(no subject)
Part 2
“A mananangaal?” Sam asked even though he knew already what it was. He had flashes of it now, coming back to him in broken pieces, but of this conclusion he was certain.
“Yeah… that thing. You remember?”
“Kinda, but not completely. I mostly just put two and two together.”
“Makes sense… not too many flying, baby-eaters out there.”
Sam shifted, trying to get comfortable. His leg throbbed, but thankfully, the painkiller Dean had given him was starting to kick in. Unfortunately, that also meant that he was starting to feel a little dopey and sleepy.
He chuckled to himself…. Two out of seven dwarves….
At this rate, he wasn’t going to stay lucid for long, so he needed Dean to pick up the story before he drifted off into never-never land.
“What happened after that?”
Back at the motel, Sam sat on his bed surrounded by papers, books, and his open laptop. The guy was in full-on geek mode and so completely in his element that Dean was hard-pressed to keep his grin in check as Sam started talking a mile a minute.
“Mananangaals are attracted to pregnant women and can sense when one is near them, but they’ll also eat the flesh of anyone that gets in the way, which is probably why she took off with both the husband and the wife at the same time. Apparently this lust for baby flesh is so great that even though they usually only come out at night, it’s still possible for them to come out during the day if the opportunity to feed on a pregnant woman presents itself. But here’s the really weird thing about them - they detach themselves from their lower body when they go out to hunt, leaving their legs behind as their torso flies off.” Sam pulled out a book and opened it to a page with a picture of an old hag with wings and no legs. “It’s said that if you salt and burn the legs while she’s detached from them, it leaves her vulnerable and you can kill it with just about anything.”
Dean grimaced. “Gross.”
“Understatement,” Sam agreed. “It also says that the mananangaal has the appearance of a kindly old woman during the day - a grandmother type that people might mistakenly trust.”
“Perfect cover…. No one’s gonna think that little old granny is actually a psycho baby muncher.”
Sam nodded. “Yeah… and there’s one person we’ve met so far that fits that description and who was there the day the couple was killed.”
He raised his eyebrows and Dean grinned. “I guess this means we’re gonna be paying good ol' Martha at the nature center a little visit.”
Sam called ahead, reaching a young woman working there named Leah who informed him that Martha was indeed there until closing that night. It had been a race to make it to the center before she decided to leave. By the time Dean pulled the car into a space by the nature center, it was already dark. With only a few minutes left before closing time, he grabbed his bag of supplies ,and he and Sam hurried to the doors and inside.
As usual, Sam was quick to point out that while Martha fit the profile of their creature, they couldn’t just go in and waste her without some kind of proof. The first thing they did upon entering the center was search for the lady, but she wasn’t sitting at the reception desk. The place was devoid of visitors on the first floor, but the sound of voices from the bottom of the stairs attracted their attention.
Hanging back, Dean and Sam found a corner to hide where they could listen in on the conversation without being noticed.
“I just don’t know what to do, Martha.” A young woman spoke in hushed tones, with a slight hitch to her voice as though she had been crying. She sounded to Sam like the Leah he had spoken with over the phone. “My boyfriend is a great guy and he says he wants to marry me, but I’m not sure if I love him, and I don’t want to marry him just because he knocked me up, ya know?”
“Oh, honey….” the older woman consoled her. Dean peeked around the corner and could just make out Martha drawing Leah into a supportive embrace. “Don’t worry…. Everything will work out, you’ll see.”
“I hope so. I really don’t want to be a single mother, but… I’m going to have this baby either way.”
“Of course.” Martha held the young woman out at arm’s length while still rubbing her shoulders. “Why don’t you go home and get some rest. I’ll close up and stop by your place later for dinner and we can talk some more. How does that sound?”
“You’re so sweet. Thanks. That sounds really nice.”
“Okay, my dear… you go on and I’ll see you in a little while.”
Leah nodded and smiled through her tears, giving Martha one last hug before she headed up the stairs and left the building without seeing Sam and Dean lurking in the shadows.
“Crap,” Dean whispered. “I think we know who’s on the menu next.”
“We don’t know that for sure yet,” Sam countered.
“You kidding me?”
“We can’t just gank her without hard proof, Dean. We need to follow her - see what she does.”
