Thanks for the continued interest. Enjoy the last chapter.

Chapter 3

Dean pulled the Impala up to the back of the store, sliding out and jogging around. "You sure you're up for this?" Dean questioned, helping Sam stand and allowing him to hop around until he got his injured leg beneath him.

"Yeah. It just cramped up in the car." Sam replied, flexing his leg and wincing at the pull on the stitches.

"Let's take care of some Fuglies." Dean popped the trunk and reached inside, retrieving two shotguns and several rock salt cartridges. He handed Sam the lighter weight gun grabbed a large canvas bag, dumping salt from a carton into the bag. Dean shut the trunk and helped his brother up the back steps and into the store, using the key Nick had given them.

Sam raised his gun and let Dean take the lead, using his height to aim easily over Dean's shoulder as they cleared the warehouse and moved deeper into the store, passing the welding supplies and into the tool department.

Sam cut across to lawn and garden warily eyeing the area where the statues had been sitting. The area on the artificial turf was empty, the small statues of the frogs and rabbits knocked over. He lifted the shotgun higher, swinging around at every sound he heard.

Dean walked through the tool department, watching for movement. He heard Sam moving stealthily through the aisles to his right. "Ya see anything?" Dean questioned, his voice low.

"They're gone." Sam answered. Dean heard the sound of running feet pattering across the floor behind him and he spun.

"I wish we were that lucky!" Dean said, spinning with his shotgun raised. He caught sight of a blur crossing his line of sight and he zeroed in on it, firing. The sound of breaking pottery and a harsh cry rang out.


"I got one of 'em. Watch your back!"

Giggles reverberated around Dean and he spun again, sighting in on the sound. He ducked instinctively as he heard something tear through the air towards him with a whoosh. A circular saw blade buried itself in the pegboard where his head would have been. Drill bits and more saw blades flew at him as the giggles resonated through the area. A blade embedded itself in the stock of the shotgun, cutting the side of Dean's palm and taking the gun from his hand. The drill bits bored through his jacket, pinning it to the pegboard.

"Sammy!" Dean cried, his younger brother lurching into the aisle. Dean struggled to get free. Sam grabbed the protruding ends of the drill bits and pulled out a few, dropping them to the ground. Another bit flew at them, grazing Sam's bicep and making him cry out. Dean pulled his arms out of his jacket and grabbed Sam, dragging him out of the way. A saw blade whirred through the air and sliced into Dean's side, raking a groove just beneath his ribs. Dean groaned, clapping a hand to his side.

"Damnit, we've gotta bag these sonsabitches!"

Sam grabbed the canvas bag and scooped up a handful of salt, whipping it at one of the creatures as it ran past. It shrieked, the limestone statue stilling, losing the odd red light from it's eyes.

"Dean! The salt! Hit 'em with the salt!"

Dean pulled a flask of salt from his shirt pocket, capping the bottle and whipping the white granules at a blur as it ran past. Another cry broke the silence, fading to a rasp and dying off.

Sam whipped another handful of salt at a passing blur as he moved into the plumbing department, giggles ringing out as he missed. He felt his feet fly out from under him as he was barreled into by one of the creatures, Sam's head hit the base of a shelving unit and his vision grayed out. He gasped in pain and tried to stay conscious. Ten foot sections of various size metal water pipe tipped from the shelves and landed on Sam, knocking the wind from him.

"Argh!" He cried, feeling the pipe digging into his ribs and legs, a large diameter piece coming down hard on his stitched leg. He felt warmth spreading over his thigh and knew he'd burst his sutures. The giggles closed in on him and he forced his eyes open, seeing the odd glowing red eyes of the creatures looming over him.

"Diediediediedie!" they chanted, giggling in raspy voices, an eerie, childlike and ancient tone all at once.

"SAM!!" Dean sprayed rock salt over the circling creatures, covering his ears as they cried in agony, a harpy like screech. The red lights diminished in their stone eyes.

"Sammy, ya okay?" Dean asked, lifting sections of pipe from his brother's frame. Sam laid back on the floor, his body free, fighting to catch his breath. Dean quickly picked up the statues and shoved them into the canvas bag with the remaining salt. He helped Sam to his feet, his brother wobbling slightly.

"Let's burn these suckers." Sam nodded wordlessly, swallowing as he pulled in a breath. Dean hefted the bag full of the flower pots and eased Sam's arm around his shoulders, helping his baby brother out the back door. He leaned Sam against the Impala, letting him shift his weight off of his bad leg. Dean went to the trunk, dug out another container of salt and one of lighter fluid and sat the creatures on the pavement. He doused the bag with accelerant and dropped a match, shaking salt on the growing fire just to be sure.

"One helluva night, huh Sammy?" Dean said, stepping back beside his brother and leaning heavily against his baby, tucking a hand against his sluggishly bleeding side as his shoulder bumped his brother's gently.

"No kidding." Sam said, applying pressure to his thigh. "Can we get outta here now?"

"Yeah. Let's get patched up and sleep. We'll check in with Nick and hit the freakin' road later tomorrow."

"You mean today, right?" Sam said, nodding his head in the direction of the pink horizon, where the morning sun was just beginning to peak over the treetops.

"Sometimes the family business really sucks ass."

"It's not all bad." Sam said, smirking at his brother.

"Tell me one good thing about tonight?" Dean challenged.

"We figured out where we can get some pretty creative weapons."

"You hit your head harder than I thought." Dean said, smirking.

Hope you all liked the story. I'll be back with another one soon.