Fishing for Mermaids Part Two
Fishing For Mermaids continued
He’d lost Sam. The Nereids had taken him. God, he’d lost his brother to a bunch of sea-bitches who liked to hold their prey under water until they drowned before munching on them for dinner. Sam could be dead, drowned at the bottom of the bay and he’d never be able to find him. Dean mentally shook himself to get it together but it was damn near impossible. He pulled himself up into the rowboat, his chest clenched as tight as a guitar string. His breathing grew even more agitated. Who was he kidding? This was Sam, his little brother who could be dead. He wasn’t ever going to get calm about that.
Instead, Dean shoved the last three grenades into the mesh divers bag, strapped the rubber-holstered divers knife to his ankle and started rowing toward the next cave. He’d bet his last dollar the sea-monkeys had taken his brother inside one of those. God, he hoped he was right.
The first cave, well third cave he’d gone into today was deep yet low ceilinged. There was one small shelf with only three of the gushy eggs on it, no broken shells and no younger brother. They looked yellowish, sick, if you could call a Nereid egg sick. Whatever. They just weren’t thriving here. Dean debated taking the time to take care of them since it didn’t look as though they were going to hatch anyway, but in the end he jumped out and stabbed them all. Took less than a minute all the while Dean feared that might be a minute his sibling didn’t have.
Panic surged through his body, making his limbs shake and his hands clasp too hard around the oar handles as he rowed out of the little cave and toward the next one.
“You got to be kidding me.” Dean stared into what looked like a natural made drainage ditch, barely wide enough for one man to go through at a time. It was completely submerged except for about an inch of air at the top, which was the only way he had even found the opening. He didn’t know how far in it went, if it got any larger, or if the pocket of air remained. They didn’t have any oxygen containers, didn’t think they’d need it. His eyes narrowed at the opening. He didn’t want to go in there, yet he knew that’s exactly what he was going to do. Jaw set, he shook his head. What he wouldn’t do for Sammy. He threw the little anchor overboard to keep the boat in place.
Quickly he rummaged through the bag Sam had equipped, seeing if there was anything else he could use and came up with flippers and one of those flashlights you strapped to your forehead. Perfect, He kicked off his wet boots and socks, pulled on the flippers, flicked on the light and twisted the Velcro strap around his head to keep the beam in place before rolling into the water.
He didn’t hesitate at the entrance. Sam was in there, Dean’s spidey-brother sense was tingling. This isn’t bad, he told himself as he floated on his back, keeping his mouth and nose above water just an inch near the stone ceiling as he pulled himself along. Not creepy at all. The flippers worked great, propelling him strongly with each kick. I’m just like a freaking navy seal, deployed on a secret rescue mission, he told himself to keep himself calm. His heartbeat was loud, resonating through him with his ears below the water line. Was the tunnel closing in? How freaking long was this tunnel? His pulse ramped up.
Until suddenly the ceiling opened up. He was out. Dean spun around, treading in the water as the light’s beam bounced around a high cavern ceiling and curving rock-hewn walls. It looked like water had once carved out a rocky bowl letting air fill the cavern as the ocean drained back down to sea level.
The beam followed his gaze as Dean moved his head slowly to take in the area. There was a long ledge here, but no eggs. The light played over something white at the water’s edge. Dean jerked his gaze, bringing the light back to it.
It was one of the Nereids, upper body out of the water curled over . . .
Dean was swimming forward before he even completed the thought. The bitch was curled over Sam’s back.
Sam was halfway out of the water, arms flung wide and limp, the side of his face pressed against the rocky ledge, eyes closed . . . and the fugly was curled over him, petting his brother’s wet hair beneath those hideously large webbed hands like he was a puppy.
The bitch hadn’t moved. She’d seen him all right, had been watching his approach, but was too enamored of Sam to be bothered about it. Either that or she didn’t see Dean as a threat. Last mistake she’d ever make. Dean had his knife out and slicing into the back of the Nereid’s neck a second before she sprang back hissing, too late to do her any good. Her tail slapped at Dean, tossing him into the ledge. The wave made Sam’s body and arm bob.