“And what if she decides to do that whole freaky detachment thing here and fly over to that girl’s house for a midnight snack? You said yourself that she can’t be killed unless you burn the legs…. We need to split up. One of us stays on granny and takes care of the bottom half while the other heads to Leah’s house to kill the rest of this bitch.”
Sam sighed, clearly opposed to splitting up, but there really wasn’t much of a choice. “Okay… I’ll go to Leah’s. You watch Martha. Give me your keys.”
Dean pulled the keys from his pocket and dangled them at Sam before quickly pulling them back. “Hey… careful on those roads, remember to turn into the skid, and whatever you do… don’t mess with my radio.”
Sam shook his head and grumbled something under his breath while grabbing the keys, and hurried from the building before he Leah could get too far ahead of him to follow.
Shouldering his bag, Dean quietly descended the stairs, making as little noise as possible. The bottom of the stairs opened up to another display area with a large floor-to-ceiling window that showed an outside garden filled with bird and squirrel feeders so people could watch some of the animals that inhabited the area. A reflection in the window caught his eye and he flattened his back against the wall, holding his breath. It was Martha, humming a tune to herself as she began turning off lights around the building.
Dean watched as she slipped through a door marked ‘storage ‘and shut it behind her. Carefully, he came out of his hiding place, pulling his gun out from his waistband. He approached the door and reached for the knob, turned it quietly, and slowly pushed it open.
Raising his gun, he swept into the room and was suddenly assaulted by a high-pitched wail so loud that it made him see stars, and he instinctively covered his ears, feeling as though they might start bleeding from the terrible noise. In the next second, something barreled into him and sent him flying backward from the room and careening into the wall, his head connecting with hard brick. Just before it all went black, Dean caught sight of the thing-- unsure if what he was seeing was real, but it sure was one ugly, flying mother… and legless….
“She knocked you out?” Sam asked.
“Yeah… I don’t know how long I was under, but the next thing I know, my phone is ringing….”
Dean groaned, his head aching miserably while an annoying sound kept repeating in his ears. At least it wasn’t that wailing noise, but whatever it was, it was only making his headache worse. He realized at the same moment that his butt was vibrating and the noise was growing louder - sounding an awful lot like… what is that?
Metallica… Ride the Lightning?
Oh… phone… duh.
Opening his eyes and groaning again, he pushed himself up to his elbows and reached into his back pocket to retrieve his phone. With fumbling fingers, he pressed the button to answer and raised it to his ears only to be assaulted by a loud voice on the other end.
“Dean?! You there? Answer me!”
“Guhhhh…. Not so loud.”
“What happened? I’ve been trying to call you, but you wouldn’t answer.”
Dean sat up the rest of the way, holding his head as if to keep it from exploding from his neck. “It’s her, Sam. She’s the manana-thing. She took off - don’t know where she went, but she’s probably heading your way.”
“There hasn’t been any sign of her yet.”
“Where are you?”
“1345 Chestnut - about a ten minute drive east on Pontaluna. The street is on the right and the house is on the left hand side.”
Dean moaned as he struggled to his feet. “Hang on…. I’m on my way. I’ll have to steal the old lady’s car, but I’ll get there as soon as I can.”
“Wait, Dean. The legs… did she leave them behind?”
For a moment, Dean’s mind didn’t register why that was important, but Sam was quick to let him know again. “You got to salt and burn them otherwise she can’t be killed.”
Dean nodded, even though Sam couldn’t see him and it only made his head want to cave in on itself. “Hold on…. I’ll find ’em. You just be careful.”
Dean heard Sam swear under his breath and the sound of the car door opening and quickly closing.
“Sam… what’s going on?”
“She’s here, Dean. Burn the legs! Quick!”
The phone cut off. The fog in Dean’s brain suddenly lifted and his heart started to pound.
Legs. …. He had to find the legs….
Stumbling over his own feet, Dean ran to the bag he had dropped and barreled into the storage room. It was nearly pitch black in there, but Dean didn’t need to hit the lights in order to make out the pair of legs and hips cut off from the waist lying grotesquely on the floor.
