"Okay." Dean paced back and forth in his small hut. It was late. A few people were milling about the dying fire. No one said anything about their departure, or return, and that was fine by him. "Okay." He sighed and swiped a hand through his hair, then gestured with it helplessly. "What if we kill Akecheta? Would that do it?" He gave a sheepish shrug.

Sam blinked at him in surprise, which wasn't a shock. "Whoa, wait, Dean! We don't even know that it's in him! We shot the thing with an arrow when it tried to take him before, remember? That seems pretty tangible."

"We exorcize demons, Sam! We've hurt them in and out of their host bodies. How tangible are they, really? So, let's just – get it out of him." He waved his hand, then stopped as a thought occurred to him. "Okay, hang on. Could be be worshiping it? Praying to the snake god or whatever?"

Sam thought about it. "You think when it tried to take him, it scared him, and now he prays to it?"

"I don't know. Some people get a shock and get religion out of it. Maybe if it prays to it, it won't eat him."

"But that doesn't work, Dean. This thing's supposed to go after the women and children. It went after him."

"But we can' be sure it wanted to kill him. It just wanted him. Or wanted to make itself known to him. Sam, what if that shot you made didn't hurt it? What if there was nothing to hurt? What if if did want to make it's presence known, and did just that? And it backed off."

"But I thought this thing was always with him. That he brought the curse over."

"Yeah. No. I don't know, Sam!" Dean winced and banged his fist against his leg as he paced. He shrugged. "Just cause it was with him doesn't mean he was aware of it. I mean, no offense, but look at you. You had no idea what that yellow-eyed son-of-a-bitch had done to you, but he was with you, wasn't he? In some way." Dean's voice softened at the hurt, and embarrassment, in his brother's eyes. "Akecheta's influenced by this thing in the same way. We'll have to draw it out of him, or from him, or something." Dean chewed at his lip, watching as Sam relented.

"Okay," he said. "You got any ancient Native American wisdom stowed away in that brain of yours that I don't know about?"

Dean thought about it. "What about the dude with the chants? Tonka Truck or whomever. I mean he knows things, and it's a hell of a lot more than we know right now."

"Yeah. Okay. But we question him here, in your hut. We don't want to make a spectacle of this, agreed?"

Dean rubbed at his forehead impatiently. "Yeah, sure. Whatever. Just go get him."

The man was easily found, and willingly sat in the center of Dean's hut, more that ready to tell his tale. Nameesh was with him, and together they set up a small fire, burning herbs in the orange flame. The old man rocked back and forth, chanting, until he was speaking the words Sam and Dean both wanted to hear. The Taksvpolkv-cetto. Oh, Taksvpolkv-cetto

Dean leaned forward, quickly. "Who are you?"

Nameesh translated, and replied as the old man spoke. "I am the Bringer of End. I Cease All."

"Is he speaking for the creature?" Dean asked sharply.

"He is answering your question, but as the Taksvpolkv-cetto would," Nameesh replied.

"He's not possessed?"

The boy glanced at the old man warily. "He – does not house the spirit. No."

"Freakin' drama queen, putting on a show for us," Dean huffed. "We don't have time for this. I want straight answers."

"He will give them. It is our way."

Sam raised his hand to silence Dean, and Dean backed off. "Does anything make the Taksvpolkv-cetto afraid?"

Wankanda straightened, his eyes still closed. "I fear nothing. I know All. I take what is mine."

"But there has to be something you watch out for," Sam insisted. "Some danger. Something you have to overcome."

"I am All."

"Great. This is speeding us towards nowhere," Dean sighed angrily.

The old man blinked at them. "What do you wish to ask," he questioned.

"We want to know how to destroy this thing!" Dean exclaimed. "Don't you?"

Wankanda smiled slowly. It was a creepy smile, like he held a secret known only to him and the dead. "Yes." And that was all he would say.

Nameesh's face fell as he looked from Dean to Wankanda, and he suddenly seemed very, very young. "Why do you ask this? Is it true? Is it here? Did it kill those people?"

Dean just looked at the young boy. His face deepened into fear, and he slowly eased back into the corner of the hut.

Sam joined Dean at the man's side. "Okay, that's it. We need to talk to Zertepe. He should be back in his hut."

"We talk to Zertepe, we'll have to talk to Alush. Nothing's getting by him."

"Right." Sam rose. "Thank you," he said to Wankanda. "You must be tired."

