Title: Sasquatches and Spider Webs

Author: Ria

Disclaimer/Warnings: See Chapter One

A/N: When the original chapter seven was written, I rushed the ending. Now the perfectionist in me is throwing a fit, so this chapter is the extended version. I've also done some editing to chapter 7 so it flows into this scene. Up next will be a teaser for the sequel.

Thank you to everyone who has followed and reviewed this story. It means the world to me! :-)

Chapter 8: Sasquatches


As it turns out, the chemically altered webbing was highly flammable and everything flared up in minutes — going out almost as quickly when the fuel supply was exhausted. Dean and Bobby got Sam up between their shoulders, supporting most of his weight. Sam was only semi-lucid, but managed to get one foot in front of the other on the slow trek back to the Impala.

About half way back to the car, Sam's mind had gradually regained focus and although exhausted, his walking became a bit more even. His side still felt like it was on fire and he was constantly pushing down the nausea threatening to spill his guts. He closed his eyes briefly to magnify the cool sensation the breeze left over his skin. Dusk was creeping steadily toward a chilly night and a stillness fell over the surrounding forest.

Amongst the insistent pounding filling his ears, Sam caught a distant, distinct tapping noise to his right. Bobby and Dean didn't seem to notice as the three hunters continued their forward shuffle. Moments later, the sound came again, but to his left this time. Sam dragged his feet slightly while shifting his head around, searching through the trees on either side of the trail.

Dean felt his brother's weight shift and halted with him. "Sam, you okay?"

He nodded quickly, his head still up and alert. "Did you guys hear that?"

"Hear what?" Bobby followed.

"A tapping noise… like hollow rocks being struck together. It's on both sides of us."

The three hunters held completely still, barely breathing in suspense of the next sound. They didn't have to wait long. Snapping tree limbs from the direction they were heading had Dean pulling his pistol from the back waistband of his jeans.

Bobby shifted to take more of Sam's weight so Dean would be free to engage the potential threat. "Dammit. There's more monster spiders creeping out here?" Bobby swore, wishing that they could have gotten more intel out of Kel before his demise.

Three sets of eyes stared intently at the path ahead as a low hanging branch several yards out swayed at an unnatural angle, against the breeze.

Dean was just about to move forward when a tall black figure stepped out of the thick undergrowth. In the dimming light, it was difficult to clearly distinguish any features, but the bi-pedal creature only paused for a moment before taking one large stride and disappearing back into the forest.

"What the… BIGFOOT!" Dean made a short pause in momentary disbelief before sprinting forward after the tall creature.

Sam blinked rapidly and whispered to Bobby. "I'm still hallucinating from the drug, right?"

"If you are, then that psycho somehow managed to dose us all." Bobby chuckled. "Come on and try to take it easy. My back ain't in no shape to carry ya. We'll just have to catch up to yer idgit brother."

Dean's eyes rigorously searched the shadows on the left side of the path where the beast had vanished. He pulled out his flashlight, but there was still too much natural light filtering through the canopy for the beam to be effective. There was no movement or sound around him — it was like the damn thing just blinked out of existence.

He caught movement to his right as Sam and Bobby made their way toward him. Dean crouched down to get a better look at the worn path and found the partial imprint of a massive foot in the loose soil. "Hey Sam, its feet are actually bigger than yours!"

Sam rolled his eyes as they came up to his brother, his face covered in sweat from the exertion he was putting forth with his current injuries. He was too exhausted to bother with a come back. His older brother realized this too as Bobby grunted under the strain of Sam sagging against him.

Dean glanced longingly in the direction the sasquatch had fled before tucking his gun back into his waistband. He pulled Sam's free arm around his neck, evening out the extra weight Bobby had been supporting.

"Ain't you going after it Dean? Might not get another chance." Bobby asked. "Sam and I can probably make it back to the car. It'll just take a bit longer."

