Dead on the Bayou Chapter 7
CHAPTER 7
"So much for sneaking up on it." Sam muttered. He moved around the tree, higher on the roots and felt his way carefully out onto the land bridge he knew was there.
"Wait up." Dean growled and came behind him, his legs cramping as the last of the numbness began to wear off. He shined the beam of his flashlight out over the mist, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end as the light failed to cut the fog to the surface of the water. It swirled about their feet lazily in the weak breeze of the night air.
"This way I think." Sam said softly and walked slowly towards a collection of Cypress trees. He inched his feet along, making sure to keep them on the semi-solid ground of the land bridge. He twitched at every sound, every unexplained ripple from the water just beneath and around them and could feel Dean's tense presence at his back. "Has to be right around here."
"Hope you're right cause we're not doing this again." Dean tried to shake the ache out of his right leg. "Friggin swamp in the middle of the damn night with a shape shifting bad ass out for your blood. Oh yeah, this is my idea of fun."
Sam snorted a laugh. "You'll be happy once you get to shoot something."
"Damn straight." Dean smiled and then frowned as Sam wiped a hand over his face ahead of him. He studied his little brother and realized he was slightly hunched and the stripe of skin between his hair and his collar was flushed. Dean shook his head and reached a hand out, landing it on the back of Sam's neck. "Dammit, Sammy."
Sam flinched away from his hand and groaned. "It's just a fever, Dean. It's nothing. I'm fine. Focus."
"I am focused on my idiot little brother." Dean growled and fisted his hand in the back of Sam's shirt, stopping him. "I'm taking point." Dean stepped ahead of him with a glare. "Oughta run your ass right back to the motel. You know that."
"And have to come back out here again?" Sam smirked. "Yeah right."
"Shut up." Dean ordered suddenly and froze.
"What?" Sam asked and followed his brother's line of sight out into the mist. "You see something?"
Dean nodded. "Just for a second." He whispered, gun trained on the mist obscured swamp where he'd seen something briefly shift up through the fog. They waited; watching for the Pookha they knew was nearby, eyes straining into the darkness and the silence wearing on their nerves. "You see anything?"
Sam shook his head. "Nothing. I can't…" He was cut off as the water behind them erupted. They turned in time to see a large, black form rising out of the fog dripping water. It swiped Dean aside, tossing him into the bayou and wrapped its other furred arm around Sam, pulling him off his feet and bounding along the land bridge.
"Sammy!" Dean shouted and pulled himself back out of the water. He'd lost his flashlight but not his gun and got off three rounds, watching the hulking, bear form of the Pookha flinch with each hit before it toppled forward and slid into the fog. "Sam!"
Sam fell into the ground and slid as the Pookha went down, the impact jarring the infected wounds in his shoulder and stealing his breath from him. He came to rest and made himself roll to his back, right hand clenched painfully around his gun. For a moment, he thought they'd gotten lucky, that Dean had hit the creature just right. Then it twitched, a growl seeping out between its teeth and Sam groaned.
"Dammit." Sam scooted awkwardly back, raising his shaking arm as the Pookha's head rose up to look at him. "Not good." The creature pushed up on its powerful legs, drool dripping from between its powerful jaws. Sam readied to fire and gasped as it swiftly turned away from him instead.
Dean skidded to a stop as the Pookha rounded on him and had no time to react as its heavy arm swung wide and collided with his chest. He briefly felt the impact and the sensation of flying through the air and then knew nothing as his head collided with something disturbingly hard.
"Dean!" Sam shouted as his brother was tossed like a rag doll into a tree. He watched as the Pookha's body rippled, bear like legs elongating as its shape changed in moments to that of the dark horse. Chains jangled along its back as it strode to Dean. Sam got his elbows underneath him, gasping at the pain in his right shoulder as the Pookha came to a stop standing over Dean and Sam scrambled to his feet. The black horse reared back, readying to crash its sharp hooves into Dean's skull. It screamed in frustration as Sam slammed his body into the Pookha's flank and knocked it off balance. The lethal hooves crashed to the earth inches from Dean's head.
