Ya'll threw out some fun names, but the lovely Knyghtshade lobbed one that truly fit what would come out of Dean's mouth. Wish I had a prize.

As always, just enjoying myself, but don't own anything.

Don't Wanna Be Dinner 5

The growl carried through the tunnels. Sonofabitch. Dean looked back at the swamp lizard. Its arm was dangling, the knife still wedged in it as the giant creature came after them, and now it was pissed.

But Dean was pissed too. These things not only tried to eat him but had torn Sammy into mincemeat. Not one of these uglies was getting away with shredding up his brother.

Straightening, fists bunched, Dean turned.

He knew it wasn't the wisest course of action, but he also knew Sam wouldn't last much longer. This had to end now.

The one advantage he had was that the narrow tunnel didn't give the giant beast any room to maneuver.

Full on, Dean lunged forward, ramming into the thick legs and skidding to his knees as he grabbed hold of the protruding knife, yanking it with his momentum as he scrambled beneath the monster to the other side, and oh my flaming hell the beast's arm came with him, severed through the bone. His first cut back in the cavern must have gone in harder than he'd thought.

Behind the beast now who was banging its sides into the walls, trying to turn and get at him, Dean yanked the arm off the blade and began hacking into the monster's back, its sides, anywhere as it twisted, just hacking and hacking. It wasn't skillful. It wasn't precise. It was packed in rage, fueled by fury.

"Dean!" Sam screamed hoarsely, barely audible beneath the creature's shrieks. "Deaaaaan!"

The beast screeched, trying to get at the hunter cleaving into its back, but with only one arm and unable to turn, so far Dean managed to dodge the wicked nails and teeth. He kept swinging the blade, his arms and shoulders a ragged mass of aching awfulness. Scales flew around him and then yahzee! The blade lifted up bloody. He'd gotten through the hard exterior. He swung the knife again and the beast stiffened, letting out a bone-shattering scream that reverberated across the walls. Dean hacked again, picking up momentum in the softer flesh.

Enraged, frightened, wounded, the lizardman flung itself back and forth. Its meaty shoulder caught Dean, hurling him against the stone. Dean went down. His vision went cloudy. Dark gray scales, dripping in red liquid grew fuzzy around the edges. Dean shook his head to clear it, lost more vision and nearly blacked out entirely, though he found if he held his head at an angle the haziness receded. He so did not have time for this!

The long arm reached back behind the stout legs, slashing out toward Dean. Between the legs, Dean saw Sam, struggling to get up, crashing back down to the floor.

"Stay back, Sammy! Don't you dare get in the middle of this!"

Sam tried to lift up again. His arms shook just holding his upper body off the floor. Damn kid, listen to him for once!

"Sam!" Dean roared, his vision swimming. He scooted back out from under the hybrid's stomping foot. Screaming in rage, the beast smashed against the wall. It wasn't coordinated enough to get Dean by going backwards, it couldn't reach him past its own thick body, it couldn't turn—


But it could go forward. The huge head swept up at Sam's raspy call. It launched forward like a whip.

Shit. Pushing himself up, Dean raced after it, his vision closing in on itself as he blacked out.

He came to, sprawled on his stomach, hand closed around the hilt of his blade, his brother's cry a throaty rasp coating the air. Dean opened his eyes, lifted his head carefully, testing to make sure he didn't lose consciousness with the movement again. His vision remained clear so he pulled himself up, assessing the situation on the move, anger flaring hotly through his veins as he saw what was going on.

He must not have been out for more than a few seconds because the monster was just a few feet away. It had swept Sam up, holding his brother off the ground by his ankle. At least with only one arm it hadn't torn into him again, but the mouth was lowering, jaw cranked wide, and those piercing teeth were dipping to clamp around Sam's leg. Sam was pawing at the ground, leaving large grooves in the dirt.

Without thought for himself, running, Dean leapt onto the monster's back, piggy-back and plunged the blade straight down into the fleshy opening he'd made past the scales earlier. Screeching, the lizard arched, head swiveling back toward the older hunter, grating along the wall, teeth snapping. Dean held on the knife hilt, twisting, pushing it farther in like a giant corkscrew. "You will not . . . eat . . . my brother . . . you . . . stupid . . . stupid . . . son . . . of . . . a . . . bitch! Auuuuuurgh!"

Every vein in Dean's head filled to bursting. Heat and Sweat poured over his face. Finally the creature went still. Its knees buckled, folding in on itself and it went down, its chest crashing over Sam's legs, the head and damaging teeth missing his thigh by inches. Still hanging on its back, his face only a foot away from Sammy's, Dean's gaze met his brother's. "You okay?"

Sam's eyes widened in horror. "No." His voice squeaked like he was hitting puberty again. "Dean. What you did . . . Are you insane?"

"Yeah." Dean groaned out a gasp. His throat was raw, voice raspy. "I think so. Yeah, I must be." He drew in a growling breath. Finger by finger, he uncurled his nerve-numbing hold on the blade and tried to yank if free. It wasn't budging so he left it there and climbed over the fugly to kneel by Sam.

He frowned at the large body caved in over Sam's legs. "Well this ain't good."

"Huh." Sam's voice still had that scary off-pitch to it. "What m-makes you think that?"

Dean studied Sam. His skin was way too pale and dry. Eyes glassy. "Oh, I don't know, having a ten ton crocodildo between your legs can't feel great."

There's what he was looking for, that face that let Dean know Sam was still working on all cylinders. His brother's eyes squinted, brows drawing tightly together while his lips parted in exasperation. "Bitch."

"Ha-ha, Sammy." Dean laughed, patting his sibling's cheek. "Let's get this ugly piece of luggage off you. Does anything feel broken?"

