Dead on the Bayou Chapter 6
CHAPTER 6
Sam backed another step. The Pookha crouched on its back end and readied itself it to launch at Sam's head. It gave a louder growl and Sam started bringing the gun up but he wasn't going to be fast enough. He knew it. It all happened in a split second: His gun was too low, the Pookha erupted from the ground in a blur of movement and the Housekeeper Sam had spoken too suddenly stepped out of the room beside him, lanky black hair flying as he took the full force of the creature's attack. He fell back into Sam and knocked them both into the ground. The Pookha howled in frustration as its weight bored both men into the pavement. Sam gasped for breath beneath them and tried to free his gun arm to take a shot. The Pookha seemed to sense its danger and turned in a flurry of motion to disappear around the side of the motel.
"Crap!" Sam gasped. "Hey! You alright?" He rolled the man off of him and reared back in disgust. The Pookha had gutted the poor guy. He wrapped a hand around the burning ache in his right shoulder from the popped stitches and sat back against the wall just getting his breath back.
"Sam? Sammy!" Dean sprinted the length of the motel, skidding to a stop beside his brother and pulled him quickly to his feet. "What the hell happened?"
"Pookha." Sam said shortly. "Thought maybe it was the one you spoke to but uh…" He looked down at the dead man and sighed. "That was meant for me."
Dean felt the blood drain from his face and tightened his grip on Sam's arm. "Ok, we're outta here. Get in the car." He followed Sam to the Impala and closed him inside before looking around the parking lot for anyone who may have seen what happened. Thankfully the place was quiet. Dean made a quick trip back through their room for anything left behind and, satisfied there was nothing, dashed back out and had them on the road in minutes.
"Really starting to hate shape shifting monsters." Dean growled as he sped out of Bayou Goula and toward White Castle. He glanced over at Sam and frowned. Dean whipped a hand out and turned Sam slightly toward him. The right side of his shirt was spotted with blood, darker at the shoulder. "You're bleeding? Why are you bleeding?"
"Just a couple popped stitches." Sam told him and pushed his hand away. "It's no big deal." Sam was replaying the Pookha's attack in his head, wondering if there had been a way he could have saved the poor Housekeeper. He should have been able to do something.
"It's not your fault, Sam." Dean said and gave a small smile at the surprise on his brother's face. "If it hadn't been that poor sucker, it would have been you and, no offense to the other guy but I'll take that trade."
Sam nodded but stayed quiet. He couldn't as easily dismiss the guilt that he'd caused the man's death. He added to the list of deaths he was responsible for in one way or another and was glad Dean didn't know he was keeping count or that the very first name on his list…was Mom.
Once they reached White Castle Dean hit up the nearest drive through, starving as he was and loaded them up with salads and burgers before finding the nearest motel. He bypassed the first two as they both backed onto forests and he'd had enough of creature house calls. The third he found in a seedy neighborhood, no trees in sight and backed up against a baseball stadium…well it said stadium but it was more a glorified covered field. It made him itch to leave Sam in the car while getting the room and he couldn't stop himself from practically standing in the door so he could see his brother in the car. He flipped Sam his favorite finger the second time he rolled his eyes at Dean's over protective attitude.
They trudged up the two flights of stairs to their third floor room and Dean gave a happy sigh when he opened the door and saw a ceiling free of the giant yellow star from the old room. "Much better." He said and went inside, setting the weapons bag on the dresser across from the beds. Wood floors, white stucco walls and maroon curtains matching the spreads on the bed made for a much more inviting room.
Dean opened the weapons bag and pulled out the first aid kit. "Shirts off, dude." He ordered his brother and gave him a warning glare not to argue.
Sam sighed and sat. "It's really not that bad." He got the shirts off his left arm easily but had to take a few deep breaths before he managed to pull them over his head and off his right arm. "Ok, it hurts but it's still not bad."
