Fishing for Mermaids Part Three of Three
Fishing for Mermaids - Final Chapter
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?”
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“Hunting Nereids.” Dean’s teeth skimmed across his lower lip. This wasn’t good. “You remember?”
Sam’s gaze skittered around the cavern again. “Nereids?”
“Yeah.”
Sam’s Adam’s apple bobbed. “There were eggs? And you . . . fell in the water. I got bit. It burns.” Sam’s palm went to the side of his stomach. His eyes tightened at the corners. At least he wasn’t stuttering. “Did I use Dad’s knife? I thought I lost it . . . a squirrrrrrrel,” his voice drifted. His hand slipped from his side as his eyes fell closed again.
“No, no, Sammy.” Dean shook him, but got no response. “Dammit.” He stared at Sam a long hard time, not sure what to do. “Okay, all right, I’m gonna take care of this.”
Dean tugged Sam over so his other side was lying against the body-warmed weeds. He packed the rest of the vegetation up around Sam’s stomach, getting as much around him as he could. Next Dean stood and began jogging in place, pumping his arms around, getting as much of his own blood flowing as possible. It was actually working. Dean felt warmer already.
Heated up as much as he thought he was going to get, Dean slid in behind Sam, pressing his warmer chest against Sam’s back, flinching at the shock of cold that was his sibling’s flesh. He pressed in close, reaching over to arrange the vegetation as good as he could manage over Sam’s exposed flesh.
He repeated the process several times, getting up, turning Sam, running around the ledge, doing calisthenics and then slipping in and giving his younger brother his hard-earned warmth.
He wasn’t sure when it happened, but he realized Sam was pushing back, snuggling into him, his breathing easier. “Sam?”
“Mmmmmmph.”
“You with me?”
“Mmmm-hmmm.”
“What year is it?”
“Year of the swine.”
Was it? “Idiot.”
“You kill the water-monkeys yet?”
“So you remember those?”
“Little hard to forget.”
“You’d be surprised.” You were out of it for a while. I was worried. Something loosened in Dean’s chest and he breathed a little easier. “How are you feeling? Are you warm enough now?”
“Better.” Sam’s voice still had a sleepy burr to it. “We can go now, you killed them, right?”
“No, not yet. They haven’t showed their faces again. They’re both wounded though. Maybe they’re afraid of my awesomeness.”
Sam’s breathing hitched up. His shoulders rose. “What if they never come back? We c-can’t stay here forever. We’ll freeze to death.”
Dean knew the signs of panic. “Whoa, whoa. We’re not staying here forever.” Sam was struggling up, throwing off the weeds. From behind, Dean snaked his arms around him. Sam’s chest was heaving in and out rapidly. “Stop it, Sam. Calm down.” Sam was going to hyperventilate and with the cold and everything he’d already gone through, it couldn’t be good for his heart. “Sam, stop. You trust me, right? You know I always have a plan.”
“But sometimes your p-p-plans are stupid.”
“Hey, they generally work.”
“Yeah, usually after we get beat to hell.”
It was working, the banter was getting through to Sam. His breathing was slowing, his torso no longer so rigid.
“Well, you’re already beat to hell so I’d say we’re halfway there.” Dean pulled Sam back against him, a little concerned that Sam was so compliant about it.
They lay on their sides together. Dean’s breath blew the tips of Sam’s hair across the back of his neck. “Sam, don’t go to sleep.”
There was no response.
He nudged his brother. “I mean it, Sam.”
“Yeah, kay.”
Dean frowned at the kid’s rapidly changing behavior. He didn’t know if Sam was going to come out of a deadened sleep fully coherent or not even knowing where he was, or worse, not wake up at all. “No sleeping.”
Sam moaned in answer.
“So, why a lawyer?”
“Huhhh?” Barely a slur.
“You were going to go to law school. What was the draw?”
“Draw?”
“Quit repeating everything I say. What made you want to become a lawyer?”
Sam’s shoulders squished up in a shrug. “I just, um . . . thought I could make a difference, help people. And . . .”
“And . . .?”
“Each case . . . requires a different approach, piecing things together . . . come up with the best plan. Liked the challenge.”
Dean grunted.
“What?”
“I don’t know, Sammy. It sounds like you just described hunting.”
“Yeah, maybe.” Sam went quiet, and Dean let him be until the curiosity got the better of him.
“But . . .?”
“But nothing.”
“Oh there’s a but. I can feel it.”
Sam sighed. “Being a lawyer meant . . . building something permanent. Ya know, putting down roots so far nothing could ever rip them out.”
Water splashed the rock. The beam from Dean’s headlamp threw shadows from water-sculpted stones across the wall.
“For what it’s worth . . .” Dean pulled some of the weeds that had fallen across Sam’s exposed thigh. “I wish you could have had that.” Talking to the back of Sam’s head somehow made it easier to say.
