the hand holding the stone knife and twisted until it clattered to the floor. "Asshole. Stay down," he warned the man as he slammed the butt of his gun into the side of his head. Dean left him hopefully unconscious on the floor and turned to find his brother. "Sam!"
The Quetzalcoatl had a loop of its body wrapped around Sam's chest, and Dean could see his brother's mouth hanging open in a desperate bid for air. The creature opened its mouth wide, displaying the long, pointed teeth and looked down at Sam as if sizing him up for dinner.
"Nope." Dean fired two quick rounds into its head, and this time saw the beast's right eye explode in a wash of red. It screamed, and Sam slipped out from its hold to slump to the floor beneath it.
"Knife," Sam gasped and waved his left arm vaguely in the direction of the man who had summoned the creature. "Brain."
"Right." Dean didn't need to hear any more. He scooped the stone knife from the floor. The obsidian felt warm in his hand as he approached the Quetzalcoatl. The creature had its head reared back, still roaring in pain and fury. Dean ducked beneath a thrashing coil and grunted as part of it caught him in the shoulder and nearly spun him around. "Stay down, Sam."
Dean jumped over Sam's prone body, slid to a stop beneath the Quetzalcoatl's head, and lunged his right arm up beneath its jaw. The stone blade slid up into the bottom of the creature's head smoothly and made Dean appreciate just how close he had come to being dead himself with that thing at his throat. He jumped and wrapped an arm over the Quetzalcoatl's head before it could pull away, holding it to him as he twisted the blade and drove it deeper and hopefully into its brain.
"Die already!" Dean yelled. He pulled the blade out while the beast slammed him into the wall, but he kept his grip and pushed the knife home again. This time he knew he had struck true as an inhuman scream erupted from the creature's mouth. It filled the small room and deafened Dean, but he refused to let go. He twisted the knife again and felt a shudder pass through the serpent before it slowly collapsed to the floor and, at last, lay still.
"Son of a bitch," Dean gasped. He left the stone knife in the creature's head and stood slowly, wary in case it wasn't quite dead, but the creature stayed where it was. He turned instead to his brother and snarled in rage to find the man who had attacked him beside Sam and picking up his brother's gun. Dean didn't think twice. He drew his own gun and fired, taking the man in the heart. He felt no remorse as the man fell backwards dead with a small gasp of surprise.
Dean stepped over the Quetzacoatl's body and collected Sam's gun from the dead man's hand, then knelt beside Sam. "Hey, you with me, buddy?" He rolled Sam gently to his back and sighed. He was unconscious but thankfully still breathing. Dean tugged up his brother's shirts and saw a fresh round of bruising beginning to appear from where the creature had nearly crushed the life out of him. "Shit, you're gonna be miserable for a while, Sam." Some of the punctures were bleeding again as well. Dean looked around for something he could use and cursed softly that they hadn't brought the first aid kit in with them. After all, it was just supposed to be a daylight reconnaissance. They hadn't planned on walking right into the creature.
"Shit." Dean yanked his t-shirt off over his head and took the knife from his boot. He deftly cut the soft fabric into long strips before carefully lifting and propping Sam up against his shoulder. "Ok, buddy." Dean wound the strips around Sam's chest to cover the punctures and hopefully give some support to what he was sure were sprained ribs at the least. He tugged Sam's own shirt back down when he was finished and tapped his brother's cheek.
"Hey. Wake up, Sammy. We gotta get you outta here. Come on." Dean frowned when there was no response and started rubbing his knuckles firmly along the center of his brother's chest. Sam scowled and then twitched and Dean smiled. "That's it. Wake up. Come on. Hey. Hey. Easy." Dean soothed as Sam's eyes flew open and he jerked hard. "I gotcha. You're alright. Big nasty's dead and so's the asshole that called him."
"Dead?" Sam looked blearily around the room, taking in the dead man and the Quetzalcoatl's carcass. He blew out a slow breath of relief and shamelessly slumped forward to rest his head on his brother's shoulder. "We go now?"
Dean chuckled softly. "Yeah, we can. Nice job figuring out how to gank that thing."
