Mouthwatering: Part III

[musicalluna]

Title: Mouthwatering: Part III
Fandom: Supernatural
Author: MusicalLuna
Rating: T
Characters/Pairings: Sam, Dean
Genre: Horror, Suspense
Warnings: Creepy.
Complete: Yes
Summary: Sam and Dean find themselves in a dank underground prison in the clutches of a creature that wants more than just a taste of them.
A/N: I started this for Skysalla in chat one night. Then a month later, I added some more. And then a little more. And then suddenly it needed to be a real story. In the end, it got what it wanted.
Disclaimer: I don't own either Sam or Dean, tragically. I do own the creature-feature of this fic, however. :)

 Note: This takes place somewhere in season one or two, where in particular is up to you.

Dean is somewhere between sleep and unconsciousness when the door creeps open again, sending Sam skittering back from the edges of sleep. "Dean!" he calls sharply and his brother's head shoots up, eyes fluttering.

 

"Wh--mn--" He blinks and spots the girl as she steps through the door.

 

Only she isn't a girl anymore.

 

Not exactly.

 

"Oh my god," Sam mumbles, staring.

 

She's taller--at least five or six inches--and her face has grown more angular, more masculine. Sam's stomach lurches as he recognizes the angle of the jaw, the narrow shoulders his brother had had in his early teens, and most disturbingly of all, the flare of his own nose just beneath the girl's round, pale eyes.

 

"Hell, no," Dean breathes, wrenching at the manacles, his face contorting in pain a second later. "Sam!"

 

Sam's heart throbs in his chest painfully as he sits on his hip, hands held up in a useless defensive pose. He's primed to protect his brother, but there's so little he can do. When the girl walks past, he lunges for her, trying just to get even the hem of her skirt between his fingertips, but he misses, jarring his leg and barely biting back a cry.

 

Dean screams this time.

 

When it's over, the creature, a mix of his brother and a dark-haired girl, beautiful, androgynous, steps back, blood dripping from her mouth, leaving a trail of droplets down the front of the now-strained fabric of the white dress. She lifts a hand, drawing a single finger through the blood oozing from the half-moon of punctures in Dean's side.

 

She smiles with Dean's lips and slides her finger into her mouth, licking it clean with a rapturous expression.

 

Sam can't take it and he loses the scant contents of his stomach to the cobblestones.

 

After the creature is gone, Sam struggles with his restraints until his wrists are rubbed raw and bloody.

 

“Sam,” Dean rasps, prying his eyes open. “Sam, stop! Okay, dude? Please, just...”

 

“No . I'm not going to let her just kill you, Dean!” His shirt is soaked through with sweat from the strain and because the stone floor is freezing, he can't stop shivering.

 

“You're not helping me like this!” Dean snaps. “Just--take a break, okay?”

 

“Fine...” Sam mutters, a chill rippling down his spine as he lets his head drop to the floor. “Okay. Are you happy now?”

 

“Oh, yeah, ecstatic.”

 

Exhaustion has been pulling at Sam for some time now and despite his shivering it doesn't take long for him to drift into a restless sleep.

 

~ * ~

 

Sam wakes to the sound of Dean grunting--a noise borne out of pain. He jerks up, adrenaline flooding into his veins and nearly goes back down as his head spins wildly. Fighting a surge of nausea, he pants, “Dean?”

 

“Relax--Sammy,” Dean grits. His voice sounds strained, but Sam can't see the creature when he looks up and his panic slips down a few notches.

 

“How many times do I have to tell you not to call me that?”

 

Something caused his brother to make that noise though, so he keeps looking. And what he finally does see is that one of Dean's wrists is free.

 

“Dean,” he asks, dread bubbling up inside him, “what did you do?”

 

Tendrils of blood have streaked down Dean's arm and dried in dark, meandering trails, but more telling is the still-bright blood smeared around his wrist and all over the widest part of his hand. His thumb looks...wrong and Sam's eyes dart up to Dean's face again, his gut twisting.

 

“What did you do?”

 

The muscle in Dean's cheek rolls as he swallows and then opens his eyes. That flinty look of determination Dean learned from their father is in his eyes. “I did what I had to do, Sam.”

 

He goes back to what he was doing, gritting his teeth as he reaches into his pocket, thumb dangling uselessly from the side of his hand.

 

“Dean--”

 

Another grunt of pain and Dean draws his hand back out. He flicks his wrist and Sam stares as a tiny glint of metal hits the stone floor in front of him with a quiet tinkling sound.

 

“Hurry up,” Dean orders, voice rough. “We probably don't have much time and you're not going to be able to pick the lock on your wrists.”

 

Sam swallows down another surge of nausea and takes the lock pick between shaking fingers. “I'm going to get you out of here, Dean,” he swears.

 

“I know, Sammy,” Dean mutters. His eyes are closed, dark lashes and circles beneath his eyes standing out like beacons against the extraordinary paleness of his face. “I know.”

 

~ * ~

 

It takes a few tries, but Sam gets the lock on the shackle around his ankle open and it clatters to the ground. “Okay, Dean,” he says, “here I come.”

 

“It's about time,” Dean grumbles, but it's a token effort. He's stopped trying to hold himself upright and there seems to be more blood on his clothes than not.

 

Sam starts to get to his feet, but quickly remembers that his ankle is out of commission when it flares with pain at the slightest pressure. He swears under his breath and then proceeds to drag himself across the cell.

 

Then he digs his fingers into the gaps between the bricks on the wall and begins hauling himself upright, struggling to use his uninjured leg without jarring the injured one.

 

He feels lightheaded and his jaw hurts from clenching his teeth when he finally manages to prop himself up against the wall. The tips of his fingers are bloodied and sore and when he unclenches his fist, he has to pull the lock pick out from where it has embedded itself in his palm. “It's okay, Dean,” he pants, reaching for the lock that binds Dean's arm. “I'm gonna get you out of here.”

 

Dean gives a dry breath of a laugh and his eyes crack open just enough to peek at Sam. “You'll be lucky if you can get you out of here with that bum leg, Sammy.”

 

“I'm not leaving you behind so don't even start,” Sam grits through his teeth. The lock gives a few quiet metallic clicks as he manipulates it with the pick and then slides open. “There,” he says triumphantly. He yanks the lock away and tosses it to the ground. Dean lets out a stifled noise of pain as the grip on his wrist loosens and then disappears altogether and his legs crumple beneath him. “Shit!”

 

He curls up with a groan and Sam does the only thing he can do--he pushes off of the wall and drops down beside his brother, crying out as the landing jars his leg.

 

“Dean?” he demands, his voice cracking.

 

“I'm...fine, Sammy,” Dean says breathlessly. The lines carved into his face disagree, but Sam realizes it doesn't really matter--not right now. “We...have to get out of here.”

 

“Can you walk?” Sam asks and now the fear is growing, slipping into his chest and curling up at the bottom of his stomach where it writhes like a living thing inside him. Getting free of the restraints will be useless if neither of them can walk.

 

Dean shakes his head and says, “Only one way to find out.”

 

The process of getting up a second time is even more exhausting, but Sam manages because Dean is there, lending him what little help he can. It's not the pain that's getting to Dean, it's the blood loss and the subsequent weakness. Sam can see every muscle trembling with effort.

 

Finally, Sam is standing and Dean slides under his arm. “I can be your crutch, dude,” he says, “but there's no way in hell I can hold your gigantic ass up, so don't even try it.”

 

Sam grits his teeth and does his best not to.

Part I   Part II   Part III  Part IV    Part V   Part VI   Part VII