Time felt as slow as molasses in January. The whole dreary, cold room was consumed by Dean's suffering. All the while, Sam shouted over his shrieks, breathless I'm right here, Dean and It's going to be okay and Try to lie still.
It was a lie, of course: he wasn't any closer to slipping out of the ropes than when he first woke up. Whatever the Naga had done to his brother it was having a devastating impact on Dean's body. Sam refused to contemplate the creature's departing sentiment: I wanna see if you think the same thing when it's your lover. Sam refused to believe the Naga had infected Dean, even if all evidence pointed to the contrary. A gift, she'd said. But Sam knew from personal experience not every gift was a blessing.
A low ringing sprung in Sam's ears and finally, his throat raw and throbbing, he grew silent. Sam banged his already damaged head on the pipes, hissing between his clenched teeth. There had only been a handful of times in his life where he felt weak, and this was one of them. Helplessness beat at his chest like the wings of a caged black bird. The knowledge that Dean was so close but entirely unreachable tore at his stomach, his lungs, his throat. He jerked violently against his bindings, fury and horror blinding him to the damage he was inflicting to his chaffed wrists. Blood drippled onto the damp concrete.
Abruptly, Dean's screams cut off.
Sam turned over his shoulder, yelled hoarsely, "Dean? Are you okay?"
Silence ate the room whole. Only Sam's panting breaths saturated the space.
"Dean, say something!"
Stillness triumphed. A scuttling, dark thought sliced into Sam's brain. Had Dean passed away? The mere thought widened like a knife wound, spilling panic through Sam's veins.
"Dean, say something! Please! Dean!" Sam shouted, "Come on, man!"
A groan drew Sam's attention away. Mateo's head lolled back, exposing the thick rolls of his chubby neck. His bound hands were clasped in his lap. His fingers sluggishly coiled and uncoiled on his thigh.
"Don't move," Sam advised. "Mateo, don't move."
"Chingar," Mateo moaned, smacking his lips. "Donde estamos?"
"Hey, open your eyes." Sam said. "You need to open your eyes, Mateo."
Mateo mumbled incoherently, his sweaty face wrinkling in discomfort.
"Mateo!" Sam shouted. "Wake up!"
Mateo's eyes fluttered open, his vision unfocused and hazy. The candlelight provided an arch of light across Mateo's face, obscuring half his body in shadow. From here, Sam noted the blood crusting his temple, the start of a sickly blue bruise. The Naga hadn't bothered to tie the security guard up as efficiently as himself. She probably hadn't thought the man was much of a threat. Mateo squeezed his eyes shut, his lips curling into a grimace.
"Hey, stay with me."
Mateo opened his eyes, rotating his head back and forth, observing his surroundings. Rapidly, his expression turned into that of blind terror.
"Where? Where are we?" He gasped, spinning his attention back to Sam, his eyes darting down the ropes over Sam's body. He looked down at the ropes on his own ankles and wrists. Trembles raced down Mateo's arms. "What?"
"Hey, hey," Sam called. "Look at me. Stay calm. I will get you out of here."
The security guard reached up and experimentally patted his brow, drawing his bound hands back with a sharp hiss. "Shit, dude. What happened?"
"I'll explain later. Do you think you can crawl over here? I think I can untie your wrists since you're not bound to anything."
Mateo looked at him incredulously, "What drugs are you on? You're tied up, too."
"Yeah, I know. I'm just really good at knots. I was, uh, a Boy Scout growing up."
Just then, they both heard a bizarre sound emanating from the shadows. Eyes widening, Mateo squinted at the inky blackness. Vulnerable from his forward-facing position, Sam's muscles tightened. He swallowed down his anxiety in a quick gulp of air, turning his head to call behind him.
"Dean? Is that you, man?" Sam said. His voice echoed. The voice that bounced back was surprisingly level-headed and strong. "Say something."
The only sound that replied back was a low dragging, like something heavy moving towards them. Terror was a fat, chalk-white snake in his chest. It writhed slowly, as pure as innocence and razor sharp.
"Dean?"
A clatter. An object had been knocked down and shattered. The tingling sound was foreign against the silence.
"Oh my God." Mateo gasped. From his point by the door, Mateo's gaze was locked onto something behind Sam. His tan face grew pale and his jaw fell open.
All the saliva disappeared from Sam's mouth. He heard the slithering again, drawing closer. He knew what it was before he even turned his head.
"Oh, fuck," Mateo squeaked. He squeezed his eyes shut, his lips moving with a religious fervor. "Padre nuestro, que estas en el cielo. Santificado sea tu nombre. Venga tu reino. Hagase-"
Sam felt a distinct presence beside him. He slowly turned his head. Dean was mere inches from his face.
Sam gasped. Dean blinked.
"D-Dean?" Sam croaked.
Sam stared into Dean's predatory gaze. His sibling's face was void of emotion. A blank slate. Cold and animalistic. His pupils were not round. They were stretched lengthwise, slits of black in familiar green eyes. Sam fell into Dean's eyes, all the way through them, casting hooks from deep within himself, into the holes of those unnatural pupils, trying to reach for the darkness writhing just underneath. Dean's eyes shifted minutely down Sam's body. The connection between them was momentarily severed.
"Dean, it's me," Sam stammered. "It's Sam."
Dean slowly cocked his head to the side, eyes roving down to his chaffed wrists pressed against the pipe. Sam didn't dare look away from his brother's face, but other parts of Dean came into his field of view in pieces: Dean's lower body had been transformed into a massive serpent. The color was a spray of orange and red, intricately patterned. Sam's face grew pale with shock. She had really gone and done it, hadn't she? That bitch had really turned his brother into a monster.
