I have… Too many plot bunnies to count and I can't pin half of them down, but my friend wanted to read a fic about this and there aren't many people she could ask.

I honestly don't know if it's been done or if it's something I'll be able to do well, but… Well, I'm gonna take a stab at it. I guess just review or something telling me what I'm doing wrong/right and we'll see if it's fit for continuation.

You'll hear from me again at the end of the chapter, I suppose (but it'll be fairly short as I try to get everything sorted out).

It had been a day ago that Dean had first become interested in the creatures that lived in the ocean. You may wonder; why? Dean didn't usually take interest in subjects he'd need to study. Things involving brute strength were generally his strong point; it didn't take much reading to learn how to fix a boat.

His fascination with the aquatic life stemmed from a fishing trip he'd gone on with his brother and father. About five hours into the trip, without a single fish caught yet—his father swore they would eventually catch something if they sat around long enough—,he had seen a face surrounded by matted black hair pop out of the waves. The face itself was—if he could say it without going against everything that made Dean the man he was—stunning. Beautiful, even. Startling blue eyes stood out against pale skin, and he found his eyes locked with them. As in, he couldn't look away even if he wanted to. And he didn't. Being pushed and pulled from side to side by waves, it was hard to keep an eye on, but being physically unable to look away from it helped a little bit. Dean thought it might have been some poor drowned bastard, until the face blinked at least five times. A hand broke the surface and seemed to wave in his direction. Without putting any thought into what he was doing, Dean was waving back, smiling as if this wasn't a strange man's face peering out at him from above the waves. He was curious as to what a man might be doing out swimming as far as he was, it wasn't the safest of things to do. Dean made the decision to call out; to ask him if he was in need of assistance, assistance Dean would have given in a heartbeat. Something about those eyes… Even from this distance they shone with curiosity.

Dean's brother, Sam, chose that moment to shout about the fishing lines, tangled up in one-another. John, his father, told him to quit screwing around and to help his brother untangle the lines. Dean spared him a look over his shoulder, and turned back to the stranger. Instead of the face, he caught a glimpse of large, green fins slipping beneath, following a thick, scaled tail.

"Dean!" John and Sam had called for him at the same time, leaving Dean little time to think on what he'd seen just a second before. He barely had time to mask his disappointment. He turned away from the side of the small boat, stepping carefully to avoid capsizing, and walked to his brother. Sam was wrestling with the fishing wire, sputtering a curse or a harsh word of encouragement. Sometimes even a, "Oh, no, it's fine. Take your time; I don't need help or anything."

Needless to say, after removing Sammy from the fishing line, and seeing the state they were in (beyond disentanglement), they needed to turn the boat around and retire for the afternoon, which was alright with Dean because he was starting to roast in the sun. That night, though, he told his younger brother all about what he'd seen. After the initial, 'Why didn't you tell me?', Sam droned on for ages about something called 'mer-folk'. He explained it as a legend of people under the sea, half fish and half human, who would lure sailors to their deaths, or help steer their ships home if you caught them in a good enough mood.

"You really think I saw a mer-folk?" Dean asked, scrunching up his forehead in puzzlement.

"No, Dean. Mer-folk is used to describe more than one. I'm saying I think you saw a merman." Well, gee, thanks for that. Nerd.

"You really think so? I mean, you said they were a legend, and aren't most legends, well, not true?" Dean sat back in his chair, looking his brother up and down in an almost sarcastic manner. Sam nodded, and went on to explain to Dean what Dean had just told Sam himself. Dean spent the rest of the night ignoring his brother.

But on this day, Dean was in the library, reading up on his mer-folk.

Well…

Yeah.

That took a good couple of hours to write up. Beginnings are hard. Like, really fucking hard to write.

Well; good? Bad? Comments, opinions and all other manner of thing are welcome.

-D