SEVEN
Dean's head collided painfully with the floor but he rolled to his hands and knees, looking up. Sam was holding the Maglite and gun on the creature, looking very jumpy.
"It didn't eat you?" he said quickly, casting a brief glance at Dean before looking back at his target.
"She had other plans," he managed, getting to his feet quickly. "We gotta go."
"I know," Sam said nervously. He looked back at Dean, worried. "It's not doing anything," he pointed out, confused.
Dean looked back at the creature and it made some kind of moaning, unhappy noise. Sam blinked.
"What?" he demanded, then looked at Dean. "What's it doing?"
"Nothing," he said gruffly, looking away from the creature quickly. He caught his brother's befuddled look before avoiding his eyes. "Come on, let's just leave."
"Dean, it is not going to let us leave," he snorted, surprised at him.
"Yeah she will, if we're slow," he said confidently, turning toward in the direction of the crawl-hole.
"She?" Sam prompted.
"Come on," Dean reiterated, careful to avoid his brother's eyes. He moved slowly toward Sam.
The beast threw its head back and keened piteously, and Dean stopped dead. He swallowed but refused to look anywhere but the door.
"It's not angry," Sam offered. "It's… upset."
"Yeah, I heard," Dean managed. "Let's go."
"But – it's upset," he pointed out, sounding very much confused. "I thought it was supposed to be some kind of–"
"Sam, if you don't start backing toward the escape route, I swear to God I'll get you on my way past and tattoo this entire argument on your ass," he growled.
The creature stopped keening. It began to rumble somewhere deep in its chest.
"You made it angry," Sam pointed out, taking a furtive step backwards.
"She ain't angry," Dean said anxiously, "Hurry up."
He took a step and so did Sam. The creature shuffled forward one but Sam raised the gun higher to make it more obvious. The beast stopped, its claws opening and closing in frustration. It whimpered and keened sadly, and Sam bit his lip.
He took two more hurried steps back, noticing the creature only dragged in ragged breaths. Dean managed to advance on him by three whole steps before it blew out a heart-rending wail. Sam paused, then looked at Dean.
"It doesn't want you to leave?" he guessed, but his brother would not look at him.
"Move," he hissed angrily. He took another step.
It was too much for the creature. It coiled its powerful legs downward suddenly and pounced at Dean.
Sam jumped back, watching helplessly. The beast landed squarely on Dean's back, covering him easily as they fell to the floor in a heap. There was wrestling and struggling, the sound of Dean cursing and grunting, invectives flooding from his mouth all too easily.
The creature grappled and struggled, trying to get hold of a limb on the smaller human. Sam took a step back as the beast was pushed up and over. Dean appeared from underneath. He sprang up.
"Go!" he shouted at Sam. They turned and ran for their lives to the crawl-hole.
Sam bolted through, not stopping to check if Dean was behind him. He felt Dean's hand push his back and ran back down the long catwalk. They heard the creature squealing in anguish and barrelled on down the slatting. Sam skidded to a halt and looked down the hole made by the trapdoor. His older brother careened into him and sent them both flying to the slats.
Sam scrabbled to his feet first and Dean rolled out of his way. He got to his knees, grabbing Sam's shirt at the back and shoving him head first down the hole.
Sam fell through, cursing his brother all the way. He landed on his back by Dean's black jacket, coughing and rolling out of the way lest Dean follow him too quickly and squash him. He felt a painful stab to his left shoulder and grabbed it with his right hand, hissing in pain. He brought his hand back to see it smeared generously with blood.
He didn't have time to work out from where it had come. The next moment there was a tremendous crash. A huge ball of fur, biker boots and smashed wood came thundering down from above. Sam lifted his hands to protect his head desperately.
He waved at the dust in the air and looked over. He pushed himself to his feet quickly, grasping his shoulder in pain as he stumbled over to the huge mass of fur.
"Dean!" he shouted, coughing in pain and on dust, still swirling around from the broken up slatting and flooring.
His brother was face-down on the beast, coughing and struggling to get his hands under him. The beast, on its back, opened its eyes and moaned agonisingly. Dean gulped his breath back, watching the creature turn its huge wolf-like head round and pin him with a look.
He held his breath and lifted himself off it slowly, feeling his weak arms collapse. He rolled off the creature and onto his back gratefully. He tried to put his elbows under him to get up, but suddenly had no strength to speak of. He managed one elbow and pushed up desperately, hoping Sam had at least held onto the gun.
Something strong and furry clamped round his bicep, and he looked over at the beast quickly.
"Aw shit," he breathed.
The creature was simply lying on its back, waving its other clawed paw in the air and looking suddenly pathetic to Dean's eyes. It gave a few small coughs and its limbs fell to the floor.
It was then that Dean realised there was a metal bar sticking right up through its midriff, glistening with blood.
He gasped in shock and then looked down at the floor quickly, inexplicably unprepared for the sight. He looked up again slowly as Sam crept closer, looking down at the beast.
"We're not going to have to kill it after all," Sam said in relief. "It's nearly there already."
