Sam blinked, incomprehension marring his features, "I…I what?"
"You know, the movie. Fatal Attraction? Eh, nevermind. You ate the rabbit, man."
Sam stared down at the blood drippling between the pads of his fingers, the willowy soft fluffs of fur lodged beneath his blasphemous, inhuman claws. He shook his head. No. He couldn't have. He reached up and felt his throat. Tenderness frayed up and down his gorge. He ran his tongue around his mouth, tasted the pungent tang of blood. He deliberately glimpsed down. There was a slight bulge five feet down his tail. He didn't need to reach out to feel his second stomach. The appendage felt tight and bloated. His eyes shifted to the pool of vomit at his brother's feet. The fragrance of rancid butter and sour milk disbursed through the room. Sam could not meet Dean's eyes.
He was an abomination, wasn't he? So much so his own brother couldn't keep his bile down. If Dean could get sick at this, what would he do if Sam told him the truth?
"I blacked out," Sam said, his voice as hollow as a wasp's nest left to dry out in the sun.
"Yeah? I think I-" Dean jumped when Sam turned, his serpentine body bending and shifting. His tail whipped up, thudding against the carpet. Sam was abruptly facing the door, poised high, head tilted down, his overgrown mop acting as a shield, hiding his expression. His hands were balled into fists, nails cutting deep.
Dean wiped his mouth, his face souring at the bile still coating the back of his throat. He took a few steps forward, his boot brushing Sam's scales. The tip of Sam's tail jolted. Outside, a car honked. Somewhere, a dog barked.
Sam stared at the door. Damn, it was an ugly ass door, even for a motel room. Parfait pink and stained to hell. Sam's eyes felt hot and gummy, his throat tight and restricting. If he could just focus on anything, even that stupid-ass door…
"Sam, I mean…it's okay." Dean breathed.
Sam didn't respond.
Dean's voice grew hard. "Quit acting like a little girl."
Still, nothing.
Dean reached out, laid a hand on the thick set of scales near Sam's waist, below the space where Sam's ass would be. A shutter rippled down Sam's back at the contact. Dean's touch felt like electricity, like light and sound and everything good in the world. He yearned to lean into Dean's touch, ached to pull his big brother to him, to curl himself into his perfect physique and never let him go. Dean's touch, that felt like home.
"I scared you." Sam said, his voice breaking pathetically. He swallowed, squeezing his eyes shut. His palms ached with every beat of his heart. He unclenched his fist, felt droplets of blood speckle the floor.
Dean scoffed. "Me? Fuck no. You can't scare me. Have you met me?"
Dead silence.
Dean frowned, shoulders slumping. He pulled his hand away. "You just, uh, freaked me out a little, dude. It looked like you'd lost your mind."
"I'm a monster." Sam murmured.
"Jesus, Sammy. You're not a monster. You were aiming for the rabbit, not me." Dean moved passed his bed, staring up at Sam. Sam shifted from his gaze. "Your snake side just took over. I should've known the bunny's screaming would be like ringing a dinner bell."
Sam whirled on him. Dean flinched before he could stop himself. Sam flushed at his brother's expression. It was pity and anxiety and sorrow wrapped up in a perfectly horrible little package.
"It's not funny." Sam said.
"Do I look like I'm laughing?"
"I didn't want you to buy it so I could kill it." Sam said, angrily wiping his eyes. Fuck. Why was he suddenly so emotional?
"Wait, what?" Dean cocked an eyebrow. "How does that make any sense?"
Sam struggled to put into words what he was feeling inside. "This thing inside me…" Sam stopped, remembering that this wasn't the first conversation they'd had where that was the tag line.
I've got demon blood in me, Dean. This disease pumping through my veins and I can't rip it out or scrub it clean. I'm a whole new level of freak!
Sam recoiled at the memory. Seeing the expression on his brother's face, Dean stepped forward. He patted Sam's side. "It's okay, Sammy."
Sam shifted backwards on his tail and away from Dean. "This thing inside me, the curse-the naga-was craving rabbit, so I thought if I had one, I could regulate it. I thought I could resist eating it. You know, to tell the curse to fuck off. To prove I could control myself."
"Why would you do that to yourself?"
Sam threw his hands up in the air. "Because I thought I could control it!"
"But instead, Mr. Snake came out."
"I guess so." Sam murmured, crossing his arms.
"Well, we'll just take the loss. Maybe you'll be able to control yourself next time."
"There won't be a next time."
"Sam," Dean frowned. "I don't know how to break it to you, but you might need to feed your snake side, too. This may be the rule, not the exception."
Sam expected as much, but having it said aloud made it feel that much more real. "Well, maybe you're right."
Dean smirked. "I'm always right."
Sam rolled his eyes, glancing down at his wounded palms. Instinctually, he lifted his hands to his face and lapped at the crescent shaped slices to the skin.
