Sam's muscles grew taunt, rigid. His mouth was as dry as cotton.
"What do you mean, another Naga?"
Dean's jaw clenched, his eyes ablaze with barely contained rage. His jade orbs flinted around them. "I can smell it. But it's like it's masking its scent somehow."
Sam licked his lips, his heart thrumming just beneath his skin. "Dean, that can't...there can't be another one."
Oh, God, Sam thought dizzyingly. Please, God, no.
The doe let out an audible gasp. Sam jumped at the sound, his eyes swinging to the poor creature. Her side rose and fell in quick, sporadic gulps of air. Dean's fingers crushed tighter into Sam's skin.
"Why did it do that? Kill that animal?"
"How should I know?" Dean said. "It's probably fucking with us."
Sam licked his lips and reached out to grip Dean's fingers, loosening his grip. "What do we do?"
"I'm thinking." Dean said, turning slowly around to monitor the surrounding area for any signs of movement. His nostrils flared. His fangs leaked.
Sam's mind raced back to the river, how he'd felt eyes bore into him as they'd made love. He now understood that the other Naga had been watching. Sam's face heated and he looked down at the forest floor. What a sight they'd given the thing, what with their pushing and moaning and wet, slick smacking.
Sam caressed his baby bump, fear taking root in him. What if the creature wasn't just fucking with them as Dean suggested...what if it wanted Sam? Maybe the dying doe was a sign. A sign that said, Here, look how much I like you. Enough to incapacitate Bambi's Mama.
On the other hand, Sam couldn't eat the doe. Its meat was tainted with the venom coursing through its veins. So, what if it was a gift for Dean? Sam frowned at the thought of anyone else-anything else-trying to slide into Dean's metaphorical pants. Would the other Naga kill him, seeing as he was in the way?
Sam's thoughts were halted when Dean swung down and picked him up. "Dean, what-?"
Dean slithered rapidly towards the mouth of the tunnel, squeezing past the dying doe and plunging them into darkness. Sam wrapped his arms around Dean's neck.
"Gotta get you somewhere safe." Dean hissed.
"What are you going to do?"
Dean did not answer. The cool, drafty air wafted around them, smelling like old pennies and rust. Sam shivered.
"Dean," Sam's heart hammered against his ribcage. "Don't you do anything crazy. You aren't going after the thing."
"It's nearby, Sammy. I can, fuck, I can feel it. And it got close to the tunnel. It knows I'm here. It knows you're here."
"So what?" Sam said. "Maybe...maybe it's friendly." It was a stretch, sure, but Sam would have said anything to make sure Dean didn't leave him alone.
Dean's eyes flashed in the inky blackness surrounding them, peering down at Sam.
Even though Sam could not see it, he knew Dean's teeth had peeled away from his gums. "It's been watching for awhile now. I just didn't realize what it was. I'm so stupid."
"You're not stupid."
"It knows."
"Knows what?"
"That you're pregnant."
Sam's brow furrowed. "What? How? How would it know that?"
Dean let out a huff of air. "Do you have any idea how you smell, Sam? How, fuckin'..." Dean gave a strained sound, almost pained.
"What?"
"How fuckin' fertile you smell? Jesus, Sam, you have no idea, do you?"
Sam had an inclining that he smelled good to Dean, but not enough to get another Naga all messed up and horny.
"You smell delicious," Dean said, slithering around a corner, tail flicking back and forth gracefully. "And not like I-wanna-have-you-for-breakfast delicious, either. More like I-wanna-fuck-you-until-you're-stuffed-full-of-my-babies-and-can't-move-for-a-week kind of delicious."
Sam's face flushed. "Dean-"
"It can smell your fertility, Sammy." Dean growled. "That's why it's here. I just know it. It wants to breed you."
Sam's stomach spasmed in dread. The thought of anyone else touching him felt horribly wrong. He was Dean's and Dean was his.
Dean grew closer to the main room. To home. Up ahead, the soft glow shown brighter and brighter. Sam burrowed his fingernails into Dean's nape and shoulder.
Dean slithered into the room and froze. Just stopped mid-slither, as if he had slammed into an invisible wall. Dean let out a choked gasp. Sam's head jerked around to see what had caused Dean's reaction.
Sam's eyes widened. He felt very cold.
In front of the cage, the slaves were lying on the ground, dead. Both of their throats had been clawed open, fresh and muscle peeled back to reveal bone underneath. Their cold, pale bodies were ringed in wide pools of blood. One stared up at the ceiling, eyes blank. The other was belly down, pressed into the concrete.