"I sleep little. Old man doesn't require rest." He stood with help from Nameesh, then looked at Dean. "What you need, you will find. But not from me." And he left, the boy holding his elbow gently.

********************

Neither Zertepe nor Alush were happy to have a late-night audience. But they agreed to meet with Dean and Sam, probably out of obligation for Dean. He vaguely wondered how long he could milk Hai's death for favors.

As it turned out, Zertepe wasn't happy to bring the old man into any discussion. Once Dean mentioned the name, he immediately excused himself, ignoring Sam's protests. Alush merely lit his pipe. "Wankanda was the medicine man in the old tribe," he explained.

"So this is a bit of not-so-friendly competition?" Dean asked, slowly chewing on a piece of hard bread left over from the communal prayer meal.

"They are very different men. Wankanda resents Zertepe. Thinks he knows more." Alush shrugged. "He probably does."

Dean didn't bring up the Cherokee blood, deciding that this was a feud he didn't want to get involved in. "We really need to talk with Zertepe."

"Anything that man says will carry no weight with Zertepe," Alush said, slowly and dismissive.

Dean threw the rest of the bread into the fire, frustrated. "Look, I don't care if he screwed the man's daughter. We need him back in here." Alush looked confused at his words, but it was clear he didn't care for Dean's tone. The eyes darkened threateningly, and Dean quickly raised his hands in defense. "Yeah, okay. I apologize. Forgive me. Let me talk to him. Please."

Alush gestured toward the flap with his pipe. Dean gave a nod of thanks and ducked outside.

Dean found Zertepe just to the left of the hut, within easy earshot, wearing an expression that said he'd heard all. He was suddenly uncomfortable, and wondered vaguely how much of his and Sam's conversations had been overheard. Or his and Hai's lovemaking. Oh God, no wonder he'd get grinned at like that. He waited, letting Zertepe speak first.

When he did, it was in a voice more open and revealing than Dean was expecting. "Alush speaks the truth. I do not like the man."

Dean looked at the ground, rubbing his naked toe over a tiny rock. He'd lost the shoes given to him shortly before Hai's death, and hadn't bothered to find them again. Same for his shirt, well, he knew where it was, he just didn't bother to wear it. In retrospect, he realized a lot of it had to do with this man. He looked so free, bare-chested and bare foot, like he wasn't afraid of nature, or the elements, or injury. He was living life with life, not against it. Dean realized he had been imitating the man, to such a degree that he didn't want to offend him. But there were things that had to be said.

"I think now would be a good time to set aside your differences, don't you? There's something out there that's killed innocent people. It will kill again. You said when we first got here that we were here for a reason. We were sent here." He faced Zertepe. "You have to trust us, you understand me? And you have to trust Wankanda. Or more people are gonna die." He let his words sink in, and made sure he didn't blink, just to show how serious he was. He couldn't back down.

Zertepe stood with his arms crossed, looking over Dean's shoulder. It took Dean a moment to realize that he was looking at Hai's old hut. He thought about saying something, but Zertepe's expression was hardening, or softening, he wasn't sure. It was hard to tell with him. But it was changing. Without a word he pushed past Dean and re-entered the hut, which was all Dean wanted. He took a moment to close his eyes and steady his breathing, then followed him in.

Alush looked pleased as Zertepe sat beside him. He gestured to Sam as Dean took his own seat. "Continue."

"Right." Sam licked his lips and gave Dean a questioning look. Continue? Dean nodded. "Have you heard of a creature called the Taksvpolkv-cetto?"

Zertepe's brows drew together tightly. Dean leaned forward, watching closely as the older man sat in thought for several moments. "The worm?" he asked.

"I believe it's worm-lizard."

"Something like a snake, maybe?" Dean supplied.

Zertepe shook his head and leaned back uncomfortably. "I know nothing of this."

Dean had his doubts. He could read the man well enough to tell when he was being stubborn, but he didn't know why. Sam continued. "It is a – story – among the Cherokee. This worm-lizard attacks the women and children. The people are afraid, and they don't tend the crops. The men don't leave the village to hunt. They can't move away because if they leave, it will kill them. They end up starving."

"The women tend the crops," Alush said around his pipe.

"And it comes after the women."

"Men can tend crops," Zertepe added.

"Not if they are protecting the women. This thing stole three people from your fields, right underneath your noses. What's to keep it from coming into your huts at night?"

