Chapter the Second

The Temper of Your Flamingo

The flamingos were starting to dive towards them as Sam dragged his brother towards the protection of the fallen tree. It was big enough to get under and was jammed up against a rock outcrop that might protect them from one side. He shoved Dean under and dove in after him. A huge impact hit the log, and another. Then the disturbing sound of talons tearing at the thick bark of the old fir filled the air.

"My shoulder hurts," Dean said, shifting a little and opening his eyes. "We under the tree?"

"Yes."

"I don't remember getting under here."

"That's because you fainted when I was dragging you over." Sam tucked his gun in its holster and reached for the small first aid kit he kept in his pocket.

"I didn't faint."

"You did."

"Did not."

"Did so."

"Not."

"So."

"No way."

"Way." Sam huffed. "Fine, you didn't faint, you were resting your eyes and practicing going limp."

"Why does my shoulder hurt?" His brother frowned. "Flamingo grabbed me."

"He's still grabbing you, Dean." Sam pointed to the flamingo foot still attached to Dean. A huge thunk hit the log, shaking bits of dirt onto them. Sam peeked out from under cover to see what was happening. The flamingos seemed to be taking turns diving at a single spot on the log.

"Sam?"

"What is it?" he asked, still watching the flamingos.

"You might want to look at this."

Sam glanced back at his brother, Dean was staring at the foot in his shoulder. "What's wrong?"

"You mean other than the foot in my shoulder?"

"Yeah, you have your I am not freaking out, but I am kind of freaking out look."

"I have a look for that?"

"You do." Sam moved back beside Dean and bent to take a look at the foot. "It's plastic!"

"Oh good, I'm not crazy."

"At least not about that."

"Oh ha ha. Get it out."

"Hold still." Sam tried to carefully dislodge the claws from Dean's shoulder. His brother grunted in pain. "Sorry." He gently lifted Dean to get a look at his back. "This one," he tapped the foot where it was in the fleshy part of Dean's upper arm. "It's all the way through your arm."

"Maybe leave it in then. That might be smart. Let a doctor take care of it."

"At a hospital?" Sam raised an eyebrow. "Really?"

"No, not really, sheesh." Dean rolled his eyes. "Give me a bullet."

"You know that's really a lead ball, not a modern cartridge." Sam wiped his hands down with sanitizer and then swabbed around the wounds as best he could.

"Fine then, no bullet. Stop wiggling it and just get it out. You are such a geek. Shit, that hurts. Why are there killer flamingos in the woods?"

"Carabia is associated with birds. Maybe he sent them?" Sam started working on getting the talons out of his brother.

"But why flamingos?" Dean frowned. "And ones that have plastic feet. Sonofabitch, Sam."

"Sorry, we're getting to the one that's all the way through."

"Gotta admit, this is a new one. Flamingo wound." Dean closed his eyes and Sam could see his jaw clenched.

"Do you want a medal?" The talon was harder to get than he thought. Maybe if I cut the rest of the foot off and pull it through the other way?

"Hell yeah, I want a medal. Like one of those fancy ones you get when you run a marathon. Just yank it out, I can't take much more of this."

"I'm trying. It's really stuck."

"WD-40."

"WD-40?" Sam glanced at Dean, his brother's face was sheet white. "You want me to lube up your shoulder with oil?"

"It's plastic and wire, right? Can you think of anything better?"

"I could go get some out of the car," he said, carefully clipping plastic away from the metal holding it. He set a piece of gauze on Dean's chest. "I've almost got this loose enough to get out, I think."

"Without WD-40?"

"Believe it or not."

"I bet you have a teeny can of it in your first aid kit. Yep, pretty sure I can smell it now." He made a pained noise that sounded like it might have been a chuckle. "Why are there flamingos out here? I know, bird demon or whatever, but why flamingos? Why not eagles or vultures or what are those cool black and blue ones?"

"Stellar's jay," Sam replied absently.

"Right! Stellar's jays. Why aren't they here? Why flamingos? The only flamingo we've seen lately is…" He stopped.

"Dean?" Sam looked up with alarm when he realized his brother had been silent for several minutes.

"The flamingos."

"The ones out there?" Sam waved vaguely in the direction of the noise coming from the top of the log.

"Hand me my phone."

"No reception."

"Dammit, Sam, hand me my phone."

"Do you want this foot out of your arm first?" Sam stopped what he was doing and frowned.

"Stop glowering at me and get my phone! I'd get it, but there's a foot in my arm."

"Fine." Sam pulled Dean's phone out of his brother's pocket.

"Open my gallery and hand it to me."

"You can't open it?"

"Foot arm, remember?" Dean smirked and held out his hand for his phone. "No, wait."

"What?"

"You hold it. I only have one arm right now. Humor me. I have a foot in my arm."

"Better than in your mouth," Sam muttered under his breath and held the phone up so Dean could scroll on it.

"This one," Dean said. "Hmm. What's that?"

"Pretend I can't see what you're looking at, Dean."

"What's on the wall? I thought it was just graffiti."

"Dean?" Sam felt the huff coming. He tried to hold off, after all Dean was injured. Like that's anything new. He blinked. Apparently, the snarky voice in his head sounded like Dean sometimes.

"Take a look, Sam. What's on the wall?"

Sam turned the phone around. The photo was of the flamingos from town. He saw what his brother must be looking at. There was something spraypainted on the wall. At first, he thought it was just graffiti as well, then something clicked. "It looks like the sigil."

"But not exactly like it."

"Huh." Sam enlarged the screen. "It looks vaguely familiar. Hmm. I wonder if…"

"Uh, Sam?"

"Hmm?" he answered not really paying attention.

"Sam!"

"What?"

"I have a foot in my arm, do you think the hmming can wait?" Dean pulled his phone out of Sam's hand.

"Oh, now the foot matters?" Sam reached for the hand sanitizer and cleaned his hands and the wound again. "I'm not really sure cleaning it before it's out really matters."

"Stop that," Dean said with a smile.

"Stop what?" He got a good hold on the foot. "Ready?"

"Ready! On one!"

'"One?"

"Yes, because if I say three, you'll just do it on two, so we go on one."

As soon as Dean said one, Sam twisted the foot out of his arm, then poured some alcohol on the wound. He covered it with gauze, then taped it down. "All done."

"I said go on one."

"You said one."

"I meant after I said 'ready and one' you didn't wait for the ready." Dean carefully sat up and leaned against the stone.

"Are you okay?"

"Fine, it's not like I had a flamingo foot in me or anything. Do you hear something?"

"No." Sam edged carefully to where he could peek out from under the log. The flamingos seemed to be slowing down the attack. The one digging at the log suddenly halted. Silence followed soon after. In the quiet, Sam heard a low tone, something that wasn't even really a sound, more a bass rumble that was more felt that heard. It was coming from beneath him. A part of him seemed to recognize the sound, not that he'd every heard it, but something deeply primitive reacted and he grabbed Dean and got them both out from under the log as the forest around them started shaking.

To be continued-oh no! This looks bad for our heroes! Hurry to next chapter! HURRY.