"Son of a bitch," Dean grunted, apparently at himself, and turned to get up. But his arms failed him and he fell on his face in the dust and wood. Sam heard and turned, a sharp intake of breath and his trainers on the wood the only sounds as he whisked over to his brother.
"Dean, take it easy," he said sternly, and the older man felt himself being rolled onto his back. "Shit," Sam snapped irritably. "Dude…" he began, but didn't know what to say.
"What?" Dean breathed, then let his eyes widen as he saw and felt Sam press his hands to his t-shirt firmly. "Ow! What the fu–"
"That pole's gone right through that creature and into you. Don't move," he instructed clearly. There was a moan and Sam looked up at the creature. He swallowed.
"Get me up," Dean grumbled.
"Dean, I said–"
"And I said get me up!" he snapped angrily.
Sam grabbed him by the arm and helped him to sit, but Dean pushed him away and half-rolled, half-dragged himself toward the beast.
He looked at it for a long moment, and Sam stood back one, confused.
"It's alright, Dean, it's nearly dead," Sam shrugged. "This is one that isn't going to get away."
"Shut up!" Dean bawled unexpectedly, and Sam jumped. "Just – just stop talking," he growled.
Sam blinked, surprised, then just watched his brother. Dean put a hand out slowly. He touched the fur gently, hesitating. Then he let his fingers close on the limb properly, making sure it could feel his touch.
The agonised moan of the creature changed abruptly. It became a low, warm noise, perhaps a hum, perhaps a sigh. Dean moved his hand up the limb toward the powerful shoulder, and the creature studied him with its large yellow eyes.
"Told you it never woulda worked out," Dean breathed quietly, shaking his head. The creature moaned warmly, then let its mouth fall open and the purple tongue appeared, sliding down and over Dean's wrist. "Yeah. This is gonna sound lame, but… thanks for listening," he whispered.
The creature stared at him, and it looked for all the world to be amused, or somehow happy. He felt himself smile at the absurdity of it all.
The tongue rolled back in over a long few silent seconds, and then the eyes slackened abruptly. Dean watched the tiny subtle change as they lost focus and ceased working. He was aware, from the corner of his eye, of the chest rattling out its last breath, falling and failing to rise again.
His head sank to the muscular arm, and if he were honest, he couldn't say why. He let his hand fall from the fur, knowing he had no more strength left. He let a pained groan escape as he fell onto his back. He could hear Sam talking to someone and wondered fleetingly who it was.
"Dean, hold still," Sam said clearly, appearing above him and pulling off his own shirt. He folded it and laid the garment over the bloodied area of the older brother's shirt, pushing him down. Dean hissed and screwed up his eyes in pain. He put his hands down, finding Sam's pressing into his side firmly. "I've called downstairs, they're sending paramedics," Sam said quickly.
"Downstairs?" Dean echoed, lifting his hand to look at the blood on it, sounding out of breath.
"We're above a hospital, remember?" he snapped.
"Oh yeah. Sorry, was a little distracted," he managed.
"Well just don't die yet, Dean, they're like two minutes away."
"Sam… I'm pissing more blood than a fake shemp in an Evil Dead film. If this ain't the end, I don't know when is," he admitted, wincing in pain.
"It's not today," Sam replied firmly, ignoring the copious amounts of blood seeping out from the make-shift bandage. He swallowed. "Not today! Don't you dare die on me, you selfish bastard!" he cried angrily.
Dean actually managed a small chuckle, painful though it sounded.
"Everybody dies, Sammy. But hey, it's not the years in my life, it's the life in my years," he managed, before he coughed roughly.
"Woah. I… don't know what to say, Dean. Never heard you so profound…" Sam offered, but then his voice left him.
"This from a man wearing a Queensryche t-shirt," he coughed. Then he grinned weakly. "See? It ain't always about big words." He swallowed with difficulty, Sam noticed.
"Yeah right. You got that from a beer coaster," he challenged, sniffing back a suddenly runny nose and hoping in a prideful way that it was only blood.
"No I did not," Dean grunted indignantly, before he cried out with pain and his body stiffened.
"Dean! Relax!" Sam said quickly, taking one hand from the wound and holding it to his brother's neck securely. "Come on, slow down, let it go," he said soothingly, watching his brother's tense frame start to unknot gradually. "That's it… Relax. The medics will be here any moment."
"Sam," he managed, opening his eyes.
"Sssh, don't speak," Sam whispered.
"Naw man, this is – this is important," he ground out.
"Dean, really, leave it for–"
"It was a menu board," he coughed.
"What?" Sam asked, confused.
"It wasn't from a – from a beer coaster. It was–" He paused to gulp in a breath. "It was a Starbucks' thought for the day from the – from the menu board."
Sam grinned, lifting his hand from Dean's neck to wipe his own nose with the back. He blinked and felt his eyes drip.
"Girl," Dean tutted huskily, and Sam couldn't help it; he let out a chuckle. But as Dean's eyes rolled up and his head fell to one side, he felt his hands tense in fear.