"Come on, you want some food? I got you a burger and fries." Dean plopped down on his bed, fished in the bag, and came out with a juicy burger wrapped in shiny tinfoil and a basket of crispy waffle fries. Sam's stomach gurgled. He caved, slithering to sit beside Dean. His big brother grinned.
They didn't speak of the incident for the rest of the morning and when Bobby called Dean a little after two in the afternoon, Dean had just gotten done scrubbing the blood and vomit from the motel carpet. He would've liked to say that it was the first time he'd done that particular task over the years, but it must've been the dozenth. Sam was propped up on his bed, scrolling through his laptop doing God knows what, when Dean answered.
"Hey," Dean said, pressing the phone between his shoulder and ear. He rubbed his hands on the scratchy complementary towel.
Sam's head snapped up, his lips slightly parted. "Bobby?"
Dean gave an expression that said Who else? He tossed the towel into the sink. "Wait, wait. I'm gonna put you on speaker phone."
Dean pressed a button and shut the bathroom light off. He made his way over to Sam.
"Well, boys. I got 'er up and runnin'. I'm gonna be leavin'. It'll take me a couple days to get to ya. Is everythin' okay there?"
"Yeah, Bobby. We're just sitting tight. Sam did deepthroat a rabbit, though."
"What?!" Bobby barked.
Sam glowered, giving him the finger. Dean grinned playfully, sitting on Sam's bed. The back of his shirt brushed against Sam's scales, sending a tendril of something soft and leisurely across his serpentine flesh. Sam bit his bottom lip. He scooted over, giving Dean more room.
"Yeah, he went all Watership Down on the mother."
"Has he been displayin' any other weird characteristics?" Bobby asked, suddenly serious.
"Besides being a pain in the ass little brother? Nah."
"You keep an eye on him, Dean. If anything changes, you need to make sure Sam is contained. Make sure he ain't a danger to the human populace."
"Bobby, I can hear you." Sam deadpanned.
"Just lookin' out for ya, boy." Bobby said. "Not that I think you'd do anythin'."
Sam sighed, closing his laptop and placing it on the bedside table.
"What was that riddle again?" Bobby asked. In the background, they could hear an engine being fired up. The roar drowned out the sound of Bobby's breathing.
"Uh," Dean hummed, glancing at Sam for help.
"It said, 'You will slink and slither, toil and wither, until you face your greatest fear.'" Sam replied.
The thing you want is what you hold most near.
"Well, you boys keep at it. But if it ain't working, I'm thinking that damn creature might've lied to ya."
Shame reared its ugly head, leaving a flush to Sam's cheeks. No, Sam thought. They didn't lie. I'm just too much of a pussy to admit the truth and stop this madness.
"Well, let's hope not." Dean breathed.
"Well, I hope not either. Just adds another layer to this thing," Bobby agreed. "Well, Imma let you boys go. I'm headed out of the yard."
"Thanks for giving us a heads up, Bobby." Dean said.
"Yeah, thanks Bobby."
"No problem. I'll call ya when I get to restin' point."
After they said their goodbyes, Dean hung up the phone. He turned to Sam, eyes tracing over his brother's face.
"What?" Sam said. "Something on my face?"
Dean smirked. "Yeah, ugly."
Sam scowled. Dean snorted. He grabbed the remote from the end of the bed and scooted up the mattress. He leaned against the headboard next to Sam. Sam stiffened, his heartbeat thrumming in his ears. He glanced down at his hands, leisurely scratching one clawed fingernail down his lifeline, leading to his wrist. Dean's shoulder brushed his own. Dean's body heat was like a physical being, reaching out, beckoning Sam closer. Dean raised his arm, turning on the T.V.
"Why are you sitting here?" Sam asked, glancing up.
"What? Am I too good to share the bed with you?" Dean snorted, giving his brother the side eye.
Sam flushed. He was being weird. They had sat side-by-side plenty of times before. Hell, they'd slept in the same bed more times than Sam could count, especially when they were younger. This was no different. Except it was. Sam wanted nothing more to wrap himself around his big brother-snake and human sides-and hold him close. God, his skin felt two sizes too small for his body.
Dean turned back to the T.V., changing the subject. "Wanna watch Porky's II?"
Just then, there was a sharp knock at the door. Both brothers turned in unison, Dean's hand already flying underneath his hip to reach for his gun wedged in the back of his pants. They could see two silhouettes through the curtain. Sam's nostrils flared. Dean pulled out his gun, slowly slipping off the side of the bed. Sam grabbed Dean's forearm.
"Dean. Wait."
"What?" Dean whispered, his eyes roving between Sam and the door.
"It's the police." Sam said nervously.
Dean's eyes widened. "What? How do you know that?"
"Can smell 'em." Sam admitted. And Sam could. There were two of them. Both male. There was the aroma of sweat-soaked body armor, gun oil, leather and shoe polish, deodorant, and Sam was pretty sure one guy was chewing spearmint gum. He flicked out his tongue, deepening his senses. Yep, definitely gum.
