The Dragon at Knights Inn
It's Been Such A Long Time
Dean can't sleep.
It's really no surprise either, Dean had been on the run from damn near everybody alive. That is, every person that had ever seen him, not including his close family and friends, for so long that he's forgotten what it was like to be free. Truly free. Sometimes even forgotten what it was like to have been human. The memories are there, but they've had this taint to them, this change that is so subtle it's nearly imperceptible to him unless he's really focusing on it. Humanity... it feels like a random Saturday night that was fun while it lasted, but is long over for him. What was that saying? Die by the monster or live long enough to become one? No, wait. Live by the sword, die by the pen? Fuck. Something like that... irony's a bitch either way. Metaphor slinging wont make him fall asleep any faster or understand things any better. It's just a real Fubar situation.
For starters, becoming a dragon was not at all what Dean'd ever expected to happen, but well, here he is. Quadruple shoulder shrug. He looks like a regular old western dragon, not like those stretched out snakelike Chinese dragons. He's got four legs, two big bat-like wings, long neck and arrow shaped horned head. His thick scaled hide is mostly browns, from tan to dappled burnt umber for the skin, his spine spikes and claws were all black. Horns a dirty ivory. All the colors were in a rocky camouflaged pattern like a common desert lizard, and he's pretty damned good at blending into nature because of it. Dean's personal freckles and unique green eyes were the few things that were all 'Dean' in this new body, and without them, he'd have been killed by either Bobby or Sam the second they saw him.
One failed hunt with Sam many months ago and now he's a dragon. Well, Drauglin if you wanna get technical since he's not really a 'dragon' dragon. Drauglin's don't go after virgins or valuables or hoard anything really, and FYI, silver burns them, so that's nice. Drauglin's are more concerned with the balance of nature then any assumptions humans made about them. Most of them aren't violent unless provoked, and are as varied as whatever animal their parents ate as catalyst for their baby Drauglin body. They usually live quiet, solitary lives, and only eat things that are abundant instead of endangered. Managing populations and environments around their homes. Half of them don't even eat meat. But that doesn't stop people from wanting to kill the dragon before due process. There's a very long history of using 'dragons' as scapegoats for everything gone wrong. No one wants to stick around and get to know them first.
During that fateful hunt, Sam had destroyed a nest of three large twitching eggs, while Dean was off trying to kill the mother. She got to him instead since bullets don't work, only blades and sharp instruments, and saw that her old nest was gone. She was upset and decided to start again with Dean. Swallowing him whole and alive and birthing him as a brand new Drauglin baby. Raising him with respect and love with the intent of waiting till he's self sufficient enough before having more babies. Most monsters become so from bites or blood, while Drauglin's go another route.
Sam and Bobby were able to find Dean again but they were too late. The toddler was still Dean, but also, not Dean. A mix of human and Drauglin. They had to raise him while hiding him from other Hunters, but when he had partially grown up, equivalent to a 20 something, he was captured by Azazel, a Hunter that owned a 'Monster Zoo'. Learning how to hurt and kill monsters with different weapons and methods. Dean had been tortured, mind fucked, and turned into Azazel's 'dog'. Then the military got their hands on him, intent on taking his flammable spray and studying his natural defenses, turning him into a weapon. Eventually he was sold after Dean burned down the building around himself. So his new owner Michael wanted him studied as an odd specimen with the threat of being dissected once he learned all he could. His team of scientists doing the dirty work. It was Balthazar, the conspiracy theorist (among other things), and Castiel the cryptozoologist who saw the hidden humanity in the gigantic monster they were studying. They were able to hypnotize Dean into remembering his past life as a human and the two of them wanted the poor guy to be free of all the cages and pain. Meanwhile, Sam and Bobby had finally found Dean again, and Cas and Balth helped him escape, burning the cage and building down to distract the enemy long enough to get some miles between them.
Sam and Bobby were the front seat of the Impala, with Cas and Balth in the back, with no room for a 30 foot tall Drauglin when they went on the run. So far, they managed to avoid all of the people that were hunting him down for sport, revenge, science, or captured as an exotic pet, and an attack dog. The small group needed to hide and transport him better to keep him safe till the solstice, when they will be able to change him back into a human again with a dangerous spell. So after an ingenious idea was brought up, and some quick and mostly harmless spell work, he's now a mere 6 inches tall and roughly the size of a rat.
