Chapter Fifteen:
Long Fish Tales
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Sam was starting to get a bit impatient the longer Little one stayed sleeping inside the sunken floating thing. He fidgeted with some kelp strands, attempting to weave them into a sheet but found the thin fragile strands hard to work with. They kept breaking on him. He huffed a bit and decided that it was a sign. A sign that he was not yet fit to handle Dean just yet. If he can't even keep kelp strands from breaking... how's he supposed to keep from breaking things even more fragile? He shuddered.
Sam made himself take a deep breath and try again. Moving more cautiously and slowly. Grinning to himself how much better it was working for him. It was a little thrilling by itself, learning something new after all these years. Exercising his mind a bit doing this new task. The only problem was, his sharp claws kept on cutting the strands whenever he turned the whole thing around to get a better angle for the practice sheet of woven kelp.
He stared at his hand, fingers splayed out and claws naturally curving in the water. Dangerous even when he's not holding his hands in attack position. He'd have to do something about his claws. He sighed to himself and at first tried to chew them down a bit. That worked for a few moments but it wasn't quite good enough. He found a good sturdy boulder that was nearly black with red spots that was abrasive feeling to the touch. No doubt due to the pockmarked holes. This boulder must have come from one of the underwater heat vents long long ago. There's several places he knows of around here like that. Where the ground is so hot and glowing that it melts even rocks. Sam loves to stay there when he's tired of the cold. Dean would surely enjoy seeing them at some point soon.
Sam looked to the surface and remembered how much warmer the water was up there and figured Dean would want to be warm down here too. Maybe that would make him feel comfortable enough to not just physically warm up, but emotionally. Not a bad idea.
Sam would have to carry him there, of course. It's a long trip and he's not entirely sure Dean would make it there with his two tiny inexperienced tails. Which means Sam will have to make his hands safe for the Little one.
Sam tossed the boulder from one hand to another, deciding which hand should loose all it's claws. The left seems like a good choice since he's primarily right handed. He gripped the rock in his right hand firmly and began dragging the first two claws over it again and again experimentally, and was glad it was making the pointed sharp edges more dull. Keeping his right hand claws sharp in case a predator came by, and he'd have to show Little one how to properly disembowel it.
Sam himself could simply catch and eat the predator, nearly any predator really, but Little one wouldn't have that option for another thirty to forty years at best. At Sam's size, there wasn't much that was a threat to him. Unless a swarm of sharks attacked him all at once, or a huge pod of killer whales perhaps. But that hasn't happened yet to him. He wouldn't say it could never happen, some animals were starting to act strangely these past few decades. Changing their habits. Probably because of the waters getting warmer and dirtier.
Sam noticed. Of course he noticed. But despite his continuous efforts to clean up the wreckage's and their debris, the job is too big for even him to handle. To be honest, he doesn't know how to better deal with the problem so he does what he can to protect the areas he swims through.
Predators of all kinds are becoming more rare lately, but, that doesn't mean he doesn't have to worry about them at all. He can admit to himself he's gotten lax at keeping himself fit and in shape for a fight.
The only real exercise he gets is burying the big sunken vessel things. The ones that are twice his length, filled with unnaturally angled things the length of his forearm, that spill out tiny things everywhere. Hardly exercising at all really, since he usually took his time with it. Digging the pit and shoving it inside and covering it all up again. Only hard part being trying to keep fish and things from getting stuck inside the mess of metal. Usually shouting at it gets them to disburse for a moment. But fish are stupid. Too small to see his intentions.
That's probably why Dean is being so difficult. Not the stupid part... stubborn, maybe, but never stupid. No, Dean's main problem right now is that he's just too small and fragile. It makes him easily afraid. Every hand gesture seen as a threat display instead of how Sam means it to mean.
No matter. He'll learn and grow. They both will.
Sam's lifestyle became far too easy when it came to hunting for his own food. Kelp never swam away from him and no animal around here could swim faster than even his lazy swats with his hands. Sam's going to have to remember what it was like to actually have to hunt for food. To always be on guard for predators. To teach Little one how to defend himself.
Sam can't rely on himself being around to protect Little one every minute of every day. Much as he plans to, he can't depend on it. Especially if Dean never grows out of his instinctual need to escape the big predator that he sees Sam as.
Strange stuff happens all the time, and Sam has to plan for the impossible. He realized he was slowing down on his claw scraping while he thought about things. He firmed his jaw and got back to work. Taking off the last sharp quarter of each claw so that they were roughly the diameter of little one's fist at the end. Rounded off, but coming to a small enough end to interact with the tiny thing. Nice and safe. The pads of his fingertips were just too wide, and the sharp claws too dangerous. This was a good compromise. He dragged his rounded claws along the tender part of his inner wrist and was pleased to see that there were no marks left behind. Nice and mostly harmless.
Finished with that task, he looked over to the sunken vessel again and leaned towards it slowly to listen inside. Soft snores... still asleep. Huh.
Sam had more time to kill it seems. He fiddled around with the boulder for a moment, grabbing up a few more and making a pile of them. He idly swept his tail along the ocean floor and gathered up numerous boulders of all shapes and sizes and began making little patterns of them in the sand, once the sand settled back down again from uprooting so many rocks from the silt. He had to move slowly for this too, to see what he was doing. Sometimes it would take a short while for the sediments to settle, sometimes the ocean floor was composed of small rocks instead and would settle faster. But nearly every time, he also had to wait for the tiny bottom dwellers to scatter away from him so he doesn't accidentally kill them all with a careless move. Or even just placing his hand on the ground. Sam always moves slower for their sake. Just because he can't see them very well anymore, doesn't mean he'd forgotten they are there. Itty bitty snails, starfish, crabs, minnows. Just trying to live their tiny lives. Sometimes he finds himself caring a whole lot for the little creatures, sometimes, he simply doesn't. He's lived for so long, and seen so many things whither and die... sometimes it's hard to care for something that wont even live half a year long.
Sam tries not to let these thoughts take root too often. Thinking about how long he's been alive and how unfair it is that his young Mer friends had to die along with the rest of their Pod. Life is fragile. Fleeting. Sam's hopeful there's others like him out there, perhaps they simply missed each other in passing. He does like to sleep in round nests in the sand, a shelter of rocks if possible. It's plausible that he was overlooked by a passing Mer or two while he was sleeping.
Sam shook his head. Now that thought would drive him mad if he let it. He can't be over thinking the 'what if's over and over again. He has a 'what now' situation going on instead. As in, what does he do now with this newly formed tiny Mer? Would Dean even live half as long as him? Quiet. He will. He will live a good long life down here. Safe from the surface now. All those lives Dean had lived, the longest was what, not even ninety years! That's just sad. Sam's two century lifespan is over twice that, and he doesn't even feel all that old. Looking at Dean earlier, they could maybe pass for the same age if Sam didn't know any better. Sam counted up the years since that pull started up this last time, and came to the conclusion that Dean was now 24 years old. So young!
