Swamp Thing

It's A Swamp Thing by Bird2K

A/N: This little doohickey arose from a prompt given to me by lostatc. Kim asked for a story based on the legend 'The Phantom Lovers of Dismal Swamp.' No angst, no deal and no Bela or Ruby but plenty of brotherly snark and allergies. That was the request, this is the result...

Do I really need a disclaimer? Is there anyone reading this that thinks I own anything Winchester? Oh, alright then, for that one person with their hand raised at the back – I don't!

Day 1: Dismal Swamp? Sounds Great!

Dean stomped into the room carrying coffee and donuts and kicked the door shut behind him. He was unsurprised to find Sam still hunched over the laptop tapping away; brow creased and chewing his lip in concentration. His noisy entrance eliciting no response, Dean went for another approach, launching his half-eaten donut at Sam's head and watching with satisfaction as it bounced off its target and landed on the open keyboard, leaving a light dusting of sugar in Sam's bangs. Dean grinned wickedly; that'll teach him to have such sissy hair.

Sam started and looked up; still frowning and twisting his mouth in irritation at the interruption as he picked the donut up from where it had landed, throwing it towards the bin and running a large hand through his hair to dislodge the sprinkle of sweet dandruff.

Dean shifted his features into neutral and asked nonchalantly.

"Hey Geekboy, find anything interesting?"

Sam turned and threw his scowl at the source of his annoyance; only for it to be deflected by a big brother shield of indifference as Dean ambled over to the table and continued conversationally,

"You know, if the wind changes you'll be stuck like that. Not that it'll make any difference; what with me being the handsome one an' all, anyway."

Sam huffed in response and gratefully took the offered coffee, shaking his head at the donuts, before bothering to retort.

"Yeah well, with your diet dude, enjoy the attention whilst you can. The chicks won't look twice once all those calories catch up with you."

Dean just shrugged and stuffed another mouthful in. With the life they led, he had never put much thought into the future and if he had, middle age spread would not be at the top of his list of worries. Not when he had so many interesting and fun ways to burn off the fat! A lascivious grin turned up the corners of his mouth and he waggled his eyebrows for effect as he said,

"Chicks like a little meat on the bones, Beanpole: gives 'em something to hold on to."

Sam huffed incredulously.

"I mean it, Sammy. Maybe you'd have more luck with the ladies if you tried fattening up a bit there. I bet most women are put off thinking you might snap if things get a little energetic."

Sam had been here before, and he knew how these discussions ended, so he attempted a snappy tactical withdrawal

"I'm not having this conversation with you, Dean."

But the older hunter was just warming up. Was there a better way to start the day than scalding hot coffee, a box of Krispy Kremes and a quick round of Brother Baiting? Well, there was but the absence of a flexible blonde and a can of squirty cream indicated he would have to make do with option 2. If he couldn't be having sex, the next best thing was winding Sam up about it. He smirked, slipping into chauvinist overdrive: a sure-fire way to piss off Mr Sensitive.

"Why not, Sammy? You could learn a lot about attracting the fairer sex from your big brother, y'know."

"Unlike some, Dean, I don't feel the need to attempt to prove myself by jumpin' random women."

"Random men more your thing? Not a problem. Never gone down that road myself but I'm sure the basic rules of pulling are the same. Of course, I have the advantage of natural good looks. You might have to work a bit harder."

Jaw clenched, Sam ground out,

"For the last time, Dean: I neither want nor need your help attracting anyone and I don't understand why you think I do."

"Oh, I dunno, so that you could get laid for once?"

"I'm not into casual sex, Dean."

"Not into any kind of sex, far as I can tell, Dude. It can't be healthy. Don't you worry your bits will drop off through lack of use?"

Dean waved his half-eaten, honey glazed delight in the general direction of Sam's lower brain region.

"Better than dropping off through syphilis."

And how Sam managed to look both pious and pissy at the same time was beyond Dean.

"Hey, I take precautions."

A shower of sticky crumbs accompanied Dean's squeak of outrage and Sam pointedly wiped the back of the laptop down with a handy napkin and a grimace of distaste.

"Precautions? Dean, you barely even take their name."

"I always get their name! Anyway, there isn't a woman alive that doesn't appreciate being called darlin'.

