FIVE
Sam felt real terror squeeze his throat. He put his hand out and rested it on Dean's neck. It was moving at least, there appeared to be a fast pulse underneath his terrified fingers, and Sam felt the sudden tightness in his own nerves release.
The beast moaned again. Sam stared at it, then the unconscious Dean, then back at the animal. He grasped the gun firmly in his right hand, bending closer and reaching out to slap at Dean's face.
Before his hand could make contact the creature's large yellow eyes snapped open. It drew in a deep, hissed threat of a growl. Sam jumped but still reached for his brother. The creature opened its long, nightmare mouth and inched closer to Sam's hand, hovering so closely he could feel the breath on his skin.
Sam's heart nearly stopped as they stared at each other. He had time to wonder why the beast didn't just simply attack him. The creature shifted slowly, its large left paw-like ham-fist coming round to brace for a push against the floor. Sam drew his hand back slowly, his gun still trained on the thing. It eyed him, hissing, as its right paw came round slowly. It slid round Dean's back, clamping him against it as it stood.
Sam just gawped. The eight foot beast was all rippling muscles and silky, if frightening, fur. It peered at him, holding the limp Dean to its chest securely. His boots dangled a good foot from the floor as the creature lifted its left paw toward his captive's face.
Sam froze, then put his hands out quickly to show he was not about to move again. The creature paused, then moved its hand onto Dean's chin, touching it firmly with one segmented digit. Sam took a step back quickly, his hands still up, praying that it wouldn't recognise his gun as a threat.
And that it wouldn't twist Dean's head off in anger.
They stood staring at each other. Sam felt the sweat pour from his spine and seep into his shirt. He heard the heavy breathing of the creature, the ticking of a wall clock, his own panting in fear and anxiety.
He took another step back slightly, watching avidly. The creature opened its long jaws, a narrow, dark purple tongue emerging slowly. Sam swallowed, his eyes twitching to Dean unconsciously.
The beast turned its head slightly, lifting its paw from Dean's chin and instead putting it to the top of his head. It stroked it backwards almost gently, and Sam's anxiety went up a notch. He watched in silent disbelief as the tall, frighteningly strong animal holding his older brother like some rag doll stroked at his hair and then down the side of his face. It backed away a step, watching Sam carefully.
Sam panicked. He took a step forward.
The creature hissed at him, tossed Dean over its shoulder swiftly and turned. Sam lifted the gun but saw no point in firing; the beast had already sprinted to the corner in the corridor.
And then it was gone.
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Dean opened his eyes and then closed them again quickly in agony. The pain in his head reverberated and sliced at his eyes from the inside. He groaned at the memory of an incredibly stupid attempt to smash a half-human wolf-like creature-thing through a window.
He opened his eyes again, much more slowly this time. It all appeared to be dark, or at least very, very dim. He looked down at his watch quickly, his eyes managing to make out the time after a long second of concentrating. He found it to be going up to four in the morning and wondered where the last two hours had gone.
He pushed himself up on an elbow, looking around as best he could. It certainly seemed warm and comfortable, wherever he was. He sniffed the air, thinking it reminded him of something, but couldn't think what.
His eyes made out a rough shape, and he realised with a start that the warm thing he was stretched out on was some kind of rug. He pulled himself to sit, finding it strange that his black jacket had disappeared. He put his hands to his bare elbows, then realised he wasn't actually cold at all.
There was a rumbling sound from beneath him and he had an immediate and almost suffocating sinking feeling. The rumbling stopped, but the rug on which he was sat shifted slowly, moving and turning into a rather thick limb with a paw-like hand attached.
"Oh you have got to be kidding me," he breathed dangerously, watching the shape move and open its yellow eyes.
He moved to scrabble off the creature quickly. It put its paws out and grabbed him, turning him round to haul him effortlessly back into it. His face pressed into warm fur, his arms clamped to his sides, Dean fought to breathe. He coughed on the thick matting and the pressure against his back eased somewhat.
"Look, mister," he coughed, spitting out fur and turning his head to look up. He encountered the large lupine head and instantly regretted moving. "Ha… Ah… No offence, but I really don't go for guys," he said, trying to smile and hoping that such a move was universally understood.
But the creature tilted its head and opened his mouth, sliding out the purple tongue toward him.