It made Sam's heart clench. So very young. He needs Sam's protection, guidance, love. Sam has his brother back, for however long it ends up being. How long would those creatures live in optimal circumstances? Longer than ninety? A hundred fifty? Now that Dean's changed, Sam hopes it much longer. He's not sure he could stand to watch his brother whither and die on him.
The thing Dean was before... he doesn't have a name for it. So much like a Mer, but not. One big difference is the two tails he had. Another is scales and coloration's. All those previous lives, Dean had been one color at a time. Going by the dreams he'd had of him each time. What he could see of his brother. Usually a light hue. Mer's are usually many hues and shapes, but Dean stayed relatively the same color over all with minimal variation from what he can remember. Maybe Sam could use that to make up a name for the creature Dean was before. Not pointing out the tail issue. Dean seemed plenty disturbed about that and it wouldn't be nice to point it out too often. Maybe a more subtle and kind characterization.
One hue... man. Or maybe shorten it down a bit. Hue-man. Human.
Sam tried out the name a few times. Brows lowering as he muttered it silently to himself. Wondering if Dean will ever speak Mer well enough to tell Sam what his old species was called. For now though, Human sounded good enough. For some reason, the name sounded familiar to him, but it was probably just his subconscious messing with his head again.
Sam tried out the name a few more times, looking at the sunken floating thing again. A human vessel. With human things. Human this, human that. The more he said it, the more it seemed to fit.
Sam made another pile out of the pockmarked rocks and boulders, making a small hill with lines tracing out from all the sides like a starfish.
He had a sudden idea for how to interact safely with Little one, that would be a nice fun activity!
Sam took down his pile of boulders and dragged his hand through it, waving it left and right... making a kind of path with them. Sam moved the bulk of the boulders off to the side and made the path longer and more elaborate, with many fake starts and stops. Adding as many boulders as he could find all around the area. Smiling at his creation, he swam a short distance away to gather up more rocks and boulders. Layering them up on top of each other and then leaning sideways to make sure they were tall enough walls. He knew the little human wasn't ready to swim properly just yet. Always scooting around everywhere on his hands and the bends of his two tails. It was adorable.
Still getting accustomed to using his new two tails no doubt. This would be a great way for him to exercise and practice swimming and hopefully be a good bonding experience as well.
Sam wanted Dean to like him. To see that he's got his best interests in mind. That Sam's not an enemy that he needs to escape from or something awful like that.
Sam perfected the little path puzzle and thought about what would be a good incentive for the little human to go through it. If Little one wanted out of the puzzle walls, he'd have to swim up and out at the end, a kind of tall ledge he'd have to swim off of into slightly deeper waters. Sam had to gather up many more boulders to make a fake cliff for Dean to swim off. Of course, it's not like he'll hurt himself even if he went off the cliff blind, but, living above the waters probably conditioned Dean into thinking that. Sometimes dolphins and whales would leap up and out of the water and land back in it awkwardly and complain about it in those whistles and calls. It must be easier to be injured in the air above. Sam's glad he never has to worry about that. No force on Earth can make him leave the ocean if he doesn't want to. That is... no force he knows of... besides the things that killed his parents perhaps... those humans.
Sam was a little depressed again, thinking about his past. He was pretty sure he'd know what to do if those huge death things filled with bad humans came after him. Dive deep and swim hard away from them. Maybe he could ask Dean what to do if that ever happens? Perhaps he knew about the large floating things too? Maybe it was a whole shoal of humans on those vessels?
After all, he was sleeping in a small version right now. Sam would have to figure out how to communicate with Little one to ask him. But that's later. For now, he needs to think about how to teach Little one in a way he understands. Start simple. First step is obviously teaching him how to swim.
Sam was itching to be able to reward his little brother with the Mola Mola when he makes it through the wall path puzzle. Just imagining the happy look in that tiny little face. But... he didn't like the crab from earlier, and the sea grass wasn't as appetizing to him as it is for Sam. Going by the lack of enthusiasm when he ate it.
Little One seemed to like things from his vessel most of all, so Sam poked a finger through the pile they'd gathered the night before and found something shiny and large enough for him to pinch between his fingertips and not break it further. He placed it at the end on the tall cliff. The spot where Little One would be able to see it from anywhere in the puzzle. The end goal.
Sam grinned to himself. If this was as fun for Little one as it was for him, he's sure to love it!
He looked around himself and tried to think what else Little One likes. He likes small areas. He really likes his tiny floating home. Huh, ok, maybe Sam can make something else out of the debris from the wreck. A fake cave perhaps. Like the ones he made for the young Mers awhile ago.
With his left hand's newly blunted fingertips, he trailed his fingers along the white sheet of material that was attached to the long pole that stuck up through the center top of the vessel. It was important to Dean, so he would of course love to have it make up something else. Perhaps a covering for a hole in the ground? No. Uh, what if he used some more of his kelp stores and put them on the sheet and then tied the sheet up around the kelp to make a very large ball? Would Little One like playing on it? It should be safe enough to interact with. A kelp bag as wide as the human is long. Or, Little one could maybe even use it as a bed when he's done playing with it and his big brother?
Sam wondered if he could find more of that material somewhere to work with, since the sheet seemed to be pretty firmly attached to the center pole there. Sam would wait and see how well Dean would take the idea. Maybe Sam could teach him how to play catch. If Little One is smart enough to grasp the concept. Sam's a bit too large to play the same games that Dean had played when he was a young Mer over two hundred years ago. He can't see the colorful fish well enough to identify a single one out of hundreds of similar looking ones. Dean would win every game. Sam would have to take his word for it, of course. Sam smiled sadly at that thought. Irrevocably thinking back to the first, last, and only game Sam was allowed to play with Dean and his dolphin friends.
Best not to relive the saddest day of his life with his brother.
Best to ignore it entirely for now, actually. No sense bringing it up.
Sam perfected the path puzzle before he went back to weaving the kelp sheet he abandoned earlier. Pinning one end of it under a few heavier boulders so he can tug the other lines straight without tearing them up. The weaving went by much faster now, and he lost track of the day.
He heard a soft thump and wondered what caused it, looking towards the vessel and hearing a few more thumps and some vocalizations. Sam grinned widely. Little One is finally awake! He wanted to open it right up and get him out of there, but held himself back. The Little One didn't need to be harassed first thing after waking up, so Sam kept himself from being too excited to start the day and went back to finishing up the sheet. Filling in a few gaps with more strands of kelp.
Little One will let him know when he wants out.
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Dean woke with a start, momentarily forgetting everything that happened yesterday. He'd first felt water being sucked in through his mouth and panicked. Flinging himself up off the bed, and across his room to hit his head on the angled ceiling. The whole room was cockeyed and still despite the debris that started floating up and around, spinning unpredictably in the air surrounding him.
Wild eyes looking down at mutilated legs that flailed around underneath him as he floated in the small cluttered space of his bedroom. Everything bathed in in a sickly yellow hue.