Dean smiled disarmingly at the disbelief etched clearly in the furrow of Sam's drawn brows. Really his brother was too easy; he almost felt sorry for him. Then he remembered the yeti sized, muddy footprint on his baby's door from when Sam had kicked her closed yesterday and all thoughts of easing off evaporated. Instead, he moved up a gear into chauvinistic hyper-drive and aimed both Brother Baiting barrels with all the precision of years of practice and an innate love of the sport.

"I don't know why you have to take it all so seriously, Sammy. It's only sex. A bit of sweet talk, a bit of flattery, a whole lot of hot and steamy hardcore lovin' and everybody's happy."

"Yeah, well I'd prefer a proper conversation with someone I respect."

"I respect women!"

At Sam's disbelieving look, Dean became indignant.

"I do! How can I not respect a gender that is so adept at bra removal? Man, it took me years to perfect getting a chicks bra off one handed, and not only can they do that, but then they whip it off from under a layer of clothes and down through a sleeve. That's pretty impressive."

"I'm speechless."

"Yeah, well so was I the first time a woman did that and then threw it in my face. Dude, it was still warm! Of course, that isn't as amazing as this one chick I knew..."

"I don't wanna hear this, Dean!"

Pretending not to have heard, he continued,

"Her name was Sandy or Mandy or something. No, no Candy, that was it. I remember cos I asked her if she tasted..."

"Dean! Seriously – I do not want to hear this!"

"Sure you do. Anyway, the name's not the important part of the story. This chick, I swear, she must have been double jointed or something, cos she could take her thong off without..."

"Dean! Stop!"

"...and then she just flicked it at me. Nearly took my freakin' eye out, Man. Try explaining that one in the ER when you're waiting on an eye patch! Although, turns out she had a bit of a pirate thing going on as well... Wanna hear how she 'walked the plank'?"

Finally, Sam's panicked gaze locked onto Dean's ill-concealed grin and comprehension dawned. Realising he was being played and losing, he conceded defeat with a playful shot.

"You know, one day Dean, all the women you have used are going to track you down, tie you up with their lingerie and beat you to death with their high heeled shoes."

"So long as they don't talk about their feelings as they do it, Sammy; what a way to go!"

Sam just raised an exasperated eyebrow at the salacious turn of the conversation and decided to leave it for now, unsure how they'd even gotten on to the subject to begin with.

"Anyway Dean, if you can engage the upstairs brain for a minute, I think I may have worked out what's happening here."

Dean started on another donut as he dropped heavily down on the chair opposite Sam who had turned the laptop around to face him. Not waiting for his brother to read for himself, Sam started to explain.

"Right, so 4 men have drowned in Lake Drummond in the last 6 months during boating expeditions after dusk, despite wearing lifejackets and at least 2 reportedly being good swimmers. Also despite the fact the lake is only 6 ft deep. There seems to be no connection between the victims themselves, different backgrounds, ethnicity's and ages..."

"No, wait; I see a pattern: they're all idiots. Who in their right mind would want to spend their leisure time somewhere called the Great Dismal Swamp? I'd like to meet the over-paid marketer who thought that one up and blast him full of rock salt. I mean, they're just asking for trouble."

"Yeah, well, whatever. They're all dead now, and we need to figure out why. So, if we're working on the theory it is somehow linked to the Drummond Lake ghost story..."

"And is that still the theory we're working to?"

"In the absence of anything better, yes."

"So, Sammy, you're asking me to buy that Lake Grungy here is haunted by some idiot who thinks his dead chick wasn't dead at all but just pitching her tent in the wettest camp ground since the Everglades? And not only that but our dude then goes all bushman, and hangs in this tropical paradise living on berries and roots whilst he scouts her out?"

"I think it's being haunted by him. And by his fiancée, yeah."

"OK, well that's all real normal, huh? And then he starts seeing this dead chick in the form of mosquitos…"

"A firefly, Dean"

Dean waved a hand in Sam's direction, halting the interruption to his disbelieving synopsis.

"Yeah, whatever, Sammy. So he follows the firefly, thinking it's a message of undying love before knocking together a raft which he then paddles to the middle of Lake Dirge, promptly flips her and drowns?"

Sam nodded slowly, his earnest hazel gaze holding his brother's mocking green.

