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"What the hell’s a Strupa?"
Dean was sitting on his bed, munching on a burger, one piece of onion trying to escape his mouth when he spoke and a piece of tomato trying to escape the burger.
"It's kinda a, uh, woman spider sort of thingy."
Sam didn't look up from the book he was reading, too enchanted by the words on the page and the picture of the Strupa that stretched across the entire left page. It was beautiful.
Beautifully deadly.
Dean stuffed the onion back into his mouth, chewed, said: "You serious?" and managed to swallow before drinking some coffee.
Eating at three in the morning was exhausting.
"Yeah, I mean," Sam looked at Dean and frowned at the mess Dean made of his shirt. They were way past laundry day.
He sighed and barely contained himself from using air quotes: "The lore," he paused, because hearing potatoe chips crunching messed with his concentration.
"You done or should I wait until you are?"
"What, 'm hungry. Haven't eaten in a day, man. Just … I'll behave, okay. Go on."
"Alright, well the lore says that she appears to young men, she's half naked," he looked at his brother and shook his head at Dean's ketchup colored smirk, "saying that she's been attacked, that her child's still in danger and that she needs help. Of course the guy goes with her and then she leads him to some hidden place, I don't know, alleyway or into the woods, whatever’s closer I guess."
"Cute."
"Very."
"So then what?"
He drank the last of his coffee and aimed the burger wrapper and coffee cup to the trashcan.
Neither made it in.
"Well it says here, that then she gives the guy a," he put the book down, looked at Dean and used his free fingers to air quote, ''poisonous kiss''."
"Okay, so..."
"Well it like... you know how spiders kill, right? Venom into the victim, liquefying their insides, suck it all out then?"
Dean nodded, because… what a way to go. He shuddered: "Yeah..."
"Well her kiss works like that. Poison and then the guy's insides turn into mush and she drinks them dry."
"Awesome, so how do we find her and how do we gank her?"

-:-

Setting up a trap for someone whose only intention in this world was to feed and feed some more was a piece of cake. All one needed was bait and in this case, bait was a guy.
Dean.
They had discussed this left and right, gone through the plan more thoroughly than they do when Dean's searching for pie and came to the conclusion that Dean'd be bait. Well, Dean came to that conclusion while Sam fumed. But it was a plan, a solid plan, a good plan, with Sam as the man at Dean's back and Dean as the man dangling himself from a hook in front of the Strupa.
Yes, a very good plan.
And as plans go, it went sideways faster than a drunken man falls into a street gutter.

-:-

She was beautiful, and the picture Sam showed him really didn't do her justice. She was just… the most perfect woman he’d ever seen. Blue eyes, blond hair, boobs he could write sonnets about – if he knew how – skin like honey, just perfect.
She was all the things that could kill ya. Perfect deadly beauty.
She begged him to save her child, begged him to go with her, to help her, black tears running down her cheeks, sobbing and crying and wailing for him to help her.
So he did.
He knew that Sam was following them, had his silver knife hidden in his sleeve, his gun hidden at the small of his back, had his strength and brain all working a hundred miles per hour.
But then… she was fast. Faster than those hundred miles per hour. Faster than the speed of light and before he knew it, she had him pressed against a damp wall and her tongue was in his mouth. Tasted sour, tasted like milk a week after its expiration date.
And it burned down his throat.
Burned like lava getting poured down his gullet.
And then it was gone, like a breeze that was never there.
He couldn't open his eyes, was glued to the wall.
Was on fire.

-:-

There weren't words to describe how it was, to stick a knife into someone's back. Even if that someone was a monster out to get his brother.
But in line of duty Sam did what he needed to do.
And there weren't any words to describe how it was, when that someone dissolved into a puddle of goo right at his feet.
It was more than disgusting, but it was nothing that he hadn't seen before.
Nothing that he hadn't caused before.

-:-

"Dean?"
He scrambled up on his feet, when Dean fell to his knees like a puppet which strings just got cut off.
"Dean?"
The back alley was hidden in darkness; garbage cans were being raided by cats, rats were walking freely from the sewers to the nearest piece of trash that was laying forgotten on the ground, people were heard talking from the main street; drunk people going home from bars, lovers whispering naughty things to each other… and Dean choking and gasping for air. Sam was running to him, almost slipping on some apple peals and bashing his head into a trash can.
His boots were tapping on the rain covered asphalt; the alley was glistering with the leftovers of the afternoon rain. It was chilly, the wind cold on his face, and when he dropped down on his knees behind Dean's back, his knees crashed with a puddle of cold, brownish water.
"Dean?"
He could feel the water being soaked up by his jeans, when he wrapped his hands around Dean's trembling body.
"Dean!"