He muffled a frightened shout of alarm and grabbed at his throat as more water was felt being sucked in, down, and out, as his body tried and failed to hyperventilate. Events came back to him slowly as he sunk down to the angled floor again. Lightheaded and confused. Hands waving about in the air to steady himself. For a few seconds, he thought he was floating in air while drowning. Seeing his clothes and things kicked up in the sudden burst of water movement. Images of those videos from astronauts with everything moving around without rhyme or reason. Then, he remembered dying. The most recent time, that is, others were clamoring for attention too but thankfully his mind shut them down right away.
Dean remembered the pitch dark place, the thing he thought of as God and Nature telling him that he could go back to life if he wanted to, but that he'd have to be changed into something new. At the time, he thought it was just breathing underwater, not this level of change.
He accidentally made his legs bend upwards when he kicked out at a floating black shirt that looked like a monster coming at him in the dim yellow light. Looking on in horror at the altered legs and then his toes all splayed out far too wide. A high whine coming out of his mouth at the sight, before his legs and feet curled in underneath himself. As if his very toes were hiding from view. He couldn't help curling into a ball at the sensations that were bombarding him. The sight of everything floating and moving haphazardly, the yellow glow stick was moving too, which was making the shadows all dance about, adding to the confusion.
Dean was trying to bring his breathing under control when he saw that nothing was actually attacking him here. The objects weren't moving under their own power, but the movements of water in a small space kicked them up. The glow stick settling again and helping his eyes adjust to the new state of his room.
He was stunned at the realizations, everything was underwater and he wasn't dead. He finally stopped moving around in a panic. His breaths slowly returning to the new normal. The previous day coming back to him.
He felt himself slid down the angled cabinet to sit on the floor. Legs splayed out in front of him in a way that was the full definition of the word splayed.
Dean put what were his ankles just yesterday together and winced as his feet were now urged out to spread to their limits. Running into his bed and the wall next to him at the same time. The things that used to be his feet now had a diameter of nearly a yard between the widest points when he angled his former ankles outwards to maximize the coverage area. Holding back a keening whine of distress at the state of them now.
Each of his former feet, now flippers he guesses, were about a foot and a half wide, side to side and very long compared to before. About two and a half feet long from where his heel had been to the ends of his long toes. The arch of his feet had grown longer overnight as well, and now that he's gently feeling around with his hands, the bones in his feet were slightly more bendable than before, as if turning to cartilage. Reluctantly checking out his thick leg bones and finding similar flexibility, but still, the joints were the worst offenders for maneuverability. Like a damned stringed puppet.
His feet lined up next to each other now resembled an oval in a way. Almost like a pair of sea lion's fore leg flippers but also a bit like a bat's. Wide, mostly flat, smooth outlined and slowly growing muscle mass and fat stores between the bones so they are less bony skeletal looking than they were yesterday. The toenails were now small flattened claws which was also strange since they weren't at a point yet. He debated finding his toe nail clippers to keep them dull or sharpen into the point they were clearly going for. The whole effect screamed 'swimming mammal' at him, but he refused to admit it. He still wants to see himself as human.
His feet curled in and out again along the floor, his heels no longer making his feet turn 90 degree upright like they used to, and were now laid out flat along the floor from his butt to the ends of his toes. And it didn't take any effort at all to keep it that way. He sighed heavily and frowned.
The feet fins, he reluctantly referred to them in his own head, weren't the only changes. There was a kind of webbing that went from his outermost toes along both sides of his legs on up towards his knees and a bit above. His skin below his waist was starting to turn steadily into scales. So gradually that he couldn't exactly pinpoint where it starts without better lighting and a magnifying glass. What he knew, was that it was around his waist and the outer sides of his hips, and the further down it went, the darker the dappled browns became towards the ends of his feet which were almost totally burnt umber brown. The muscles in his legs too, were less bulgy and more streamlined thanks to the new joint mechanisms. He felt around with his fingers carefully at the new placements of things, trying to remember what a normal human skeletal structure looked like, and what his is now.
That is, if he could keep his legs from moving around too much. His nervousness and anxiety keeping them from being perfectly still.
Seeing these things... instead of... of his old... it was unsettling to say the least. He grimaced as he looked back at his changed form. One hand idly scratching the area around his gills that were coming out between his ribs. Feeling teeny tiny scales there too but not extending out towards his chest... yet. Human skin doesn't do well being underwater for too long, so he almost hopes the rest of him will change too. Probably into something that that thing has. Where it looks like human skin but it's actually scales or, like dolphin skin, or a seal's.
The length of his feet too were drastically elongated, not just the toes. More-so length than width. He bent forward to feel around at the elongated, now bendable, bones that used to consist of his ankle and then leaned further forward to try and trace out where the bones were now. Recalling the internal structure of human feet, and knowing that those long bones that made up the main bulk of the foot inside the arch were now spread out and almost indistinguishable from where his toes had split off to do their own thing. It was getting harder to discern the different bones due to the new muscle mass between and the fatty stores to round and smooth it all out.
His stomach growled. He's gonna need to eat soon. He put that aside till after the body analysis.
The giant had five fins on each side of the tail, and Dean figured that in the evolution from Merman to human, those fins gradually became toes. His toe... claws... looked out of place for a fish, but he's not exactly a fish is he... still warm bloodied. Probably.
His new skin coloration was not nearly as drastic as that giant monster out there. His was more along natural colors found in humans. Light tan to medium brown. The tiny scales that covered the majority of his legs were still slightly itchy and he grazed his clawed fingers down them gently. Seeing a whiff of old skin cells come off from between the new fishy scales. Makes sense. People usually have a thin layer of dead skin cells covering their bodies. It protects people from the elements so new skin cells aren't damaged right away. Something like, 90% of dust is made up of dead skin cells. It's how bloodhounds are able to track people. They follow the skin cell trail. Fuck. Ok. Stop thinking about skin cells.
The only parts that didn't change too much on his legs were the rough patches of skin from his old heel and the ball of his foot. Guessing that most of that was made up of callouses and compacted dead skin cells that all humans have for padding. Thinking about how it was only a matter of time before the dead skin cells were rubbed off and floated away. Or hell, eaten by 'cleaner fish'. Remembering those documentaries he watched about cleaning stations that had animals of all kinds swim into these special areas to be cleaned off by bottom dwellers and fish that get an easy meal without the threat of death. It was an unspoken rule that predators will never feed on the cleaning fish while they are in these areas. A truce and a mutually beneficial meeting.
Dean wondered what that would be like first hand. What those tiny fish would think of their newest 'client'. And of the taste of a former human turned merman skin cells.
Dean wanted to throw up.
Dean was glad that his new scales were at least pretty looking, if they had to be abominations of nature. They were sleeker than yesterday, that was for sure. Dean's legs and feet looked less and less like a horror movie prop, and more like they were supposed to be there, looking like this.
