15. Manhandling
Of course the thing had to be freaking huge. That was Dean's first thought as the monster of the week picked him up by the front of his jacket like he was nothing and tossed him at least twenty feet into the wall of the cave.
They still didn't know what this thing actually was though their best guess was an ogre or troll. It definitely smelled like what Dean would imagine a troll smelled like.
He just hoped it was a troll and that the lore held, because if it didn't he was going to be pulp in seconds.
"Sammy! Hurry!" Dean yelled as the thing roared and took several large, lumbering steps toward him as Dean tried to scramble to his feet. He raised his machete, but it looked like a toothpick compared to the troll and the beast kind of looked like it was sneering at him as it reached out and grabbed him around the chest with both hands.
"Gah, let me go, you fugly bastard!" Dean grunted as the breath was squeezed from him. He hacked at the thing's forearms with his blade but he might as well have been using a butter knife for all the good it did. How thick was this thing's skin?
Dean squirmed, kicking for all he was worth, and the troll looked annoyed at his constant attempt to get away while it was trying to carry him further into the back of the cave where the fire was.
"Quiet," the troll rumbled and angrily threw Dean against the wall. He hit with an expulsion of breath, his machete clattering away as he sprawled on the ground again. His whole body felt like a sack of legos. He wondered how many ribs the troll had cracked.
Dean felt its hand clutch the back of his jacket as he was once against hauled off his feet, this time left dangling from the troll's hand as it carried him to the back of the cave. Dean really hoped Sam had gotten into the right position, because they were going to need to act fast now.
The troll dropped him on the ground and loaded more wood onto the fire.
The smoke from the fire only had a small vent in the top of the cave to escape from and so the back of the cavern was thick with smoke and Dean coughed, trying to make out everything in the fug.
He did see the large caldron bubbling on the fire though. Awesome.
The troll reached down and grabbed Dean by an arm and a leg, hauling him up and slamming him bodily against a wooden slab that functioned as a table—or, considering the stains on it, probably more like a butcher block.
"Son of a bitch," Dean muttered. He really hoped Sam was almost done.
The troll reached under the table and pulled out a freaking huge cleaver.
"Hunters make good stew," it said, licking its lips.
"I hope you choke on me, bitch," Dean snarled. "Sam! Now!"
The troll growled and slammed a huge hand down against Dean's chest to keep him still while he took aim at his neck.
A whump sounded from up top, and the troll looked up as a crack appeared in the roof of the cave. Dean quickly used its distraction to roll off the table and scramble under it as rocks fell down from the ceiling, revealing bright daylight from outside.
The troll screamed, putting its arms up to shield itself, but too late. The sunlight was already taking effect, and the beast was turning to stone with a horrible crackling.
"Dean!"
Sam was running into the cave, his own machete out but he stopped when he saw the troll. "Whoa. It actually worked."
"Yeah," Dean huffed, hauling himself out from under the table with a grunt, grabbing his back as it twinged. "Good thing too, I was two seconds from being stew."
Sam hurried to offer him a hand and slung Dean's arm around his shoulders as they stumbled through the rubble on their way out. "You okay?"
"Fine," Dean muttered, wincing. "Next time, you're the freaking bait."
Sam smiled. "We'll see who keeps picking scissors, Dean."
Dean grumbled, but when they got back to the motel, Sam had ice packs and pie waiting for him when he got out of the shower, so he would give him a pass this once.
But next time it was totally Sam's turn.