AN: I'm back! A family wedding, an out-of-town guest staying with us, and the peak of tomato harvesting all hit at once, so I do apologize for such a long wait. Though winterizing the garden is coming up, it certainly won't take up as much time as canning so hopefully chapters will be coming out more consistently going forward. (And, yes, winterizing has to happen ASAP since I'm in the land of long, cold winters.) I am so very sorry, though. I shouldn't have started a story before the insanity!

Also, all of the medical information comes from Dr. Internet, so there may be errors.

Janice helped, as always, beta'ing and encouraging. And, unlike me, she's speedy.

* * *

Dean turned "Some Kind of Monster" up until he could feel the bass. He would have preferred bone-rattling levels but opted to keep it a little lower out of deference to Sam's injury and lack of sleep. He might truly enjoy irritating his sibling but he wasn't about to cause him serious discomfort when he was already having a shitty couple of days. (He was kind of impressed by Sam's stoicism with a wound that had to hurt like hell, though he wasn't about to say anything more about it. Especially since he was still pissed at Sam for not revealing that he'd been shot earlier. Shot.)

Dean glanced over at Sam out of the corner of his eye. The kid was pale but didn't look too bad. He seemed pensive though, and it was odd that he hadn't complained about the volume of the music. Maybe he was worse off than he'd seemed. Or he was too tired to concentrate on the case. Or –

"I'm fine, Dean," Sam muttered barely loud enough to be heard over the music. He sat up without a wince and smiled a little, for once not annoyed by Dean's solicitousness. In fact, he looked fond enough that Dean looked away quickly lest they wander into feelings territory.

"Uh, Dean? You were supposed to turn there to get to the library."

Dean didn't have to look back at Sam to know that the fond smile had turned into a smirk. "I know that, bitch," he snarked without heat. "I want to come from the back. Look for anything suspicious."

"Sure, jerk. Whatever you say," Sam teased, calling him on his lie. But as they parked behind the building, he grew more serious again. "Hey, did you feel like someone was watching us when we left the diner?"

Dean frowned. "No. You did, huh?"

"I thought so." Sam shrugged one shoulder the way he did when he was embarrassed or unsure. "But not anymore. 'Sides, nobody's seen the monster in daylight."

"Probably the cops again," Dean grumbled, though he did resolve to pay careful attention. Sam was no dummy. If he thought he was being watched, he probably had been. Dean followed Sam into the library. It hadn't escaped his attention that the monster seemed to have gone after everyone who'd actually seen it. Well, if it wanted another shot at Sam, it was going to have to go through him. His instincts said they needed to check out the museum, but since they couldn't do that during the day, might as well see if Sam could find a name for their prey and, more importantly, a way to kill it.

Sam found the book he wanted plus a couple more and was allowed to borrow them with nothing more than a shy smile and promise to return them very soon. Dean wasn't surprised. Librarians universally seemed to adore the giant nerd.

A phone call revealed that Brian was in the hospital, so that's where the Winchesters went next. Watching the stiffness of Sam's gait made Dean wish he could leave the guy behind in the motel room with his beloved book, but no way was he letting Sam get taken.

They were freely allowed to go see Brian without so much as giving a name. Unfortunately, the dude was even more baked than normal.

"Come as you are, as you were, as I waaaaaaaaaant you to be," he was singing as they approached his room. A frustrated-looking nurse was trying unsuccessfully to get a blood pressure cuff over his arm as he performed a sloppy but enthusiastic air guitar.

"Fine!" the woman muttered. "Clearly, you're more relaxed now." To Sam and Dean, she said, "He's been given Thorazine, so he's not supposed to get out of bed on his own. Push the call button if he needs anything."

Dean sighed and waved Sam to the room's only chair. "This is definitely going to be a really helpful interview," he grumbled under his breath. To Brian, he said, "Hey, man. Glad you're okay. Can you tell us what happened?"

Brian kept singing, this time a song Dean didn't recognize, probably because he filled in "oooo-woo's" for most of the lyrics.

"Brian?" Sam said curiously. "What is this on your arm?"

Brian's singing faltered for a moment, then he started in again on something new. "Did you hear that voice? Did you see that face? Or was it just a dream?"

Brian trailed off and tucked the arm Sam had been looking at under the covers, but not before Dean had caught a glimpse of the row of what looked like tiny needle marks. Exactly like the holes in the gas station. Dean turned his back to Brian and relayed the similarities to Sam.

Sam nodded and made as if to get up with a barely-there grimace. Dean put a hand on his shoulder. "What – where are you going?"