"Uh huh." Dean bent for a closer look and clenched his jaw. The skin around the claw marks was dark red, starting to swell and obviously infected. "Thought the Doc gave you something for this."
"He did." Sam hissed when Dean pressed into the wound to remove the first of the broken stitches. "Hasn't had time to work yet really."
"No shit." Dean was gentle but as sensitive as the inflamed wounds were he had no choice but to cause him pain. "Whiskey bottles in the bag." Dean told him with a smirk. "Doctor Dean prescribes a few swallows for the pain."
"Dude." Sam groaned, rolled his eyes and pulled the bottle out. "That is just…a damn disturbing image. Ick."
"Ick?" Dean jabbed his good shoulder. "Are you five?" He chuckled when Sam spluttered after the first healthy gulp. "And a girl."
"Eat me." Sam retorted and Dean groaned.
"Dude, that's disturbing." Dean told him and got the last popped stitch out. "Bottle." Sam handed it to him and Dean tipped a generous amount out over the wounds. "If that don't kill the infection it'll at least get it drunk." He pulled over the suture kit and handed the bottle back to his brother. Dean braced a hand on Sam's shoulder and frowned. "You're warm."
Sam snorted. "Man it's like ninety in here. Of course I'm warm." Dean shrugged and set the first stitch for which Sam was grateful. For once he was happy they we're stuck somewhere muggy and hot, the better to hide the fever the antibiotics hadn't yet beaten.
Dean finished off the three stitches and taped a bandage over the wounds. "All done, kiddo. Now eat something." He stood and pulled a salad out of the take out bag, sliding it in front of him.
"Not hungry." Sam started to stand but Dean shoved him back.
"Don't care. You wanna go hunt this bitch tonight you're gonna eat something first." Dean smiled wickedly at him. "Or I can tie your ass to the bed and go handle it myself." He gave Sam's pale, sweat slicked face a critical look. "Which might not be a bad idea."
"Fine, I'll eat." Sam rolled his eyes at him again and popped the lid off the salad. "We need to gank this thing for sure tonight."
Dean nodded. "Before Dad shows up asking what the hell we're doing wrong." He said ruefully and bit into a burger as he sat and eased his aching legs out in front of him. "We stick together tonight. No splitting up." He watched Sam shove salad around with his fork. "You know that tastes better when you actually eat it."
"Geez, Mom." Sam groaned but took a bite to shut him up. "I got it. Stay together and no running off just cause my big brother's a big gimp." Sam smirked and ducked the ketchup coated pickle chip that came flying at him.
"Shut up." Dean finished off his burger and stood. "I'm takin a shower." He grabbed his bag from the floor and pinned Sam with a stern look. "Don't leave the room. I don't think that thing'll come after us here but let's be safe."
"Yes, Mom." Sam chuckled and flung a piece of lettuce after him. He finished half his salad while Dean showered, knowing Dean would check on him like a little kid and pushed it away with a short laugh. By the time Dean came out he'd donned clean shirts and managed to drop his fever a degree or two by sitting on the floor with his head in the mini-fridge. He'd felt ridiculous but he no longer felt as woozy and figured it was worth it. Now all he had to do was hide it from Dean for the rest of the day.
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"I don't like it, Sammy." Dean said as they entered the woods behind the Evan's house again. It was well after midnight, the moon hidden behind clouds and their flashlights cut misty beams through the low fog covering the ground inside the trees. "This thing is out for you and you're not a hundred percent to begin with." He glanced over to see Sam wipe sweat off his forehead; more evidence of the fever his little brother was trying to ignore and deluding himself into thinking he was hiding.
"I'll be fine, Dean." Sam rolled his eyes. "It's two on one and we've got a Pookha on our side. What could possibly go wrong?" He said with a smirk as Dean groaned and glared at him.
"Dude, are you asking for this to go sideways?" Dean waved his arms in frustration. "Why would you say that?"
