Warnings: mentions and hints of season 6
Author's Notes: nothing much to say except I hope you like it and that I had an awesome beta (any mistakes left are me being an idiot)
Sam’s just now found it out: Dean is actually a whale. He doesn’t know how that works exactly (yet!), and isn’t in a hurry to find out either.
Dean in the mean time is wondering what hit him over the head and where are the giant mushrooms that the barista promised.
Oh, and they’re working a case.
Dean is a whale.
Yeah, Sam too is a little stumped by this revelation. How exactly does it take someone almost thirty years to notice that their brother is actually a gigantic, ocean living, whale?
He's guessing a Blue Whale. Seems like the only living being on Earth that can get this big. Except supernatural creatures. Are there supernatural whales? He doesn't remember any from their dad's journal, but he's guessing there has to be since Dean obviously is one.
Sam's not sure how that works either. Exactly what can cram a hundred foot long and several tons of blubber into a six foot tall human body - that actually weights less than your average six foot tall person (and he's had to lift Dean enough times to know that very well)? Illusion? Shapeshifter? Blood ritual? ...Fairy dust?
That doesn't even really matter at the moment. The real question is, why did Dean think it a good idea to swallow his younger brother?
'Cause that's where he is right now. In Dean's belly, well, Dean's whale-belly, to be exact.
Sam looks around, at the dark sides and visible ribs, stretching from top to bottom. The air bristles through his hair at every breath Dean takes. He goes a few steps to the right, around the wood wrecks scattered on the internal, fleshy floor, his foot falls splashing lightly in the low water, until he's standing under the spout - the only source of light - and stares up through the hole at the deep blue, blue sky.
The weirdest part?
He doesn't think that he's ever been less worried, less afraid in his life. Dean's here, all around. And Dean will come for him, and get him out.
On second thought, Sam thinks, and smiles slightly that part is not weird at all.
"Six disappearances in two weeks, you're saying?"
"Yeah." Sam adjusted his flashlight, flicking through the bundle of reports, notes, newspaper clippings and website printouts on his knees. "All of them went into the woods mushroom hunting. All of them very experienced. I mean this guy... Mike Smith, sixty-three years old, the guy's been going into these woods his whole life."
The autumn rain was falling, drops and stray leaves taping on the Impala's windows as they drove through the night.
"Huh... So we have any idea what we're dealing with?" Dean asked.
"No idea. Two guys got out alive. We should go see what they have to say."
They pass the state line, the sign welcoming them to Oregon.
"And welcome to Oregon ~ " Dean sing-songs, "best known for its sights, beavers, covered bridges, trees-"
"You're forgetting the rain, microbrews and strip clubs," Sam jumps in, lips twitching into a smile.
"Was saving the best for last Sammy, now shut up," Dean says, making a show of waving a scolding finger at Sam, but there is no malice in his tone. "And now, if you look to the left..."
Sam slowly blinks awake. The light's gone. The blue sky all but vanished where it had once been visible through the blow-hole; nothing to see now, just feel as Dean's whale-body rolls and glides through the ocean, rocking Sam into a peaceful state. Gaining his bearings, he stretches out from his curled up position and lays on his back, staring up into the darkness.
Save for the sounds of the moving waters, both inside and outside of Dean's massive body, and the beat of his own heart, it's quiet. Peaceful.
Sam stills his breath and listens harder. Seconds later he hears it; Dean's heartbeat. It echoes off the walls.
Turning his head, he stares long and hard, straining to see in the gloom and he can just make out Dean's whale-ribs. Sam tries to number each one, but loses count as they get lost in the dark.
Gaining his feet, Sam moves over to one of the ship wrecks (five steps, he's sure he's measured out the whole place) and takes out his knife, notching another day into the moss covered wood.
Curious, he wades into the dark, wanting to see more of his surroundings, explore the strange new world that has engulfed him.. He treads carefully however, this is, after all, Dean's stomach and he's seen his brother eat; God knows what else he'll find here.
Every once in a while he knocks at the wooden hulls, the impact sends tiny lights shooting out of the wood like sparks of dust, filling the area. He doesn't know what that's about but it lights his way so he's not really complaining.
A few minutes later and he's standing above a skeleton.
He blinks, and then thinks that he really should take more notice of what Dean stuffs into himself. Get his diet to be more human-like... or supernatural-wale-posing-as-human-like as possible.
Sighing, he bends and gathers the bones, along with some dry wood and locates his zippo. He arranges the human remains and tender in a small pile and sets fire to them.
The small fire blazes and Sam watches, mesmerized by the flames. Seconds later it's out.
"Hope you're in a better place now..."
"...yes, sir. Thank you very much for your time..."
The brothers were at the door, Sam's hand at the handle, both staring down the hall to the living room where one of the witnesses was still raving and ranting at them, throwing things around.
"We'll be going now!" and they were out the door, sighing as they beat a hasty retreat. Something crashes inside the house Ð probably one of the porcelain vases Ð and they flinch. And walk a little faster.
Briskly getting to the car they drove off, passing the diner where they wanted to go eat. Passing the library and the police station, in fact, they didn't stop until they were back at their hotel room and relative safety.
