for spamming anyone's journal with these chapter updates of mine!!! But I will continue anyway, lol. Review!!
Sam and Dean. Alone in the relocated, rebuilt Magic Box. Waiting for the girls and their Lord Nerd to return and help figure out how to reverse this pain in the ass dog curse.
Okay, not so alone. Something that had been prowling ‘round the town had slammed open the front door and stalked inside, pushing over jars and books and shelves to reach the guys. They’d had barely any reaction time-Dean had only had time for two shots before being knocked away. And after that it was shed the jacket (it was too damned good to tear) and shift. Ruining a nice pair of jeans that he’d just finally broken in.
Sam had his own gun out and was plugging away while Dean tried to shift and dig his way out from under a heavy solid oak bookshelf that had toppled over onto him. Muscles strained with the effort to lift the heavy wood. Four legs made it easier to gain purchase and lift, though. He couldn’t have done it as a human, he wasn’t fucking Superman.
The demon opened blunt jaws filled with two sharp rows of shiny white Mako teeth. Tendons strained under the thin black hide of the skeletal neck, working with the jaws as they snapped open and closed in rapid fashion. Its huge green-black eyes turned back to the dusty white wolf snapping and screaming at it as it pulled its way out from under the books. Sam had been thrown into another shelf, this one resting solidly against a wall. The demon liked to throw. A lot of them did. It was a painful battle staple.
There were red welts streaming blood down Sam’s cheek and broad chest, and his head lolled to one side. He was fighting to regain his bearings, and Dean had to distract Big Bad until the other hunter was standing and armed.
The Alien-like demon let a low roar loose. The sound ricocheted off of the walls and an echo answered from the back training room. Dean felt sharp claw-tipped fingers bite into the ruff on his neck and drag him free of the research volumes. A swift turn of their bodies and release had Dean sailing through the air, his own momentum used to hurl him towards solid plaster.
Dean rebounded off of the wall with all four strong legs and shot back at the demon. He was getting good at this not getting slammed into walls thing. He hit the demon square in the back-it had turned its attention to Sam. Strong jaws closed around the back of the demon’s hard skull and clamped tight, all energy going into applying as much bone-crushing pressure as possible. Sharp canines bit into the scalp, and Dean tasted the sweetness of blood coursing down him long tongue. The thick liquid evoked a harsh, rumbling growl from Dean, muffled by the uncomfortable set of his jaws.
He wanted to spit it out, or to swallow it down, but knew better than to let the demon go now that he had jaws clamped round its bony head. A pained screeching filled his ears, making his green eyes narrow. The fucking thing was trying to blow his eardrums. And was doing a good job. Judging from Sam’s smooth pull of Dean’s gun from the forgotten leather jacket, it was too high-pitched to work on his baby brother.
Which was a good thing. Dean felt his neck crack and his left side go numb as the demon whipped him around, smashing him into a heavy bookshelf filled with Giles’ old ten-pound tomes. His response was to bark around the demon between his teeth and use his fear-based adrenaline rush to power his jaws shut. Where the demon normally would have responded by reaching back to rip Dean’s numb hind leg off, it produced another screech and fell forward onto all fours, trying to shake the wolf off and charge Sam, who had emptied three silver rounds into the midsection of the monster, carefully avoiding his brother, and was backing away from the shaking thing as it slowly advanced on him.
The Magic Shop had never been more exciting.
Dean finally got his paws on the ground and gave a mighty jerk, hoping that what he was doing had some effect on the demon. Fighting was just too difficult if only half of your body was responding. After a struggle he brought the bloodied beast down with him, flipping it over onto it’s back and snapping its head to the side, exposing a long line of throat. Other things-meatier-were starting to coat his tongue as the break in the skull grew wider and began to collapse inward. Shards of splintered bone bit into his gums, and the taste of his own blood mingled with the thicker ooze from the black head beneath him. Fuck, Sam, hurry up or I swear I’m making you take a bite of this shit yourself when this is all over.
Sam steadied the gun, waiting those extra few seconds to level out his breathing and take careful aim, and pulled the trigger just as Dean tore his jaws out of their prey with a sick ripping sound and the molasses-slow leak of blood and torn brain and fell backwards. He was in too much of a hurry to bother with a graceful leap away from the deadly bullets that slammed into the chest, head, and collarbone of the not so tasty beastie.
The sharp clatter of metal on tile filled the suddenly very quiet space. The store was in ruins. Giles was going to flip out. Dean panted near the body, staring at the twisted face of the beast. It must have been hunting them-there was no other reason for it to be here. Sam leaned heavily against the counter, hand over his chest in a futile attempt to slow his bleeding. “Dean…”
The weak word took a while to register. But when it did, their eyes met. And slowly Dean turned to see his rear left leg dragging at an unnatural angle, totally pulled out of its socket at the hip.
Well, at least he was paralyzed. Small mercies.
Screw this. He began to shift, focusing on being whole, human, and hail again. And stopped as soon as he’d begun. The shortening fur grew white and soft again, no longer on its way to the short human body hair that it once was. Whatever had broken inside of him was fucking with his nervous system. Not just the left side, but all of it. As soon as his body temperature had begun to climb and organs had begun to shift, bones bend to breaking point, he’d felt it. All of it. These were things that were never meant to be felt. Normally his nervous system deadened for the five, ten or so seconds it took for the changes to take place. It was amazingly fast, painless, and useful.
Not so any more. Sam stared at him dazedly and sunk slowly to the floor. Their cell phones were thrown across the Magic Box, buried God knew where. Sam couldn’t reach them; he was having a hard time simply keeping his eyes open. And even if Dean did locate them, how was he going to flip one open, dial Willow, and request that she hurry the hell up and get over there? Sam couldn’t heal like the rest of them-that was his weakness. And he was running out of liters fast.
Dean sucked in a huge, steadying breath and pressed forward. Bones snapped, breaking in millions of little places to allow filler cells to flood the cracks before flowing back together to re-form a longer skeleton. Dean bit his tongue with sharp teeth to contain the horrible yelp and failed. Muscles burned with the effort to readjust over the new skeleton, and his face ached as a long muzzle flowed back down into his spine, the cells being reassigned and proteins readjusting to form bone cells into muscle cells and build a larger chest. To make Dean human again.
Which was great. If he didn’t go insane from the automatic terror that much nerve-wracking pain caused. His left side was working again, full sensation. And he felt like he’d been drug through Hell. Every miniscule atom hurt. He felt like he was bleeding from every pore and glanced down at his bare chest. No, not bleeding, just a heat flash. Sweat coated his skin. Still curled over his knees, every fiber of his mortal being burning in firey torment, Dean pressed his forehead to the floor and let the contents of his stomach erupt. His tortured throat convulsed painfully, making him choke on his vomit, right before his vision went.
"Sammy, stay with me." The plea came out in a harsh, unnatural rasp. Dean couldn't wait for his swimming vison to return-he began to crawl towards his phone, still enclosed in his jacket pocket.