Sam smiled, feeling a rush of pride at Dean's words. "Thanks." His smile was short-lived as Dean stood and brought Sam up with him. The pain that radiated through his chest was all-consuming, and he had no idea how much time had gone by before he realized he was kneeling on the floor, held up only by Dean's arms around him, with his brother's worried voice in his ear urging him to breathe. "Crap," he said and the sound of his own hoarse voice made him cringe.
"Yeah." Dean rubbed a hand up Sam's back one last time before he eased him slowly away. "Alright. Let's try this again, but this time with you actually breathing."
Sam nodded and held on to Dean's arms as he was pulled gingerly to his feet again. He felt himself swaying but locked his knees and managed to stand mostly on his own. He nodded. "Kay. M'okay. I can… I can walk."
"Uh-huh." Dean snorted and shook his head. "Gimme." He took Sam's left arm and pulled it over his shoulder to support him. "This walk is gonna suck, but I don't wanna wait around here for another seven or eight hours 'til the sun goes down, not with you still bleedin'. Come on. Nice and slow."
Sam took a deep breath to prepare himself, but it was a mistake as his wounded ribs protested the movement. He hunched over, using Dean to keep himself standing as he coughed and finally was able to take a breath again. "Ow."
"Shit, Sammy." Dean looked at his brother's pale face and wondered if waiting wouldn't be the better option after all.
"Can't call for help." Sam glanced over and easily read the expression on Dean's face. "Couldn't explain the bodies. It's not that far to the car. I can do it."
"Alright." Dean had to take him at his word and started them moving again. It seemed to take forever to reach the front of the fort, and it felt like it had been years since the last time they had stood there.
Sam looked at the bright sunlight spearing in the open door and then at his shirtless big brother with a smirk. "You're gonna… gonna fry like a fish out there… with no shirt."
"Shuddup." Dean groaned and hitched Sam's arm a little higher, knowing Sam was right. "Aw, this is gonna suck."
The walk through the sand back to the car sucked every bit as much as Dean thought it would. The sun burned down, and he could feel it baking across his bare back. It was actually something of a relief when Sam passed out and he had to carry him over his shoulders, even if the sasquatch weighed as much as his damn car. He was nearly ready to cry in relief when they reached the Impala, and Dean carefully lowered Sam down into the back seat. He picked Sam's legs up and got them inside, then ran around to climb behind the wheel. He didn't bother driving back to the motel. Sam's injuries were beyond his meatball medical skills, and he floored it toward Apache Creek and the nearest hospital instead. He kept an eye on Sam in the rearview, but though he moaned occasionally, Sam never woke up.
Dean squealed into a space beside the doors of the emergency room and dashed out of the car and inside, yelling for help before he ran back out. It took less time than he would have thought for the nurses and one confused looking doctor to have his not-so-little brother out of the car, on a gurney, and inside. He let himself be pulled along and was happy as one grey-haired nurse shoved him down onto a stool beside his brother's bed.
"You stay there while I get something for that sunburn." The nurse tsked at Dean and shook her head. "Were you trying to cook yourself? Where's your shirt?"
Dean nodded to his brother as the doctor cut Sam's blood-stained shirt away and revealed the makeshift bandages. "Had to improvise."
"Good lord." The nurse breathed out a little horrified breath as the bite wounds on the younger man's chest were revealed.
"Yeah." Dean leaned over, hissed in a breath as his back yelled at him, and straightened up again. "His right arm's broken. The, uh… the mountain lion that got a hold of him did a number on his cast."
"I see that." The doctor peeled the last of the other man's shirt from his patient and narrowed his eyes. "Mountain lion?"
"Big cat. Lots of teeth." Dean shrugged and groaned as it caused his burnt skin more pain.
"Never seen a bite radius like this." The doctor set the confusion aside in favor of helping the young man. "What's his name?"
"Sam. I'm Dean. He's my little brother so, you know, hurt him and I kick your ass." Dean gave the man a small grin.
The doctor chuckled. "Don't worry. We'll get him fixed up."