Dean was trying to find the positives in this. He had to live with these. For good or bad most likely. Even if he was somehow able to change back into a person, he doesn't really want to relive that excruciating pain again. At least, not unless it's to be permanently human again after all this is said and done. Maybe it would be interesting to take a look around down here without the need for specialized equipment, like a submarine that still separates the scientists from the nature they're desperate to study up close and personal. People would need like, special certificates, degrees, technology, massive amounts of money from funding and so many other things to go right before they could get this far down and not die. And they still would never be able to touch anything down here. If they brought specimens up, they most certainly would die with the intense pressure change.
Dean had to admit, he was kinda lucky to be down here and still alive. Well, granted, he did DIE but it's not like he stayed dead. He's alive now and that's the point.
He now has a unique situation at his fingertips. If only he wasn't the pet of some gigantic sea monster. One that may or may not eat him alive if he pisses it off. Can't have everything.
Damn he was hungry.
A pang in his gut reminding him it was well past lunch and he hadn't really eaten anything substantial in awhile. Dean was about to instinctively sit up and walk to the kitchen but seeing his feet writhe a bit on the floor almost made him loose his appetite again. Nope. Not walking.
Dean turned to his stomach to half army crawl into the galley and pull himself up onto the angled counter. He pulled out some packaged cereal. He was about to open it when he remember, right. Water. And lifted it to the air pocket above. His legs obsequiously propelled him upwards, and he lightly kicked about to keep himself upright, same as before when he was filming up in the air pocket. Finding the ledge he rested on earlier that had been his book shelf. He sat on it awkwardly again, but his head stayed underwater, looking at the waterlogged box of cereal. The air in the bag wanting to make it float up and out of his hands now that it's freed of the cabinet.
He leaned back a bit sideways, while keeping his mouth underwater just enough to breath. He experimented with taking a water breath, holding it, expelling the remaining water in his mouth just long enough to shove a handful of moist cereal in his mouth and then ducking back underwater to chew and swallow while breathing simultaneously out his nose and lower gills. It worked surprisingly well.
God, his life was fucked up.
Dean decided to eat the food that would turn soggiest this way first. Knowing that they wouldn't last more than a few seconds in the water. He had no problem eating the whole box of cereal in this manner. Frowning when he got to the crumbs that flitted down in the water past him. Picked off by tiny fish that curiously made their way into his ship. He toyed with a few, scattering them about before they came back to eat more of his leftovers.
Dean shoved the disintegrating box into the trash can and locked the lid it up again.
Dean wasn't satisfied yet. Not by a long shot. He found his bagels and those held together a bit better than cereal did underwater. Eating his fill of them, he had one leftover. Putting it back in the bag and making a plan to use it as fish bait.
Yesterday, he knew logically that he could have eaten that raw crab, but the texture was way off. His stomach didn't protest the meat at all, but he guessed that the monster out there thought it did since Dean wasn't thrilled to nibble on it. Giving him something else to eat immediately afterwards.
Dean wondered if the giant was taking notes on what he can and can't eat. If he'll never be offered crab again because of that. Dean frowned. He actually liked crab, on occasion. And coming to terms with his body's new needs... he would probably need to eat crab meat again. He certainly didn't want to eat sea grass 24/7. It was tasteless and slightly slimy. Like old wilting salad without the Ranch dressing.
There was a tremor in the floor and he knew that the giant was up and about too. Dean didn't really want to face it. If he had his way, he'd stay in his ship until help arrived. But, that could be days or even months from now. He didn't have enough food to last months on his own without fish to supplement his diet. Especially if he ate this much for every meal. He sensed that his stomach had grown just a bit in size. He'd have to eat more and more every day.
He knew how to fish normally, but down here, it's not like any of those skills matter. His fishing pole, bobbers, and hooks are just a teensy bit ineffective underwater. Maybe he could catch them with his bare hands... he does have these nifty sharp claws now. But... fish are so damned fast and slippery. Fuck. Well maybe Sea-Godzilla out there will just feed him all the time. Maybe.
It's what owners do for their pets right? Even dogs and cats which are predators that can hunt for themselves get fed and looked after. And Dean is far from a proper predator, even with the addition of these claws. What the hell does he know about practical hunting techniques for mermen?
Dean crawled to the stairs leading up to the deck and rested his hands on the boulder that blocked the entrance. He tried seeing past it but it just looked like open ocean. He could definitely hear the monster out there, but it must be off to the side of the ship. He didn't have windows on the sides below deck. That would have cost extra and he and Bobby were building it up by themselves from the bare basics. His ship was essentially a salvaged vessel that they bought and worked on for years. The bones were still good, but it was as basic as you could get.
Dean felt like crying all over again how quickly it was taken out and sunk. Loosing his first ship before it even saw water under his ownership, sold off because he had to pay for his mother's medical bills. Then loosing his second ship due to a giant monster attack.
Is he just not allowed nice things?
Dean punched the boulder once in frustration. His claws biting into his palms in his fist which pissed him off even more. He can't even make a fist without being in pain?! He shifted his fingers into better position then punched the boulder again. At first to test it out, then again because fuck it. His life was fucking ruined. Fucked up beyond repair like this boat, like his body, fucked up like his future. FUCK IT. Fuck this. Fuck his life! Fuck that Monster! Fuck EVERYTHI-!
His elbow jabs and punches were interrupted when the boulder was pushed down and crunched harshly into the stairwell for just a few seconds. He startled back just before it lifted up and away quickly. Tiny rocks dislodged from its sides as it moved out of sight. A massive clawed finger seen below its heavy bulk scraped along the heavy boulder as it was effortlessly removed.
Dean gaped like a fish at how fast it was taken away and reminded exactly of what... Or rather who was strong enough to do it. That familiar feel of dread came over him at the realization that even though the boulder blocking the entrance was removed, he was far far from being free. His owner was awake and wanting to play with his new pet.
A huge grinning face swung into view from the side and Dean tripped over himself as he backed down the stairs, falling to his ass in his haste. Kicking about wildly at the couple of clawed fingers reach into the hole. Headed right for him.
"No!" Dean yelped and finally made it far enough inside. Heart pounding hard.
The thick fingers barely fit inside, pressing into the stairwell and crunching more of the sodden wood panels and doorway. Pushing against the frames and the stairs before the knuckles caught on his overhead light, ripping it from the ceiling before straightening again and letting it fall down. Finally, after a few more wiggles, the fingers retreated again and Dean saw the smile on that massive face fall slightly. The huge mouth opened and closed as if it wanted to say something. All Dean saw and thought was, 'Sharp teeth, fangs, maw, crunch, serrated canines, chewing, swallow, acid, burning, death.'
Dean shivered in the dark of his bedroom, hiding behind his bed as best he could while still keeping an eye on the beast. It must still be able to see him too because it started to rumble something deafening at him. He clutched his ears and it paused before speaking again. It made a few softer clicks at him as if in apology. Repeating the same rumbled speech, but at a much more manageable level. Softly, like it only now remembered to speak quieter around him.