Dean licked his mouth, moistening his plump bottom lip. Sharp teeth glistened in his too red gums.
"Dean, are you there?" Sam whispered. "Are you still with me?"
Dean shimmied down towards the ground, bracing one hand against Sam's thigh, squeezing the meat so tightly Sam gasped in pain. Dean's black claws bit into Sam's jeans, unraveling the worn denim. Dean's gaze zeroed onto the small space between Sam's ass and the pipe and before Sam knew it, Dean had tilted his head down, inches away from the floor. Dean stretched out his tongue and licked the dirty concrete, whisked his tongue around the place Sam's blood had fallen. Sam's eyes widened. He squirmed. Dean's hand squeezed Sam's thigh punishingly rough, disrupting Sam's struggling. Sam grew stiff in his terror.
Dean licked experimentally at Sam's knuckles. Sam bit his bottom lip to keep from screaming. Dean's mouth enclosed on Sam's exposed thumb, sucking greedily at the blood staining the digit. His head bobbed up and down, finding more fingers, licking ravenously at the gore smeared around the rope.
Sam fought the urge to struggle. Like a mouse caught in the grasp of a careless housecat, he did not want to draw attention to himself. Mateo's prayers echoed grotesquely in the room, accompanied by wet smacking and slurping. Dean abruptly tore his mouth away and shimmied back. When Dean lifted his face to him there was a gray smear of dirt on the top of his nose. His lips were wet with blood.
"Dean," Sam breathed quietly. Dean's inhuman eyes shifted over his face. "It's me Sam. Don't you remember me?"
Dean tilted his head down, pressed his face against Sam's throat. Sam felt his heartbeat pound against Dean's lips. Teeth pushed against the long, tight tendon of his neck. A low hiss snaked its way from Dean's chest. Dean inched his hand across Sam's thigh, landing on his groin. He pressed down on Sam's limp cock through the denim. Sam shivered at the invasive feeling. When Dean's fingers clamped down like a vice, Sam snapped his mouth shut, grinding his teeth together in pain.
Dean licked his lips, breathed in, and let out the air with a sigh so deep and long that it seemed to draw on hidden reserves of air in his body.
"Dean, don't hurt me," Sam whispered shakily. "I'm your brother."
Dean's tongue darted out, licking up Sam's throat, curling at the base of his ear. Dean hissed again.
"Dean," Sam tried one last time, fully convinced his brother was totally out of his mind. With his death shining bright in his eyes, Sam managed to whisper, "I'm Sammy."
At the name, something snapped in Dean's psyche. His whole expression changed: the animalistic blankness of his face shifted to a furrowed brow, tense lips, and searching eyes. Dean let go of Sam, shifting back.
"Sam," Dean breathed after a moment. But it sounded more like Ssssssam than Sam. Although Dean was arguably more in his mind, there was something distinctly different about his body language. He wasn't freaking out, for one. In fact, he was peering down the length of his massive lower half with something like mild pleasure.
"Oh, fuck, what did she do to you?" Sam rasped.
Dean blinked, turning back to him. He shrugged. "She turned me."
"You…" Sam was flabbergasted at Dean's lack of anguish. "Yeah, she obviously turned you, Dean."
Dean hummed under his breath, prodding experimentally at his scales. Sam stared at his brother, trying to comprehend Dean's drastic shift in personality. Again, it reminded Sam of that Skinwalker in St. Louis, the one who masked himself as Dean to cause more suffering. Dean seemed indifferent to the situation.
That's when Sam knew that he was in big trouble.
"Dean," he said. "Why aren't you freaking out?"
Dean smiled provocatively, reaching down, and raking his fingers through Sam's locks. Sam stiffened at the touch, although Dean's new claws massaged his scalp in tender swipes.
"I don't know, Sammy." Dean admitted. "It feels good."
"What does?" Sam said. Dean's claws danced over the back of his nape.
"Being this." Dean breathed. "I kind of like it."
"Like it?" Sam choked. "You've just been turned into a monster, Dean. How can you…like it?"
Dean chuckled and shimmied down, his hips moving sensually, crouching over his bound brother. Dean's tongue found Sam's ear and traced delicately along the edges, making Sam's already cramped breath stutter. "I can feel it in me, Sam. It's like a thousand little pinpricks stabbing me all at once."
"That sounds painful."
"It is, Sammy," Dean admitted, and Sam could feel his brother passed Dean's novel monstrous exterior. "It hurts so bad."
Sam turned his head away. Dean let out a grunt of displeasure, turning Sam's face back towards him.
Then: "I'm so hungry."
Sam stiffened at the confession. Dean pressed an open mouth kiss underneath Sam's jaw. He pressed another kiss to his neck. Sam silently yanked at the ropes around his wrists. Dean's mouth found his ear.
"I could just eat you up." His voice was teasing, dark, something metallic in it that made Sam's spine tingle. Dean snaked his hand back out, caressing Sam's thigh.
"Dean, s-stop." Sam stammered. And this new Dean could, couldn't he? Just eat him right up.
"Oh, I'm just kidding, baby brother." Dean chuckled darkly. Dean pressed a kiss underneath his sibling's ear before pulling away.
A sharp intake of breath caught both men's attention. Sam had forgot they had an audience.
Sam's gaze followed Dean's. Dean was staring right at Mateo. Mateo was frozen, caught like a frightened bird in his stare. Dean grew unnaturally still. Flared nostrils sniffed the moist air, and a smug smile wretched his lips apart like a jagged shred of metal.
Sam had seen ravenous vampires look less threatening.