Sam rolled away from the angry creature and scooped Dean's gun from the ground. He spun and fired into the barrel chest. The Pookha screamed again and began to transform, its head lengthening, thickening and becoming that of a bear once more as Sam watched. He fired again, this time directly between its eyes and gasped a breath in relief as it fell to the ground twitching and, for the moment, helpless.
"Dean." Sam crawled to his brother on one arm, his right hanging useless at his side. "Dean? You gotta wake up." He slapped at Dean's face gently and smiled when hazy green eyes blinked up at him.
"S'mmy?" Dean slurred and groaned, rolling slowly to his side. He blinked fiercely to make his eyes focus and reared back at the sight of the Pookha beside them. It laid twitching, the head and chest of a bear while its back end was still trapped in the form of a horse. Blood gushed from several bullet holes in its furry hide. "Whoa freaky!" He bumped back into Sam and then dropped his head, wiping a hand through the blood on the side of his face.
"You up to finishing it?" Sam asked
The horse legs in back began to kick while the bear paws in front scratched into the soft earth. Sam didn't wait to see if it was waking; he fired another round into its head and nodded at Dean to get moving.
"You alright?" Dean asked as he climbed unsteadily to his feet. Sam nodded up at him and even managed a weak smile. "Good enough." He staggered to the Pookha's side and drew his machete. "Dibs on the shower." Dean muttered and bent to the grizzly task of hacking the head from the creature's malformed body. Blood sprayed as he sawed through bone and sinew. He pulled the wide blade back and took a strong swing, severing the spine and grinned as the head rolled free. He kicked it so it rolled over the side of the land bridge and dropped into the fog and water, sinking away. He wiped the blade off on the fur of the remaining body and put it back in its sheathe.
"Ok, Sammy. Time to go." Dean went to him, rubbing a hand over the sizeable lump on the back of his head and groaned. "Come on, kiddo." He bent down and frowned. His little brother's head had rolled back against the tree, eyes closed in a face clearly pale even beneath the blush of a fever he could now clearly see. "You need to wake up, Sam. I'm not carrying you outta here." Dean said ruefully and gave Sam's good shoulder a shake while pushing down his worry. "Sammy."
"It's…Sam." Sam moaned and cracked his eyes open. "Personal space, dude." He said with a smirk to his brother's concerned face bent so close to his own.
"Shut up." Dean rolled his eyes and pulled Sam's arm over his shoulders. "Geez you're a friggin furnace and it's already a hundred out here. Up you go, big foot."
"Ah…ah crap." Sam squinted his eyes shut against the pain of shifting his right shoulder. It was well and truly infected now for sure; one too many trips through a frog infested bayou he thought to himself as Dean dragged him along the causeway. The thought of making the return trip through the water made his head swim.
"Don't you go out on me, Sammy." Dean warned and gave him a gentle shake until he raised his head again. "Keep it together just a little longer." Sam nodded and let him lead while he did his best to ignore the fever now burning through him.
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Dean pulled up in front of their motel, cut the engine and dropped his head back with a sigh. He'd had to all but carry Sam out of the Bayou as the fever took hold. He eyed the building and the three flights he'd have to carry him up and groaned before looking across the seat. His little brother's long body was impossibly curled against the passenger door, right arm cradled against his chest and shivering. Dean studied Sam's sweating, flushed face for another minute and then started the car again.
"Think you need more patching up than I can do buddy." Dean murmured over the rumble of the engine and pulled back out to the street. The wound he could clean and stitch again but the infection had taken enough of a hold to concern him. "Hope your Doctor pal works nights."
It didn't take him long to find the little hospital that looked more like a glorified clinic to Dean. He parked in front of the building and hoped at this hour the mostly empty lot meant he wouldn't have to do a lot of explaining on his brother's condition. Sam mumbled incoherently as Dean pulled him from the car and half pulled, half carried him into the hospital. The front desk was unmanned and Dean rolled his eyes.