Dean would have been touched at the consideration if he wasn't so scared that it was going to destroy his ship to get to him.
It's clawed hand came in again hesitantly. Eyebrows lowered. Replaced with concentration as the hand returned with just one pointer finger, digging around and scraping up his stairs even more. Clearly trying to dig Dean out of there gently, but to Dean, was anything but. It retreated again at Dean's sound of distress at the sight, and that face beyond was now a firm frown. It was getting ticked off. It rumbled something at him but Dean was too panicky to discern if it was good or bad. He just knew an order when he heard one.
Dean bit his lip anxiously, waiting for the monster's next move. He knew that a good pet should go out to their owner when it calls, but fuck that. Dean didn't stay in here to be stubborn or bravely defiant, he was in here because he didn't want to fucking die... again. Or at the very least, he knew for a fact he's gonna get manhandled to hell and back if he goes out there.
The claw on the probing finger tapped at the deck just outside of the hold's entrance, making deep dents and holes in the floor boards from the large sharp claw. It was demanding he comes out. Right here. Right now. It was so strong just a few taps were enough to do damage to the reinforced hardwood deck floor. What could they do to Dean's squishable body without even trying?
He tucked himself further between his bed and the wall in a very uncomfortable spot for his elongated form. But at least he'll live a few minutes longer with some semblance of dignity before he's dragged out by his neck like an unruly kitten.
"Please don't." he whispered. Waiting for the moment of attack, the complete destruction of his ship. Just to get him out of his safe spot and into those dangerous hands.
.
Sam was confused. First Little one knocked on the rock to get out, then it looked scared and is now hiding from him. Not wanting out at all.
Was it something he said? All he said was 'good morning' and ask if he wanted some food. That shouldn't be too terrifying right?
"It's ok, Little one. I'm not gonna hurt you." Sam cooed softly. Putting a single finger inside this time so he could still see past the end at the little thing inside. Then, making sure the hole was wide enough for Little one's new body. Perhaps he'd grown more in his sleep and simply couldn't make it through the entrance anymore? Or there might be debris in the way of the exit? Sam wiggled his finger around, making it a pinch wider to be accommodating for Little one. Pulling his hand back out and frowning in concentration, trying to figure out what the problem was. Why he's refusing to leave.
"Come on out." Sam cajoled. Tapping at the white ground in front of the entrance. He tapped a few more times with his claw, sheepishly smiling at the dents he's putting in the floor with just those taps. Ok, he'll have to be even more careful.
Why did it all have to be so fragile?
His brother's new delicate body, the vessel he was in, the objects that he'd made, but most of all, the trust that was the most fragile thing of all. Sam sighed heavily and leaned back again. He could have easily taken the top right off of the vessel to get to Little one, but that would just terrify him. And, it would mean that Sam didn't have a safe place to store him when he was sleeping.
Sam waited a bit longer, but it looked like Little one was stubborn. "Come out. It's alright." he said a bit stronger than before. Maybe he didn't say it clear enough before. Or smiled encouragingly enough.
Waiting wasn't his strong suit when dealing with sentient beings. Dolphins and whales were smart enough to get his meanings. He knew for a fact that Little one knew more than those. Far more intelligent. So his pleas should have been getting through to him. Been understood. Sam crooked a few fingers in the universal symbol of 'come here' and still he was ignored.
It was honestly getting to be a bit frustrating. Sam wanted to show him what he made for him. To prove he's safe and fun to be with... but he can't exactly show that if he's seen as the enemy all the time. If he's never given a chance.
Sam huffed off to the side and stretched out his body away from the vessel again. Wrapping his wing fins around his sides like he'd done before to show that he wasn't trying to appear big and intimidating. It might work. He hadn't really cared about accidental threat displays for awhile now. His wing fins might be seen as a threat somehow. It takes a bit of effort to keep them tucked in instead of waving about behind himself, helping keep him facing the right directions in the constantly moving ocean. He was sitting anyhow, so the wing fins weren't required right now.
Sam didn't need to go eat again for at least a few days, his breakfast was quite large so he was good to just sit here and stare and wait. And wait... and wait.
Little one stayed put, if anything, he seemed to be growing more fearful going by the tiny sounds that escaped out of the vessel.
After half an hour, he tried speaking again. Nothing important really, just talking about himself. What life was like on a daily basis. How funny dolphins can be when he runs across a pod. He didn't want to get into too heavy of a topic. Just talking to hopefully get Little one used to his voice.
He found himself using his hands to show what he was talking about, and could see that Little one was finally starting to uncurl from behind that flat fluffy thing. Figuring that it was probably uncomfortable for even him to be jammed into such a small space.
Sam pretended not to notice that he was now sitting on top of it, his tiny body facing sideways while his head was turned in Sam's direction. The fidgeting in those little limbs as he finally turned a bit more fully towards him. Sam's smile came back and he decided now that he got his attention, he should start at least one of the lessons he was planning. First, teaching Little one how to speak intelligibly.
Sam paused in his speech for a moment and grinned again. Starting over with clear single words as he lifted up his hand, pointing at it and repeating the word for it. Then pointing to his fingers and wiggling them for good measure. Informing Little one what those are called too. He was tickled that he saw those tiny adorable fingers playing along on his own little lap. He had to keep it to himself that he noticed and thought it was cute. Moving along, Sam told him what arms are called, claws, face, nose, mouth, eyes and labeling things all over himself within easy viewing distance. When it came to showing off Sam's tail, he hesitated. He'd need to sit upright and Little one might not have the best angle to view him. Sam slowly, ever so slowly, pushed up with his hands so that he was able to bend back slightly to point to his chest, stomach and waist. His wings were pulled forward and identified next and when he didn't hear any sounds of fear from the movements, he turned to his side and slowly brought over the good side of his tail. Too far to see little one's face anymore from this distance, he hoped he was still watching and able to see.
Sam then turned to his other side and sighed to himself, pointing out the ruined hip fin and identifying what a shark bite looks like, turning again to show off the other circle of scars on the back side of his tail, repeating the word shark a few times. Making biting motions with his mouth. He then turned slowly back around to face the vessel again and lean forward.
"That was how you died." He said softly. Sam waited for some kind of reaction but only heard a few thumps of movement. He peered in a bit better and saw that Little one was sitting at the bottom of the tunnel. Much closer than he was before. Relatively speaking for a being that was smaller than his hand.
Little one looked startled that Sam was able to focus in on his face again. Tiny hands going to the claw marks he'd accidentally left in the entrance, and looking like he obviously wanted to retreat further inside again. Sam leaned back, placatingly raising a hand to show he wasn't about to suddenly lunge forward at him. It made Dean's posture stiffen at first, then relax a bit when no other movements came after. Sam took that as an invite to continue. He abandoned the single words again since he ran out of things to identify in the immediate area.