Their numerous enemies are now looking in all the wrong places for them, but the time out wont last forever. Eventually someone might find them, and then Dean's life will be over. The other's were also at risk, depending on who finds their group first. No one is safe. For now though, they managed to find a small motel and are taking a much appreciated breather to get their strength back and rest.
If only Dean could just rest.
Being six inches tall, on the run, stressed out, suffering from PTSD from all the shit he's had to endure, injured from sparing with a drone to work on his flying and fighting skills in his body, and being haunted by all those memories are not conducive to a peaceful nights' sleep. His injured left arm was bandaged up and the left leg needed a splint for the broken bone. Two cue tips had to work for the splint, and he could walk again fairly well now that its nearly healed. His new biology helps his body heal a little faster then humans, but it's not instant and pain free. Recovery takes time, so he's been taking it easy, letting the others carry him around. He can still fly, but the holes in his wings from escaping Michael's cage were only just sealed. Putting too much strain on them hurts, but at least he's able to get around that way if he needs to.
Sam and Bobby are in the same hotel room, and it's nice to be able to catch up with his family like this. That's not to say he doesn't care about the others in the next motel room over, it had just been awhile since he'd spent time with just his brother and surrogate dad. Both of which are snoring softly on the two beds while he's snuggled into a shirt nest inside the nightstand's drawer. It's mainly a precaution to protect him from being seen, should someone burst into the room unexpectedly, or if any mice or rats take offense to sharing their homes with a fire breathing dragon. Animals generally don't like Dean very much. Despite him being small enough to fit in Sam's hand.
The sounds from the other room had drifted from idle chat to silence. Indicating that Cas and Balthazar are sleeping soundly, and Rufus is either still keeping watch, or had drifted off as well. All was quiet, and a perfect time to sleep, if only... urgh. Moments of peace were rarely held for any length of time. Hell, even Dane was asleep in their shared headspace. Dean could feel that the pure Drauglin was out for the night. Lucky bastard.
Dean idly pondered if he and Dane's consciousnesses never split apart from the original hybrid, if he'd be sleeping without worrying about shit. Wondering what Dane would do if he was in control of their body right now. Would the Drauglin wake someone else up to chat? Probably wake up Dean, most likely, since they can share their headspace and chat in their inner make-belief forest, instead of growling or chirping out loud and potentially wake up the humans in the room. Dean considered doing the same to him, but, Dane needed the rest too. They were still getting to know each other and he didn't want to piss his Drauglin half off. Sharing a body and mindscape didn't necessarily mean all thoughts, ideas and consciousnesses were out there in the open. Thank God. So Dean knew it would take time to bond. However, those touchy feely moments could wait. Right now. Dean was even more tired. And he couldn't fucking sleep.
He grumbled a little and saw the sliver of light from above, stretching out his brown camouflaged wings from the cocoon they'd made to block out all distractions, but, hell with it. It wasn't working. Might as well get up and move around. Maybe if he tires out his body, his stupid head will follow. Rehashing his life as a dragon isn't helping him find peace.
Dean stands and stretches out his limbs like a cat, head and long neck twisting to crack the length of vertebra and sighing at the satisfying string of pops. His two bound left limbs are pains in the ass to work with, but he manages to disentangle himself from the shirt nest Sam half wrapped him in. His gigantic little brother is probably enjoying babying Dean a bit too much. However, Dean has to admit, when he'd been jumbo size, taller then most trees and buildings, he saw all the hand sized humans as fragile and weak too. So he figures it's natural to wanna protect things that are small.
Dean doesn't really like needing the protection, and wants to prove, at least to himself, that he can still get around without assistance. So he ambles up to the front end of the drawer and using his wings to push against the top of the nightstand, and his hands and body against the front, he rams his small body into the front of it, opening the drawer a bit more. Testing the opening with his wings, he finds its not quite wide enough. He backs up and jumps into it again, jolting it open another inch which is all he needs. Dean climbs out of the drawer, scrabbling briefly for purchase with his good hand and leg claws, wings working overtime and bending in ways that he's not used to. Making it up onto the outer edge of the drawer and instead of turning around and getting on top the nightstand, he just jumps down from there towards the floor, wings outstretched just to slow his descent.