Lunging again, Dean jumped on the water-ape and they both went under, but the blade struck true, pushing down into the heart. Dean held on, twisting it, twisting, jerking until the arms went lax, the body still. Kicking her away, Dean wrenched the blade free and swam back up.
Sam hadn’t moved. Don’t be dead. God, don’t be dead. Sam floated, legs angled downward by the weight of his heavy wet boots and jeans. His cheek rested on the slick stone. One arm floated freely while the other was higher on the ledge twisted in some sort of weed that grew out of the rock, his fingers limp. It looked as though Sam knew he was about to pass out and quickly shoved his arm into the vegetation to keep himself anchored.
God, Sammy. Dean’s heart slammed inside his ribs at just how close he’d been to losing him. “Come on, Sam, wake up.” He tapped his face while scanning the area for the other two Nereids. “Come on, bro. Gotta get out of the water.”
He lifted Sam’s head from the rock, nudging him. “Sam.”
Lips twitched into a frown before there was movement beneath the eyelids. “Sam, come on. We don’t have time for this. Sea monkeys will be back any time so we gotta crawl out of this water.”
“Sea monkeys?” Sam slurred, still not opening his eyes.
“Nereids. Come on, you with me?”
“Yeah.” Finally the eyes slid open and then squinted again at the direct beam of light pointed at him.
“Sorry.” Dean pushed the square flashlight to the side of his forehead. “Can you get out?”
“Uh, yeah.” Sam twisted his arm out of the weeds and bracing on the rock, tried to push up, but only sank farther into the water.
“That’d be a no,” Dean said. “Here.” He hoisted himself out, and then gripped Sam beneath the arms and began edging backwards, pulling his dead weight of a brother up. “Dude, what do they pack in those salads you eat?”
“Three pounds of lead,” Sam whispered, his hands braced on the rock, trying to help Dean pull him out.
“Feels like it. Swing your leg up.”
Shaking badly, the tendons in his arms popping out, Sam’s knee cleared the water just as a webbed hand lifted out of the water and slapped onto his thigh.
Sam’s body dragged back down, nearly wrenching out of Dean’s grasp. Both brothers shouted at once.
Dean’s hands slid across Sam’s arms, jerking at his brother’s wrists.
Sam’s eyes were huge, terrified. “Dean!” Another wrench pulled him farther into the water. Dean braced backward, Sam’s body stretched out in a deadly tug-of-war. “Don’t let go! Dean!”
The damn flippers Dean had on were sliding toward the edge. Sam was sliding, up to his neck in the water. Dean’s grip was slipping.
“Noooooooo!”
In a froth of spray the sea bitch leaped up and ripped Sam away from Dean. The last glimpse Dean had was tips of brown hair swirling away from view.
Dean dove in after them, kicking furiously, the flashlight on his forehead piercing through the darkness. He flinched as he swam into a jungle of seagrass that swept across him like silky hands exploring his flesh. The bottom of the cavern was shallow, only a few yards down. The light passed over the silty floor, picking up gleaming bone layered with greenish vetch. A small yellow fish darted inside the eye cavity of a skull. The cavern floor was littered with dozens of bones. Human. This cave was obviously the Nereids favorite picnic area. Dean tucked the horror of that deep down inside his chest. His brother was not going to be the beasties’ latest bucket of chicken wings.
He moved his head back and forth, letting the light sweep outward. Dammit, this cave wasn’t that big. His heart clenched, fearing the Nereid could have left the cavern and gone into the bay or worse, the open ocean. He’d never see Sammy again. Panic pushed tightly inside his chest, squeezing against what was left of his oxygen, then . . .
Sam. Thank God. He found him. Not one, but two of the Nereid’s had Sam pinned against the floor. His arms and legs floated upward, swaying in rhythm to the surrounding vegetation, moving with the subtle waves produced by the sea monkey’s fanning tails.
Pulling the knife from his ankle, Dean surged forward, stabbed the closest tail and sliced downward. Inky blood poured around them as the tail lashed out, spinning Dean away. Quickly recovering, because he didn’t have enough breath left to play around with, Dean tucked beneath the other one, pushing Sam out as he swung the blade upward into the bitch’s stomach.