"Aw hell no!" Dean protested, as the tongue swept over his head and down over his ear. "Eeeeyyyiu! Get offa me!" he shouted, tugging at the strong grip. The tongue was removed abruptly and the grip loosened a little. He struggled and growled, fighting to get free. The creature growled too, but for some reason it sounded rather worryingly encouraging to Dean's ears.
He stopped moving and dared to look up at the creature. It lifted one paw slowly, keening some kind of high-pitched hum as it smoothed a single digit down the side of his head, and then his arm. The sound got a little louder and suddenly took on a definitely feminine trill to it. The creature's paw carried on down the side of his leg, then slid around slowly, feeling its way back up against the inside.
"Oh no," he moaned, his head falling back to the fur in complete mortification, "don't tell me you're actually a girl?"
The keen changed to a warm, delicate hum, the paw sliding up over the backs of his legs. It paused as it reached the top.
"Hey!" He jumped in outrage and borderline humiliation as it wheedled a paw slightly under and round. "No no no!" he cried quickly, squirming to get free. "That's definitely not cool! No! Bad – er – bad beast! No Dean!" he said sternly.
The creature hesitated and Dean's squirming paid off. He slid to one side and didn't pause. He rolled off the edge of the basket-like pad and landed on his feet.
He backed away quickly, hands raised, watching the creature sit up slowly and fix him with large doe eyes.
"Aw shit," he breathed, backing up until he felt a cold brick wall in his back. "Look, er, lady, I'm real sorry, and I know this would have been one really crazy night, but really? Come on, really?" he said desperately. "I'm just not the guy for you. Seriously. Ask my brother, he'll tell you all about my amazing commitment problems with the ladies," he said quickly.
The beast simply hopped off the edge of the basket-pad, approaching him slowly.
"Aw, come on! Couldn't you just eat me or something?" he moaned, anguished.
He paused, mentally kicking himself for introducing certain bizarre images into his head. He managed to wipe them, but knew he would remember them all again, and in much more detail, later on. He huffed in frustration then spotted the crawl-hole dead opposite him – behind the creature's back.
"Right. Sorry darlin', but this is right about where I shag ass."
He ducked under a huge limb and made a break for the hole. His momentum died with his hope as he felt the pull of a huge paw on the back of his neck. He was pulled backwards, his feet still trying to move against the wooden floor slowly. Then he was plucked from the floor altogether, flung back into a sea of fur, and clamped into it with two large arms.
Trapped.
He was carried back toward the basket slowly to the accompaniment of gentle cooing sounds.
"This ain't the kind of shagging I meant," he ground out vehemently.
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Sam edged round another doorway to the darkness, his gun sitting over the Maglite faithfully as he swept them both round the aperture. He waited, scanning the sights eagerly, straining his eyes to take it all in.
But it was just another hospital room, the randomly stored items therein giving nothing away. He huffed and slid back through the doorway, carrying on down the silent corridor in near darkness.
He tried another few doors before inspiration hit him. He pocketed the gun and pulled out his phone instead, finding Dean's number on the speed-dial list and pressing it. He waited impatiently as it sounded like it was connecting.
After a moment he realised he could hear music. He listened, wanting to whoop with joy but knowing it would waste time and possibly give away his own position. He made out the bashing, thrashing strains of Dean's ringtone. Unfortunately, the distance between them was so great that the full majesty of Jamie Dunlap's percussive efforts was reduced to a quiet tinny hum.
Sam didn't care. He followed the sound eagerly, having to hang up and dial again as it switched to voicemail. Refusing to believe this was a bad sign, he advanced on the noise as stealthily as he could. He rounded a corner in the hallway and found some kind of ancient metal stairs resembling a fire-escape. He looked down and there was Dean's black jacket.
He stooped and picked it up, examining it for marks or blood. There was neither and he breathed a sigh of relief. The pocket vibrated and he tutted, putting his hand in and pulling out the phone, resplendent with messages notifying the owner of missed calls. In a detached kind of way he noticed there were four, when he had only called twice. He didn't even bother checking who they were, knowing they could be any one of a dozen girls, and simply put the phone back in the pocket.
He put the jacket down again slowly and looked around, thinking. He twitched the Maglite left and right, then down. Then he let his head tilt to one side as he thought about it.
He swung the Maglite slowly, looking up. Then he snapped his fingers, smiling.