More ickiness! Wuhu!

Chapter 2

The bleary daylight flashed behind the trees, lining the road. He was in his car. He recognized the grooves in the otherwise smooth leather. He recognized the smell and the deep sense of comfort that instinctively followed. Sun was warming his left side and his right knee was cramping. Of these things he was aware, and despite all those small comforts he still felt more confused than ever. His head was pounding and his jaw hurt like it never had before, but at least it wasn't locked in a soundless scream anymore. Like he'd tried to swallow a rodent. That was a relief at least. He was on his back. He supposed Sam or Bobby was driving – no wait, Bobby was in a chair. Supposed it was someone else he mildly trusted in any chance. He figured the big bad, they had obviously just faced, was ash and they were heading back to their hotel.

His eyes felt grainy and his head heavy. When he sat up, a shiver ran through him along with a bout of vertigo and a pushy throb behind his right eye. "Rufus?" His voice was hoarse to the point of rasping. His jaw-joints hurt. The old hunter glanced back and immediately pulled the car over on the shoulder of the road. "Where the Hell's Sam?" Dean looked around in the large compartment, but couldn't see his brother in it. He suddenly remembered. Hephzibah. A witch mentioned by name in the leather-bound Grimoire in Bobby's panic-room/library.

"He's in the trunk," Rufus replied.

Dean shook himself and stared at the old friend in shock. "What?"

"Dean there's something you need to know about 'im."

"What?" The inquiry was made still in point to Rufus' statement rather than general shock.

"That bitch back there bit 'im."

"What's wrong with him? Why's he in the trunk?" Why would you need to lock him in the trunk? He was wounded, not dangerous.

"Come on out, Dean," Behind them a large school bus pulled over with someone who was obviously a hunter behind the wheel, Freddy-something. The second the engine cut off thumps and shouts sounded from the impala's trunk compartment.

Dean spent a second contemplating how much he distrusted Freddy before he turned back to the noise. He looked at it like he didn't know what he was looking at. The rear wheels bounced ever so slightly when a thump got aggressive enough. Freddy got out of the bus with a group of curious spectators peeking out the windows. "Who're they?"

"The victims who survived. We're gonna find a hospital and dump 'em," Freddy answered as he approached the trunk and pulled out a thick needle.

"What the hell's that?" Dean tapped Rufus' arm. Frantic thumps sounded from the trunk, matching his head and made everything feel like it was moving too fast.

"It's a strong sedative. We figured we might need some of this shit to deal with whatever the fuck's going on with him," Freddy said and pointed at the trunk.

"And just who the fuck do you think you are?" A panicked scream interrupted him along with more thumps. "Rufus, man, what the Hell's going on?" Dean wasn't sure he wanted the trunk to open, wasn't sure he wanted to know. Definitely not sure what he'd see.

"Sam got bit," Rufus supplied while he, as well, pulled out a vicious looking needle. A shotgun was tethered over his shoulder for easy access, Dean suddenly noticed.

He was having trouble grasping the scenario. "By what?" Pounding head not helping. A scream melted into a muffled roar from the trunk, unlike that a human would make. The back wheels bounced again when Sam kicked out.

"Hephzibah," Rufus answered with a backward glance at the victims, all of whom were staring at the three hunters. "The bitch took a chunk outta him before I could catch up."

"Her bite wasn't infectious, only her weird voodoo-spit, right?" Dean looked from Rufus to the stranger. "Right?"

"Kinda' hard to get one without the other, son."

Dean's jaw clenched. "You know what I mean-"

"It had to enter the blood-stream, yeah. Well it did."

"Not sure I know what that means," Freddy inserted, in what Dean suspected was an attempt at comic relief. "It's just a sedative, man."

Another roar that melted into a scream that vibrated the trunk top. "Shit…" Dean decided it didn't matter. He was being convinced pretty fucking fast.

"Regardless. We need to get you back to the safe house and treat ya," Rufus declared and made ready to open the trunk with a weary glance at his pal.

"Step back," he added with a stern glare at Dean who moved into position behind him and his needle full of fucking sedatives.

The trunk lid opened and chaos ensued.

He saw her moving. Too damn fast. She was like a wraith. He was having real trouble imagining her as ever being human. Whatever she had once been, there was no humanity left in her. Pain shot through his throat when her teeth sank into it. Her crooked eyeteeth gnashed on his tense muscles as if biting into a steak. The pain was unbearable and made him jerk like he was being electrocuted. Pain coursed through his skin from the shoulder and out. His arms tensed and went rigid from the shock almost instantly, tensing inwards.