“I know. Thank you for that. But, Dean.” Sam went quiet as though he struggled with what he wanted to say. “I just . . . “ He cleared his throat. “Back then, I just didn’t realize that I already had it.”
Dean wasn’t following. “What do you mean?”
“You and Dad . . . you’ve always been there for me, even when we argued. You guys, you’re my permanent.”
Dean squeezed his eyes tight, grateful more than ever Sam couldn’t see his expression. He swallowed around the heavy stone Sam effectively just lodged inside his throat. Leave it to his brother to turn them both into sobbing little girls after mermaids just tried to eat them.
“Stupid, huh?” Which was Sam’s way of back tracking, feeling embarrassed.
“No,” Dean said quickly, his throat closing. “No.” He squeezed Sam’s arm, saying more with the gesture than he knew how to voice.
They didn’t say much more. Dean drifted into his own thoughts, waiting out the tide, keeping Sam as warm as possible. The chill was taking its toll on him as well, his body becoming heavy. He wanted to go to sleep, wanted to quit harassing Sam to stay awake and let him sleep as well.
“Time to turn over again.”
Sam just moaned. Dean tugged him over to his other side, blinking his eyes to keep them open. He was sleeping for a week once they got out of here. He stood, too tired to do jumping jacks, so he settled for walking around. He checked to see if his jeans were dry yet. No cigar, but his and Sam’s T-shirts only had a few damp spots. He shrugged his on, shuddering at the instant cold on his skin and held Sam’s tight to him to warm it up. This should help quite a bit.
A quiet scrape echoed across the rock. Dean’s gaze snapped up, swinging the headlamp beam around. One of the Nereids was crawling up the ledge, her tail propelling her jerkily forward like a worm.
“Oh you bitch. I’ve been waiting for you.” In the space of a breath, Dean had the knife out of the ankle strap and slammed into the creature’s back. With more strength than he’d given her credit for, she rolled over, whipping her tail into Dean and tossing him into the cavern wall.
“Sonofabitch,” he heaved out, staggering up to go at her again, this time dodging the slapping tail, and simply let gravity and momentum carry him down where his elbow rammed into the beast’s sternum. He felt more than heard the pleasing crack of bone. Shifting all his weight forward over his arm, he twisted his bent elbow, digging it in farther. The she-bitch’s hands came around, claws digging into his arms, the glare of the flashlight casting harsh shadows across the skeletal face. Dean pushed, knowing his elbow was doing enough damage and that his knife was still in her back. Water-ape was getting hers from both sides.
“Nuuuuhhh!”
Dean jerked upward at the cry. The second Nereid was on the ledge, coming up from the other side. Damn sneaky bitch. She had Sam by the thighs and was sliding back down the ledge, the little bed of weeds offering no resistance. Twisting, Sam reached desperately for the divers bag, snatched it, brought it to his chest where he fumbled inside.
Time seemed to slow. Pressing everything he had onto the Nereid, Dean watched, frozen with fear as Sam pulled out a grenade. One long finger slipped into the ring. “Nooooooo!” Dean lunged up, leaving the Nereid he’d only moments ago been intent on killing and raced across the ledge.
“Wait, wait!” he screamed, sliding across the stone to kick at the monster dragging his brother away. He kicked at her face again. Again. Sam screamed. Long red lines sprouted down his legs where her claws slipped away. Dean kicked again, dislodging her. “Now, Sam!”
Sam pulled the ring, tossing the grenade at the beast’s ugly head at the same moment Dean lunged at him, rolling them both into the water.
Dean swam to the bottom, pushing Sam backward in the same way the Nereids had earlier. The blast thrummed through the water, pulsating against them. Dean nearly lost his grip on Sam. Huge slabs of rock fell around them. Shit. What’d they do?
Sam pushed away, gaining some moving room while keeping his hand locked around Dean’s wrist. As one, they kicked off the bottom and swam upward. They broke the surface to a scene from hell. The blast set off what must have been a fault line in the cave’s structure because the walls and ceiling were shifting, sharp flakes of stone falling off in sheets. The Nereids were still on the ledge, their bodies being smashed by raining shards.
Dean looked to where the submerged tunnel should be, at the cracks shooting through the stone like breaking masonry. “We gotta get out of here!”
He swam to the far wall, making sure Sam was with him. “In there. Now!”
Sam looked at him like he was crazy. “We’ll be smashed.”
“It’s the only way out.” Dean looked up. Another crack was forming just above them, jarring another slab loose. “Go, now!” Without waiting, Dean shoved Sam’s head under the water, pushing him into the dark hole and following behind just as the slab crashed into the water and the resulting wave rocked over them. The headlamp scraped off the tunnel’s edge, plunging them in darkness.