He wasn’t even sure how bad he hurt her because he kept going, pulling Sam up with him. The kid’s arms fluttered limply, head hanging, which frightened Dean into kicking for all that he was worth. They exploded to the surface in a cascade of drops. Chest heaving painfully, Dean drew in much needed oxygen to his labored lungs. Sam floated limply, staying above the waterline only because Dean had a hold of him. He hadn’t drawn in as much as a breath.
“Come on, Sam.” Dean slapped his face. “Come on, dammit!”
Dean swam them over to the ledge, his legs tangling with Sam’s. He had no idea where the Nereid’s were, how bad he had wounded them, or how he was going to get his listless gigantor brother out of the water and get him breathing again. Trying to pull Sam out had left him far too vulnerable last time.
At the ledge, Dean set the knife down in easy reaching distance and manhandled Sam out as high as he could get him. Crap, he was heavy and Dean was exhausted. Didn’t matter. Nereids could be circling beneath them right now. Pulling off the flippers, he tossed them onto the rock so he could climb out easier. He lifted one of Sam’s legs up on the rock and holding him there with his own body, Dean hoisted himself up and then scrambled over the top of Sam and pulled, lifting with everything he had and then rolled his brother up onto the ledge.
Falling back onto his butt, Dean sat there for a moment, heaving for a mere second before scrambling back across Sam and pulling his other leg out of the water.
They still weren’t far enough from the edge for Dean’s liking, but Sam wasn’t breathing. His younger brother wasn’t breathing.
Placing his fingers at Sam’s neck, Dean searched for a pulse, closing his eyes in relief when he found one.
“Okay, that’s good. That’s good.” Dean leaned down, placing his ear to Sam’s mouth, listening for the slightest breath while looking across the chest for any rise and fall.
Sam still hadn’t moved. Dean’s throat tightened. How long had it been since Sam was dragged under? It seemed like hours, but was probably only a few minutes. It couldn’t be too late. It just couldn’t.
Shaking, Dean cleared Sam’s mouth, tipped it open, plugged the kid’s nose, and sealed his own lips over Sam’s. With a hand splayed over Sam’s chest, Dean felt it finally expand as he pushed his own breath into his brother. He felt it fall and blew again, pouring his fear and urgency for the kid to breathe with the steady trickle of air. Come on. Again.
Dean lifted his head, watched for Sam to take a breath on his own. Nothing. He scanned the water for the Nereids before leaning in and breathing for Sam again.
He lost count of how many times he pushed his own air into Sam’s chest, how many times he checked to see if Sam breathed for himself. He’d keep at it as long as it took. Nothing else mattered. Dean’s world whittled down to a narrow focus of feeling Sam’s chest expand with the air he forced into him . . . of the taste of ocean salt on his brother’s lips . . . of making certain there was still a pulse . . . of his own tears warming the chilled mouth . . . of turning his head between counts, willing Sam’s chest to rise.
“Don’t do this to me,” Dean sobbed. “S-Sam.” Not giving up on you, man.
Dean blew again, his heart sinking.
He lifted, inhaled, and lowered his mouth back to Sam’s . . . and felt Sam’s lips move.
Dean froze, unsure, until he felt it again. He reared back, stared at Sam’s chest, watched it tighten until Sam spasmed on a gasp. Quickly Dean turned him to his side just before Sam spewed out a gush of water. The retching was horrible and loud and raw-sounding and Dean couldn’t stop the tremors running through his own body anymore than he could stop Sam’s shaking.
He had almost lost him. That had been too close. He hovered, palm on Sam’s back while the kid braced his elbows on the stone, intermittently puking and resting while his stomach muscles clenched up just to spew some more. Dean winched with each bout until finally it appeared Sam didn’t have any more to give. He sagged back, instinctively knowing Dean would catch him.
He looked up at Dean, gray-faced and exhausted.
Dean rested his palm at the side of Sam’s face. “Don’t ever do that again.” His voice was deeper than usual. “You hear me?”
“Kay.” Sam’s eyes looked darker, shinier, in the indirect light of the headlamp. “What’d I do?”
You almost died. “Became the plaything of several mermaids.”