"I want to see if I can get some more information about his medical condition," Sam answered in the same undertone. "You can stay and see if you can get anything more out of him. Maybe have him sketch what he saw?"

Dean frowned. "No, you keep your ass in that chair and I'll go ask your questions. What do you want to know?"

Sam sighed and sat back, a sure sign he was hurting. "I'm curious what they made of those punctures. And they had to have run some kind of blood test to see if there were any drugs in his system before giving him Thorazine. I want to know what they found." He studied Dean's face, not-so-subtly looking for his approval.

"Got it. Good thinking."

Sam immediately relaxed again. So apparently he did still look to his big brother. "Don't hit on all the nurses and forget what you're supposed to be learning," Sam warned lightly.

"Dude, I'm a professional." Dean pretended not to hear Sam teasingly ask professional what? and didn't smile until he turned away, but it was damn good having his smart little brother working at his side. Even Dad didn't work as seamlessly with him. More than that, Sam was more of a partner than Dad ever was. Sam shared what he was thinking and bounced ideas off Dean. And he wasn't all business all the time.

Dean's smile fell when he stepped out of the room and almost ran into a cop. He wasn't in his uniform, but Dean recognized him. He wasn't one of those that had bothered him at the gas station, but the second one who'd come to their motel room. When Dean glared, the cop held his palms out as if saying he wasn't there to argue.

"Do you think Brian's in danger?" he asked without preamble.

Dean raised an eyebrow.

The cop sighed. "Look, we have no leads, no idea what's going on, and you seem to have some ideas. And Brian's not a bad guy. In fact, he'd give you the shirt off his back. See, he and I went to high school together. And I don't want this town to lose anyone else."

Dean softened a little but didn't totally let his guard down. "Look –"

"Jim."

"Look, Jim, we don't have answers yet, but if he's a friend of yours, I'd keep a close eye on the guy."

Jim nodded, not looking surprised. "Your brother really okay?"

Well, that Dean wasn't about to answer. Not truthfully, anyway. "Yup. Hey, what do you think of those marks on Brian's arm?"

Jim hesitated then seemed to decide to go all in. He took a quick glance around to make sure nobody was close enough to overhear. "The assumption is that he shot himself up with something, but that doesn't make sense. I've never known him to take anything that way – just smoke a little, if you know what I mean. Besides, who shoots up on the outside of the forearm of their dominant hand? And a bunch of spots in a row all that look like they're the same age?"

Dean looked at the man with new respect. Here was someone who actually had a brain in his head and was not afraid to admit it when faced with the inexplicable rather than trying to come up with an acceptable mundane explanation no matter how far-fetched. "Did they check his blood?"

"Yeah, I guess they didn't find anything recognizable. I don't know if they're sending any away to a bigger lab for more answers or not." Jim sighed. "I hope I'm not completely stupid to trust you."

Dean smiled a little, a genuine smile. He didn't have the puppy dog eyes going for him, but apparently he seemed trustworthy. For once. "I can't prove it, but you're not."

"For what it's worth, I was there when Brian came in to the station. He said a shadow monster stabbed him and that he hid in his mom's old cedar chest when it got distracted by his snake. Then freaked out and just ran and hid in the woods all night." He shrugged. "He did smell like cedar too. No idea if that helps at all."

"It might," Dean said, though he wasn't sure. "You're going to stay with Brian?"

Jim nodded. "Somebody will be with him at all times if I have anything to say about it. What are you going to do?"

"Don't know yet. But I'll try to let you know when it's safe."

Jim studied Dean's face carefully. He looked uncertain. "When you figure out who we should arrest?"

"Sure. Let's go with that." Dean couldn't help but smirk a little. He gave the guy a little salute and went back in the room. Sam was getting to his feet and Brian was lying down and apparently conducting some invisible choir. The paper Sam held was blank.

"No sketch?" Dean asked teasingly.

"Yeah, no." Sam stretched carefully. "In his defense, it changed shape. And size."

"Maybe you should sketch it," Dean suggested with amusement.

"Fine." Sam went to the rolling tray and went to work with his pen for a moment. He handed over his drawing and Dean snickered. Sam had scribbled back and forth until he'd made something that resembled the bastard child of an amoeba and a cloud.

"I can't believe you didn't choose to go to art school," Dean said, turning the drawing back and forth as if seriously studying it.

"Screw you too," Sam answered easily. They walked out of the room, and Dean nodded to Jim, who nodded back and went into Brian's room as they left. Sam gave Dean a questioning look, so he tilted his head in a gesture his brother would read as 'later.'