"Okay - eh-hem." Dean coughed into his hand, back leaning to the door that he'd just closed. Sam was standing between the beds, blinking.
"Yeah..." Sam added just as coherently. "So, uh..."
"Talk about PTSD...." Dean commented, and then continued quickly before Sam could roll his eyes at him. "So, we can agree that it's a run-of-the-mill ghost we're hunting?"
Sam just nodded.
Click-click-click-click-click-click, Sam's phone sounded as he typed.
Click-click-click... and then he stopped and groaned, letting his head fall on his knees where he sat.
Why was he organizing his calendar? It's not like he has anything in it to organize, and not like they ever had anything planned long enough into the future for there to ever be anything to organize.
But it was something to do. Anything so he wouldn't have to listen to Hell as it rumbled and pounded and shook at the walls - at Dean, trying to get inside, get to him.
But Dean was there, all around him, protecting and keeping him sane and safe - just like always...
But, but, but... what kind of strain was it putting on his brother. He might be big, might be in his element - in the water, might be gentle and beautiful and so easy to hide within and willing to hold him close... But how long before the current takes whale-Dean away and abandons him on the shore, on the hot sand to burn under the sun and fire that is Sam and everything within him.
Sam closes his eyes tightly, trying not to cry, or sniff or sob. Trying to be as silent as he can, so he can hear Dean's heartbeat bounce off the waters all around him, and swallow him in its comfort.
They hiked through the day, and went on through the night.
The only supernatural thing they saw was a few will-o-wisps hovering over the lake waters.
"So, where are those giant mushrooms that Anna mentioned?"
Sam just snorted at the mention of their bartender from the night before.
Sam scrolls down his contacts list. Stops at 'D'. Then presses the call button and brings the phone to his ear.
'Smoke on the Water' echoes through Dean's belly, as Dean's voice answers clearly in his ear.
"This is Dean's other, other cell, so you must know what to do."
The EMF meter goes wild as they step into a clearing, right in front of what looks like an old, old settlement. It's like a scene, frozen in time; stone, brick and wood left where it had fallen, leaning against each other and covered in bright green moss.
They have a few minutes time to look around, and then there's nothing.
The phone rings and rings, and then a female voice "The number you have called is out of service."
Sam disconnects, dials in another number from memory. Ring-ring "The number you have called is out of service."
He sighs, goes into his contacts list again, scrolls and then calls.
"I don't understand. Why-why do you want me to say my name? bip-bip-bip..."
"Hey, Cas... Why did you do this? Gone and made the same mistakes I did?" That wasn't exactly what he wanted to say, not that he had an idea what he was calling Cas for in the first place... "Don't you know that you're supposed to learn from other peoples mistakes, not repeat them?"
He stops for a second, stops for a moment, taking a breath. "Why did you do that to Dean? Why you do that to my brother?" Another moment passes, and then he adds even quieter, "To our brother?"
Sam disconnects before he can say more.
Then hits speed dial, doesn't matter witch number, they all lead to the same person.
The phone rings and rings.
"This is Dean, leave a message."
'Smoke on the Water' fills his ears.
Dean groans, one hand going to the back of his head. "Shit, that hurt!"
His ringtone plays again, and his eyes are open in a second. "Sam?" he calls out, and when he doesn't get an answer he gets up and looks around. "Sam?!"
"Sam." Dean voice was muffled, Sam wonders why that would be so. "Sam!"
There's something covering his mouth and nose. It's a little harder to breath but the strange smell and dizziness from hours before is gone.
Sam's eyes open, and then blink up at his brother. "De'n?"
He's lying down, Dean standing over him; one of his brother's hands is holding a cloth to his mouth, the other hand holding another cloth to Sam's.
"What- what happened?" he asks.
"Well Sammy," Dean sounds far too cheery; it's gonna be something embarrassing, he just knows it. "You just spent the last few hours on a crazy mushroom high!"
Sam blinks, not understanding at first. He looks around, gaining clarity, quickly.
It all makes sense now. The glowing dust from before, those were actually mushroom spores. The ship wrecks, those were old tree trunks, and the blow-hole he'd fallen through and the insides of the whale, just stone walls of an cave.
Sam groans, hitting his head on the floor behind him, then gets up.
"Come on," Dean says looking around. "We still have to find the body and burn it. Preferably before the ghost gets back."
Sam blinks again, something picking at the back of his mind. Then he remembers. "Did that already."
Dean raises an eyebrow and Sam points behind him where he burned the bones and buried the ashes .
By the time they're back at the Impala the morning sun is already lighting up the world.
They fall into the seats, tired and worn. Eyes closed and heads thrown back.
"Uhh. Next time there's a hunt in the middle of a forest or something, I say we skip it," Dean whines.
Sam's quite inclined to agree.
"And we didn't even see any of those giant mushrooms."
Sam just hums in answer.
They fall silent and moments later Dean's asleep. His mobile ready to sound an alarm every hour to wake them up. But for now it's silent.
For a moment, before sleep takes him, Sam is sure that he can hear the beat of both of their hearts bounce around the Impala.
His and Dean's. Though for the life of him, he doesn't think he'll ever be able to tell where his ends and his brother's begins.