"No. I think we've had enough excitement for today." Dean glanced sympathetically at his younger brother. "Besides, we know they're here now — if the disappearances continue, we'll come back and deal with it. I'm willing to bet it was all Shelob's doing though."

"Actually… her name was Betsey." Sam's tired voice corrected.

"Whoop-de-freak-in-do Sammy. Who cares what its name was — it almost had you for dinner."

"Don't c-call me Sammy."

Sam stumbled slightly as he lost the battle to keep his stomach in check and hurled a mouthful of bile onto Bobby's boot. The eldest hunter scoffed, jumping slightly, and stirred up the dirt on the path while attempting to wipe his shoe clean. "Would both of you just shut the hell up until we get back to the car?" He grumbled.


Once in the parking lot, Dean got Sam settled into the back seat, resting on his uninjured side, where the younger brother promptly fell asleep. Bobby was about to take his seat shot-gun when Dean halted him and shoved a grocery bag into his hand. "Not so fast old man. The puke-boot is not setting foot inside Baby."

Bobby glared at the younger man in disbelief, "You're not serious."

"Deadly serious." Dean slammed the trunk lid down and made his way to the driver seat.

Bobby slipped his boot off, making a great effort to touch as little of the bile-coated material as possible, and placed the offensive item in the bag before taking his seat next to Dean.

The Impala's engine roared to life and Dean eased on the gas so as not to jar his brother awake. After a few minutes, an odd smell had him sniffing to find its source. "What the Hell is that stink? Kinda smells like…"

"Feet." Bobby finished. "Or more precisely, sweaty three-day worn, cotton socks because someone insisted the boot be taken off."

Dean made a disgusted face before hurriedly cracking his window. "That foulness better not wake Sam."

"Well it ain't like I planned on staying in the field for two more days or gettin' puked on. You'll both just have to deal."

By the time they got to Bobby's truck it was just after midnight and the temperature had dropped to a cool forty degrees. Dean hadn't wanted the nasty foot smell to be absorbed by the interior fabric so he left the window cracked while the heater fought to displace the cold breeze.

Upon arrival at the small cabin, both hunters got out of the car.

Dean walked around back to the trunk and pulled out a thick blanket to toss over Sam who was still out cold in the back seat. His brother appeared to be resting comfortably despite having his long legs folded against the door. After this hunt, he was going to make damn sure his brother got a few days of rest.

Bobby made his way over to the rusty S10 and hauled himself into the driver's seat. He found himself a bit anxious to get home. It wasn't often he did hunts out of state anymore — preferring to leave the more dangerous activities to younger men while he managed the research end — and was sorely missing his bed and library. Not to mention, the phone lines were unmanned while he was away which could yield disastrous results if an inexperienced hunter needed pointers on a case. Bobby looked over at the Impala to find Dean making his way up to the truck.

"Look," Dean started, "I know we haven't really talked for a while, — still not sure exactly what Dad did to piss you off — but uh, thank you for helping me out with this." The words were a little rushed, but definitely sincere.

Bobby smiled at Dean as he pulled the door of his S10 shut and manually rolled the window down. "Far as I'm concerned you boys will always be family… regardless of how much a jackass yer daddy is. Call me anytime. Be safe and keep a close eye on Sam for the next couple days. If his fever gets any worse, you make sure he sees a doctor. No telling what sort of bacteria he coulda picked up in there; infection ain't nothing to mess with."

"I'll get us a motel room so I can thoroughly clean the wound and will probably run him by a clinic in the morning; precautionary visit if nothing else. Take care Bobby." Dean watched as the pick-up pulled away.

Sliding back behind the wheel of the Impala, he took another glance over his shoulder at his brother. Sam was definitely down for the night. Dean yawned, feeling the fatigued ache of not sleeping for almost forty-eight hours. He threw the car into reverse and sped away from the tiny cabin, intent on finding a clean, air-conditioned motel room — equipped with indoor plumbing AND cable — for Sam's recovery time.



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