It took longer than normal for them to get to the car, Sam flagging. Dean watched him closely but ultimately didn't say anything. What good would it do? They had to figure this out sooner rather than later, and there was no way Dean was going to leave Sam alone. Instead, he just told Sam about his conversation with not-an-asshole-cop Jim.

Sam hmm'd and picked up the book he'd just gotten at the library. "Listen to this: 'As far as possible The People' – that refers to the Native Americans who lived here – 'The People lived in harmony with all animals and nature around them, showing all respect. However, there came a spring with great rains, and the lowlands where the snakes prefer to live became flooded and the waters did not recede. The snakes laid their eggs near villages and –"

Dean cleared his throat pointedly. He didn't want to hear the whole book.

Sam looked a little sheepish. "Anyway, when the water went down, the snakes didn't leave. They ate all the small prey and got so they weren't afraid of people at all. Eventually, they were pretty much everywhere and kept biting people, and so forth.

"The shaman called out to the king of snakes – dunno if that's a deity or what – and after a lot of negotiation, he said he had a solution, but they wouldn't like it. Um, so the king of snakes sent the nalusa falaya to eat the snakes."

"The what?" It didn't sound like anything Dean had ever heard of. "Like an American pied piper for snakes instead of rats?"

"Nalusa falaya," Sam sounded out slowly. "And, no, sounds more like a boogeyman than anything else since it can supposedly get inside anywhere, through any door."

"And let me guess: It didn't turn out to be the solution they hoped for."

Sam smiled tightly. "It was good right up until it started eating people too."

"Figures. You wanna coffee?" Dean had pulled into a McDonald's since it was the only drive-through he'd seen in the one-horse town.

"Sure." Sam waited until Dean had ordered and he'd taken a long pull of his liquid gold. "Well, eventually the people cried out to the snake king so much that he answered them. He gave them a way to trap the nalusa falaya until they called it again. Though he did say that if they were as respectful as they claimed to be, it wouldn't have eaten them."

Dean scrunched up his face and pulled into a parking spot, indulging in the childhood pleasure of watching an excavator work across the street. He figured they might as well sit still to finish their conversation since it would determine where they were heading next. "What the hell does that mean?"

Sam was quiet for a minute, reading rapidly. "Ummm. I don't have any idea."

Somehow, Dean doubted that stabbing the thing, as Sam had done, was considered "respectful." Especially given the fact that Mike Wilson's dad had disappeared after taking a potshot at the monster. That meant he was even more determined to keep an eye on his brother.

Staring at a messy construction site across the street, Dean's mind wandered to the conversation they'd overheard in the diner. "Wow, Rita was right. That thing is fricken huge!"

"What? Who's Rita?" Sam's frown and absent tone said he had no idea what Dean was talking about.

"You know, the ladies at breakfast, the whole gazebo-thing. That has to be it there. Looks like they're pouring new concrete for it. Like a whole platform thing that takes up half the park. Talk about overkill."

Sam blinked at the construction then turned slowly to look at Dean. "I don't care what they're building, you can't drive the excavator even after the hunt is done. Could you focus for a second, please?"

"That was one time," Dean answered, folding his arms but absolutely not pouting. Maybe he had been thinking about driving the excavator, but he wouldn't admit that now. "And I was a kid. And we didn't even get caught."

Sam rolled his eyes so far it was a wonder he didn't sprain something. "You were 19. And we were lucky nobody saw us." His expression changed and instead of going back to his book, he looked around with narrowed eyes. "Damn. It really feels like somebody's watching."

It made Dean's hackles rise, particularly when he couldn't spot anything out of the ordinary. "It better not be the cops again," he grumbled though he knew better.

Sam complained about the same feeling several times throughout the day as they (always together) investigated the holes in the gas station wall (a line, though not perfectly straight, no obvious residue, no reaction from the EMF), tried to talk to snake guy (not home), went through Brian's and Mike's houses with the EMF and looking for any signs of anything "hinky" that might indicate something supernatural (without success, unless you counted Brian's collection wild conspiracy theory books), and swung by the museum twice without stopping (because of cars in the parking lot). Sam read in between everything. He also looked paler and more exhausted the longer the day went on, though he didn't complain.

Dean would have loved to dump Sam in their room and done the footwork himself, but he wasn't about to separate.

