A/N: Okay, so this isn't the chapter story that I promised, just a one-shot that wouldn't leave me alone. I am working on the chapter story, although it's being difficult as these things tend to.

I was also subjected to a home invasion the day before yesterday that, let me tell you, wasn't very fun and probably the scariest five minutes of my life, and I may be a bit… distracted for a while, but it's definitely coming. Hope you enjoy.

Has some swearing.

~Menthol Pixie


This is ridiculous, was Dean's first thought.

They hadn't even been hunting a giant cracked-out squid-thing. They had been hot on the tail of a werewolf that gave chase, leaping fences and sprinting through back yards. Dean had almost slipped on the smooth tile around someone's outdoor pool – fancy neighbourhood, shame about the werewolf – and had just managed to right himself when he heard Sam's surprised cry from behind him. He'd turned just in time to see Sam hit the tile with a sickening smack.

At first, he thought that Sam had just slipped, like he had, which was bad enough judging by the sound of the impact, but then he had seen the thick green-gray tentacle around Sam's ankle, slowly curling tighter and then gradually receding, taking Sam with it, back towards the pool.

This was ridiculous. What were the chances that this flash neighbourhood had both a werewolf problem and a mutant squid-thing that liked to hang out in family swimming pools? And, more importantly, how had he and Sam missed it? Surely this thing drew in a fair bit of attention?

Ridiculous or not, however, the thing was dragging Sam towards the water, leaving a snaking trail of blood in his wake.

Screw the werewolf.

Dean leapt forward and grabbed onto Sam's arm, bunching his fingers around his younger brother's wrist and pulling back, but the tile was too slippery to get any traction and he found himself slowly sliding forwards.

Cursing, Dean freed one hand and reached for his gun, pulling it up and blasting three silver bullets at the things head. It let out a squeal that almost had Dean dropping both his weapon and his brother to cover his ears, but the tentacle was still firmly wrapped around Sam's ankle, inching the unconscious young hunter closer and closer to the lip of the pool.

It wasn't often that they were blindsided like this, and Dean's brain was still frantically trying to catch up to the situation. It kept screaming Save Sammy! which was all good and well but, hey, what about a plan? So much for the brilliant mind of Dean Winchester.

Sam groaned beneath him and Dean gripped his arm tighter, pulling against the squid-thing. He was in danger of dislocating Sam's shoulder. He winced at the thought but didn't lessen his hold. They slid a few inches closer to the monster.

Sam shifted, turning his head and blinking vaguely up at him so that Dean got his first good look at the damage. It didn't look too serious but blood still flowed freely from Sam's mouth and nose, staining the white tiles, glinting black in the moonlight.

"Hey, Sam, you with me?" Dean asked, leaning over him, still trying to dig his heels into the tile to halt their progress.

Sam frowned slightly, as if trying to figure out what was going on, but he opened his mouth to reply anyway, giving Dean a glimpse of bloodstained teeth.


Sam was cut off as the creature suddenly, unexpectedly, reared back, tearing him from Deans grip with another scream that threatened to burst his skull, easily sweeping him the last few feet and into the pool. Sam disappeared below the surface in a spray of pink-tinged water.

Dean let out his own feral scream. God damn it, he was going to kill this P-fried mutant squid monster that had managed to rip his little brother from his arms! How the fuck had this all suddenly gone spectacularly wrong?

He was ready to leap into the water. Screw a plan, he could go on instinct, and, at the moment, his instincts were yelling Get to Sam, NOW, but before he'd even taken a step the creature raised it's tentacle out of the water, lifting Sam high in the air. He hung upside down, pink-tinged liquid streaming off of him as he choked and coughed up pool water, struggling against the monster's hold.

Dean barely had time to be relieved that Sam was no longer in immediate danger of drowning before a shudder ran through the freak squid.

He'd never seen anything like it, and Dean had seen more fucked up shit than most people on the planet, but he wasn't at all prepared when the squid's jaw – well, what he thought of as it's jaw – unhinged, and then stretched, wider and wider until it was a gapping Sammy-sized hole.

"Dean!" Sam yelled frantically, the tentacle holding him weaving closer to the kraken's mouth.

And then, as if their night hadn't already been turning to shit faster than you could say silver bullets, that was the moment Dean heard the growl from behind him.