Lines appeared on Sam’s forehead as his gaze roamed over the water before coming back to Dean. “You don’t look so good.”
Dean snorted. “I’m as peachy as cobbler.”
Sam looked around, seeing no exit. “How’d we get in here?” He pulled himself up higher. His breathing increased. “How we gonna get out?”
Dean looked toward where the tunnel should be, flashing the light over there, but the tide had come in and the few inches of the air pocket was fully submerged now. After Sam’s close call, Dean wasn’t going to risk Sammy swimming through that anyway, not when the space was so small that they’d have to go single file and definitely not until he’d taken out the last two Nereids.
“We’re going to have to swim out in the morning when the tide’s out. There’s a tunnel. It’s just fully under water now.”
“C-can’t we just swim through?”
Dean frowned. “It’s pretty long. Plus if those bitches caught us between them . . .”
Sam’s face creased. A low tremor ran through his lanky frame.
Dean put his hand on Sam’s shoulder. “You okay?” He almost died. He wasn’t okay.
Sam nodded. “Just cold. Don’t suppose . . . you have waterproof . . . proof . . . matches on you?”
“Nope.” Dean was cold too, although he wasn’t shivering like his sibling. “Hang on. I’ll get you warm. First, I want to get you farther away from the edge.”
Gulping, Sam nodded empathically at that, making Dean laugh. Sam looked back at the water. “Can’t we just go?”
Dean crouched back down in front of Sam. If his brother was whining like a child, he was more out of it than he’d at first believed. He cupped his arms beneath Sam’s armpits and hoisted the sasquatch up, settling him on his feet.
“Okay?”
Sam nodded just before he sank back to his knees.
“Right.”
“S-sorry.”
“No problem. I’m used to hauling your ass around.”
“Dean.” The warning edge to Sam’s tone had Dean looking to the water where a white skullish head emerged. The fin-like ears twitched, making small ripples.
Dean grabbed Sam around the chest and started pulling him backwards. Sam’s soaked boots scrabbled across the rock, trying to help. Dean went back as far as he could until the diver’s bag on his back scraped across the cave wall. Lowering Sam back to the rock floor, Dean pulled the bag around and pulled out a grenade.
He stepped out in front of Sam and the creature lowered beneath the surface. “Next time you show yourself, bitch, you’re mine.” He went quickly to the edge and retrieved the knife, He stood there for a while, hoping one of them would emerge again. He itched to kill these things and be done with it.
When he got back to Sam, the young man was curled over himself, shivering wickedly. “Hey, hey, let’s get you out of these wet clothes.”
“W-why?” Sam’s teeth chattered. “G-got a blanket up y-your s-sleeve?”
“No.” Dean started unlacing Sam’s ruined boots. “But your skin will dry faster than these wet clothes.” He tossed the boots aside and then slipped off the socks. Sam’s feet felt like wrinkled ice cubes. Next he went to work on the jeans, unfastening the belt before wrestling the sopping levi’s down. He left the boxers, hoping the light cotton would dry quickly.
Pulling Sam’s rubbery arms out of his button down shirt felt like something out of a Three Stooges comedy, which turned out to be entirely not funny once Dean hauled the T-shirt over Sam’s head and saw the nasty bite and claw marks. Sam hissed in a breath, twisting away when Dean touched the bite.
“Hurt bad?”
“M-mostly when you p-poke at it, so stop.”
“All right. Not touching. Stay here.”
Sam barked out a grunt.
Setting the bag of grenades down, Dean stripped down to his shorts-cut briefs. Moving carefully on his bare feet-damn the stone was cold-he used the knife to cut away all the moss and sea vetch within reach. There wasn’t much, just an armful, but he brought that over to his sibling.
“Sammy, wake up.” Sam had slipped down to lie on his side. His eyes were closed, arms curled around himself in a sorry attempt to calm the tremors coursing through him.
Dean pushed the vegetation against Sam’s back, spreading it out. “Hey, sasquatch, roll toward me and get on this. Gotta get some insulation between you and the rock. It’s seeping all the heat out of you.”
“Is n-no . . . heat . . . to s-seep out.”