"No." Sam's lips twisted into a frown. "I don't think so. Kind of numb."

"Okay. This shouldn't hurt then." Bracing his back against the tunnel wall, Dean used his legs to shove the monster off. He got it back, kind of on its side where it filled up the passage, but felt it roll forward again. With another surge of effort, Dean pushed his legs out more, nearly straightening them. Damn, he was tired. Every stitch of his body ached, but he pushed out and the beast slid off, freeing Sam, except . . . could nothing go their way?

The black lagoon's long spindly fingers remained clamped around Sam's ankle.

"Really?" Dean went to lift one of the gray razor-nailed fingers, but it was locked down tight. He came at it from a different direction, digging his own hand between it and Sam's flesh. "This whole hunt is starting to get on my nerves."

Sam lifted his head, trying to see. "Starting to . . .?"

Dean pressed his lips together, pulling hard. One finger snapped back. Well, that was something. He went to work on the next one.


The quiet inflection of Sam's tone shot a warning to Dean's gut. He looked at Sam and then followed his brother's gaze past the fallen lizardman where large liquid eyes stared at them from another beast moving up through the tunnel. And behind it, another silhouette . . . and another.

Sam's dry hand slipped onto Dean's forearm. "You're not gonna jump on all of their backs, are you?"

Dean shook his head, pried the second finger off Sam's ankle. "No, not this time. What do you say we get out of here and call the one-man-cavalry Bobby to clear out the rest of these things?"

Sam nodded fervently. "Helluva plan."

Grinning, Dean opened up the last two fingers and pulled Sam's ankle out, avoiding the sharp nails. "Think you can walk, cause I got to tell you, I don't think I can carry you around anymore."

"Away from those things? Get me up and I can run."

Which was an incredible lie, but right now Dean wasn't going to argue the point. He pulled Sam up, hands fisted in his blood-soaked shirt, and reaffirmed what he'd already known, that Sam didn't even have enough strength to stand, but tucked him against his side anyway, arm dragged across his own beaten shoulders and began pulling the heavy kid down the passage, taking three or four steps to every one of Sam's. It was one of those keep moving, just place one foot ahead of the other, keep upright and stay ahead of the monsters kind of journey.

They crashed into the sunlight, wounded, beaten, torn and bloody as hell, looking and smelling more like the swamp monsters than themselves. Stumbling to the ground together, Dean pulled out the phone, praying for reception, shaking his fists triumphantly in the air when he saw the bars and made the call even as he prodded Sam who was totally down for the count to get up and move ass before the mangators came out of that tunnel.


Sharp pain exploded in Sam's stomach. He banged out of sleep like falling off a cliff.

"Oh, sorry, man. Didn't mean to wake you. Just changing your bandages." Dean's face floated into view, bandaged at his temple and just below the hairline behind one ear, forehead furrowed into a grimace. "Just go back to sleep. You need it."

"No, the lizards." Sam tried to pull himself up, but barely managed lifting his head. "Got to help you. Dean, don't charge into them." He grasped his brother's sleeve, bunching his fists into the material to keep Dean from leaving.

"Whoa, slow down there, hero." Steady hands curled around Sam's forearms, grounding him. "Take a look around. We're okay. Lizards have gone bye bye."

Sam felt his chest stop heaving, his breathing slow. He glanced around. They were in a darkened room, nicer than their usual stays. Muted light came from a fluted lamp on a cherry wood dresser. Sam lay on a bed, fluffed and fragrant pillows behind his head. Dean sat on the bed beside him, a water basin, tape and gauze spread out on the closest nightstand. Gauze circled Sam's wrist just below an IV needle taped down along his arm. He followed the red tubing up to the little machine pumping blood from the plastic IV bag that was hanging from an upside down hanger attached to the uncovered lamp.

They'd made it. They'd both made it. Somehow Dean had gotten them out of there, and why in the world would he ever question that his resourceful brother couldn't? Immensely relieved, Sam sank back into the pillows. His gaze sidled back to his brother. "Gone bye bye? What are you—two?"

"That was solely for your benefit, Sammy. Didn't know how fragile your mind would be waking up."

"Bite me."

"Sad choice of words, brother." Eyebrows waggling, Dean lifted a stiff and soiled bandage from Sam's chest. They both stilled at Sam's flinch, and both inspected the damage. The wound looked horrible, puckered and wide. Sam's throat was closing around a lump until Dean patted his arm. "That's gonna make a beauty of a scar. Man, the stories you can tell the women. They'll never believe what really happened. Have to come up with something awesome like leaping out of a burning house as a fire fighter. After saving hundreds of people. Wish I had one that big."

Sam's face puckered. "Dean." He shook his head at how Dean's ridiculousness put everything into perspective.

The lock turned in the doorknob and the door swung open followed by one sweaty and grime-stained Bobby Singer. The old man's gaze immediately swept to the bed first. "Hey, kid. Good to see you up."

"Hi, Bobby." Sam looked away, uncomfortable beneath the old hunter's scruntiny.

"Retrieved your duffle." Bobby passed the bag to Dean. "Sam's gun too."

Dean dropped the bag on the floor. "Thanks, Bobby. How'd it go?"

"It took me and six other hunters to clean out the nest. There were four more of the beasts. Used mercuric acid and fire on the lot of 'em. Good times. Don't give me that look." Bobby sank down into the chair next to Sam. "I didn't let the other hunters know who gave me the tip, though they all wanted to know what the hell kind of name that was for something we hunt."

Dean grinned, completely full of himself and wasn't it a glorious sight to behold.

The grin was contagious. Sam found its duplicate slide onto his own face as he couldn't resist asking, "What did you name it?"

Bobby's face went bland. He folded his arms, waiting for Dean to answer.

Even white teeth flashed. "Swampzilla."