That got them. Both men were alarmed, and they spoke to each other quickly. Dean exchanged a glance with Sam, but said nothing.

"What do you suggest?" Alush asked. "We have not seen it. How do you stop something you cannot see?"

"We think we know where it is." This was the hard part. "We think Akecheta – controls it." He waited.

Alush's pipe fell from his fingers. Zertepe quickly picked it up. "Akecheta," he exclaimed in soft disbelief. "It is false."

"I wish it were."

"He is a friend!"

"I know." Dean could sense Sam's anxiety growing, matching his own. It was no little thing for an outsider to accuse a native of what amounted to witchcraft. Evil. Especially when the accused was a revered son of the tribe.

"How do you know this?" Alush asked.

"We've – seen it. He's half Cherokee. We think the curse was sent here with him when the Cherokee refused him and his mother. We think they abused your tribe's offer of a union, and found a way to punish you. Get rid of you." He stopped, apologetically. Zertepe had stiffened, and looked downright pissed.

Alush rested one hand on the medicine man's knee, stilling his anger. "But why now?" he asked softly. "He has been with us for so long, why would it come now?"

Dean shook his head. "I don't know. But I think Wankanda's seen it before. He suspected this when the women disappeared." And for a moment he felt anger, anger that they were just running their yaps and not doing anything. He swallowed it back, literally.

"I – must order him killed?" Alush asked, and it was obvious the thought hurt him.

"No! No, that's why Zertepe's here." Dean scooted forward. "You have to know a chant, something that could get this thing out of him. Rid him of the curse. If you can get it out of him, we'll take care of the rest."

But Zertepe was shaking his head. "I have never removed an evil spirit from a body. I do not know."

"Where we come from, you invoked the name of a good spirit, and call on it to get rid of the bad one," Dean offered.

Zertepe thought, then nodded slowly. "There may be one. I must confer, see if the signs are right."

"Listen. I know it's late, but you need to do it tonight," Sam insisted. "Can you do that?"

"I will try."

Sam nodded, seeming relieved. Dean noticed he was sweating.

"I must hold council," Alush said, rising, and he sighed. "They will not waken lightly. You will remain until sent for."

"Yeah! Yeah, sure." Dean's attention was no longer on Alush, but his brother. Sam looked disoriented, bracing himself against the ground with one hand while the other floated somewhere near his face. Dean rose and saw the men out.

He hurried back to his brother's side, reminded of the visions Sam used to have, and how he would look so out of it before the vision started. He braced his brother's shoulders. "Sam? Look at me. What's wrong?"

"I'm okay, it's nothing."

"Bullshit. Convince me." Dean peered into his eyes.

But Sam changed tactics on him. "How are we gonna kill this thing?"

"I don't know. Guess we could throw salt-pork at it."

"Or just burn it."

Sam was wincing again, and Dean firmed his grip. "I thought we said the damn thing probably wasn't corporeal. It's a spirit, Sam. Spirits don't just burn like that! You need the salt to purify it. Spirit-banishing 101, dude! Gotta have bones or something!" He gripped his brother. "What's wrong?"

Sam shook his head quickly, blindly reaching out and in obvious pain. "It's not a spirit, Dean. It's a myth. There's a difference."

"Okay. You're saying a myth grabbed Akecheta by the ankles and dragged him like a sack of potatoes over the ground?" Dean tried to peer into Sam's face.

"No. That was real enough. I'm saying maybe their belief in it is what's keeping it here."

Dean blinked in surprise. "How's the head there, Sammy? I ask, because it's sounding like we've gotta go tell these people there's no such thing as Santa-worm." And it was obvious that something was wrong, and he was getting pissed that Sam wasn't telling him what it was.

"We've gotta convince these people it can be destroyed." He looked disoriented, sluggish, and talking was becoming an effort.

Dean kept hold of him, and mentally retraced his steps, looking for something to use. His brows raised in surprise. "You know something?" he said quickly. "I think if we get this thing away from Akecheta, we can burn it. Sam? You listening to me?"

"Huh? Yeah, I'm listening."

"That snake that we saw, back on that dirt road in the reservation. It disappeared in the sunlight. Twice. And I dreamed of an erupting volcano that was spitting out all these snakes and things. But what if they were running from the lava? I think maybe flame can destroy this thing."

"Back to the traditional salt and burn, huh?" Sam tried to smile.