The smell was overpowering. Even after all the times Sam had been exposed to this kind of bloody violence on cases before, he'd never gotten over the smell. Sam's throat spasmed. He squeezed his eyes shut to battle the wave of nausea that crashed into him.
The Naga had been here. In this very room. In a space that was supposed to feel safe and sacred.
"Fuck," Dean growled. "Fuck."
Sam buried his face into Dean's throat, overrun with conflicting emotions. On one hand, Sam had hoped to someday convince Dean to release the captives. On the other hand, Sam understood that they were their only link to the outside world.
Without the slaves, how was Sam supposed to get food? How was Dean supposed to get food?
Dean must've thought the same thing because he shouted, "You fucking asshole! I'm gonna kill you!"
Dean slithered to the bed and maneuvered to put Sam down. Sam held on.
"No, Dean! You can't leave me!" Sam said, muscles straining.
"I'll be right back," Dean hissed. "It doesn't get you, do you understand? You're mine."
"No," Sam grunted. "You can't leave me. Please. I'm scared, man."
Dean stiffened, but continued to try to peel Sam off him. Dean was thrumming with barely contained rage and bloodlust. Sam's needs always came before his own, always. Except when they didn't. Dean gripped Sam's wrists and peeled them back and onto the bed. He held Sam down against the sheets as his brother bucked and writhed.
Right now, Dean had to defend his territory. Right now, Dean had to make sure the other Naga didn't touch a hair on Sam's head. Didn't touch what was his. After he'd torn the bitch to shreds, he'd comfort Sam.
"Sam, I'll be right back."
"No!" Sam shouted. "This is a trap. Don't you see? It wants you to leave me alone! You said it yourself, you could barely smell it. It's masking its scent."
"I'm gonna find the fucker and kill it. You're safe here." Dean snarled. "Just stay right where you are."
Dean released Sam and slithered back, viper quick. Sam scrambled up on the bed, kneeling. "No!"
But Dean was already out of the room, his bottom half swiping through the massive pools of blood, slicking the concrete with a long, gruesome smudge of red. Sam's eyes darted back to the cooling bodies and then to the hungry, black maw of the room's entrance.
His chest pinching with a sudden wash of fear, Sam collapsed on the mattress, grabbing his round belly.
A few days before, Sam had felt the first signs of life inside him. The sensation had been a quick, abrupt fluttering in his womb. The feeling had stunned him. It had only lasted a couple of seconds, but Sam had ached to press Dean's clawed, calloused hand against the swell, to see if his offspring recognized their daddy. Of course, Dean had been in too much pain from shedding his skin for Sam to actually do it.
Sam felt them again. Sam was overwhelmed with the fluttering inside his belly. It was like butterflies beating against his insides. He shoved his hand under his shirt, feeling his smooth skin. Sam rubbed his belly up and down, as if the soothe the clutch inside him.
It was so bizarre. To not know if they were eggs or not. How many were inside him to cause this level of sensation? Did they look like Dean, all fangs and scales and bloody hunger? Or were they like Sam: soft and warm and human?
Sam swallowed thickly, eyes snapping to the entrance as the fluttering slowed and then stopped. He pressed his hand underneath his belly button, as if to will them to become active again. He gulped.
"Dean!" Sam shouted. His voice echoed back, mockingly.
Nothing.
Sam's gaze darted back to the dead slaves. Sam's chest twisted violently. He slipped off the bed and searched the room. He found the fire poker leaning against the chair. The last time he had brandished it was when the demons had attacked him. He held it in front of him, lowering himself back onto the bed.
The weapon felt silly and feeble in his grasp. Like using a toothpick to fight a dragon. But Sam kept his eyes steady on the entrance. Minutes passed. Sam's harsh breathing was the only sound in the room. It was deafening in his own ears.
More minutes ticked by. Ten. Fifteen. Twenty. His muscles gradually relaxed, even though his throat was tight and hot with worry.
Then, Sam heard a low slithering coming from the tunnel outside. Slithering closer, closer, closer.
It was Dean. Dean had returned. He had defeated the monster. That was his brother, always the savior. Sam let the poker slip out of his grasp and it rolled under the bed.
"Dean, thank God." Sam said, rising on trembling legs and stepping away from the bed.
From the darkness of the entrance, a pair of golden eyes flashed, peering at Sam with a singular focus.
Sam froze, his heart leaping into his throat. No, his brain unhelpfully supplied. It can't be.
"Well, hello there, beautiful," came a heady, heavy growl.