"You really believe that story? The whole crazy-bushman-hey-that-firefly-looks-like-my-dead-woman- arrgh-I'm-drowning scenario?"

"Weirder things have happened than people dying whilst hallucinating. Hell, we've seen a lot of them first hand."

"Just seems a bit of an extreme reaction."

"Loss affects people differently."

"Yeah, but grief-camping? Snacking on bereavement berries and roots? Eurrgh, vegans are weird!"

Dean gave an exaggerated shudder that Sam chose to ignore.

"Look, I've really checked this one out, Dean, and can't find anything else that fits. There are a stack of sightings of this ghostly couple by dozens of different people and they all describe the same thing: a couple, floating on a raft in the middle of Lake Drummond, holding a lamp made of fireflies."

"Ok, even if the story is true and this couple has been haunting the Lake for all this time, why would they suddenly start killing people now?"

"Well, I think the story is true, at least some of it. See, whilst you were out getting..."

Sam eyed the few remaining donuts in the now ¾ empty box disapprovingly,

"...breakfast, I ran a few internet searches and found a local historical website. I did a little digging and it seems that in 1876 a Nancy Granger did die a couple of weeks before her wedding and was buried near the edge of the Great Dismal Swamp. Her fiancé, a Neil Baker, was reported missing 3 weeks later having taken off into the swamp himself, reportedly suffering from delusions. He kept telling friends that he knew Nancy was still alive and was just waiting for him to go and find her so that they could be together again."

Dean rubbed his chin thoughtfully and at the rasp realised he'd forgotten to shave in the rush to get his sugar, fat and caffeine fixes. Shrugging he decided that sexy stubble was a good look for a Wednesday and returned his attention to Sam who was still in the throes of geek passion.

"You found all that on a website?"

Sam nodded, obviously trying to keep his eagerness in check.

"Well that's handy. Does this website also say why they'd start killing people after 130 years of happy haunting?"

Sam paused before replying, trying not to look too pleased with himself. Finishing off his coffee and getting up to throw the empty cup in the bin, he stretched his arms above his head, large hands locked together and brushing the ceiling as he attempted to work the kinks out of his back. His shirt rode up a little and he scratched idly at his belly before noticing that Dean was watching him expectantly and non-too patiently.

"Any time you're ready there, Sam."

Sheepishly perching on the edge of the table with his arms crossed, he continued.

"Actually, it does."

Dean raised an enquiring eyebrow.

"So, you gonna tell me or am I supposed to guess? Cos, you know you're the only one with the freaky psychic thing going on, Dude."

"According to this website, Nancy Granger was buried beside the swamp, but Neil Bakers body was never recovered from Lake Drummond. So I started checking though local news sites from around the time the first drownings happened. Turns out a lot of boats had been getting tangled on debris in the lake so The Fish and Wildlife Service carried out some dredging and removed some earth from the bottom to try and stop it happening."

He paused again, smiling smugly.

"Guess when."

"Err, about 6 months ago?"

"Yup."

"So, you think that when they took the earth, they maybe took his remains with it?"

"Maybe. Could well have done."

And on Dean's skeptical expression he continued,

"Look, we've worked off of less and nothing more likely has come up so why don't we just go and check it out?"

"Ok. Check it out how, exactly?"

"I thought we could try and find out where all the stuff goes when it's dredged up."

"And then what? Dig through a shit-load of stinky swamp muck on the off chance there are some bones to burn in there?"

Sam rubbed his large hands up and down his thighs distractedly as he considered the options. Finally he conceded,

"Ok, no. I don't think that would work anyway."

He caught Dean's gaze and at the unspoken 'Duh' he continued.

"I don't think it would work, cos I don't think it's Neil's ghost that is causing the disappearances. Think about it: why would he be making men drown themselves? No, I think it's her. I think it's Nancy."

Dean pursed his full lips in a thoughtful pout, before nodding.

"Yeah, I guess that could make sense. His bones are removed and his ghost goes too breaking up their happy little home, or raft or whatever. So she is looking for him but keeps grabbing the wrong guys. You think she's calling to them somehow? Maybe like some kind of Siren? Making them jump overboard and just drown willingly?"

"Could be. However she's doing it, we need to stop her and it won't be as easy as a simple salt and burn."

Dean nodded again, rubbing his forehead and sniffing.

"So then, we need a plan."

Chapter Ends