If there was a God, then he sure as hell liked messing with the Winchesters. Couldn't they ever catch a damn break?!

Dean spun on his heel, almost unbalancing himself again on the slippery tiling. The werewolf was crouched, it's monstrous face twisted into a snarl, long teeth dripping with fetid strings of drool, as it prepared to leap straight at him. Lucky the thing was dumb enough to give him a warning – as had Sam, he realized belatedly. The yell hadn't been a cry for help, but a warning. Damn, that was so like Sam to call a heads up to Dean, even while under imminent threat of being eaten – or he may have been so distracted by the 'roided up squid thing trying to swallow his brother that he wouldn't have noticed the similarly 'roided up dog until it was tearing him to pieces.

Dean had mere seconds to form a strategy, and, therefore, perhaps the plan he picked wasn't his most brilliant. Regardless, it was the one he chose and he'd just have to live, or die, with that.

In a few quick strides Dean was propelling himself off of the pools small diving board and onto the squid creature's, erm, back maybe? Onto the squid creature, at least, pulling his knife from his belt simultaneously. And Sam said he couldn't multitask.

This, however, was not the time to prove a point to his college-educated, thinks-he's-so-smart little brother. He'd have to be satisfied with ramming his blade repeatedly into the squid-things head.

The creature roared. Dean would possibly have dropped his knife – which would mean that they were screwed – as the shrill head-splitting sound pierced his eardrums, except that it was, luckily, embedded in the squids thick, slimy skin. It was hard enough not sliding off the greasy thing.

It's tentacles flailed and Dean watched with his heart in his mouth as the one holding Sam shot downwards, slamming him again into the hard tiles. Dean winced for him, the blow had knocked him out once more, but there was no time for anything else as the offending tentacle unwound itself from Sam's ankle and headed towards him. Quickly, he yanked his knife loose and stabbed blindly. More tentacles rose to grab him and he slashed at those too, feeling a rush of satisfaction as he sliced straight through one. It dropped to the ground near Sam's prone figure, still writhing. It was as he turned away from the, now detached, tentacle that Dean saw the werewolf move, hungrily prowling towards his unconscious brother.

Dean ducked under a flailing tentacle and praised himself for hanging onto his gun. He aimed and fired, sending the rest of his rounds into the beast's chest. It dropped with a satisfying thump.

No time for congratulations – Sam could thank him later – Dean swung his knife again, stabbing at the squid's eye. The blade sunk in with a sickening squelch. The creature bucked but Dean held on, striking out repeatedly, before suddenly, with one last echoing shriek, the kraken disintegrated into a spray of brown-gray water, dumping him unceremoniously down into the pool.

He surfaced, spitting the foul liquid from his mouth and treaded water, giving himself a moment to re-orientate himself, taking stock.

Okay, it a pool of filthy water that was once a giant deranged squid? Check. Dead werewolf that had, of course, transformed back into its human form? Check. Unconscious, injured little brother? Check.

So all in all, a fairly standard hunt, except for the giant, strung out squid that had jumped them from a backyard swimming pool, of all places, and the fact that the whole thing had, unavoidably, taken place in the middle of frikkin' suburbia. Coupled with the screams of the unidentified creature – What the hell was that thing anyway? - there was no way his gunshots had gone unnoticed. In fact, if he listened hard, he could already hear the distant wail of sirens. Time to get moving.

A few strokes had him at the edge of the pool. He dragged himself out, his sodden jeans protesting. God, he hated waterlogged clothes. He scuttled over the wet tiling to Sam's side, taking in the damage at the same time as he began attempting to rouse the younger hunter. Man, he was totally hitting Sam up on that 'Dean can't multitask' comment. Too bad the kid hadn't been awake to witness his heroic actions. Not that Dean was one to brag but still, taking down a werewolf and a giant man-eating squid simultaneously? Dude, totally kick ass.

"Sam? Sam, wake up." He cast an anxious glance over his shoulder, quickly scanning the surrounding houses. "We gotta split, man, come on."

Honestly, for all the shit he gave the kid about it, Sam followed orders when it counted. Dean felt a rush of affection as two hazel eyes blinked up at him. He did a quick examination – it wasn't hard to spot what was, most likely, going to turn into one hell of a concussion.

Sam's eyes drooped back down and Dean gave him another small shake.