He just about gagged at the sight, but he had a job to do and a little brother that needed back-up. Pushing aside his disgust, Dean dropped the bag to the floor and hurried to unzip it. He pulled out lighter fluid, salt, and doused the detached lower half of the creature with liberal amounts of both.
His fingers still had a hard time functioning right, but he managed to get his lighter lit and the legs on fire.
The smell was incredible, searing his nose with the odor of charring skin and bone. Dean coughed as the flames grew bright and hot for several seconds before they exploded in a bright flash of light and then disappeared as quickly as they had come, leaving only ashes smoldering on the tile floor.
He gagged and his stomach wrenched tight thanks to the lingering stench, but somehow he managed to stagger from the room, grateful that he didn’t have to stick around to make sure the fire didn’t burn the whole place to the ground.
Dean ran for the only remaining vehicle in the parking lot - Martha’s car, which she really didn’t need since she was currently a flying torso heading right for his brother’s position. That thought spurred him on to greater speed and when he found the car locked, he didn’t waste a second whipping out his gun and using the butt of it to smash open the window. Hotwiring the car took far longer than he would have liked, but soon he was flooring the accelerator and barreling down the road as fast as the old sedan could go.
“And that’s just about it. By the time I got to Leah’s house, the bitch was ventilated and you were at the bottom of that girl’s staircase with that thing lying dead on top of you, a busted leg, and giant lump on your head.
“What about the girl…. She okay?”
“Yeah… she was pretty spooked…. I mean it can’t be everyday that someone you work with tries to attack you or eat your unborn baby, ya know? She wanted to call an ambulance for you, but you woke up and begged her not to.”
“I’m sure I didn’t beg.”
“You so begged. You were worse than a puppy looking at a piece of bacon,” Dean retorted with a little grin brightening his face. “You remember anything about what happened?”
“Actually… yeah. I dunno…. “ Sam’s voice drifted off a little as the pieces started to fall together, the picture coming to life in his head, and he was able to hold onto the memory coming back to him. “I remember the house, sitting outside of it. I tried to call you, but you wouldn’t answer. I was getting worried….”
Sam lowered the phone, frustrated and ready to throw it out the window. Dean wasn’t picking up and that was never a good sign. Gripping the phone again he punched in Dean’s number one more time and begged to the heavens for him to answer. Finally, he heard the phone pick up and breathing on the other end.
Relief flooded his body. “Dean! You there? Answer me!” he demanded.
He heard his brother groan loudly, “Guhhh … not so loud.”
Sam let the breath he had been holding release. “What happened? I’ve been trying to call you, but you wouldn’t answer.”
Sam felt his stomach continue to churn uneasily as Dean took his time responding, and from the pain in his voice, he knew that his brother had taken a pretty hard hit. “It’s her, Sam. She’s the manana-thing. She took off - don’t know where she went, but she’s probably heading your way.”
Sam told Dean that he hadn’t seen any sign of the mananangaal yet and related his position to his brother, reminding Dean to find the legs and make sure they were toasted so Sam could kill the thing if and when it showed up.
Sam didn’t have to wait long for the thing to make itself known however, as he saw a dark shape fly over the house and land on the roof.
“Shit.” Sam swore under his breath. He was out of time.
“Sam… what’s going on?” Dean asked over the phone, sounding much more coherent.
“She’s here, Dean. Burn the legs! Quick!”
Sam ended the call and pushed the car door open, running across the slick, snow-and-ice-covered path for the front door of the house. He paused, trying the knob to the door only to find it had been locked. He banged on the door, hoping for a response from inside, but instead, he heard a shrill scream emanating from the other side.
Aiming his booted foot for the door, he kicked with all of his strength, ignoring the jarring shock to his leg as he kept at it, tearing the lock from the door frame and splintering the wood until the door was finally open.
Sam found himself in a foyer with a staircase leading to the second floor, while another doorway opened up into a living room. Another scream echoed through the house from upstairs, sending an electric wave of adrenaline through Sam’s system. He charged up the steps, taking two at a time until he was at the landing where a long hall led towards several rooms.
He pulled his gun from his waistband, running towards the sounds of distress coming from the farthest room on his right. He charged in without a thought and stopped just long enough to see the mananangaal lying on top of Leah, its claws extended and mouth salivating.