The only productive thing that happened was that Sam found something about a "fragrant box" or perhaps "cedar box" where the nalusa falaya could be held. It fit with Brian staying safe by hiding in a cedar chest. They figured if such a box/trap existed, it had to be at the museum. Likely, the monster had been freed when the box had been disturbed somehow, probably by Mike or Evan. And though they didn't know how to trap the monster inside, it was a lot more information than they'd had before. They decided that a B was in order once it got late enough.

When darkness fell, Dean went through the McDonald's drive-through again because it meant nobody had to get out of the car, and they headed back to the motel.

Dean was surprised to see the geriatric owner of the place fossicking in the sad-looking bushes next to the place. The guy looked older than Moses and moved like his joints were full of sand – not someone you'd expect to see gardening.

"Hello there!" he called with a smile without nearly enough teeth. "Guess what? Good news! Somebody took the car for a test drive so maybe I'll actually sell it. I thought maybe it was you two."

Sam's face, which had been a mask against the discomfort of his wound, melted into guilt.

"That's great!" Dean blurted before Sam's conscience could push him into saying something stupid. "Hey, whatcha doing?"

Old Man Hatcher (Thatcher? Hatchet? Something like that) stood painfully. "Well, I'm lookin' for plant labels. It don't look like it, but when my wife was alive, this was a beautiful flower garden."

Dean raised an eyebrow skeptically and got an elbow to the ribs from his brother before he could say anything. It looked like nature had run its course for a long-ass time, and he sure couldn't see any signs of a garden past or present.

"That's nice," Sam said cutting off the far snarkier response Dean had planned. "Are you trying to fix it up?" Dean bit back a laugh. At the rate he could work, it would take more time than the old guy had left to get the tangled mess in any kind of order. He sobered up at the thought that Sam might volunteer them to help.

"Nah. Too much work," Hatcher said. "Just looking. See, they tore up the whole park and all kinds of heritage plants or some such, and one of the ladies who was friends with my Gertie asked if any of her plants were still growing so they could take some cuttings for new plants at the park. Thought I'd check if the labels are still here, since I don't know a daisy from a duck."

Dean snickered and had to dodge another thrown elbow. Those elbows of Sam's could bruise a man.

"Gettin' too dark to see 'em any more tonight," Hatcher concluded brushing his palms together to dislodge dirt. "You boys have a nice night."

The Winchesters went inside with their now-cold food. Sam kept reading – he was on at least his third book of the day – and picked at his food as Dean devoured his Big Mac and both of their fries.

And then they heard the sirens. Firetrucks. If it wasn't something connected to the case, Dean would eat Baby's hubcaps.

Like the good little Hunters they were, they resignedly put their boots back on and headed in the direction of the sirens. They didn't have to go far to be able to see the building that was burning.

It was the museum.

* * *

AN: "Some Kind of Monster" is a Metallica song. Brian was singing Nirvana's "Come as You Are" then Alice Cooper's "He's Back."

Thorazine is a medication that can be used as an antipsychotic and/or a relaxant.

ncsupnatfan: Thank you! They know the name of the monster now, though that's not a lot of help without a way to trap or kill it. But hey, so far, so good for Sam!

Timelady66: They're sticking together! I'm glad you like the shadow monster. It creeps me out, tbh. LOLOL on not showing off calves of steel! hehe

muffinroo: Are you quoting Shrek? If so, I approve! They did peel back some layers of the mystery and Sam is safe...so far...

Colby's girl: Aw, thanks! Badassery and snark are two of my favorite things. Especially when Winchesters are involved. Still no payoff on the weird-looking shadow or Sam feeling like he's being watched but you know it's coming.

Kathy: I so love to hear that you could visualize what was happening! I have all these clues I need to have revealed and it's a challenge to figure out how to do that...like ladies gossiping in a diner. And I have to throw in a red herring or two. I promise (to the best of my ability) you won't have to wait so long for the next chapter!

stedan: Thanks! It's hard to know how well building tension comes across in writing. Your comment about my super power is so sweet! My real super power is probably remembering the most random things but I'll take the compliment with gratitude.

bagelcat1: I love their brotherly dynamic too! And yeah, you gotta feel for the cops who are doing their best but are completely out of their depth. As for Sam remembering how to be the little brother again, it reminds me of my younger sister struggling when I came home from college for the summer. I actually don't mind snakes, though that's partly because there aren't any poisonous ones around here. Also, they're a gardener's friends!

Visionary: Thank you! No, Dean certainly didn't appreciate Sam covering up his injury. I'm glad you're getting updates...and sorry you had to wait so long!