Dean moved forward, bracing his hands along the jaggedly curved walls until he ran into Sam. His brother wasn’t moving, probably waiting for him. Dean shoved against him, knowing the tunnel was long and the tide hadn’t gone out yet to provide any pockets of air near the top.
Sam slapped out at Dean, still not moving. Dammit, Dean didn’t know what Sam he was dealing with. The kid could be disoriented again, not cognizant enough to know what was going on. Quit fighting me! Dean pulled himself up along Sam, his back scraping the top of the tunnel, Sam’s arms failed at him, legs kicking and thumping against his. Could he not tell the difference between legs and a Nereid’s tail? The water rushed against them. He couldn’t see, but Dean felt the tunnel shifting. If it split open on them now, they really would be crushed.
They had to go now. Dean grabbed at Sam, but he couldn’t get a hold on the smooth skin or flapping gangly limbs. Except for the waistband of his boxers that were out of reach there was nothing to hang onto. The hell there wasn’t. Dean reached between the slapping hands, tangling his fingers into strands of overlong hair and pulled. Long hands clamped around his wrist instantly, tugging to get free, but Dean wasn’t about to let go.
If he let go, he’d lose Sam and that wasn’t an option.
Kicking off of the walls because Sam’s thrashing legs were in the way, Dean practically walked them through the tunnel, bare feet getting torn on the uneven walls. His brother was in full out fight or flight mode and the kid was fighting for all his worth, alternately sending jabs into Dean’s ribs and trying to yank his hand out of his hair, but no way in hell was Dean letting go.
Fighting Sam was taking more of his breath than Dean had. Come to think of it, he had slammed Sam into the tunnel before his brother could take a proper breath and with how badly Sam was thrashing . . . Not good, not good. Dean redoubled his efforts, pulling Sam with everything he had left. He finally managed to hook an arm beneath Sam’s armpit and heaved. In the darkness, he had no idea how much farther they had to go or even if the opening on the other end was still there or already fallen in. He jolted briefly, wondering if he was even going in the right direction.
Had to be. His struggle with Sam couldn’t have gotten them turned around. Could it? Shit. He couldn’t think like that. Keep going, just keep going. He pushed on, suddenly realizing that Sam was no longer struggling. Wasn’t swimming on his own either. Dammit. Made the going easier, but . . . dammit.
The tunnel narrowed and Dean had to pull himself on ahead, extending his and Sam’s arms out to guide Sam through after him. He felt a rock fall between them and he lost his grip. Felt Sam float away.
The tunnel was collapsing and he’d lost Sam.
Not happening. There wasn’t enough room to turn, so Dean used the rock to push himself backwards, squeezing between it and the walls. His feet connected with something silky. Had to be Sam’s hair. Scooting back more, Dean reached, found Sam floating against the ceiling. Grabbing his arm, he pulled himself past the rock, maneuvered Sam past it, feeling the tug as gigantor must have scraped against it.
Dean winced on his behalf but kept pulling. That’s what his brother got for making him do all the work when they really couldn’t afford it.
He pulled Sam through the darkness, chest about ready to burst when bubbles raced across his flesh, followed by a rolling current that pushed them forward like a sudden water slide as the cavern collapsed behind them. The wave spewed them out of the tunnel, ripping Sam away and Dean found himself clawing to the surface and the morning air, gasping in huge breaths as the cliff wall behind him rumbled, falling several feet over the hole they’d just exited, forever altering the dipping shape of the landscape above.
Closer, barely registering over the roar of the shifting, grinding stone, wet choking gasps rolled over him. “Sam!” He swam over to his sibling who was gasping, watching the high wall sinking several yards with a horrified expression.
When Sam’s head slipped beneath the water, Dean hauled him back up, and kept him afloat until his sputtering stopped, so glad his brother was conscious again, though it would have been nice if he’d come to earlier.
“Did . . .” Sam managed to get out between long inhalations. “. . . we . . . do that?”
Dean’s mouth pulled down in his own facial shrug. “Well, you’re the one who threw the grenade.”
If possible, Sam’s features grew even more horrified.
Hiding his smile, Dean circled around to locate their boat and did a double-take when he saw a fisherman and a streamlined skiff not four yards away. Slack-jawed the guy looked from the large slabs falling from the cliff, creating spectacular splashes to the brothers, a fishing rod about to fall from his loose fingers.
Dean lifted a dripping arm and waved. “Hey, a little help here!”
He wasn’t sure what he was going to come up with to explain the collapsing cavern or why they were out here in little more than their underwear, but that was okay. The way Dean saw it, they had killed all the mermaids, destroyed the eggs, and he’d gotten Sam out. Sure Sam was still a little out of it and he had a nasty bite they’d have to take care of, he’d have to be watched for secondary drowning with all that salt water in his lungs, possibly go to the hospital to make sure, but Sam was alive. The kid was alive.
All in all, Dean’d chalk it up to a successful hunt.
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