A/N: So I was challenged by a great friend(Heya Sis!) to pull a story out of my butt in time for Christmas. The prompt was: Having the boys stuck in the car, injured/sick, up against the Monster of the Week. I know I didn't keep the boys in the car, but hey, at least he was stuck. Hope you like and to every Samgirl out there, here's a present for ya. All wrapped up.
Thanks so much to Sammygirl1963 for the title, and the kick in the arse.
Blake peeked out from his hiding place as the sound of cautious footfalls reached his ears. Not quiet enough, Marco, he thought as he leveled his gun and watched his friend step into the cross hairs in his scope. The air rifle went off and two bright green splotches appeared on Marco's chest plate, a "fatal" shot. The shocked look on Marco's face made Blake step out roaring with laughter that echoed through the slowly darkening forest.
"How the hell did you hear me?" Marco asked. Blake laughed again.
"You know a good soldier never gives away his secrets. Ah, you should see the look on your face, dude. " The teenager responded, grinning.
Marco looked up at the red sky signifying the approaching sunset. "Man, we should be heading back. My dad'll have my ass if I'm not back in time to feed the horses."
Blake pulled off his gloves and stashed them in the pocket of his body armor, setting the safety on the paintball rifle. Marco followed suit, hissing in pain when the safety pinched his finger.
"Oww!" He cried, shaking his bleeding hand, a single drop of blood flying from his finger to land on the damp fall leaves.
"Baby." Blake teased.
"Ass." Marco responded automatically.
"Seriously, you take two to the chest," Blake said, smearing chalky green paint, "but you can't handle a pinched finger? You sure you don't wanna join the ballet, instead of the Corps?"
Marco curled his bleeding finger in and extended another.
A sound in the deepening shadows made Blake stop laughing and glance around. "Who's there? This is private property!" He called into the woods. No answer came back to him. He shook his head.
"Come on. Let's get back before our dads kill us." Blake stepped ahead of Marco, leaving the other seventeen year old slightly behind. Marco squeezed his finger, causing another drop of blood to well. He raised it to his mouth, gasping when he felt an acid like burn course through his neck. A shadow loomed over him as his legs quickly began to tingle and seemed to melt from beneath him. He looked up and the last thing he saw was gleaming, green eyes that looked like marbles in shiny black skin.
"Oh God! No!" he cried, screaming in pain as stiletto like legs pinned him to the ground, sharp points piercing his paintball armor like knives through a well done steak. A glob of sticky white webbing covered his mouth and nose, cutting off his cries, and his air. Blake heard Marco's cut short cry and turned.
"What the..?!" Blake started, only to be cut off as a needle tipped leg punched through his heart, blood burbling past his parted lips. Shock crossed his face before the light left his eyes. The sharp point pulled back with a sucking sound and Blake fell face first next to Marco's twitching form. Green eyes met Marco's, shining with intelligence and…hunger. Marco's swam with tears that he couldn't stop, dullness filling them as gossamer webbing began to cover his body, wrapping his convulsing form tight as the poison worked through his system, paralyzing him, and lack of air finished him off. She picked him up, the sticky film allowing her to anchor him to her back, short, spiny hairs acting like Velcro. She moved quickly through the woods towards her lair.
"Dean man, you should let me drive. You're wiped."
"M fine." Dean muttered, eyes blinking rapidly to clear blurry vision. His chin dropped for a second and he lifted it stubbornly, white knuckles prying themselves from the wheel to turn up the Metallica thrumming through the speakers. He pulled the knob to turn on the headlights.
Sam cringed as Sad But True threatened to make his ears bleed. Dean straightened in the seat, the music jarring him awake. He coughed, a harsh reminder tearing through his throat, of the reason he hated outdoor winter hunts. The dunking in the river at the hands…flippers… of a Selkie had left him nearly hypothermic, Sam dragging his ass into a shoreline cave, killing the Selkie and saving his ass single handedly.
Sam reached for the knob on the radio, turning the volume from a deafening roar to a soft background hum.
"Dude. You're barely awake, deafening me to keep the car on the road, and you're still shivering. Let me drive!"
"'Mfine Sam!" Dean growled, breaking off into a coughing fit. His hand came off the wheel to rub at his chest. A shadow lunged across the roadway and Sam glanced up.
"Dean!" Dean whipped the wheel one handed to avoid the large shadow. Large glowing green eyes flashed in the headlights of the Impala before the car left the roadway, striking two trees before spinning out and sliding down a steep embankment, Dean's side of the car landing in a ditch.