What he didn't see from up there was the opened spell book that had fallen to the floor. His four feet landing right in the middle of a circle on one of the pages and he shakes himself out from the impact. His hand and leg aching a bit, even with the slowed down controlled fall. His cue-tip splint smeared the tiniest drop of blood onto the circle that glowed slightly before dulling. Dean hadn't noticed, he just stepped off of the book before Bobby crabs him out about claws on his precious book's pages.
Little did he know, that smidgen of blood activated a spell that unlocks a threshold. The first threshold is to a dimension that would reveal what is foremost on his subconscious mind. No one else from his home dimension can pass into the next, but that's not stopping the small residents of the dimension next door. All entrances in and out of Dean's room will lead to another, but for him alone.
Dean doesn't know any of that, yet, he's a bit dizzy from accidentally activating the granddaddy of trans-dimensional segues. Oblivious and tired, a bad combination, he soldiers on. The others still sleeping, Dean scowls at each contented snore. 'Rub it in why don't ya.' he grumble chirps. Saying it extra quietly since Sam and Cas are able to understand his speech, even when he's tiny, due to the communication spell working overtime. Not only does it translate his Drauglin speech, it translates damn near everything coming from him. The three can share dreams, and sensing Dean's feelings were a side effect that they weren't expecting. At least his thoughts are still his own... for the most part, unless Dane turns into an asshole. But the dude is asleep in their head, so Dean's left to wander the room alone. He's getting more and more used to this. Seeing massive furniture towering into the sky. Feeling vibrations in the floor from people walking around in the other motel rooms. Hearing strangers having a fight down the way. All of it was just that much louder, stronger, and more intimidating. He disliked being this small, but, it was the best way to keep him hidden till solstice, then if everything goes alright, he'll split apart from the Drauglin, Dane, and be fully human again. And Dane can go on and do whatever he likes without having Dean in his mind and body, taking up half of everything.
Dean shook his head. He's not walking around at 2 am to keep stressing about everything, this is meant to clear his mind. Give himself a workout. And with any luck, pass out in a place where he wont be stepped on by his brother or Bobby.
Dean pauses his exploration when he hears a scuffling sound in the vent and goes to investigate silently. Huh, he must have fallen asleep standing, because this can't be real. His insomnia is making him hallucinate an impossibly small person. One who's currently climbing out of the heating vent that's close to the floor, next to the bathroom. Dean is stock still, blinking rapidly as if that would get rid of the person's image. Nope. It's really there. A guy that's about 3 and a half inches tall, crazy brown hair that's in all directions at once, and thin as a rail. If he wasn't looking right at him, Dean wouldn't have detected the guy at all, because the dude's so damned quiet, sneaky.
Deans instincts are starting to wake up. Not all monsters are big. He glances up at the beds, Sam and Bobby are still sleeping. He turns his side fan ear to the other motel room and hears nothing coming from them, no sounds of distress. So this probably isn't an invasion of tiny people. Dean folds in his wings to reduce his outline and very slowly crouches down, staring intently at him. It's not a Fae, probably. No glitter or lights. A sprite? No, no wings on it. What else is this small... It looks like a normal human 'cept for his size. Dean relaxes a bit the more he watches the guy navigate the room. It's almost as if he's never been in it before. Not a native to this motel? The biggest question on his mind is, is this guy harmful and if so, does Dean need anything special to kill it, or could he just spit fire at him. With his left arm and leg out of commission, he is reluctant to get into a physical fight. Even if the guy is half his height and a fraction of his overall size, it could just mean he's scrappy. Small guys gotta know how to fight big ones. And they don't get much smaller then this dude. Dean is actually starting to feel bad for it as the mousy guy picks through the debris under the dresser, finding a dried out pimento. Someone that had the room before them must have had an olive in a drink. The guy was gnawing on a corner of it for a second before grimacing at the taste, but still putting it in his little cloth bag. A scavenger.
