Beastly
The headlights cut through the darkness and Sam found himself wishing the motel was closer than an hour's drive. He kept one eye on his brother and the other on the road, but Dean seemed to be managing. To pass the time, Sam thought of and eliminated different monsters. Certainly he'd never seen anything like the creature who'd bit Dean. Once he had his laptop, he'd be able to access a huge chunk of the Men of Letters' collective knowledge. The months he'd spent digitizing their archive were going to be invaluable. Of course, getting back home to the bunker would make available even more resources but, Sam was going to insist Dean take at least the night to recover before they headed home.
The trip was silent except for the Impala's normal low rumble. Usually, their post hunt routine included loud rock music and a happy, relaxed Dean chatting about the details of the hunt or plans for the rest of the evening. But tonight, Dean hadn't even asked Sam if he was okay, which meant he was doing worse than he let on. Suddenly the car swerved to the side of the deserted road. Dean slammed it into park, jerked open his door and stumbled outside. Sam saw him pass in front of the car for a second before he disappeared into the dark. Turning off the engine, he scrambled to get his own door open.
"Dean?" he called as he scanned the dark shoulder. There was no answer, but he spotted his brother bent over at the tree line. The unmistakable sound of vomiting broke the stillness and Sam felt a pang of pity. Morphine could do that to you. He got a bottle of water from their cooler and headed over to where Dean was working his way back to vertical.
"Here," Sam offered the bottle, trying not to crowd his brother.
"Thanks," Dean mumbled. Taking a swig, he swished and spit, then dragged a sleeve across his mouth. "Any idea what that thing was?" Dean asked before he took another drink.
"Not yet, but I'll figure it out." Sam would do whatever it took to make sure Dean wasn't in any danger. But for now, he kept his tone light.
"It didn't get you too, did it?"
"No, it was too busy chomping on your shoulder." Dean nodded as he capped the bottle, rolling the crackly plastic between his palms. They stood in the shadowy moonlight, the sounds of the night peaceful around them.
Dean cleared his throat and gazed into the dark trees. "Uh, you wanna drive?"
Sam tried hard to look nonchalant even as his worry cranked a notch higher. Dean must have felt really bad to relinquish control of the wheel. "Sure."
"Good," was all Dean said. He slapped the keys into Sam's hand, headed back to the car and fell heavily into the passenger seat. Sam followed and took the driver's spot.
"You okay?" Sam asked before he could stop himself. Dean hunched against the window; head turned towards the darkness.
"The morphine is starting to wear off," he confessed, sighing against the glass as if the admission cost him something.
"How bad?"
"I'll be fine Sam. Let's just go." Of course, that wasn't an answer, but Sam figured he wasn't going to get a real one. He was grateful Dean had been as candid as he had. Cranking the engine to life, Sam pulled back onto the road, eager to get back to the motel and his computer.
xxxxxx
Dean splashed some water on his face, watching in the spotty mirror as the droplets ran off his chin. He felt like hammered crap. Ever since he'd upchucked, his discomfort had slowly been building. Actually, if he was honest, the pain from the damn bite had never actually gone away. The morphine Sam had stabbed into his leg had eased the brain-splitting agony, but it hadn't relieved it completely. And now it was getting harder and harder to ignore. Once they had made it back to the motel, he'd taken a palmful of pain meds. Sam had frowned like a prissy schoolmarm at that and immediately started clicking away at his laptop.
Dean wondered how long he could hide out in the bathroom before Sam started freaking out. Was it better to stay in here, out of sight? Or would that stress Sammy out more? The kid put enough pressure on himself already without Dean white knuckling it four feet away. It was only pain, nothing he couldn't handle. He knew better than most; pain was seldom lethal. It was just something miserable to get through. The secret was to lean into it. Accept it and ride the wave for as long as you had to. But it was a lot easier to do without an audience - without Sam oozing big-eyed concern at him every few minutes. He sighed and wiped a hand across his mouth, rolling his tight neck muscles.
Predictably Sam looked at him the second he left the refuge of the tiny bathroom. There had been a time when Dean would have put on a brave face and faked it. But he and Sam had been through way too much to try and lie to the kid, and it's not like he could have hidden how shitty he was feeling anyway. His brother could read him too well. Still, he instinctively squared his shoulders and smiled at Sam.
"How're you holding up?" Sam asked, fingers paused above the keyboard.
"It's manageable." Although he hurt all over and his nerves were raw, Dean would tough it out until Sam figured this out. Not that he had a choice.
"Well I think I might have something." Sam gestured at the computer screen and Dean leaned over his shoulder to look. The drawing Sam had found looked vaguely like the monster they'd hacked up in the forest. At least it had a snake head.
"It's called a Bestia Doloris."
"Beast of Pain?" Dean scoffed. "That's not very original."
"That's because it's not really a creature. It's the physical manifestation of a curse." Now it was Dean's turn to frown.
"So what - someone built that thing with magic?"
"Sort of. The person who casts the curse brings one of these to life. Each one is slightly different but the whole point is to deliver unending torment to your enemies."
"You're telling me some friggin witch creates this monster and aims it at some poor sonofabitch who gets bitten?"
"Looks like it. Apparently once the bite is delivered the curse runs its course and the monster dissolves." Dean couldn't tell if Sam was disgusted or excited. Probably both, the weirdo.
"Hence no body, just goo." Dean shook his head. "So why was it after us?"
"I doubt we were the target. Remember the hiker who fell off the cliff and died?" Dean dug through his memory. He vaguely remembered the reports that had brought them on this hunt. Something had been scaring hikers and one dude was dead.
"Wait, wasn't he a land developer or something?"
"Yup, Derek Mireden. He was trying to buy out the family farms on the other side of town. My guess is someone wanted him dead, but when the guy fell to his death hiking, the Bestia Doloris was left to roam the forest. It likely would have bit anybody who crossed paths with it at some point, but it focused on us because we attacked it."
"Makes sense." Dean clenched his fists around the back of Sam's chair as another wave of pain threatened to buckle his knees. Staggering back a few steps, he sat sluggishly on the edge of the bed with a muffled groan. He held up a hand, stopping Sam when he half rose. If this was a curse, there was nothing Sam could do to help him right now.
"I'm okay for the moment," he said when he could catch his breath. "How do we break this curse?" Dean knew his words were strained, but frankly he couldn't manage any better. He squeezed his eyes shut against the burning that seemed to ripple beneath his skin.
"I'm working on that." Even with eyes closed, Dean recognized the terrible determination in Sammy's voice. It was a comfort, really. Sam was like a dog with a bone and Dean trusted him. If anyone could find a solution, it was his genius brother.
"Okay. I'm just going to be over here." Pulling his feet onto the bed, Dean rolled over, his back towards Sam. He wrapped his arms around himself and grit his teeth as the agony ramped up another degree. He could do this; he could hold on.
Thanks to Shazza19 for their kind review of the last chapter!