"Gonna be a hell of a fire." He shook his brother. "Dammit Sam! Now talk to me! What the hell's going on with you?"

"Dean?" He sounded confused, and that was SO not a good sign.

"Come on, look at me!" Two fingers flicked underneath Sam's chin and raised it. "What's going on?"

Sam winced, glancing at Dean, then putting a hand to his head. "It's Grampa," he ground out.

"What, are you kidding me? Now? Tell him to butt the hell out!"

"I can't." His hand floundered like a blind man's, reaching for reassurance. "We're – running out of time. He's scared for Summer Rain."

"We're going as fast as we can!"

But Sam wasn't listening. He grabbed Dean's arm, his eyes suddenly wide and searching. "It's – fuzzy in here. Is it smoky in here to you?"

"Huh? Oh, shit, nonono, wait, come on, Sam? Sam!" His brother was boneless in his grip, and Dean just managed to ease him to the earthen floor. "Hey! Stay with me!" And Dean could swear that, just for a moment, Sam's body faded.

"What the hell?" He reached out, frantically trying to grab every part of his brother at once as though to keep him whole, to keep him there. Was this how it happened, when they came? "Sam! Dammit, stop it!" He couldn't grab him. He couldn't hold him! Sam was fading away right before his eyes, and he couldn't do a damn thing about it. "No! Sam! Tell him we're not ready!" He raised his voice to the thatched roof. "You hear me, you old bastard? We're not ready yet! Let him go! You hear me? We go back now, we're through with you! You got that?"

His brother wavered, then solidified, making it possible for Dean to grab his arms. He exhaled sharply. "That's it! There you go. That's it, right. Just stay with me, stay here, okay?" Wide eyes roamed over his brother's body. Christ! What next? Did they really just magically appear in this place? Would they just suddenly disappear without warning? "This really is a dream, isn't it? This isn't real. There is no way this is happening." But when his hand went to his shoulder, he flinched. He let his eyes roam the hut, searching for an answer inscribed in the walls, in the roof. He'd go out and pick at the stars if need be. Or go and find this thing for himself.

Sam was sound asleep, or treading the space between worlds, or whatever the hell Gramps was pulling on him. Dean cursed under his breath and gathered Sam close to his body. "Tell you what. No Marty McFly photo-fading on me huh? You're not going without me. Not until we're done." He peered down into the pinched face, like his brother was dreaming terrible things.

Suddenly, Dean was afraid. Maybe, Sam wasn't dreaming of Grampa, but something else. Something that was trying take him away.

It took away Hai. It killed others. It had Akecheta. It wasn't getting Sam.

It wasn't getting him.

He gently laid his brother back, and peeked out of his hut.

**********************************

Zertepe was gone, presumably in council. Dean yanked back the flap to the medicine man's hut and entered, hesitating before the bundles of rolled material in the corner. "Oh, this'll be a piece of cake," he muttered sarcastically, and knelt before them. He held one to his nose and inhaled, set it down, then did the same to the next. He drew back at the odd smell that invaded his nostrils, and unwrapped the bundle. Purple Anise. Nice. He rolled the herb back into the material and stuck it into the waist of his pants, and continued his search. Rosemary. Sage. Good. He put these small bundles with the others, and grabbed several torches and a lighting stick. Then he peeked back out of the flap, and darted across back behind the hut, and towards the forest.

The moon overhead lit his way. He wondered idly how long it would be before the sun rose. Busy ass night. He ran softly, the way his dad taught him, the way the hunters of the tribe taught him. He didn't let himself think too much, nothing past one phrase, 'running out of time'. This would end. For Hai's sake, and his brother's, it would end tonight.

He stopped at the small mound. The fresh-turned soil, drying in a film on top, reflected the light overhead and glowed in a single line, a long finger pointing to the dark forest just beyond. Hai, showing him the way to Akecheta. To the Taksvpolkv-cetto. He walked to a nearby tree and picked up the shovel-like tool that he'd used to dig her shallow grave. Gave the mound one final look. Drove that sight deep into his memory.

He went to where Akecheta had first been attacked. Where they'd seen him kneeling amongst the snakes. For now, the spot was empty.