He had tried to catch and identify local fish for Dean, but the very few he saw were simply smushed between his fingers before he could show them off. That would send the wrong message to the Little one perhaps. He settled for describing actions instead, but was also limited in that he did not feel comfortable enough to swim out away from the ship the necessary distance to identify the various swim techniques he uses.
Sam gave up. He would talk about those later when he could trust Little one enough not to try and escape again. Sam sighed and started in with just talking to him again.
"I got these wounds when a shark attacked me. I was a kid at the time and I had just seen my parents... dead. They were being taken away on large floating things." Sam sniffled a little, looking away. Too heavy of a topic. He started over again. Beginning his story with his earliest memories. Of him and his big brother playing around, their parents, the area he called home, and most of all, how much he loved his older brother. Respected him. Looked up to him. Appreciated him. Everything. How much he learned from his older brother and parents. His voice getting excited that he was finally getting to the important bits. Sam figured he'd have to repeat the lessons a few times, especially once Little one starts to actually understand him, but, it doesn't hurt to repeat it.
Little one must not have been able to see his hand motions that accompanied the story, because he had moved even closer to the entrance to sit sideways and stare out at him as he spoke.
Most of the time, Sam would point to something and repeat what it's called for his benefit. If he really was picking up on what things are called. Repeating them every once in awhile and hiding his smile when it looked like Little one was sometimes nodding along in understanding. Sam was elated but couldn't stop now. Not when he was looking at him with more curiosity and less fear. Sam leaned on his good side and toyed with the ruined fin as he spoke. How the day started out normally, and how his big brother invited him to play with his friends.
Here, Sam couldn't really hold it together as good as he hoped. His eyes started tearing up and he half sobbed through the story. After 200 years you'd think he'd have gotten over it...
Sam frowned and continued, without looking at Little one at all because he didn't want to stop. Didn't want to make him feel like he was to blame for any of it. Dean saved him. Gave up his life to save him. Dean had no choice but to leave Sam alone... for all this time. Sam paused after he'd told Little one what happened that day. Taking a moment to breathe and calm down. He didn't say Dean's name at all however, he just said, 'my brother' instead. Not wanting to freak out the Little one. Waiting for the right time.
He reached over and picked up a flat rock and continued his story. Talking about how he packed up the things from the nest. Mimicking how he used to carve and shape knives and his various weapons and tools. The day he moved out and on his own.
Here the story became easier to tell. Occasionally he'd glance down just to make sure Little one was still there and listening. Each time he'd get a little head nod for him to continue. Sam would grin and look away right after, every time. A bit self conscious at finally having someone that he can talk to that wasn't a dolphin or whale. His odd conversations with the Merkids from ages ago didn't exactly count, since most of what he was doing was eavesdropping.
Sam knew he couldn't just talk about 200 years of his own history, so he stuck to the important events at first. If he had questions, he could ask them. Probably. Hopefully.
For now, it looked as though he was content to just sit and listen. He might not be able to understand much at all. Content to simply listen to the sound of Sam's voice. It would have to do for now. It was progress. Little one wasn't trying to escape, even though Sam had his eyes off of him more and more. Almost testing the waters between them. It was another small win, and Sam will take it.
Sam used his hands a lot more often as he spoke, but at a fair distance, of course. Little one was still nervous when they swooped in too close to him. Sam wished he could convey some elements of events, but nothing in the surrounding area was helpful in talking about the creatures of the deep. There wasn't much around here besides rocks, sand, and the kelp and grass. If there were other small fish, Sam couldn't see them too clearly where he sat. he usually had to lay on his belly and look hard.
As one sided as this conversation was, it appeared to be helping. Not just Little one but himself too. There was a lot of his own history that he never got a chance to talk about with anyone. Most of his life, in fact. He had to take a break when his voice was getting hoarse. Coughing a bit off to the side. Making it obvious that it's sound level and his movements were unintentional. Still, Little one flinched back and inched his way further into his vessel. Sam couldn't hide his disappointed frown fast enough and that just made Little one sneak further inside.
Sam turned to the side away from him and sighed to himself. It couldn't be that easy. He told himself that trust takes time. And even more time considering their unique circumstances. It will be fine.
"Are you hungry?" Sam asked suddenly, noticing the mound where he'd buried the Mola Mola.
Little one's face turned to where Sam was indicating but didn't see what he was referring to. Nor likely to understand what those words were. Sam quickly uncovered the large fish and held it in the palm of his hand, it took up nearly his whole palm, and would nearly be as long as Little one had been before he changed.
Sam pointed to it and said slowly, "Mola Mola" and he swore that his tiny eyes lit up.
"Mola Mola." Little one repeated in perfect Mer.
.
Dean laughed out loud. Who would have guessed that the name for that fish would span species. Humans called it a Mola Mola too! It took Dean far to long to realize that he wasn't speaking English just then. That he was in fact speaking in chirps and growls. All through the giant's monologue, he could almost pick up words. The intentions were becoming clearer and clearer to him. Going by the preschool method of point and talk, it became obvious that the giant was trying to teach Dean his language. Ridiculous notion, but, he can't argue results.
Dean copied along now that he was getting the hang of it. Only remembering just now that he had chirruped when he was recording his message to Bobby just last night. Fuck. Was he already loosing his own native language down here? Would he just forget how to speak English?
He cleared his throat and held up his own hand, identifying the fingers, the major bones in his body. The objects that were around him. That damn near foreign sound kept coming out here and there as he spoke. He growled to himself and tried again. This time speaking English the whole way through. He sighed in relief that he could still do that much. That he wasn't totally lost to the world down here. A world he only just entered yesterday thanks to this being.
Dean's attention shot back up to the being in question when it clicked at him.
The giant then smiled wide and pointed at his chest and said the same thing over and over and looked at Dean expectantly. The giant creature already identified his chest, heart, gills, and ribs so this word and context was probably referring to something completely different. Dean wasn't quite sure if that was the name that he called itself as in species wise, or if it was his own personal name. Do Mers have names? He pointed at the giant and repeated what he heard, making the giant inordinately happy. Almost clapping his hands but at the last second stopping before they made contact. A sheepish smile on that huge face. For what, Dean had no idea. Maybe it would have been too loud for him to hear? Probably. That was considerate of him to spare little ears.
Dean said the word again pointing up at the giant, then to himself and said, "Human." Get the species identity out of the way first he supposed.
The giant looked at him quizzically for a long moment, calculatingly. Almost like the giant was already familiar with the name, but had heard it wrong. Dean was starting to feel even more worried at the long pause before the giant said, "Yes, Hue-man." Enunciating the two syllables as their own words. "Human." The contraction sliding out better at each repetition. "Human... Hue-man...Humin. Human. Human, Dean."
Dean's jaw dropped.
Wait.
No way. No fucking way.
Dean backed up further into his ship's hold and felt himself get a bit dizzy. How the fuck... how did it know his name? It knew his name? What the hell? Was it stalking him? Absurd. Did Dean say it in his sleep or something? No. He didn't sleep in that creature's presence. He pretended to, sure, but he wasn't actually asleep. Besides that, no one ever told him that he ever talked in his sleep before. And saying one's own name in sleep is a bit rare anyway right? This is so messed up.