"Cause it makes your eyes cross." Sam said in good humor and smiled wider at the death glare his brother sent him. In truth, he wasn't feeling well at all and would have gladly curled up in his bed in the motel if he hadn't known Dean would come out here on his own. Dean in the bayou in the dark with no backup was not something he was willing to let happen, no matter how crappy he felt. In a perfect world he'd have been able to lie up for a few days and let Doctor Erickson's antibiotics have a chance to work but when was their world ever perfect?
"Just…stay close." Dean didn't want him out of his sight until they ganked the damn Pookha. Dean had checked the news after his shower earlier, wanting to see what the police were making of the dead housekeeper but no matter how many channels he checked, there was nothing. Finally, his curiosity making his teeth itch, he'd called the motel. He'd said he'd stayed there recently and wanted to thank the Housekeeper. The Motel's owner had tartly informed him that if he'd stayed, he'd know damn well they didn't have one and never had. Dean had hung up and spent a few minutes just staring at Sam before informing him he'd been saved by a guy who didn't exist. Sam had concluded it had to have been Dean's good Pookha, which was the only explanation and the man HAD had black hair. They were shapeshifters after all. It wasn't beyond reason and would explain why no one had reported a dead body. Dean still didn't like it. It was too convenient and the man's eyes hadn't been red, a trait that so far he had seen from the Pookha in every form it took.
"Dean. You paying attention?" Sam said when he noticed Dean's faraway look. His brother jerked his head and nodded.
"Let's make this the last time we have to wade into this damn swamp." Dean said as they reached the edge of the Bayou. He wished they had the moonlight to help them see or a stiff wind to blow off the mist clinging to the water's surface. He'd rubbed a liberal amount of the numbing cream Sam had gotten him into his legs before they left and winced when he realized the water was just going to wash it off.
Sam followed as Dean took the lead, letting him set the slower pace his bruised legs needed and stared out into the misty swamp. "This fog sucks." He groaned after a minute. "The Pookha could be three feet away in the water and we wouldn't see it."
"Well that makes me feel all kinds of better, Sammy." Dean rolled his eyes. He followed the dry land bridge as far out into the Bayou as they could go, Sam staying close behind him and finally they had no choice but to get wet. "You're sure you can find this thing's lair?"
"We had to be close to it when we found the father's body." Sam nodded and slipped into the water, frowning as the mist closed over his head. "It's the only logical reason I can think of why it would have stuffed him under that tree." He felt the water slosh against his shoulders as Dean entered the water beside him. He ducked his head a little and smiled. "There's a clear space between the water and the mist. Duck your head." He waded out in the direction he thought the Pookha's lair was and felt Dean beside him. He could just see his brother's shoulders beside him as he moved, keeping his gun and flashlight above the waters' surface. The only sound was their own movement, sending ripples out across the bayou. Sam swallowed a groan as the water saturated the bandage on his shoulder and made the claw marks begin to burn while the water itself was a cool balm on his fevered body.
Dean swept an arm out and grasped hold of Sam's arm. "Stay close. I'm not losing you in this crap." He ordered softly. They waded into the bayou shoulder to shoulder, going wide around the bases of the ancient Cypress trees, Dean trusting Sam's sense of direction to get them where they needed to be.
"We're close." Sam whispered as they eased around a tree he knew to be the one where they'd found the body. Dean grabbed his arm again suddenly and jerked him to a stop. "What?"
"You hear that?" Dean said softly and let go of Sam's arm to grab a root instead, pulling himself up slightly.
Sam strained his ears and sucked in a breath as he heard the unmistakable sound of heavy footfalls somewhere just beyond them. A moment later something splashed into the water nearby and went silent.
"Out." Dean told him and pulled him over to the tree. "Get above the damn mist." He pulled himself up the roots and onto the base of the tree, Sam beside him as a low growl rumbled through the mist filled night and froze them both in place. "Oh crap."
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