STALKING HORSE
Chapter 3
Dean discovers that the beauty of the Kelpie comes with a price …
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Sam drifted awake from what had possibly been the most uncomfortable night's sleep he had ever endured; opening his eyes, he abruptly closed them again against the vivid glare of the low dawn Sun.
Stretching stiffly, every bone in his body felt like it had been through a mincer. He rolled over expecting to see his brother's spiky crown on the other side of the log where he had dozed off, instead he saw Dean's discarded overshirt – a makeshift pillow - but no Dean.
Blinking back tears as his eyes acclimatised to the glare, he made out a dark shape. As the shape drifted into focus, he saw it was his brother, standing facing the lake. He rubbed his eyes and blinked again.
Then, he saw the other figure in the water; his heart stood still.
"DEAN" he shouted, "DEAN!" again, louder - this time more like a scream.
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Dean stood helpless, drinking in the Kelpie's beauty like a fine wine.
He heard a voice behind him; a voice that came from somewhere else; somewhere that didn't include this exquisite being; somewhere that didn't matter.
The voice was calling his name. His name didn't matter; the voice didn't matter; the only thing that mattered was being close to the goodness and purity which ebbed and flowed from this magical creature like the milky water of the lake.
He took a step forward.
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Sam scrambled to his feet, ignoring the stiffness of his cold bones. He felt in his shirt pocket for a tiny leather pouch; stuffed with pepper, primrose petals and mustard seeds – according to Bobby, all generally held to be repellent to the fae; he knew he was protected against the Kelpie's influence.
A terrible thought struck him, and drove a cold spike of fear down his spine. He picked up Dean's discarded overshirt, feeling the pockets, and felt another pouch in the pocket.
Dean was facing the Kelpie with no protection.
Frantically tipping the contents of his bag out over the ground, Sam grabbed a wrought iron bar Bobby had advised him to bring. Bobby had explained that iron, being a pure product of the Earth, was harmless, even beneficial to the fae; wrought iron, however, tempered and bastardised by mankind, was repellent to them.
Grasping his only weapon, Sam sprinted toward the lake.
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Dean was oblivious to the frigid water lapping around his shins as he waded further into the lake toward the Kelpie. It stood, aloof and serene awaiting him, pawing elegantly at the water, it's soft brown eyes inviting him to approach.
By the time he reached it, he was almost waist deep in the icy water.
He leaned into the creature, breathing in it's rich essence of pine and meadow grasses.
Pressing a peach-soft muzzle into the crook of his neck, it whittered softly as his hands stroked the contours of it's elegant head. Hot breath tickled his throat, as he closed his eyes and leaned heavily against it's cold satin-smooth hide.
Then it tossed it's head viciously and grasped Dean's arm in it's mouth.
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Dashing into the lake, Sam gasped as the bitterly cold water flooded into his boots, he saw the Kelpie rear, and lunge into the lake dragging Dean along with it.
He was chest deep in the water before he saw both figures disappear under the surface. The bitter cold was constricting his lungs; he could barely breathe and yet, it was all he could do not to cry out in pain, but he knew what he had to do.
Taking a deep breath, and ignoring the burning in his lungs, he plunged under the water.
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Dean felt the icy water close over his head. His despairing cry was lost in the rushing torrent as the Kelpie dragged him down, his lungs constricting in agony as he struggled furiously against it's grip. The frigid water burned and stabbed like a thousand ice cold knives tearing at his writhing body.
He opened his mouth again and gave a last desperate soundless cry for help, his struggles weakening as lack of oxygen consumed him.
He managed one last coherent thought before succumbing to a final reflexive breath.
"I'm sorry, Sam …"
He convulsed violently as the freezing water invaded his body; in his confusion, he thought he felt the Kelpie release it's grip, thought he felt himself tumbling as if in a whirlpool and then suddenly there was no pain, no cold …
Just dark silence.
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A roar of pain escaped Sam as he dove beneath the icy water.
He had to surface to take a gasping breath to alleviate his body's shock, before he submerged again.
His inordinately long limbs and massive flat feet had not always been an advantage to him, but in water, they came into their own. A collection of swimming medals from his time at Stanford was testament to that, and soon he was powering through the water almost apace with his quarry.
Visibility was poor in the mineral rich water, but Sam kept sight of the dark grey form beneath him, and he realised he had to act now. Adrenalin surged through his body and he surfaced one last time to take a deep breath before diving down as fast as he could using the wrought iron rod as ballast.
He prayed he had calculated this correctly, he only had one shot at this. As the dark shape passed under him, he released the rod. It fell through the water and caught the Kelpie on the haunch.
The Kelpie squealed and disappeared into a thunderous burst of foam.
Ignoring the intolerable pain in his chest, Sam swam down and grasped the limp, motionless body of his brother, tumbling over and kicking hard for the surface.
The two heads broke the surface seconds later. Sam yawned a massive, wheezing breath as his battered lungs fought to take in air.
He swam until he could feel the lake bed beneath his feet, then dragged Dean bodily out of the lake and onto the bank.
He knelt over the prone body, "C'mon dude" he gasped, feeling Dean's neck for a pulse and pressing his hand against his brother's chest, he could feel no evidence Dean was breathing.
"Please, Oh God, please – BREATHE" he sobbed, pumping hard on his brother's chest, watching as water bubbled and trickled down his brother's chin from over still, blue lips.
He gently tipped Dean's head back, wiping the soaked hair away from his forehead, blanching at the waxy, expressionless face. He cupped Dean's face between his hands. "please …" he whispered, "please …"
He thumped Dean's chest again, another trickle of water escaped from his open mouth.
Leaning, over, he pinched Dean's nose and began to breathe for him, watching his brother's chest expand as the air filled his lungs.
"Don't do this to me …" he muttered incoherently, "no, no … don't do this …", he pumped frantically, until suddenly there was a ragged wet gasp, and Dean's eyes flicked open. He coughed violently and spluttered, as Sam grabbed him under the arms and pulled him up to lean against his own body.
"Hey, dude" sobbed Sam, his chin resting on his brother's soaking hair, "welcome back". He rubbed his brother's heaving chest.
"S-Sam …" croaked Dean, between choking gasps.
"Ssshhh – don't talk!" Sam soothed, "just try to relax and breathe."
It was then Sam noticed that Dean had lost his jacket in the water, and was clad only in a soaking T shirt. It was easy to miss his violent shaking between the racking coughs and gasps.
Sam grabbed Dean's discarded overshirt and tossed it over him.
Sam also realised that Dean wasn't the only one shaking with cold; he himself was also soaked and freezing.
He had to get them both back somewhere warm and dry …
… and he had to do it now.
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tbc