Sam saw the shadow dart across the road, the bulk of it high above the hood of the car on spindly legs. "Dean!" He cried, catching the flash of saucer like green eyes in shiny ebony skin. His head smacked hard off the passenger window as the car careened in a wild arc, attempting to go around the shadow. He saw stars, belatedly feeling the warmth of blood trickle down his temple. The back end of the car smacked off a cluster of trees with the loud metallic crunch of fender against bark and spun, crossing the road and leaving it. Sam was bounced again off the door panel, his cheekbone striking the door pillar and leaving his world fading to black. The last thing he felt was the car coming to a stop and the heat of Dean's too still, fevered flesh.
The iron tang of blood on the cool evening air stopped her. The thought of another fresh kill thrumming through her as the sounds of bending metal and spinning tires stilled. Saliva dripped from large fangs as she sensed the heated flesh of her kill. A large leg reached out and the sound of shattering glass split the night. Spun silk careened through the car, wrapping Sam tight. He was pulled away from Dean, moaning slightly before the silk tightened around his extremities and pulled him through the smashed out window. She secured him next to the other silk wrapped bundle she carried and turned back to the car, another kill in her sights. She shot silk into the Impala, imprisoning her kill in her web. The silk coated Dean tightly as the sticky substance cured and anchored him to the door panel. She carried Sam off into the darkness.
Dean's head rolled, glass biting into his scalp and the back of his neck. The smell of wet leaves and damp, cold fall air reached his nose, along with the smell of blood and something he couldn't put his finger on. His eyes opened, blinking against the pain that lodged behind them. He tried to lift a hand to the congealed blood he felt on the side of his neck but his hand stopped, something holding it down only a couple inches from the upholstery which felt cold beneath him. His eyes snapped open and he glanced around, more of whatever was holding him down pulling at his hair. He was on his back, legs twisted cruelly in the foot well. His right foot was wedged tightly beneath the brake pedal, his ankle protesting the angle with a vicious throb. His ribs matched the pulse beating through his head like a set of bass drums.
Dean finally saw enough of his surroundings to realize that the car was on it's side, windows broken out and engine silent, not even the ping of cooling metal to tell him he hadn't been unconscious as long as he feared when he realized the one thing about this that he didn't see was his brother.
"Sam!" He paused a beat, hoping to hear something. "SAMMY!" Nothing. Fear made him struggle with what was holding him down, what he saw to be… "Spider webs? What the hell?" Dean fought the sticky tethers more, some of them tightening while the one around his wrist managed to shift slightly and allow him to reach his pocket. He dug inside, finding his Zippo. He pulled it out and lit in, illuminating the interior of the car dimly. The light sparkled off the gossamer webbing and he could turn his head enough to realize that he wasn't fully ensnared. "This is gonna be a bitch with just a freakin' lighter." Dean felt the slowly heating metal of the lighter's case and turned it so that the flame licked at the tether around his wrist. It blackened and resembled melting plastic until it snapped, leaving a band of it on his leather jacket at his wrist but his wrist was free. He raised his hand and pulled at the silk that anchored his head, wincing when strands of his hair were wrenched from his scalp.
Dean's head came free and he lifted it enough to see that the strands of web crisscrossed his torso like duct tape, holding him to the mangled door panel. His shoulder protested the pull but he moved it all he could, shimmying around enough to get his knife out of his other pants pocket with his free hand. Flicking open the blade, he sliced through the silk holding him down and worked his way free of his wrecked baby. He saw the damage to the car, tree shaped dents to the rear quarter on the passenger side, the rear tire flat. The driver's side was in the ditch, mud and wet leaves splattered up over the glossy black paint. He pulled his attention from the car and searched for his brother, hoping that if he got thrown free of the wreck that he was close by and unhurt.
"Sam!" Dean spun a tight circle, eyes scanning for movement, ears straining to hear in the night. "Sammy! Answer me kid!" Still no response. Dean walked around the car, to the passenger side, his eyes drifting to the mud beneath his feet. He saw depressions in the muck, holes that tapered to a point, going several inches deep in the softened earth in some places, others that looked like the impression that a set of women's high heels would make. He saw more of the gossamer webbing on the outside of the car and just the multiple, spike like impressions leading off into the woods. Sam had been carried off by something bad. Dean went to the trunk and opened it, thankfully with no more than protesting, bound up hinges. The divider lifted and the arsenal shifted in the trunk, rope tangling with weapons and containers of salt and accelerant toppling into the upper part of the trunk. He reached for what he wanted, a short barreled, powerful rifle, and two extra clips.