What the fuck is going on here? How did it know his name?
It's gotta be a coincidence right? That Dean heard what he wanted to hear instead of what he said to the monster. His own mind's translation fucking things up. He tried again. He had to make sure it was just a fluke or some mistake on his part. He forced himself to get within easy eyesight of it and said again while putting his hand flat on his own chest. "Human."
The monster made that confused face again shook his head slowly. Long hair moving in the currents. Saying a word Dean had heard a lot in the last day and only now realizing what it meant, "No." it said slowly. It then pointed a huge clawed finger back down at him. "Dean." He emphasized more than shouted. Still, despite the soft tone of gentle correction, it sounded loud and jarring to Dean's ears.
It was now Dean's turn to say "No." and to just deny what he was hearing. Thinking that he finally lost his mind. That must be it. He's crazy. He only thought he drowned and turned into a freaking Mermaid and was talking to some Cthulhu bitch in the deep. He probably was thrown overboard yesterday or whenever and swallowed too much sea water. He's dreaming. Dehydrated. Hallucinating. That's it. This can't be real. He washed up somewhere and is having a fever dream. Wake up. Wake up! This is not real!
Dean didn't know he was talking out loud until he heard the monster ask, "What... not real?"
Dean shot a finger up at the monster. "YOU! You are not real!" and was about to storm back inside the ship's hold when he ran his webbed foot into the doorway. "Mother fucker!" He cursed and tried to hug his foot to his chest but it bent far to easily. Moving far too high. He shoved his foot away again, looking around at his room. "This isn't real. It's not. Why am I thinking that any of this is real? It's absurd!"
The monster was heard creeping closer. A soft tapping on the outside of the hull.
"Go away!" Dean screamed at it and the monster jolted, claws scraping a little on the hull. Leaving gouge marks behind.
"Sorry." It muttered and clicked and moved back. The tone of voice, if rumbles and chirps could be called a proper 'voice', sounded like it was both excited to be communicating more complicated sentences, and anxious about what it's hearing. The eventual resigned sigh coming through loud and clear as Dean moved ever deeper into his tilted sunken ship.
Dean had to process this. Had to think things through logically. Coming up with random memories and thoughts. Recognizing that a few of these memories weren't even from this lifetime. They were from his other lives.
Right. Like actual reincarnation was real too. What a joke. Horseshit. What an imagination his delirious mind has? Dean decided to let a few fake memories come, but they weren't entirely helpful.
That alone could prove them to be real. Because when has anything been easy for him? It would make perfect sense that he was a looser in more than one life. His ego took a beating.
Regardless, he sat in the ensuing silence, stewing on the ideas of this being just the most recent life in a long line of past lives. Where did they all start anyway? Memories of how some of his other apparent lives started came to the fore. Going back decades and then a century. Stretching his mind even further back, 150 years, 170... 200 years ago. Fuck. The 1800's? God that seems like an unreal number when he thinks about it. He put aside the numbers and logistics of time, to focus on how he experienced it instead. Forget famous events that happened, what happened to him. What did he see, think, feel, do. Experience.
Dean's mind went back as far as it's ever been, entertaining the notion that this might not all be the bullshit his skeptical side is saying it is. Dean quieted everything and ignored the sounds of worried and sad sighs and murmurs going on outside.
First clear thought to come forward in this very early life, was the confusing sight that greeted young eyes. Why he wasn't seeing people in different colors that you'd typically find on a rainbow instead of on humans?
Wait, was he just projecting at this point? Not remembering the actual past but altering how he could see the world going forward from today? Thinking about how confusing it could be to no longer see people as anything besides blue, yellow, green, and red? Was he really here and now? Only now his mind is altering to fit his current situation and adapting to think of this monster and it's kind as fucking normal? To forget humanity as a whole now that he's stuck here forever?
God his head hurt.
He was given just a few silent minutes before the monster spoke up again. "Dean? You ok?" then after another long pause, it sounded like it was nervous now. "Little one? You uh... ok?"
Dean rubbed his fingers through his hair in frustration. How the hell was he able to understand it now? The clicks, whistles, growls and chirps? Melding into one another to form it's speech?
There's no way he learned an entire language from one monologue. No fucking way.
Dean heard some more movement out there and gasped in a deep lungful of water when a chunk of de-boned fish... apparently Mola Mola, was nudged into his stairwell.
"Dean... or uh, Little one. Please eat." the monster said slowly. Keeping his words simple even though Dean was understanding a bit more and more. It backed off a few feet, and then a pinch of kelp was placed on top of the chunk of meat. A pinch for it, was a big bundle for Dean. It half filled up the stairwell. "Please eat." It repeated to him and shuffled off a bit. "I sure hope he eats. He's probably starving." Dean heard it mutter as it turned away. Surprise painting his face at understanding not just the repeated words it taught him earlier, but the sentences that followed. Words, syntax, sentence structure to make the overall meaning clear.
How could he learn a language that doesn't get more foreign than this? It would be like suddenly understanding dogs, birds, and lizards from hearing them bark, chirp and hiss for a day. It doesn't work like that. People aren't that fast at learning languages. Cat owners might get the tone of their pet's meow's right, but not at all the full meaning of it. If there is one. Who's to say this sea monster is even speaking with its own language. Maybe it just picked up different sounds from all manner of sea life and is repeating them, and Dean's delusional mind is trying to make sense of it all.
Dean suddenly turned the thought on it's head, remembering in startling clarity that life he'd lived as a dog, owned by Robert in Bobby's past life. Dean knows what Dog's say when they bark, growl, and howl. Ok. So that's a bad example. But for normal fucking human beings, understanding animals is unheard of beyond sci fi. He should not understand Sea Monsters.
He needs a drink.
Dean laughed bitterly as he took a deep breath at that thought, and felt the water slide through his throat down to his lungs and out between his rib gills. Fuck. Right. He's gonna have to swim in a vat of alcohol to actually drink any of it now. What a way to die. Dean's no scientist, but he's pretty sure that breathing alcohol would kill him since there's not much oxygen to be gained from it. Never-mind the burning it would cause all over, and the alcohol poisoning that would happen even if he somehow survived the no oxygen thing.
He's gotta focus. Too many thoughts running through his head.
Dean didn't hear it outright swim away so he knew it wouldn't be safe to leave. Even if he wanted to. Which he certainly doesn't. It may not be safest in his ship, seeing how small it was compared to the monster, but it was all Dean had to call his own. And thankfully, it seems as though the monster is at least respecting that boundary. That is, after this morning's rude finger fucking it did to his ship. Dean's sure that repairing the stairs is gonna cost him. He looked down at his altered feet. Fuck. That's right. No more shoes. No more stairs. He put his face in his hands and clawed at his scalp.