Dean's gaze goes over to the spilled trail mix the same time the dude's does. It's just a raisin and peanut. Not bad of an option, at least there's something better to eat then what he's got so far. Must be starving. Dean watches him run to the two pieces with an excited gleam in his eyes. Hell. This guy is making Dean feel guilty for some reason. Like, all Dean has to do is mention he's hungry, and bam, no less then two people are giving him options for what he wants to eat. Even when he was big, he had choices. Usually it ended up being deer or cow, but still. Food was there. Even when he was being mistreated at all the places he's been kept, they never let him starve. Restricted food, yes, but not outright starve him. Now that he's little, there is an overabundance of food and options. He's never eaten so good in this life. But this poor guy? Why is he so scrawny when a damned apple is four times his size?
Dean bites a little at his long forked tongue. Maybe this guy doesn't have anyone that can get him food. He's living off of what people drop on the floor. Or left out. Damn. And he thought he had it rough.
The little dude carefully packs away the pieces that are on the floor and is looking up at the table top pensively before double checking on the humans in the room. Dean silently smirks. No way a discarded bag of trail mix left on the table would go ignored by someone like his uninvited guest. Dean settles down behind Sam's shoes and watches as the guy throws up a makeshift hook and tugs it into place. Impressed at the skill and speed of its manipulation and then his pride doubles as this three and a half inch tall guy climbs to the tabletop. No net. No safety. He just up and climbed up with nothing to hold onto but that line of thread. Fucking kudos!
Dean bites back a chirp of praise. Getting back into Hunter mode. This guy is little, scrawny, and probably malnourished, but he's also an unidentified intruder. Dean's body flattens out, tail twitching a bit in anticipation for things to go sideways. The guy just grabs a few more peanuts and M&M's for his little bag. Dean can't really see whats going on, but he hears it. When he gets to the end of the table again, the cloth bag is weighing him down, but it looks like it could feed him for a week, and even though Dean isn't going to be throwing the welcome mat out for him, he's pretty sure that a few bits of trail mix aren't going to be missed by Sam or Bobby. Dean can't eat anything besides meat, or veggies in very very small quantities. Equivalent to a few tablespoons worth, were he human sized.
The mousy guy then swings off of the table like it's totally normal, sliding down the thread again. A flick of the wrist and he dislodged his makeshift hook and is winding it up whilst booking it back to the vent. Dean snaps out of his impressed staring and gives chase. More out of curiosity then anything. The guy easily slips through the heating vent slats without making much of a sound. Just a few silent grunts when his bag is caught for a few seconds. Apparently he's not used to having such a successful haul. Dean's heart lurches a little at that thought. Pushing it aside. Can't let it get to him. Nothing about this is normal. Tiny people just don't exist so this guy is obviously a monster of some kind.
Dean gets to the vent a few seconds after him, hobbling along on two good legs and using his wings to help him find a good pace. Getting used to using his bound limbs, he finds it's actually fairly painless. Not ideal, but still, he's got an intruder to catch. The vent is too narrow for something his size of course, so he's got to pry it from the wall. The guy startles and yelps at the sound. Dean is getting pissed at the vent. Clawing at the edges and yanking for all he's worth. At last, it pops free and he's standing at the entrance, wings splayed out to show the guy that he's not to be messed with. There's no telling what mouse boy would do when he's discovered so it's a good idea to make an impressive first impression.
'Who are you?' Dean growls out. Wondering if mouse guy is a deceptively dangerous thing that was just scouting out the room to come back later with friends, and decided to steal from them in the meantime. The guy bolts down the vent and Dean struggles to keep up. His wings have to be brought in tight because the warm vent walls wont allow anything more. At least he can use them to keep himself from falling to his left side, repeatedly bumping his body into the wall to stay upright.
Dean tracks him down the heating vent and to a place where the metal vent opens up into the walls. The scents change and it feels even warmer then before. Air current changing as well. Not strong, but there. The wall to the room on the other side is cool like someone over there had the AC on. Which is stupid as hell since it's still early spring and freezing outside.