"Gonna have to let the neat freak have his way." When I find him. Dean closed the trunk lid, having to press down on the shifted hinges to get it to line up and took off along the trail the thing left behind.
Sam's eyes opened, unable to focus as he tried to blink away the lethargy that wanted to pull him under again. He groaned, pain settling into the left side of his brain as he lifted his chin, realizing something was holding him upright. Sam moved his head, the pull of something sticky on his jaw forcing him to stop short of seeing a way out. Noises reached his ears, like the sound of nails tapping on a table top. He tried to move, to get away from the ominous sound that seemed to be getting closer, but his arms and legs seemed to be stuck. His heart pounded loudly in his ears and his head, the spike of pain wanting to send him under again. He fought it, eyes widening when he saw the source of the noise. Multiple sets of marble like eyes, glowing green in shiny black skin, pinned him where he lay and he shuddered at the intense hunger reflected by the shiny drool dripping from large fangs. He smelled something when the beast came closer, spider legs sounding like stiletto heels on the floor. It moved fast, leaning close to him, the slobber dripping on his neck as it leaned in. The drool burned and then he realized what he smelled. It was a smell like copper, slightly sweet. It wafted from the spider's mouth, filling his nose and lungs. It chattered at him, a blend of screeches and chirps in a voice sounding too small to belong to something that towered over him by an easy foot and a half. It twitched, anticipation seeming to flow from it in waves.
Dean followed the prints that disturbed the fallen leaves in the forest, sometimes seeing where the spiked legs had broken sticks or impaled the forest litter. His worry spiked when he saw small tree branches displaced or broken almost two feet over his head. The trail led deeper into the forest, farther away from the road and the wrecked Impala. He reached a hand up to a forehead that felt too warm, but too dry for the damp, early winter weather. His shoulder throbbed and he forced himself to move it, to keep it from stiffening up, stifling a groan as the joint rotated beneath swelling flesh. Dry blood flaked off his neck and he rubbed at the itchy substance, stopping when his vision blurred.
"Suck it up, Dean. Gotta find Sammy." He muttered to himself, cautious of his noise level and not wanting to attract whatever had his brother. He went through the contents of his father's journal mentally, long memorized word for word, and came up blank. He forced himself to focus on the trail and followed it deeper between the trees.
The creature leaned in again, spiny short hairs brushing Sam's neck. It reached out with feelers, like arms ending in talons, and brushed up against Sam, making him cringe. "Get away from me!" He barked. The creature jumped back at his tone, hissing, before it lunged at him sinking fangs deep into his shoulder.
"Gah!" Sam cried, feeling burning warmth course through his arm from the wound. Muscles immediately began to twitch, cramps growing in strength as they spread through his body. His fingers locked in rigid hooks, digging into and tangling with the silk holding him up. His chest heaved, abdominal muscles locking tight as the venom flowed through his veins. He moaned, chin sinking to his chest as he fought to stay conscious against the pain. Muscle cramps like charley horses burned through his legs, locking his knees and making his feet curl painfully. Darkness settled in at the edges of his vision, looming closer as the pain grew worse.
The spider reached for him again, talons digging painfully into his rigid muscles as it pulled him free of the webbing holding him in place. He hissed as his hair was pulled and skin burned where it had contacted the web. It repositioned him almost carefully, forcing resisting muscles to pull and burn as it put his arms to his sides. It appeared to tease him, pulling a chunk of the silk webbing away from his neck and placing it in it's mouth, masticating greedily, drool and pulpy silk collecting on it's fangs. The brush of gossamer silk soon became a heavy, suffocating weight as it began to cover him like a shroud.
"NO! Stop!" He cried, his voice hoarse, throat sore and feeling closed up. "What are you doing?!" He tried to fight the webbing that ensnared him, panting when rigidity settled in and stole what was left of his mobility. The spun web cocoon was up to his waist now, the spider's clicks and hisses growing excited as it twitched and continued to wrap him, trapping his hands to his sides. "Oh god! Dean! Help me! DEAN!" Sam screamed, his voice nearly gone, lost to the venom in his veins and the agony threatening to choke him.
Dean sped up, hearing a familiar voice on the night air. He came into a secluded clearing that he noticed had an overgrown dirt road leading to it and a ramshackle cabin nestled at the back edge. His brother's voice came from that direction again. "Help me! DEAN!"
Dean moved across the clearing and peered through a dirty window, seeing shapeless gray-white masses suspended from the ceiling of the room he was looking into. Dean found a door, broken off it's hinges, and eased inside, careful not to disturb the precarious position of the crooked slab of wood. He stopped short when he realized what he saw from outside turned out to be seven separate cocoons. He swallowed hard when the thought of Sam being in one made his gut churn. He pulled his knife and stepped forward, splitting the cocoon and stepping back quickly as the gray, bare bones of a skeleton poked through, the head and shoulders spilling out as if it had been placed in a white silk sleeping bag. Dean placed a hand to his mouth to stifle a cry.