Dean unloaded his stock and drove the shovel into the earth. The moonlight was more sporadic now, flashing in and out of the clouds that were rolling in from the west. He didn't bother to light a torch. He needed the flame for later. He was used to digging by moonlight, or even in the complete darkness. The question was, how big to make the hole. A pit of flame. Lure it in, and burn the bastard before it could get anyone else. He dug until his muscles stung and his back ached. The pit was about half the size of a standard grave before he allowed himself to stop, chest heaving, arms weighty and useless. He fell to his knees, exhausted, but feeling that pressing need to continue as a very faint, baby blue strip lit the horizon in tiny glimpse amongst the trees. He tried to raise the shovel, but couldn't.

A raindrop splattered onto his bare back, chilling him. It seemed too large. He tried to stand. Another drop hit – and this one sizzled.

Dean froze, and swallowed thickly. Slowly, reluctantly, he turned his head to look over his shoulder. And up.

It stared down at him from the trees; huge, yellowed-eyed, hissing, unlike anything he'd ever seen in his life. Not a snake, not a worm, but an elongated demon, with a face on the end of a thick neck that stretched back behind it forever, to places unseen. Far to Dean's right was an arm, thin and ribbon-like, wrapping in amongst the branches of the tall pines. To his left, the other arm. The body was probably miles behind him, and the legs, even more so. It was a snake. It was human. It was demonic.

Dean stood slowly, cautiously, his eyes not leaving the creature leering down at him. "Well," he forced himself to say, "aren't you an ugly son of a bitch?"

The Taksvpolkv-cetto said nothing. The neck moved like a charmed snake, drifting slightly left, then right, and the eyes were glued to Dean's. He knew if he moved the wrong way, hell, if he breathed wrong, this thing would have him for dinner. He was pinned down without being touched. And he knew those damned purification herbs would do little for him. What was he going to do, throw the bundle at it? And the pit, God, there was no pit that could hold this thing other than hell itself.

He was trapped. He was dead meat.

And he was scared as shit.

There was a yell back in the forest, and the creature jerked it's head around with an unnatural hiss, weaving in and out of the branches, searching.

"Dean?"

No, nonono, not Sam! What if his knee was stiff and he couldn't run fast enough, and this thing was so huge, and they were wrong, so, so wrong. "Shit!" Dean gritted his teeth and his body tensed to move, but the Taksvpolkv-cetto moved first, it's head darting down to obscure Dean's view and freeze his thoughts, a head that was the size of his car, no, that damned semi that hit his baby, Bobby's house, a hill, a mountain. It grew and shrank at the same time, filling his vision yet he could see around it, but he couldn't move. He was aware of Sam screaming his name again, obviously seeing what was happening and scared shitless, of men filling the area, and then he was falling. He landed hard on his back in a grave that was much, much wider and deeper than the one he'd been digging. More like the pit he'd envisioned, the one his stupid desperation led him to think he could dig and use.

The Taksvpolkv-cetto completely filled the space over him. "Return to hell, boy!" it hissed out in a raging gale that whipped the tree branches around like a cyclone . His two torches rose above him, lit themselves, and splintered into a thousand more, like the brooms in the Disney cartoon that came to life and created an army. He heard Sam scream out, and saw the torches streak at him like bombs. But they didn't land like bombs.

The turned into worms. And snakes. And caterpillars, and centipedes, and anything that could devour the dead. And they covered him.

Hungrily.

***************************

Sam had waken in the hut alone, with Grampa's words ringing in his ears like a bad hangover.

He instantly reached out for Dean, remembering his panic, wanting to tell him things were fine, but his brother was gone. He stumbled outside, looking around in confusion, weaving almost drunkenly to where Alush was holding council. A quick peek inside brought stern looks from Alush and the council members who noticed him, but there was no sign of Dean.

He backed out as a sense of unease filled him. He wandered up and down the center of the village, stopping just shy of peeking into huts He knew Dean wouldn't be in there. It left one option, and his panic swelled.

He spotted Zertepe leaving the council members, returning to his hut. No one followed him, so apparently he was after something, or taking a break. "Zertepe!" Sam caught up to the man quickly. "Have you seen my brother?"

Zertepe frowned at him, his eyes roaming up and down. "You were to stay in hut." He waved Sam aside in irritation, and entered.

Sam hesitated outside, fidgeting. Protocol be damned. He entered without Zertepe's bidding, which he could see angered the man, and raised his hands in respect. "Please. Please, it's important."

The medicine man wasn't happy. He frowned at Sam, then frowned back at his wares. "My torches. Gone. Several medicines. Gone." He squinting his eyes at Sam, accusingly.