He can suddenly smell the guy better now. Dean's on mouse guy's home turf. There's obviously fresh fear there, a tang of desperation and of course, peanuts. Dean shoves aside the peanut smell in case the guy ditches his bag down a hole and he looses his trail. Sorting through the other scents in the walls and finding his quarry again. It is so dark, and the guy is far more agile and comfortable inside the walls then out. That much is obvious since mouse boy is barely making a sound besides his panting breaths and the peanuts clacking against each other. It's enough to track. Both of them moving more determined now that Dean's too far from Sam for backup. This thing might be going to sound some alarm and get more of them to hurt his family who'd never expect it, they're all still sleeping. Totally unaware. Dean kicks himself for not shouting something to Sam before he left.
He has to get this guy right now.
Mouse jumps over a pile of plaster chunks, loosing a peanut from his overstuffed bag, but he's not looking back. Dean hoists his front up onto the pile but it slides out from underneath. Dislodging more of the rough plaster making him get stuck between the walls, pushing and scrambling for release. All the chunks seem to have a vendetta against him because he's only managing to get himself even more stuck. Wings beat overhead, but that's when a chunk of the inner plaster falls down and pins him painfully down.
'Ahh! Fuck! fuck.' He mutters, pants hard for a few seconds and grunts. 'Hey! Little guy!'
The kid is gone. Vanished the second he stopped watching. Awesome.
Dean tries to squirm his way out but it's no use. Biting smaller pieces and throwing them away from himself but he can't get a good grip on the main ones, too large for his toothy maw. His legs are throbbing and he tries to not think about it. Ten minutes pass, he's too ticked at himself to needlessly struggle. It's pointless. He waits. Half an hour now, no sight or sound from ahead or behind. After an hour of waiting and restricted breaths, he finally drifts in and out of a light oxygen deprived doze. Willing the sun to come up soon so his Sam can come and find him. Rescue him from these fucking walls.
But, no luck there. Unwelcomed thoughts interrupt his sleep. What if Sam never finds him? What if he dies in here? What if they leave and never know what happened to him? Trapped in the dark. Alone. Forgotten. Only thing he has to look forward to now is starving to death.
Dean is damn near close to crying when he hears scuffling down the way and soon scents the same guy as before. Not much for options at this point, he decides to go for diplomatic. 'Ok, hey little dude. I'm sorry I scared you... I'm kind of in a bind right now. Well, not kind of, it's a literal bind. I'm fucked basically.' He wiggles for emphasis and winces as the cramped muscles. He pants a few more times and looks back up again. Glad the guy hadn't run off again. That's progress right? He clears his throat and hates that it sounded like growling. He switches to his most melodic chirps, even if the guy doesn't speak a lick of Drauglin, it doesn't hurt to try and at least sound pathetic and harmless. 'If you let me out, I swear I wont follow you.' Straining his ears to hear any response. And he would too, leave him alone. Cause the guy deserves the benefit of the doubt. So far he hasn't done anything bad. Just taken some stupid peanuts and M&M's.
There was a pause in the scuffling sounds but it resumes and Dean takes a few sniffs in the dark. Surprised that he can smell Sam. Great! It must mean Sam's up and already looking for him. Hope soars as he tries to look above and behind the mound of plaster on top of him.
'Sam! I'm in here!' He shouts behind himself as best he can, just as mouse guy is seen. Split second later and the lil guy retreats past the bend in the wall. Dean considers the dude. He hasn't seemed too dangerous. But, appearances can be deceiving. He struggles some more. Hoping that he can suddenly get free, but two more chunks of plaster fall, the proverbial straw that broke the camel's back, and all movement is stilled... 'Fuck.' he huffs, chest compressed further. Double fuck. Dean strains his ear fans and listens for his brother. For anyone back in the rooms. Nothing.
He had spent enough time small to be able to tell when his brother was near just by the vibrations of sound or in the floor. Sam's scent is getting stronger and he squints in the darkness to see that there wasn't just one little guy, but two. 'Fuuuuck.' he grits out. Dude brought backup. 'Don't come any closer!'