-:-

He was gasping for air and choking, noises like nothing he'd ever made coming from his burning throat. He tried to spit out what was left in his mouth, but all he could do was part his lips and let saliva run out freely.
One rat ran across the alley, stopped, sniffed the air, and ran away.
His stomach was making loud noises; like rolling stones down a hill loud, like waterfall hitting rocks loud, like a lion roaring loud.
But that was not the worst of it.
There was something moving in his stomach, clawing at his insides; as if acid was being held captive and wanted to escape. Just burn its way out of his belly any way possible.
He gagged again and struggled to spit out something, anything… just whatever that would make him feel a little better, because it was getting harder and harder to think over the roll of poison inside him.
He couldn't breathe; the pain squeezing his insides was like nothing he ever experienced before and man, he was shot, stabbed, clawed, sliced, he went to Hell for God's sake. But this was nothing compared to what went on in Hell. In Hell he knew he'd be fixed at some point, but here his organs would turn into mush and there would be no one to fix him up later.
It burned all over in his stomach; up in his chest, down in his lower belly, on the inside and outside, it was like there was something being boiled in him … clearly, something was being boiled inside of him.
There was just no other sane explanation. The acid was coming to a boiling point in his stomach and it was gonna explode or implode, he wasn't that awesome with physics, and that'd be it. That'd be what would bring Dean Winchester down.
He fell to his knees; there's no freakin' way that he's gonna be able to stand with this pain in him. There's no freakin' way that he's gonna be able to die standing up.
Where the Hell's Sam?
A noise startled him and he closed his eyes. If he was gonna go down so undignified, with his insides exploding or imploding or whatever, hell if he'd watch it.
"Dean!"
He heard his name being called somewhere to his left, or was it right? The pain wasn't allowing him anything but agony; there was no left or right, up or down, it was just acid in his stomach and him waiting for it to explode. Or implode.
And then there were hands on him, gentle, big hands, hands that were sure in what they were doing, hands that took his body in their safety and pulled him back to crash into something as hard as a wall yet soft as a pillow.
Sammy…
He wanted to say his brother's name, but the poison in his stomach decided to shift and scratch at his spine and that made him scream out loud.

-:-

"Dean?"
He heard his brother scream and that only made him grab onto Dean tighter.
Dean's fingers were digging themselves into the hard ground; he'd chip away some of the asphalt if his fingernails weren't bitten to skin. His breathing was broken into gasps and wheezes; couldn't catch a good enough breath. His face was turning green and blue and Sam bracketed Dean's body with his legs, braced himself with his left hand - his palm hitting the wet ground with a splash - pushed his right one above Dean's shoulder and down and did the only thing he could. He leaned forward and pushed his index finger into his brother's mouth.
A vague ewwww went through his mind when the tip of his finger rubbed over soft tissue in Dean’s warm mouth, but was quickly subdued by Dean making a choking sound and then there was something wet and hot hitting his finger but before he could pull the finger out, he heard a splashing sound when Dean finally threw up some of the poison the creature spat in his mouth.
The hot liquid covered his hand, ran down his wrist and into the sleeve of his shirt, but this was his brother and he was dying and if Dean puking all over him was what'd save him… then be it.
A cat meowed and the noise drowned out Dean's struggles of pulling in so much needed air.

-:-

Oh sweet son of a b*tch, did his idiotic little brother just stick a finger into his mouth?
Not cool.
Not cool at all.
He groaned, raised his hand to grab hold of Sam's wet wrist and pulled on it but the movement of Sam's finger did something to his throat again and the poison came up to see what all the commotion was about.

-:-

They both fell forward when Dean pulled Sam's finger out of his mouth, but Sam caught his brother and put both of Dean's hands on the ground, arranging him so that his knees and hands were firmly planted on the floor, their fingers intertwined.
"Dean, don't fight me, come on man, it was your stupid plan."
He watched as green-bluish bile came splashing out of Dean's mouth like a river, and hit the ground between Dean's splayed fingers.
It was gross, but he'd do it again in a heartbeat. He would, because that poison would've killed his brother and right now, he didn't care how pissed Dean would be at him for sticking his finger into his mouth.
"Ugh…"
"Ya done? Gonna puke some more?"
Dean groaning and then some more bile hitting the floor was his answer.
"Okay, good. 's good, you need to get it all out, man. Otherwise that poison's just gonna burn your insides."
Dean did not need that image.
He puked some more, seemingly endless streams of bluish liquid running from his mouth. He could feel how his stomach was being purged of the acidic poison. He could literally feel how everything was flowing out of him, leaving his insides empty like he leaves Whiskey bottles empty.
He coughed. And puked some more. And coughed some more.
"Kill the son of a b*tch." He groaned out between gasps for air.
"Did, she's dead."
"That b*tch!"
Sam smiled. His brother would be just fine.
Dean groaned and pushed at his brother's chest, making him move away and sat down on his ass, barely missing the bile on the floor. Because then… then those jeans would have to go in the trash and they were his favorite.
He put his elbows on his knees, grabbing his wrists, head down between his legs: "Can't believe you put," gasp, gag, spit, "your finger in my mouth."
"Deal with it. Saved your life, man."
"Ugh."
He spit some more greenish sludge on the floor, closed his eyes and muttered to himself over the crappy taste in his mouth and the pungent smell coming off the ground: "B*tch."
Sam didn't know if Dean was referring to him or the Strupa.




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