"Sorry, Sammy, it's not nap time yet. We gotta get moving."

He didn't wait for an answer. He had the feeling that it could take a while for Sam to form anything half-way coherent, so, as gently as he could with their limited time frame, he pulled Sam to his feet, snaking an arm around his waist and lifting Sam's arm over his shoulders.

Sam stumbled, trying to catch his balance and failing, leaning heavily against his brother's side.

Dean adjusted his grip. "Just stay on your feet, Sam. Let me do the rest."

Luckily – well, depending on how you looked at it - Dean had a lot of experience manhandling semi-conscious siblings. There was no way he was going to be able to get Sam over the fence though, so the long, and more exposed, way it was. Dean steered Sam down the side of the house, out into the road.

The streetlamps glowed like spotlights, giving anyone with a window the chance to catch a glimpse. Sam already had his face buried in Dean's shoulder but all Dean could do was turn up the collar of his leather jacket, duck his head and hope that no one managed to get a clear look.

They were nearly at the Impala by the time Sam seemed to catch up to what was going on.

"Ah!" he hissed suddenly, "God, my ankle…"

There were times when Dean felt like a pretty terrible brother and forcing Sam to walk the last 30 feet on what could possibly be a broken leg was one of them. There was no other option though. The sirens were getting closer and more and more houses were flicking their lights on, peering round curtains to see what all the commotion was about. He was pretty damn relieved when he was finally able to sit Sam down in the familiar leather passenger seat of his baby.

He spared a moment to take in his brother's injuries in the light. The left side of Sam's face, his mouth and chin were covered in blood but nothing seemed to be leaking anymore. He'd have some pretty impressive bruises tomorrow though, that was for sure. His eye's were looking clearer, if still a little unfocussed, as he gazed blearily up at Dean, his head tilted back against the seat.

Satisfied that Sam wasn't about to try and die on him – because head wounds were never something to mess around with – he crouched down further to check out Sam's ankle, carefully lifting the torn leg of his brother's jeans.

He let out a hiss at the sight. The ankle was swollen and an angry red colour, it looked as if the tentacle had somehow burnt the skin. He didn't think it was broken but damn, that had to hurt like a bitch.

Dean carefully placed the leg down – nothing he could do about it now, and those sirens were way too close for comfort. He shut the passenger door and hurried round to the driver's side, sliding in and starting the engine. He pulled out with a squeal of tires and took off, for a while concentrating on nothing more than putting some distance between them and the crime scene.

"Did you get the werewolf?"

Dean glanced at Sam, slowing the car a little. He had a hand to his face, carefully feeling the damaged skin, looking vaguely bewildered.

Dean bit back a grin. Teasing Sammy when he was out of it was just too easy.

"Yup," he confirmed breezily, "Took care of Squiddly too."

Sam frowned slightly, as if he couldn't quite figure out what Dean was saying.

Dean shook his head, "Geez, Sammy, knocked out twice in one night. You're gonna have to up your game. You missed all the action."

This time, the scowl on his little brother's face told him that Sam knew exactly what he'd said.

"Took me by surprise," Sam muttered darkly.

Dean couldn't hide his grin this time, "Took me by surprise too, kiddo, but I still managed to gank it and the werewolf. At the same time."

Okay, so maybe Dean didn't mind a little bragging.

"It didn't have you by the ankle," Sam pointed out, which, alright, was a pretty fair point to make, but it certainly wasn't going to stop Dean from basking in the glory of his heroics over the next few days. It was his right as a big brother, especially a big brother who had just saved his little brother's ass.

"Face it, Sammy, I'm a hero."

Sam scowled at the dashboard. "Don't make me puke in your car."

Dean rolled his eyes, but a quick sideways glance revealed that Sam's own were beginning to slide closed. So, more important than teasing the kid and reveling in his glory, was getting Sam back to their motel room so he could do a more thorough inspection of his injuries, then load him up with painkillers and find him somewhere to land before he crashed.

Dean also had a fairly deep cut to his hand that was probably going to require stitches, from when he'd pulled his knife out while leaping onto the squid monster's back. Adrenaline must have numbed the pain.

So, okay, fine, maybe Sam hadn't actually been too far off the mark when he'd said that Dean wasn't the greatest at multitasking.

Not that Dean would ever tell him that.