Dean listened as they called for a portable x-ray machine and winced in sympathy while they carefully cleaned the bite wounds. He smiled when the grey-haired nurse returned and narrowed his eyes at the non-descript white bottle in her hand. "What's that?"
"Cream for your burn." The nurse smiled and twisted off the cap. She pulled on a pair of gloves and nudged Dean around to face his brother again. "Trust me, you want the cream or that sunburn is going to leave you crying."
Dean considered arguing but decided screw it. He leaned a little forward, rested a hand on the side of his brother's bed, and waited. He yelped when the cold cream hit his over-heated skin. "Holy crap!"
The nurse laughed softly. "Don't worry," she assured him. "It'll feel better in a minute."
Dean tensed as she slathered the cream across his shoulders, the back of his neck, and down his back, and then let out a long, relieved breath when it began to numb the pain and kill the heat. "Wow." He bent forward enough to rest his forehead beside Sam's elbow and groaned happily. "Can I take that stuff home?"
The doctor chuckled again. "We'll get you a tube. You'll need it." The older brother's skin was beet red and looked near to blistering in a couple places. "Kathy, go grab these guys some water, would you? Fred, hand me that gauze. Let's bandage these and then see about getting that cast off so we can replace it."
Dean floated in a haze once the cream numbed the burn. He came back to himself with someone tapping the top of his head. "Huh?"
"Drink this." The nurse smiled at him and handed over a cup of water. "Finish that and I'll pour you some more."
"How's he?" Dean asked as he slowly straightened back up and looked at his brother. He realized with a shock that he'd been out longer than he thought. Sam's injuries were bandaged and clean, and the cast on his right arm had been replaced. An IV was dripping a clear fluid into his left arm. "Whoa."
"Heat exhaustion, dehydration, and sunburn will take a lot of you." The nurse shrugged and tapped the water cup in his hands. "Drink. Slowly. I'll be back shortly." She nodded to the bed. "He's getting fluids and antibiotics intravenously. He'll wake up anytime now."
"Thanks." Dean sipped at the blissfully cool water while he watched Sam and smiled, seeing his brother's eyes begin to twitch beneath his lids. He scooted his stool forward and rested a hand on his brother's chest. "Hey, Sammy. You missed all the fun."
Sam woke slowly. He opened his eyes and looked about, confused. The last thing he remembered was stepping out of the fort into the sun with his brother. "Where are we?"
"Apache Creek Hospital." Dean patted Sam's chest. "They patched you up. Dude, you were a mess." He smirked. "And I don't think the doc bought my story of a mountain lion attack."
"Mountain lion?" Sam rolled his eyes. He tried to sit up and slumped back to the bed instead. "Thirsty."
"Here." Dean took the second cup of water the nurse had left and held it up for his brother.
Sam took it in a shaking hand and managed to keep himself from gulping the cool liquid. He didn't want to throw up again. "Thanks."
"No problem. Go back to sleep." Dean waved a hand at the pole standing beside Sam's bed and the bags attached to it. "We're not going anywhere until they're done medicating you. May as well get some beauty sleep. You were starting to look rough anyway."
Sam gave a soft, sleepy laugh and let his eyes close. "Jerk."
"Bitch." Dean smiled. He waited until Sam was asleep once more before he took his hand back. It was comforting to feel his brother's heart beating, and he knew how close he had come to losing him. He looked at the bandages across Sam's chest, the bruises he could see peeking out from beneath them, and shivered a little in the air-conditioned room. For just a moment, he was grateful that he was still there, that their father had sold his soul to save him. He wanted -and needed - to be there for Sam, with Sam. That was the way it was supposed to be. The moment was quickly overshadowed with the familiar grief, but he pushed it down. He couldn't change what Dad had done, but he could make it worth it. He could make sure that Sam was safe and alive, no matter what the cost.
Dean finished his water and folded his arms on the side of Sam's bed. He rested his head on his arms and closed his eyes. Keeping Sam safe would have to be enough. It would be. It was his job after all; take care of his pain-in-the-ass little brother. Dean smiled in spite of himself and dozed off listening to the sound of Sam's deep, even breaths.
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The End.
Next up: R is for Rebar