"Fuck." he added again for good measure. A general description for his... well... for everything.
The sea monster was heard settling down around the ship again, resting on the sand. It seemed to be considering its next move, or, going over what it said. Dean couldn't tell from in here.
Dean was just happy to be granted peace, and spent the next hour on his bed, going over his own old ass memories. Trying to suss out if this was real or not. All the pinch tests came back positive. He could feel pain everywhere he pinched his skin... or scales as the case may be. He started to hum his favorite songs to himself on a loop to help him think and was jolted when he heard the monster hum along too. But thankfully, it wasn't the next verse, it was what he'd already repeated a few times. Learning it from Dean and not just suddenly knowing it like it somehow knew his damned name.
Dean hummed a bit louder, testing how well it could hear him out there and after a moment of hesitation, it hummed along with the part that it knew. Halting when Dean got to a new song he hadn't sung. Proving somewhat that Dean wasn't dealing with a psychic Merman. There's a relief at least. Then it would have found out about his message in a bottle last night.
Dean stuttered in his song at that thought. Scared it was faking being not psychic but it just hummed along solo, oblivious to Dean's absence. Showing no sign that it just now found out about the message that was hopefully topside and transmitting.
One thing he doesn't have to worry about. A psychic monster. Bad enough it's over 200 feet long with the ability to change human's bodies with just a transfer of blood. Or that it's intelligent, intuitive, and ridiculously dangerous.
The Mer-monster started to alter the song the longer Dean was silent, into one Dean hadn't heard before. It almost sounded like a whale song. The monster said in a slight crooning warble once it was done, "This was my mother's favorite song." It announced, almost to itself. It started it over again and Dean felt the vibrations in his ship when its voice got louder than a hum and whisper.
Dean laid back on his bed. Thinking. Listening to the song repeat a couple of times before the deep rumbling tones moved onto another one that was very similar, but Dean could tell the difference after a minute. It stretched out each tone to sound almost exactly like a humpback whale's call. Finishing that one it said, "My old pet's song. She left. A long time ago." Again, to himself in that sad worn out voice. Worn out because of how much it spoke earlier and how much it was serenading to his new pet. Each song afterwards was getting a bit more rough and somehow more beautiful. Dean wiped his eyes when the emotion was becoming stronger with each song. The occasional comment it made was starting to break his heart a bit.
"This is a song I sang when the others died. I miss my friends." The giant whispered and then sang a song that was so sad... so deep that it rumbled everything at the low notes. Dean ignored the few things that fell off of his dresser and cabinet. Listening to the pain it was feeling. Reliving. Once that song was done, there was silence. A stray breath quivered outside. The soft shuddering gasp of someone trying not to cry aloud. A long time passed where Dean laid still, listening.
It softly spoke as if it was facing away from Dean's ship now. Dean was finding it easier and easier to understand the words. Something in his head clicking more and more, getting in tuned with the language that was being spoken outside.
He suspected the new story wasn't really for his ears, but he heard it anyway. Like... the giant needed to get it off his chest. Even if it didn't believe Dean could hear and understand everything. Which, in all honesty, he couldn't, but he tried to at least.
In a raspy, yet rumbling voice, it lamented. "I couldn't save them. There was a sickness that hit that pod of Mers and I couldn't do a thing to help. I found out that the very young had died first. When I ran into the pod I was so happy to have finally found my own kind. After a hundred years... and they were dying. One by one. They were dying. The elders drove me back, but I followed them at a safe distance, leaving presents and food for the young adults to find. Only half my size then, barely longer than blue whales. I could see the fin rot on all of them. A spot here and there. But, infecting them all. I wanted so badly to speak with them. Any of them. But, the elders were twice my size and more. They drove me back for my own good... and theirs, I guess. They knew they were too weak to fight me if I wanted to. I was just so happy to see others like me..."
The giant trailed off for a long time. "I found out that the young ones, my friends, had died when I saw the line of sand hills after the pod had eventually moved on from the area. I was so sad... I couldn't stay. I swam away like a coward and only came back days later. By then... it was horrible. There were only two left, but both were beyond any help I could give. You either heal yourself of fin rot or you die." It paused, a hand running down his side where the ruined hip fin was. Dean wondered if he experienced it too. The voice broke his musing, "There were bodies..." he stopped again. Sniffling hard. Voice wrecked. "I couldn't even bury them. Finish burying others. I had to watch them slowly fall into madness. Insanity. I couldn't even give them a dignified death. So I left. I know that it was originally caused by those floating things. My friends. My friends had talked about how it started when some of them ate bad tasting fish that swam in circles around one of those sunken floating things. The waters were cloudy with it. They should have known to stay away. They should have known."
Dean moved from his bed to the entryway again, shoving the fresh fish food further inside and covering it up since there were small fish nibbling at the meat now. It didn't appear to be loud enough for the giant to hear him move because he continued.
.
"That's who killed our parents. My parents." A shift of Sam's head in Dean's direction at the correction. Remembering how badly he reacted to his old name. Trying to think of how to break it to Dean about his past. How to go about it gently. "They died when we were still nestlings. My brother was as large as his dolphin friends, I was only as big as a juvenile." Sam repeated the story, only this time with bigger words. More details than the first time around since Dean seemed to be understanding more and more. Maybe he'll understand more complex thoughts? Sam had to get the important part out. Dean had to know that the land up there was dangerous to them now.
.
"They're dangerous. Killers." The wrecked voice of the giant went hard and his head turned towards Dean's ship. "Floating things killed them. I don't know why or how. But I had vowed to bury them when they sink. Make it so that my home is safe from those killers. All of them. But..." He paused again. Looking up at the surface. "They keep coming. They keep coming." he said in a small scared voice.
"As big as I am... I'm afraid... that they're stronger than me. I am trying but, I am alone. My whole family died. My parents... and my brother. Left me alone." The giant fidgeted a little with his fingers. "But. I felt a pull. It would start and stop many times in my life. And each time I felt drawn to it. But, it wasn't really strong enough until... until two days ago. The pull was the strongest I'd ever felt in hundreds of years. I had to go see it. I had to find it. I had to know what that pull was drawing me towards." The giant said, inching slowly closer to the ship.
"What I found? What I found changed everything. My brother came back to me." The giant looked back to Dean. Hope clearly welling inside him. The big Merman couldn't keep it back any more. "You, you're my older brother, Dean. I would recognize you anywhere. I saw you in my dreams. I felt your essence pull mine for nearly my whole life. I think... I knew you'd be back. Somehow. That I had to come find you. And I did. I found you after all these years. Every time the pull stopped I hoped it would start again. And it did. And it led me to you. I followed it straight to you." He looked down at Dean again with thick tears in his eyes. "I missed you, Dean."
.
At length, Dean found his voice, "What's..." he croaked, then clearing it of the rough emotion clogging his throat. He called up loud enough to be heard over his thundering heartbeat. "What's your name?"
The giant Mer smiled softly. "Sam."