Leah screamed just as Sam raised his weapon and aimed, but at the same time the creature lifted its head and screeched at him with an ear-splitting wail so loud that he almost lowered his gun to cover his ears. He took a shot, aiming high so as to not hit Leah, but it went a little too high and hit the wall behind it. Incensed by Sam’s actions, the creature abandoned Leah and came straight for him.
There was little time to think before the thing was pouncing on him with incredible speed, driving Sam back into the hallway wall with a crash. Sam reacted on instinct alone and with his hand still wrapped tight around his gun, he brought it up and fired as round directly into the creature’s forehead.
Its head jerked back with the bullet’s impact, but within a second it recovered the red fire in its eyes, and the anger in its wail reignited the pain in Sam’s ears.
Clawed hands grabbed Sam by the collar, digging into his flesh as it hauled him up from the floor. He yelped in shock as he felt himself being flown down the hallway towards the banister of the staircase. Gripping Sam even tighter, the creature allowed Sam to struggle helplessly for several moments as it dangled him over the stairs, letting him know just what was to come with wicked glee on its ugly face.
Then--it simply let him go.
The sensation of falling took Sam’s breath away. Time slowed--and then sped up again as he saw the stairs rushing up to greet his face. Disjointedly, he felt them impact with his head and body as he tumbled like an unstoppable snowball rolling down a mountainside
Landing at the bottom was almost a relief. He was no longer falling at least, the world no longer turning over and over on its axis, but the relief that he wasn’t dead just yet was short-lived with the realization that if he wanted to stay that way, he needed to take action.
It was hard to move - hard to think - hard to know what it was he needed to do as the pain caused by his far-too-fast descent down the stairs suddenly came upon him in a tidal wave that stole all reason away from him. How long he lay there, stunned and immobile, he would never know, but the moment another scream filled the air, his hand gripped the gun he had somehow managed to not let go and his arm raised itself automatically.
There was no time to aim, only time enough to squeeze the trigger over and over again at the dark shape rushing upon him from above until his clip was empty and the acrid scent of cordite and blood filled the air.
A heavy weight fell upon him, landing on his legs. His head fell hard against a stair as blinding, white- hot, stabbing agony raced up his leg. He opened his mouth to scream, but he had no air left in his lungs to make a sound before everything went completely black and empty.
“And that’s it for me too. Don’t remember anything else except for waking up here to your ever-so-wonderful bedside manner,” Sam stated, turning his head towards Dean with somewhat glassy eyes and a lopsided grin.
“So anyway…” Sam continued sleepily, blowing out a breath as though he were relieved, “thanks for filling in some of the blanks. I think most of it is coming back to me now.” He had a vague notion that there was something more Dean wasn't saying. But the drugs were pulling him toward a blessed, pain-free darkness.
“I still don’t know why you would want to remember all of that crap, but… whatever...” Dean paused for a second and Sam forced himself to resist the call of sleep. He blinked to keep his eyes open and saw Dean wipe a weary hand over his face.
“I uh… I just wanted to say… I’m sorry I didn’t get there sooner. Sorry I didn’t have your back.”
That was what was bothering Dean? Sam reached between the beds, his hand falling weakly on Dean's knee. “What? Why would you be sorry about that? You did have my back, and I couldn’t have killed the damn thing if you hadn’t torched its legs.”
Dean frowned, and Sam knew he still felt guilty. Sam's injuries and that cast on his leg were going to be a visible reminder of just how close a call this whole mess had been, and he knew that didn’t settle well with his brother. "Look - this isn't the first time we've needed to split up. One of us protects the family; the other salts and burns the bones. It happens. We can't do what we do, and have each other's back twenty-eight hours a day."
"Twenty-four."
"It's twenty-eight on Krypton. Look… I know you want to be Superman, but you’re only human. And that's good enough. You saved my life, Dean.”
The tension around Dean's eyes eased a bit, and a corner of his mouth curled upward. “So, I think I’m Superman, huh? I guess that makes you Lois Lane, right?” He picked up Sam's hand and placed it back on Sam's chest with an absent-minded pat.
“Shut up,” Sam murmured.
He was asleep before Dean let go.
The End