"Shit!" Dean cursed. Simultaneously, Dean dove over Sam to get to the weapons spread out on his bed while Sam rapidly uncoiled his lower half from the carpet.
A knock. Sharper. "Mayfield police. Open up!"
"Coming!" Dean croaked. "Just, uh, give me a second, fellas! Getting on my clothes!"
"Get in the bathroom!" Dean whispered harshly over his shoulder. Sam rapidly slithered from the room, slammed on the bathroom light, and hastily coiled his body inside, gasping and wincing as his sensitive lower half thumped into the walls, sink, and shower stall.
Dean dashed to the bathroom door, pushing at his lower half to attempt to wedge Sam deeper.
"Ow, Dean. Watch it!"
"You're almost there," Dean said. "Just a little more."
That's what she said, Sam's mind helpfully supplied. Dammit, brain.
"There!" Dean said triumphantly and proceeded to click the door shut. Sam sagged uncomfortably, both hands sprawled against the wall, his shoulders wedged awkwardly against a corner. He hissed grumpily, listening.
Dean wiped his hands against his jeans, eyes roving over the room for any occult objects they might've left out. Nope? Good. He let out a breath, braced himself, and opened the door. The cool, fresh breeze swept into the room. Before Dean stood two officers, both wearing identical expressions of cautious authority. One was taller than the other, barrel chested and blond. The shorter man looked like a rookie, baby faced and wide-eyed. While the former wore his uniform with confidence, the latter looked like a kid dressing up as Daddy for Halloween. Not new to confrontations with the police, Dean felt himself slipping into his casually charismatic persona.
A smile curled onto his face as he leaned against the doorframe. "Well, hello. What can I help you fellas with today?"
The taller man spoke, "Hi, I'm Deputy Carl and this is my partner Wade. We are here because of a disturbance call."
"Disturbance call?" Dean feigned wide-eyed disbelief. "I don't recall ever calling anyone."
Deputy Carl's eyes flickered back behind Dean, casing the motel room, and Dean felt his heart clench. It was always the nosy ones, wasn't it? They always screwed things up.
"Somebody said there was a disturbance from your motel room, sounded like a domestic violence situation," he said, meeting Dean's eyes. His expression gave nothing but contempt. He smacked obnoxiously on a piece of gum. How professional.
"Well, nothing violent is going on in here," Dean replied. "Unless you call great fucking violent. Amiright?" Dean smirked. The younger officer's cheeks flushed. Deputy Carl's gaze grew sharper.
"No, you're not right."
Dean chewed the inside of his cheek, biting back a snarky reply.
"May we come inside?" The shorter man-Wade-asked. Dean blinked, glancing at him. Dean contemplated his options. If he said no, they'd grow suspicious. Suspicion would lead to more cops which would lead to a search warrant or, worse, eviction from the motel. All of these things would lead to Sam being seen and it would be bye-bye Sammy, hello horrifying scientific experiments in a secret lab on Area 51.
Dean plastered on a smile, the kind that got waitresses blushing and bar patrons jostling to go home with him. He pulled the door wider, gestured inside. "Sure, guys. I got nothing to hide."
The officers stepped inside. Dean moved back, gave them room, standing in front of his bed. Wade closed the door shut behind them. Well, that wasn't good.
Their eyes traced over the room. Deputy Carl's eyes landed on the bathroom. Dean followed his gaze. Shit, they'd neglected to turn the light off.
"You got somebody back there?"
Dean swallowed thickly, licking his lips. "Uh, yeah."
"Who?" His voice growing almost hostile.
"Who? Oh, that's just Mike. He's my boyfriend."
The younger cop flushed at the word 'boyfriend' while a smirk curled on the other's face. He took a step closer to the bathroom door. Dean's heart gave a sharp gallop, his thoughts scrambling.
"Well, why won't he come out?" He asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Eh, he's just taking a shit. Big dude takes forever. Aren't you honey?" Dean called.
"Yeah, sorry!" Came Sam's voice. "I've got explosive diarrhea! Shouldn't have eaten those tacos!"
The deputy's face soured. He squinted at Dean, his jaw set.
"You wouldn't be lying to us now, would you son?" He asked, cocking his head to the side.
Dean plastered on a smile, "No way! I'm telling you, that call must've been a mistake. We weren't beating each other up. Nothing like that. Maybe if you consider beating each other off, well, that's a whole other story!"
"Are you sure you aren't lying to us, Dean?" The shorter office countered; his voice was cloyingly sweet. A taunt. Dean's gaze flickered.
Dean. They'd said…
The officers' eyes flickered to black.
"You were always such a bad liar."
Dean had just enough time to think demons before the taller officer tossed his arm out, sending him slamming against the motel wall.