"Awesome." Dean hitched Sam's arm higher and pulled him down the corridor behind the desk. He peeked in the first exam room and, finding it empty, lugged Sam in. He rolled Sam onto the bed and patted his shoulder. "Don't go anywhere."
Dean stepped back out into the hall and went further in, sticking his head in each room. Most were empty, a couple occupied by sleeping patients. He heard a voice finally and followed to find an older, white haired man in the ubiquitous white coat in a cluttered office, feet up on the desk, arguing into the phone propped on his shoulder. Dean knocked loudly on the open door and smiled at the surprised face that jerked up to see him.
"Call ya back, Marge." The Doctor said quickly and hung up the phone. "Who the hell are you?"
Dean smirked. "Lemme guess, you're Doctor Erickson."
"I'm the guy who's gonna give you a reason to be in one of my beds you don't answer my question." Doctor Erickson gave him a feral smile and stood.
"Right." Dean held in the laugh; Sam's description of the man's personality had been spot on. "You saw my brother yesterday. Gave him something for an infection from uh…scratches?"
"The idiot fed." The Doctor nodded and he rolled his eyes. "You're the one who wasn't smart enough to duck during the twister."
Dean bristled at his tone. "I was a little busy at the time. Look Sam's here…"
"Well why didn't you say." Doctor Erickson grabbed a stethoscope from his desk and dropped it around his desk. "He lose another argument with a wild animal? Where is he?"
"Had to dump him in a room myself. You're night staff sucks." Dean grumbled and went back out in the hall, leading the Doctor back to the room he'd left his brother in. Sam had rolled to his left side, still unconscious and muttering in his sleep. "Sammy?" Dean went immediately to him and dropped a hand to his forehead.
"Pookha." Sam murmured. "Dean?""
"Right here, buddy." Dean looked up as Doctor Erickson frowned and took up Sam's wrist, checking his pulse.
"Guess he didn't listen to well when I told him to take it easy." The Doctor said and laid Sam's hand back. "Infection's gotten worse." He looked up to Dean and sighed. "I'm gonna give him an IV for a stronger antibiotic than I gave him. He needs that now and we'll get this fever down. He's gonna have to stay here a couple hours at least. I know your kind usually dodge hospitals."
Dean stared in surprise. "Our kind? You mean Federal agents?"
Doctor Erickson snorted a laugh while he pulled several ice packs out of a drawer. "Hunters, dumbass." He grinned at the surprise on Dean's face as he placed the packs around Sam's neck and shoulders. "Patched up my fair share of you lunatics over the years. You don't think you get to be my age in a backwater like this without learning a few things? Keep him quiet."
Dean watched him leave and chuckled. "I think I like this guy." He brushed Sam's sodden bangs off his forehead. Sam stilled under his touch and sighed, making Dean smirk. "You're such a girl."
"Help me get his shirt off." Doctor Erickson said as he came back in and quickly set up a clear IV bag above the bed. He and Dean managed to wrestle Sam's shirts off and Dean held him still while the Doctor got the IV into his arm. "Went back into the Bayou since I re-stitched this, hasn't he?"
Dean nodded. "Had no choice. He didn't tell me it was this bad." He said as he got a good look at the angry red and raw skin around the wounds. More stitches had torn after their fight in the swamp.
"Well, he won't like this. All these stitches have to come out." The Doctor set to work with a small pair of scissors. "Wounds need cleaning again. Never know what kinda crap that Pookha was carrying."
"Wait…you knew there was a Pookha killing people?" Dean stared, shocked as he held his brother still. The Doctor chuckled.
"Can't exactly tell the locals there's an evil creature munching on people." Doctor Erickson rolled his eyes. "Keep him still." He worked quickly to remove the rest of the stitches while Sam groaned and finally got his eyes open.
"What?" Sam said, looking up to see his brother and the Doctor leaning over him and then groaned again as the hot pain in his right shoulder radiated out through his entire body.