He closed his eyes and did the only thing he could think of. He called for Dean. Over and over as she roughly jerked him off the ground by a grip on his shoulder. She had chomped down and was lifting him into the air by nothing but her teeth. A scream ripped out of his throat when she finally unlocked her jaw and grabbed his shoulder instead. He opened his eyes despite the fear denying that the situation was actually unfolding.

When he did, he stared right into her eyes. Greedy, grey, full-moon like eyes that seemed to try and swallow him whole. Morphed features that somehow triggered a primordial fight or flight instinct inside him. Except he could do neither. He could just hang there while he waited for his brother, picking himself up off the floor after the violent push Hephzibah had given him. Wait for Freddy or Rufus to fight their way through the ghouls that guarded her skeletal garden.

She looked into his eyes with a curious tilt of her head and a smile. Her mouth like paper and black, tar-like saliva oozing out between rotted teeth. She raised his arm to a joint-popping angle in order to tilt his head back and he might've cried out. She leaned so close he could smell her putrid breath, and he was pretty sure he cried out then. For a moment he feared she might try to kiss him. What she actually did was worse. She opened her mouth and dribbled saliva into his mouth. One drop at the time.

He chocked and jerked back, but her grip on his arm was too strong. She leaned in till her lips barely grazed his and one of her hands was buried in his hair. She felt warm. Her tongue jutted out and grazed his. It felt slick, and the recognition made him gag almost instantly. Her saliva tasted like a wound of Dean's had once smelled. Sick. Yellow pus dripping. Only the stuff pouring into his throat wasn't yellow. It was pitch black. He chocked as more of it crawled down his throat and esophagus. It hit his stomach and the reaction was violent and instantaneous.

Convulsions started with mild tremors. Bile rose, but most likely wouldn't be enough to force the sick back out. He heard a deafening shot, and felt her jerk back only to be lifted higher into the air before getting dropped. He hit the old, marble floor with a thud that pushed his air out and some of the nasty. He realized that his head had hit first when a splitting headache joined the upchucking. He felt the sick inside him boiling into his system before something ice cold was forced into his mouth.

His nose and mouth was covered whilst someone waited for him to swallow. He did and felt tears spring to his eyes. Deep sobs started when fear became the prevalent emotion. He found himself utterly terrified for no explicable reason. Something very, very bad was happening inside him, and it reminded him of Ruby. He was recognizing the cold liquid as ipecac, but knew it was too late. The substance was already in his damn bloodstream, almost like an addict getting his first hit after years. Only this wasn't demon blood, he was sure of that.

Convulsions in his diaphragm were trying to force it out. Sadly, the rational part of his mind which realized this was rapidly being overrun by his reptilian one.

His back arched when a violent pain shot through him. He felt his muscles stretch. Someone had hooked onto them and was pulling. His bones shifted, ribs first. He heard the crack from one of them breaking. His chest seized. His breath became chopped sobs. Tears were streaming from his eyes and someone was frantically calling his name. Telling him to spit it out. Ordering him like John used to when Sam was sick.

It didn't work. Nothing would. A scream ripped from his slimy throat. It sounded more like a hoarse gurgle. He hated it. It reminded him of the Wendigo in Colorado. Like a monster luring pray closer. He felt an ever-present rage boil to the surface. He was going to rip the bitch apart and make sure she never hurt another living soul again. Suddenly the feeling of his body expanding, changed to him feeling like the air was becoming pressurized.

Someone was sitting on his chest, holding him down.

Something nicked his neck and only added to the anger. A shot, he realized. Someone was fucking drugging him.

Why were people pricking him with needles? Let me go. He'd leave if they just let him. Away. The pressure on his chest increased and was followed by another pinprick. If they'd just let him, he'd go the fuck away and never bother anyone again. He knew he was gibbering out loud, but had no more control of his mouth than he did the rest of his body. Panic was making cold sweat break out all over. It was making tears stream in a steady flow from his eyes even though coherent thought became more and more difficult.

He lashed out with whimpers for mercy, intermixed with frantic curses at whoever was holding him down.

He couldn't feel anymore, he then realized. Couldn't stop what was happening. Suddenly it felt like a switch clicking on. Suddenly, for a second, his mind was clear. The witch had poisoned him. Her toxin was coursing through his bloodstream along with all the other crap already coursing through him. His heart was pounding. Freddy–whom Dean had already openly admitted to not liking–and Rufus were holding him down while the last vestiges of temporary (possibly permanent) insanity died down.

Twitching. Jerking movements. Shallow breaths. Freddy, the guy he'd never met before, talking to him in a soothing voice like Sam was a baby that needed pacifying. Like they'd saved him already and this was just hysteria. He then realized the drugs were for their protection. He wasn't himself. Sam was gone. Going deeper and deeper into a void he'd most likely never escape. He felt one last tremor coursing through him before something else entirely took over.

And then…darkness.