A noise from another room in the cabin caught Dean's attention and he raised the rifle, heading silently towards the sound. He looked through the doorway to see the gleaming black of a giant spider, turned away from him, busily wrapping something with spun silk he could see coming from it's abdomen in a sickening display. The lusty hisses that came from the thing made his churning stomach protest as he positioned the rifle. The spider stopped spinning silk and stiffened as a board creaked and Dean mentally cursed. The spider whipped around, growling and hissing, and Dean fired the rifle, the retort loud enough to jostle dust from cracks in the ceiling of the cabin. The spider staggered, bullet biting into it's flesh, but not stopping it as Dean continued to fire. The spider fell back, weight threatening to crush Sam, numbness becoming oppressive as he realized he truly couldn't move. The rifle fell silent save for the click of Dean changing the clip.
"Dean!" Sam cried in a voice that gave out half way through the word, his wide, pain filled eyes searching for his brother from a head he couldn't turn, wrapped to his neck in a tight silk sheath. The spider looked at him, green orbs glinting, and hissed, a glob of sticky, gum like, silk coating Sam's face, covering his nose and mouth and instantly hardening, feeling like duct tape over his still parted lips. The scent of copper overpowered him. His cry was cut off short and the hardened gob wouldn't allow him to breathe.
"Get the hell away from my brother Bitch!" Dean barked, pulling the trigger on the semi automatic again and again. The beast turned, lunging for Dean as he continued to fire. The bullets finally did the job as the spider's face exploded, twin quick shots taking out two of the green orbs and exiting the back of the shiny black exoskeleton. Green slimy "blood" splattered over the cocoon encasing Sam and the wall of the cabin. The spider fell forward, a leg jutting out that took Dean to the floor hard, the ice pick tip digging deep into his flesh. Darkness closed in on him, and he struggled to fight it off, only the need to get to Sam causing him to succeed. He pushed the creature away and staggered to his feet.
"Sammy!" Dean cried, seeing Sam's eyes drift closed, his face pale except for color high on his cheeks. The pain lines smoothed and his tense face relaxed. Dean pulled his knife and carefully cut through the hardened glob over Sam's lips. Dean pulled the fiberglass like substance away, taking bits of dry skin from Sam's lips. Lips, Dean realized, were a harsh, unnatural shade of blue. "C'mon Sammy, breathe!" Dean pulled away the rest of the regurgitated silk and opened Sam's mouth further, finding more of the stuff lodged in his throat. Dean cleared his air way and Sam gasped, pulling in ragged gulps of air and releasing it on heartbreaking, small sounding whimpers.
"I'm here. Shh, I'm here Sammy." Dean said as he cut the cocoon free of the surrounding web and lowered Sam to the cabin floor only feet from the dead spider.
"Out. Ge'mmeeout." Sam slurred, pain making him shiver as it tore through his body again. Dean began carefully cutting away the heavy silk, his knife slow going as he refused to cut Sam even though Sam's whimpers and pleas to be set free escalated into keens and sobs.
"Pleeeaasseee." Sam moaned, tremors breaking out through his body as sweat beaded on his forehead. Dean freed Sam's arms, seeing the tear in his shirt near his shoulder.
"She bite you?" Dean asked, catching Sam's chin and tipping pain glazed eyes up to catch with his own. Sam nodded, unable to talk.
"Oh god. Okay. I'm gonna finish cutting you loose." Dean hurried through the rest of the cocoon once he felt there was no danger of cutting Sam anywhere vital. Sam gagged, choking, and Dean quickly but gently turned him on his side, curling protesting muscles into a recovery position, tucking his hand under Sam's head as he puked. Dean smoothed his other hand over Sam's back, feeling the twitching, cramping muscles there. Dean's worry spiked as Sam gagged again, trying desperately to calm his breathing. Dean made up his mind and started kneading the hard muscles along Sam's mid back, trying to ease what he was sure was a paralyzed diaphragm, the spider venom doing a thorough job of incapacitating it's prey. Finally Sam began to relax, pulling in weary half breaths, before they hitched and pain crossed his face. It was enough that Dean felt compelled to move Sam away from his captor once Sam's eyes lit on the dead spider and filled with fear instead of pain.