Dean sat down beside him. “C’mere. Body heat.” Not that Dean was any warmer.
Sam rolled toward him. “Wanna cud-cuddle?” The little bitch grinned.
Dean wrapped his arms around him, rubbing the long arms for circulation. “Well we’ve already done mouth to mouth, what’s a little spooning?”
Sam froze, which was saying something with how badly he’d been shaking. “I wa-wasn’t b-breathing?”
Dammit. “No.”
“How lo-long?”
Far too long. You almost died. “Long enough.”
Sam remained silent for awhile. The shudders began again. Dean thought perhaps he’d fallen asleep until he heard a quiet, “thank you.”
In answer, Dean simply pulled Sam closer and nodded against his hair.
They stayed like that for awhile, listening to the quiet lapping of the water against rock and tiny plops of the dripping condensation that gathered along the ceiling. Dean continued to rub various parts of Sam’s body, circulating warmth. Sam’s head slipped lower down along Dean’s chest.
“Hey, hey. Sam, don’t go to sleep.” Dean pulled the kid up by his shoulders, rousing him. “Stay with me, okay.”
Sam’s eyes blinked open. “S’cold.”
“I know. That’s why you got to stay awake.” Sam looked so miserable, his face scrunched so tight like he was about to cry. “Talk to me. Tell me something I don’t know.”
Sam snorted. “You know everything about me.” Dean grinned, realizing Sam’s teeth were no longer chattering.
“Come on, there’s got to be something.”
“Um, okay.” Sam’s hand burrowed between Dean’s side and the cut vegetation. The long fingers were freezing, but Dean let them stay on his bare skin anyway. “Remember D-dad’s favorite ten-inch? H-had the handle-“
“With the moose carving. Dad loved the balance of that knife.”
“Re-remember how it wa-went missing and we all searched for hours . . .”
“Sam, you didn’t.”
“I just b-borrowed it for throwing practice, except a squirrel j-jumped right into its path.”
“You knifed a squirrel?”
“Didn’t mean to.”
“So you still could’ve retrieved the blade.”
“I t-tried, but when I went to pull it out, I swear the squirrel r-r-reared up and took off, the hilt of Dad’s blade bouncing in its side. Scared the cr-crap outta me.”
Dean started laughing. “You’re making this up.”
“I swear I’m not. I chased that d-damn squirrel for hours.” Sam started laughing too.
“So why didn’t you just come clean?”
“You’re kidding, right? W-would you go to Dad with a story about a demon squirrel taking off with his best blade?”
“Nope. Not a chance.”
“Dean?”
“Yeah.”
“It’s still really cold. H-how much longer you think we gotta wait? I’m a little warmer now. Do you think it’s safe to sleep?”
“No, Sammy. Stay awake.”
“What if I moved down by the water?”
“What good would that-no, Sam.”
“I could be bait, lure them out. You could kill them, then, then we could go. Please, Dean. I don’t want to be here anymore. I’m so cold.”
“I know, buddy, just . . . don’t worry about the monsters. They’re going to show sooner or later and I’m gonna get them, and come morning when the water in that tunnel lowers, we’re gone. All right?” Dean waited for Sam’s response. “Sam?”
He shook him. The younger hunter’s head rolled farther down. “Sam?” Dean lifted the lax head, craning around to get a look at the kid’s face. His brother’s eyes were closed. “No sleeping, come on, Sammy. Up and at ‘em, cupcake. Sam!” Dean felt his own heart rate tear out of the gate. His brother wasn’t responding. He flattened his palm over the cold chest, feeling for the intake of air. There it was and Dean let out an exhalation with him.
“Sam, come on.” Dean tapped Sam’s cheek again. “Sam.”
Finally there was movement beneath the closed eyelids. Shifting Sam’s head off of him, Dean lowered Sam’s head and shoulders to the body warmed vegetation, and moved in front of him. Dean rubbed his palms together for heat friction and then cupped them around Sam’s face. “Come on, kiddo.”
Sam’s eyes slid open. They tracked absently around the cave before settling on Dean. “What happened?” His brows angled down in confusion. “Why are you naked?”
Part Three
Back to Beginning