In no time at all, the events added themselves up in Sam's mind, and pointed immediately to trouble. God, Dean! "What's missing?" he asked, hurriedly.

"My star flower. White root. Others."

"What do they do?"

Zertepe waved an impatient hand at him. "They cure! They make things clean. They rid of evil."

Sam was nodding quickly as Zertepe continued his list of the herb's attributes. He interrupted, his hands raised pleadingly. "Okay, stop. Listen to me. Dean's in trouble. We have to get as many men together as we can, all with torches we can find."

Zertepe pulled himself to his full height. "Why?"

"Because he's gone after the Taksvpolkv-cetto. And he can't do it alone."

"The council did not. . ."

"It's gonna kill him!" He turned away, running his hand through his hair. Just plain pissed. "You know what, fuck the council!" Sam spun and took a defiant step towards him. "He's more important to me than your rules. Your rules nearly got him killed by that river. You said we were sent here to help. Now he's gone to help. Alone. What's that say about you, huh?"

Zertepe was livid. It scared Sam for moment. He'd essentially denounced the tribe. Worst case scenario, he'd go out and hunt the thing, just him and Dean. No. Worst case scenario, they'd lock him away for disrespect, and Dean would die.

Zertepe stormed out of the hut, and back to the council. And in a matter of minutes, there was an army at Sam's disposal.

********************

He knew exactly where to go. The path was becoming more clear, well-trodden by the frequent visits to the site of the attacks. But he wasn't ready for what he would find when he got there. "Dean?" Just – Holy shit.

Dean was on the ground, with a – thing – hovering overhead. It's long body was wrapped around the trees like a thick vine. Fingers could be seen, fingers fifty feet long. The neck stretched as far back as he could see. The head was a menacing feature emerging from scaled flesh. It shot up and stared right at him, and he froze, his breath gone, his heart stopped.

Its attention snapped back to Dean, and he disappeared into the ground.

"No!" Sam yelled, and signaled to the men. They were frightened, shuffling back and forwards, wanting to attack but not wanting to be eaten. He heard Dean cry out, was it in disgust? Fear? The men behind him were useless. He raised his own torch and charged at the Taksvpolkv-cetto, flinging it over his head in an arch before letting it go. It hit the creature's side.

The Taksvpolkv-cetto bellowed. Not injured, but angry.

This woke the tribe. Someone gave a war whoop, and the battle cry was raised. Torches started flying through the air, missiles of flames, and bombarded the demon. It screamed out in rage.

Sam ran to the huge grave and slid to ground beside it, landing on his hands and knees. "Dean!" His eyes widened at the sight below him.

Dean was flat on his back, his arms and legs stretched prone as far as they would go. His face was pained, his teeth gritted and chin raised, his neck muscles bulging. Snakes of every size and color were slithering over his bare chest, while long earthworms held his legs and arms to the ground. One large, thick boa-looking reptile lay over his stomach, and bobbing with Dean's panicked breathing. It raised its head possessively.

Sam swung his legs over the side, but stopped as his brother spoke. "No!" Dean's voice was choked with fear. "You have to go back. Grampa."

Sam hovered over the edge. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"We can't kill it here. Tell him to bring you back! Make a fire pit, get it ready. . ." he cried out in pain and tried to arch his back, but was held too tightly.

"I'm not leaving you down there!" Sam started down again. A snake darted up and wrapped around his ankle.

Sam cursed and instinctively turned to grab the earth behind him, pulling away from the hole. No way should that snake be strong enough to pull him under. He could hear Dean yelling his name.

Above them, the Taksvpolkv-cetto howled and hissed, dodging the flames that where thrown at it, diving for men, tossing them aside or devouring them whole.

Everything slowed. He could see the Taksvpolkv-cetto striking at the men who attacked it. He could feel the grip tighten around his ankle like a fist. And he saw Alush running towards him, back lit by soaring torches and screams as his men were crushed within massive, finger-like coils.

Sam felt himself sliding. More snakes were on his legs, wrapping around him, inching their way up to his torso. Dean was right. They couldn't win this here. He gritted his teeth, clawing into ground angrily, desperate for purchase, hearing Dean screaming for him to get away, hearing the death cries above and around him.

He had no clue why he said what he did, at that moment. He yelled out, "Red Hand! BRING YOUR SON HOME!"

And Red Hand heard.

So did Akecheta.