"Hey, hey Sammy? Look at me. Look at me." Dean lowered his head to meet Sam's eyes, tipping Sam's away from the spider. "You're alright, okay?"
"It…it was gonna…eat me!"
"It didn't. You're okay. I'm gonna call Bobby. The car's a mess. We need help gettin' outta here. He gets here so I can get you safe, I'll torch this bitch. I promise."
Sam nodded, pain lines tightening his face again his muscles rebelled. He shivered. Dean pulled off his jacket, careful of his shoulder. Sam looked up when Dean moved and saw the blood.
"You're hurt." He tried to push himself up and failed, falling back against the wall where he leaned.
"Just a scratch. Sit still, damnit." Dean chided as he wrapped his jacket around his brother, careful not to let Sam's worried gaze linger on the wound. Dean moved away slightly, after taking his phone from the pocket of the jacket now covering Sam. Sam leaned forward again and nearly face planted. Dean pushed him back again.
"Sam." He warned.
"Jus' don' leave." Sam slurred, his eyes sliding closed as he finally gave in to everything that had happened.
Dean eased Sam's still unconscious form to Bobby's couch, brushing his hair back gently from his bruised forehead. Occasional shivers still wracked Sam's frame and he moaned slightly. Dean covered him loosely with a soft blanket and moved into the kitchen, a worried Bobby following closely.
"What the hell went on out there, kid?"
"We finished up a hunt in Oregon and were headed east when out of the blue this freak giant spider crosses the road in front of the car." Dean turned away, leaning heavily against the sink. "Shoulda let Sammy drive like he wanted." Dean muttered beneath his breath.
"I got beat to hell on the one in Oregon, dragged underwater by a damn Selkie. Sammy saved my ass. I was so pissed at myself that I wouldn't listen to him when he told me to let him drive."
"So you had your ass handed to ya and you were punishin' yerself for it when a death weaver lands ya in a ditch and the middle of another hunt."
"Basically." Dean sighed. "The wreck knocked me out and when I woke up, engine was cool and Sammy was gone. I barely…barely got to him in time, Bobby. Bitch had him cocooned like next week's lunch and it was smothering him."
"You got to 'im, that's all that matters."
"Yeah, and he's freakin' traumatized!" Dean slammed his fist down on the counter, moaning uncontrollably when it jarred his shoulder.
"Dean?" Dean turned at the sound of Bobby's voice, eyes rolling back in his head. Bobby lunged and caught him, lowering him to the kitchen floor gently. He rubbed Dean's chest, trying to get a response, instead feeling the dry heat of fever through the black material of Dean's tee. Bobby's fingers crossed a hard spot on the fabric and he pushed the jacket aside, seeing a jagged tear in the material. He parted the stiff fabric and saw the deep puncture wound beneath. "Damn you boy, yer gonna be the death of me." Bobby chided, dragging him into the den and lowering him gingerly to the old carpet in front of the fireplace.
The older hunter went to the bathroom off the kitchen and retrieved his med kit, setting about to patch up Dean's wound and get his fever down. He just finished applying the last piece of tape to a Dean who had been silent and still through antiseptic, stitches and bandaging, and covering with a blanket, when he heard a small noise from the couch behind him. He turned to find Sam's tired eyes watching him.
"He's hurt worse than he told me." Sam said, his voice still hoarse and pained. He shivered once and pulled the blanket up, although he unconsciously kept it very loose. Bobby picked up on the motion and went to sit on the edge of the couch at the youngest Winchester's hip, careful not to pull the blanket tighter over Sam, but noticing Sam's eyes drift to the added weight anyway.
"He didn't wanna worry ya."
"He wouldn't let me help."
"He told me."
"How bad is he?"
"Still sick from the dunkin' he took. Wound's not infected so I took care of that. He'll be alright. Still as hard headed as another couple Winchester's I know, but he'll be alright."
"Anytime, kid. Just go back t'sleep. Let me handle things."
"Okay." Sam sighed, allowing his eyes to slip closed, pain lines smoothed out by the older hunter's work worn hand.
"Winchesters." Bobby said fondly, shaking his head. He tucked the cover loosely around Sam again and moved to Dean, stooping to run a hand over a slightly cooler forehead, brushing over spikes of golden brown hair. Dean's head tipped slightly into Bobby's hand. "Rest easy, son. Someone's here to take over yer job 'til ya want it back."
Bobby's eyes shifted to his big wall clock when the movement of the hands drew his attention. He sighed and glanced at both slumbering Winchesters. "Merry Christmas, boys."
A/N: Well, hope ya liked it. Leave a review? And hoping you all have a wonderful holiday, no matter how you celebrate.