The second one is a bit taller, about four inches and now the mouse dude looks even more puny against another of his kind. Dean, standing at 6 inches meant that he's not too worried about taking them on in a fight, if he were free.. and uninjured, and not slowly suffocating and trapped and gonna die and where the hell is Sam?!
Dean has no useful mobility, the only thing showing is his head and neck to his shoulders and one bound hand. The rest is under rubble. All those years hunting monsters when he was human, and he's going to die by the hands of two tiny people he wouldn't be able to see properly at his 30 foot tall true size. They'd be no bigger then a kernel of corn.
They approach him warily and he flashes his fangs. Forked tongue darting out for good measure. The bigger one flashes a knife and has an attack stance from the silhouette's indication. Huh, so. Some training. Makes sense. These guys would have to fight against things bigger then them all the time. Rats and mice and bugs and shit. Fuck that's all he needs right now. A damned rat sneaking up behind him and chewing his tail off while these guys slit his throat.
'Not going down like this.' he pants and growls, pushing and shoving for all he's got, not moving much more then the bones inside his body. Scales flush with his tomb walls. 'No!' he angles his head around, using the two horns at the back to scrape at the largest chunk over his head. Dust falls down his face but he squints and butts his head against it till he's left coughing and hyperventilating.
All his struggling is making it worse on his injuries and he smells fresh blood coming from his hand. The taller one gets closer, the other right behind and just oozing fear scents everywhere, drowning out his own. The littler one is practically hanging onto knife guy's sleeve. The blade is still held up as they make their way irrevocably closer. Dean's so screwed. He could set them on fire but that might burn the place down. Potentially killing Sam and the others back in the room. There's not much that can douse his flames so he holds back. There's no sense risking his family's lives even if his is basically over.
So he growls in defiance but it's cut off by a painful jab in his side from some nails that were embedded in one of the chunks. He just had to break it up and reveal the rusty nails. Good job, Winchester.
He's getting too damned dizzy from the pinched space. Reducing blood flow makes parts of his body fall asleep, go numb. Did that rat already eat his tail? Who the hell knows. Wait... what rat? There was a rat? He shakes his head to clear it, looking up to see that the two are much closer. Sam's scent strong as ever. Green eyes squinting in the dark. 'No way.' Dean breaths. He inhales more and more. Not detecting any other scent but that kid and the bigger one. But that's not possible. He left his brother in the room. The two little people enter a shaft of thin light and Sam's face is right there. Grim and determined. His Sam. But that's not right, this Sam is younger then he's supposed to be. By nearly ten years going by Sam's hairstyle. 23? 24?
'Sammy?' Dean asked and he's getting dizzier. That drop of blood seemed to have turned into a small puddle. He lifted up his bound hand a fraction of an inch, and yup, its bleeding more then just a little. 'Fuck...' Dean looses the urge and energy to fight against those two. They may be the only ones that can help him. He smells Sam's scent again. Dean thought that it might have been a trick. His mind supplying his brother since his life's almost over. Flashing before his eyes, and nose... but not. It's not flashing because they're not going anywhere. Dean's still alive and Sam is still there. His scent strong and young. Filled with worry. Concern. The other one's scent is damn near screaming fear, but with a hint of determination. He's only there so that Sammy wont be alone. Dean can respect that.
Dean's head droops down. Panting turned to shallow breaths now. He tugs weakly at the bandage around his arm, hoping that it will tighten up around the seeping wound but starts to see spots in his already dark vision.
'Sammy? Please?' He whimpers. If he's to get out of here, he desperately needs their help.
The knife slowly falls to Sam's side. His head cocking a bit as he watches Dean carefully. Sam comes forward after handing off the knife to the shorter guy.
“Oscar?” Sam says and Deans heart lurches. That voice. Damn... he hadn't heard that voice, that young in ages. It wasn't laced with the guilt that Dean's Sam has had since he'd been reborn as a dragon. “Oscar, hold it up in front of you, like this, and if it tries anything. Cut under it's jaw. It looks like that's its weak spot.
Dean snorts at that. 'Cold, Sam.' he mutters but can't find it in him to argue. They just see a monster. At least Sam told the mousy guy, how to kill him quickly instead of drawing it out. If they wait too much longer, they wont need to use a knife. Dean's stupidity and clumsiness would kill him.