Doctor Erickson snorted at the bleary, hazel eyes turned up to him. "Thought you had more sense than to wrestle that thing twice. Not gonna last long as a Hunter you keep that up, kid."
Sam scowled and closed his eyes. "Was saving…his ass." He said and smirked when he felt Dean tug his hair.
"Shut up." Dean growled. "Before I dump you back in that damn swamp and hold still." Dean kept up the teasing banter to distract his little brother from the painful process of the Doctor cleaning the wounds, re-stitching them and sighed in relief when they were finally bandaged and Sam rested easy in the bed. Dean pulled a stool over and settled beside the bed as Doctor Erickson left and shook his head. "Good thing Dad's not here. He'd kick my ass for letting you get this hurt." He twitched the sheet up higher on Sam's chest and leaned back against the wall to steal a nap while the antibiotics did their job. He pulled out his cell phone first and shot off a quick text to their Dad. 'Pookha's toast. We're fine.'
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John Winchester sighed as he pulled up across from White Castle's little hospital and saw the Impala parked in front. He read the short message from Dean and wanted nothing more than to run inside and check on his boys but knew he couldn't. Not yet. Instead, he revved the engine and pulled away. He drove silently out to the Bayou where his sons had been earlier in the evening. Though he didn't think he would need them, he strapped on his machete and made sure his gun was loaded before striding quickly into the woods and toward the swamp.
The mist had begun to lift, swirling about his knees as he went through the silent Cypress trees in the darkness, his flashlight giving the only illumination as the Moon had yet to make an appearance through the clouds. The Crickets stilled their song as he reached the edge of the Bayou. He'd needed the insane Pookha out of the way so he could reach the other one he'd been sure was here as well. He swung the bag he'd taken from the truck off his shoulder and emptied it onto the moist ground; a pile of sweet, dark grain he'd borrowed from an area farmer and stepped back a ways to wait.
Several silent minutes went by and finally he heard something moving through the nearby water. A moment later a dark shape rose from the edge of the Bayou and came closer. It was a tall, dark horse; chains jingled lightly in its mane as it bent to sniff at the offering John had left it.
"I need to ask you a question." John said softly as the Pookha nibbled at the grain. He'd done his research carefully and knew Pookha's were rumored to be creatures of prophecy if you could find one in the mood to talk. The creature raised its head and stared at him. John stood perfectly still under its scrutiny. Its red eyes blinked and it nodded slowly.
"Ask." The voice breathed softly through the air and into John's mind.
"What hunts my family?" John asked then. He'd considered a hundred different things to ask, each answer as important as the next but had finally settled on the most important. He needed to know what was trying to kill them, what had taken his wife, if he had any hope of protecting his sons.
The Pookha stilled again and lowered its head. "Old as time and black as pitch, what hunts the Hunter rose from hell." The Pookha's voice firmed as John's eyes widened in shock. "A plan long laid and wove in tangles stretches far along your family line. Ward the youngest for if you cannot save him, you must kill him."
"What?" John startled and took a step closer. "What the hell is that supposed to mean? Save him from what? Tell me!"
The Pookha's body shook once, hard and John froze in place, his hand quickly drawing the pistol from his back. The creature's tremor stopped and its head rose slowly to gaze at him.
"Careful, Johnny-boy." The Pookha's eyes bled from red to yellow, its muzzle drawing up on one side in a smirk before its dark body whirled and bounded back into the Cypress trees. John fired after it long after it had vanished until his gun dry-fired a few times and finally lowered his arms, heart pounding and eyes wide in shock. He stared out into the night and shivered as the meaning of the Pookha's words finally sank in.
"A Demon." John whispered. "Oh god, Mary. How the hell do I kill a Demon and save our boys?" He asked of the night. The only answer the Bayou gave him was the distant, faint sound of laughter before it trailed off into silence and left him alone.
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The End.
A/N: I always wondered how John first caught on to the fact it was a Demon stalking his family and so this last scene was born. :D