Chapter 3: Stayin' Alive
Disclaimer: Supernatural and its characters belong to Eric Kripke, Warner Bros., The CW, etc. The story is just for fun, not for profit. No infringement intended.
For a moment, Sam could only stare at the spot where Dean had been standing moments ago. He had watched with sick fascination as the webbed hand had slid from the water, quickly latching itself around his brother's ankle.
The look of panic in Dean's eyes as he grasped at rocks to stop his descent into the river kicked Sam into motion.
"Dean! No!" roared Sam, leaping across stones in a desperate race to reach Dean. Sam made it only a couple of strides before Dean's head submerged in the water, and Sam came to a skidding halt on his knees on the riverbank.
"No, no, no, no," he mumbled, searching the water for signs of his brother.
Think Sam. There's no time. One wrong move and… Don't go there. Think.
Sam turned quickly, looking for anything he could use. If the creature was able to grab his brother so quickly, it had to be strong. There was no way Sam could just swim down and pull him out. He would need to fight this thing, kill it if he could.
Next to him, a few feet up the riverbank, was Dean's duffle. Sam scrambled to it and tore the zipper open, finding Dean's hatchet resting on top. Grabbing it, Sam ran into the water, diving under quickly.
He swam with long strokes, surprised at the deceptive depth of the Little Miami River. Finally, among the algae tendrils, Sam saw a pale hand. He was still being pulled further down into the arctic depths. As Sam watched, a torrent of bubbles burst from his brother as he released the breath he had been holding.
No! Don't give up on me, man. Don't do this.
Dean's eyes slipped closed. Sam swam faster.
He finally got close enough to Dean and grabbed his wrist. The creature jerked, not expecting any resistance. It looked up at him and shrieked, the sound stabbing Sam's brain like an ice pick. Sam swung the hatchet as hard as he could through the water and made contact with the thing's wrist. With a puff of blood, it released Dean's ankle. Sam kicked and pulled, looking up towards the surface, unaware how they had gotten so deep.
With one hand holding the hatchet and the other grasping his brother, Sam couldn't move fast enough. He dropped the hatchet and let it sink to the bottom.
Sam's lungs were screaming at the lack of air, his head beginning to become foggy from the sharp pain. He needed to swim faster, or they would both drown.
Finally, his head broke the water. He gasped and hauled in a deep breath, crawling to the shore with Dean in tow. The whole ordeal had only lasted a couple of minutes, but it had felt like an eternity. Sam pulled Dean further up the shore, away from the water's edge. He was heavy, his jacket and clothes soaked through. Sam stopped dragging and turned to examine his brother, allowing his brain to slow down. He hadn't even checked if Dean was breathing.
"Dean. Dean, come on man. You have to breathe."
Sam rested his middle and index finger against Dean's throat. His skin was cold. He felt like a corpse.
There was no beat under his fingers.
"No! Don't do this to me, Dean! Wake up!"
Sam began CPR, pounding on his brother's chest. The same chest he had shot rock salt through only a day before.
Well maybe don't shoot me next time!
If Dean woke up, he was going to be in a world of pain.
When Dean woke up. Not if.
Blood oozed in a steady stream from a nasty cut on Dean's forehead, likely from the rocks he had hit when the creature had dragged him under. His chest rocked as Sam thrust the heel of his palm into his sternum over and over again. The blue tint to his lips was making Sam feel sick. Sam tried to keep the word lifeless out of his mind and avoided looking at his brother's slack face. He couldn't become distracted by the fear gripping his heart; he needed to focus, and the very thought that Dean could be too far gone was enough to make Sam's knees weak.
"One and two and three and four and…" Sam counted out loud as he compressed Dean's chest, and his brother's voice rang in his head.
Now Sammy, when you do CPR, you gotta remember to keep the rhythm. You can do this one of two ways. You can either sing the Bee Gee's "Stayin' Alive," or you can do Queen's "Another One Bites the Dust." Pick based on how optimistic you're feeling that you can save that poor sucker's skin."
Sam forced himself to start singing quietly, not sure when the tears had started falling down his cheeks. He would save his brother. He had to.
"Ah, ah, ah, ah, stayin' alive. Stayin' alive. Ah, ah, ah- "
Dean's body heaved forward, and with a hacking cough, the river tumbled from his lungs. Sam rushed to turn him to his side, helping his brother to empty the water from his body.
At that moment, the river exploded. From the massive wave, the creature sprung from the depths, landing on the shore with an inhuman screech.
"Shit!" Sam cried, scrambling to put himself between his brother and the massive amphibian before them.
In the moonlight, it became obvious to Sam that this was nothing he had ever seen before. It truly looked like a frog; about seven feet tall, with webbed hands and feet and enormous globes for eyes, and its body was covered in spiny protrusions. It was incredibly muscular with long limbs, and it was headed straight for Sam.
He tried to roll to the side, but the creature was faster. It grabbed him by the calf and pulled him to it, grabbing him by the throat and tossing him a few feet away. Sam hit the rocks with a heavy thud and a groan and was sure his wrist had been sprained by the impact.
The creature hobbled towards him, clearly more agile in the water, but quick nonetheless. Sam kicked as it approached, connecting with its thigh. The Loveland Frog screamed and went down, and Sam got up and tried to run. He turned in time to see the creature position itself on all fours before bounding through the air, reaching him in one leap.
A webbed hand grabbed Sam's shoulder and threw him to his back, and before he could react the hands were wrapped around his throat. Sam couldn't breathe. He clawed at the creature's grip, but his fingers slid right off. Black spots twirled in his vision, and Sam furiously gulped for air. He was going to pass out, and he knew if he did, Dean was dead too.
A gunshot rang through the air, and the frog's head exploded on Sam. Air rushed into his lungs and he inhaled deeply.
Sam shimmied out from under the creature and sat up. There, at the riverbank, was Dean on his back, pistol in his hands. The barrel was smoking in the cool night air. The brothers locked eyes, and without a word, Dean's head dropped back onto the rocks, and he was still once more.
A/N: Thanks for reading! Reviews always appreciated :)