Sam's attention comes back to him and he raises up his hands like soothing a wild animal. “I can help you.” he says slowly and waits for Dean to reply.
'That would be awesome, Sammy.' Dean sighs with relief. They're giving him a chance.
“Hold still, ok? No biting.” Sam says and gets closer. Still ready to jump away at a seconds notice.
Dean lifts up an eyebrow ridge and uses his bound hand to sloppily crisscross over his buried chest. Leaving a red X on the chunk of plaster under him. He huffs and pants. Licking his lips before pursing his mouth shut and nodding. Head falling down a little.
Sam and the other guy, Oscar? Pause at that. They both smell shocked as hell but Sam grins while Oscar backs up a step.
“It's ok.” Sam said to Oscar without turning around. “I think it's intelligent.”
Dean nods again but his vision is getting blurry, now there's two Sam's in front of him rotating around each other.
Sam creeps forward and reaches the first boulder sized chunk of plaster and nudges it. Eyes hardly straying from Dean's head. Mainly his mouth full of sharp teeth. Dean turns his head away and closes his eyes. Exhaling a sigh. Trying hard to look as harmless as possible. Sam has to push hard at the chunk but it comes loose, several more pieces falling down after it. Sam's hit in the leg with one of them and cries out silently. Biting his lip and his eyes dart to the wall instead of Dean. Both of the guys freeze and stare at the wall. Dean cocks his head at that then figures it out. They don't want to be heard. Discovered.
Sam rubs his sore leg, clearly biting back some colorful curse words, and pulls at the next rock, then another. Deans wing is a little more free. Pins and needles all along the membrane and muscles. It twitches before pushing the smaller bits behind himself. Digs forward and pulls at the next bit to help out. Tingles replacing needles, going up and down the membranes. He hopes that the wings hadn't torn again. Sam doesn't stop the movement, doesn't stop digging and freeing him. The weight lifting from overhead and he's able to get his first full lungful of air in over an hour.
His eyesight's improving and his body feels lighter. Not crushed like it had been. He's not free yet, but being able to breath again... he's huff laughing in delight and relief. It looks like Oscar is trying to decide something. Dancing foot to foot with the knife practically dancing in his hands.
Oscar nods to himself and puts the knife in his recently emptied little bag and runs forward, helping move more of the debris. Dean moves away from the little hands as they work. Feeling the weight finally shift enough for him to move his good leg and he wiggles a bit more. Toes curling around a piece and kicking it behind him, dislodging and making several others fall away. He chirps once for their attention and very gently and slowly, uses his nose to push them away. The first intended contact he'd made to them and they reacted pretty well to the touch. Dean lifted up his injured arm since the other was half supporting his weight, and pointing down the corridor the two had come from. Sam gets the hint and pulls Oscar back.
Oscar hands him his knife again and Sam clutches it, holding it up once again as Dean pushes and claws his way free. Falling to his side once he's past all of the main bulk of plaster. Huffing great breaths into the settling dust. All of his muscles are cramping or tingling and he waits it all out. Flexing his hand and foot, the length of his long tail. Wings open slightly but fold in again. The walls are too narrow for him to stretch out his wings so he settles for fidgeting them and sighing with relief that there doesn't seem to be any new holes. Sam and Oscar are backing up from him fearfully now.
“You're free now. You can go away and leave us alone.” Sam says sternly. “We wont come after you if you don't come after us.” The knife is waving and jerking with the words to emphasize his point.
Dean watches them move back into the shadows. His legs only hold him for so long before he drops like a bag of rocks. The blood loss catching up to him at last as he pants his way into exhaustion. Blackness overtakes him.
Dean comes to some time later. The blood had congealed but he still feels weak. At least he's alive. He hears a loud muffled voice on the other side of the wall and sees Sam had come back and is knocking on the wall in five inch increments. He hasn't noticed that Dean's awake.
“Dean?” Sam shouts and kicks at the wall.
Dean is excited and his breathing changed loud enough for Sam to look over in fear.
“Dean? It's awake now.”