Supernatural fic: Tentacle Monster

Jul 21, 2006 22:56

Title: Tentacle Monster
Author: Mariana O'Connor
Characters: Sam, Dean
Rating: G
Spoilers: None
Pairing: None/gen
Disclaimer: I do not own either of them, just the tentacle monster... no, you're right, that's been done so many times before I don't even own that.
Summary: Crack... the Winchester brothers face a tentacle monster, and, with no knowledge of how to kill it, they resort back to the old favourite.
Author's Note: Written for estelwillow in an English lesson when she was off ill to cheer her up with gratuitous topless!Dean. Yes, the entire fic was written to get Dean to take his top off...



“Dude, that has got to be the ugliest son of a bitch I have ever seen!” Dean whispered to his brother after ducking back down behind the crates.

“You didn’t think that when you were getting its number.” Sam reminded him.

“That was before it got the tentacles,” protested the elder Winchester.

“Didn’t the fact that she was somehow connected to every one of the deaths tip you off?” his younger brother asked, checking the ammo in his gun. “Bullets don’t really seem to be working,” he noted, “they just make it angry.”

“Maybe if we knew what it was we could kill it.”

“Really? I never thought of that,” sarcasm laced Sam’s voice as he risked another glance over the top of their make-shift barricade. “How do you suggest we do that?” He ducked quickly as a whip-like tentacle flashed over his head. “We’ve already looked through Dad’s journal and there’s nothing in there, the laptop’s back in the car and I don’t think jumping out and asking for a formal introduction’s going to work somehow.” Dean glared at him.

“No need to yell, smartass,” he grumbled, rifling through their bag for something that might work. “Try putting that brain to work on getting us out of here instead of picking holes in my plan.”

“I hardly call that a plan.” Sam grabbed a knife from the bag, looking around the edge of the crates.

“It’s more than you’ve come up with.”

“I’m thinking!” he hissed.

“Think harder!” Sam turned and glared at him.

“We’ve tried rock salt, silver bullets…”

“Ordinary bullets,” Dean added. “And you can put that knife away. I already tried.” He held up what remained of the knife he usually kept in his belt.

“It erodes metal?” Sam asked, his eyes wide. “How did that happen?” Dean dropped the hilt to the floor.

“You know that awful looking oily gunk that’s dribbling off it that I said was probably harmless?” Sam nodded. “Not so harmless.”

“Ah…” They paused for a moment and looked down at the rather deceased knife. “So what haven’t we tried?” Dean looked down at the contents of the bag before his face lit up. He stuck his hand in and brought out a lighter.

“The old favourite: tentacle monster flambé.” He grinned. Sam fished the lighter fuel out as well.

“Ready?”

“When you are.”

Dean nodded and they stood up and ran around the sides of the crates, but when they made it round to the other side the tentacle monster was gone.

“Huh?” muttered Dean, looking around,” Sam?”

“I can’t see it.” They stared around them into the dark corners of the warehouse. “Where do you think it went?”

“The oil trail doesn’t go anywhere,” Dean told him, illuminating the edge of a pool of the stuff with his torch; steam rose off it as it burnt through the floor. “It’s probably still in here.” He crouched down beside the pool and examined it. “Now this thing has a serious problem with bodily fluids. This does not smell nice.” He wrinkled his nose in disgust. Sam ignored him, walking over to the edge of the warehouse and checking carefully along the perimeter.

Dean shrugged and maintained his position in the centre of the room, keeping one eye on the light from Sam’s torch while surveying the building himself. The warehouse was virtually silent apart from Sam’s footsteps and his own breathing and the steady drip drip of a tap somebody had forgotten to turn off properly. He paused. They had had a look over the warehouse earlier that day, pretending to be health and safety inspectors, and he did not remember a sink inside the main building.

The dripping was getting closer.

Slowly, Dean looked up.

“SAM!” On the other side of the warehouse Sam turned and ran back immediately, pausing when he caught sight of his brother frozen in comical tableaux looking upward at something he could not see.

“Dean what is it?” he took a step forward so that the beams which held up the ceiling were no longer in the way and caught sight of the thing they were hunting hanging onto the ceiling, it’s mouth less than two metres from Dean’s head. Tentacles undulated around it, fanning out from the centre, each one coated in iridescent fluid. “Dean?”

“Toss me the accelerant, Sammy,” Dean instructed, holding out his hand. Sam made to walk forward but there was a growling from above. “Stay there! Just throw it to me.” The younger Winchester did so, carefully throwing it underarm to his brother, who caught it easily. “Now - get back,” his brother ordered.

“Dean…” Sam didn’t move, his eyes glued to a tentacle which idly swung to and fro a foot from his brother’s head.

“Do it Sammy. I have to stay here…” the tentacle swiped lazily downwards at his head but he managed to duck it easily. “No idea how well this bitch is gonna light up, so stand back!” Reluctantly, Sam took a couple of steps back, refusing to go any further. Dean sighed and opened his mouth to tell him to go further, but the sight of two more tentacles, reaching for him, more purposefully this time, and a sharp glance at a mouth full of sharp fangs made him act. He squirted the lighter fluid upwards.

“Now…” he muttered, more to himself than his brother. “Light the blue touch-paper,” he flicked the lighter on, “and stand well back.” He tossed it upwards.

There was a moment of silence as Dean dropped to the floor, narrowly missing the puddle of demon oil, and covered his head with his arms. Then nothing happened.

“Man…” the hunter muttered audibly, “Do not tell me that didn’t…” His sentence was cut off by a deafening blast that pushed him into the ground, and blew Sam off his feet. After the first shock faded the warehouse shook and the tentacle monster was ripped apart.

“DEAN!” Sam was back on his feet in seconds, running to where his brother had been, avoiding the bits of monster that dotted every surface. He looked around frantically. The crates had fallen in the explosion and broken wood was everywhere. “Dean?”

“Yeah?” His brother croaked, tugging himself out from beneath a pile that had used to be their defensive wall. Sam breathed a sigh of relief, smiling slightly as he helped his brother up. “Why is it never easy?” he turned around to look at the devastation caused and Sam laughed as he caught sight of his brother’s back.

“Uh Dean…” he said, his brother turned around, eyebrows raised in question. “You’ve got a few bits of tentacle on your back." He watched him twist around to examine his back and chuckled again at the annoyance on his face.

“Damn, I liked this shirt!” he glared at a piece of tentacle lying a few feet away. “Do you think its body parts eat through stuff too?” he asked. Sam turned him round and looked at the rapidly dissolving shirt and T-shirt.

“Um… yeah. I think they do.” Dean shook his head, pulling the shirt off and chucking it to one side after appraising the damage.

“And the T-shirt Dean,” Sam told him, “If you get any on you we don’t know what it’ll do.” His brother rolled his eyes but complied.

“What about my jeans?” he asked, looking down. “Don’t tell me I’m gonna be walking out of here naked - it’s cold outside!” Sam shook his head.

“Your jeans are fine; I think the crates covered them up before it exploded.” Dean sighed with exaggerated relief before grabbing the handle of their bag, which was sticking out between some slats of wood.

“I can tell you one thing.” He said making his way to the door, “that is one girl I’m never gonna call.”

crack!fic, supernatural, fic

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