J2 AU Fic: Creature Feature (2/2)

[saone]

Title: Creature Feature (2/2)
Author: saone77
Summary: Something hungry is lurking in Lake Winchester.
Rating: R
Warnings: Minor character death (somebody has to be monster-bait), descriptions of gore, wonky science.
Word Count: 20,204
Disclaimer: This is indulgent, cracktastic fiction.
Beta: Thanks go to wirrrn for the look-through - and not frothing too badly at the Hollywood-izing of the 'monster' - and aythia for assuring me that this wasn't a huge, incomprehensible mess. ;) All mistakes are mine.
Notes: Written for spn_cinema, this fic is based on one of my favorite comfort movies of all time - Lake Placid. It's a modern version of a fifties style Creature Feature, and worth a viewing by anyone who likes monster movies, humor with their horror, or Betty White being fabulous.



Ao3














Jensen's just finished changing into a dry pair of jeans and a tee-shirt when Sam Ferris finds him.

"Sheriff," she says solemnly, "Alona's got something you should see."

He signs and stretches out his back and shoulders. Nearly getting eaten twice in two days is starting to take its toll. "I don't suppose it's a trained masseuse with a year's supply of Valium?"

"Uh, no. It's..." Sam's face twists up into a mask of disgust. "Just come on. Jared and the crazy guy are already there."

Jensen, knowing that whatever he's going to see is bad if it's gotten no-nonsense Sam riled up, follows without further commentary. They walk out past camp and down the shore. Every few feet Jensen's eyes can't help but flit out over the water. After a few minutes Sam starts to head inland again to a grassy patch where Jared, Misha, and several of Jensen's deputies are gathered.

Jensen nods his greetings and receives a few claps on the back, including one from Jared that lingers slightly longer than the others.

"Glad you're okay," the big man murmurs.

Jensen feels his cheeks start to heat up. He clears his throat. "So, what have we got?"

Alona motions to something on the ground, and Jensen crouches down to get a better look. It takes him a moment to realize that what he's looking at is part of a human toe.

"There are some signs of decomposition and acidity," Misha says. "It's definitely been swallowed. It's part of series of droppings."

"Droppings? You've collected some?" Jensen asks Jared, who nods. "Can't we definitively tell what this thing is now?"

"Yeah," Jared says, "eventually. But DNA testing take weeks. Not to mention how expensive it is."

"In other words we're not going home just yet." Jensen stands and looks towards Alona. "Bag the toe," he says. "And from now on, no one goes anywhere alone. I don't care if it's the middle of the night and you have to take a piss, you partner up. Got it?" He's using his best authoritative voice and it's heartening to see even Jared and Misha nodding along.

_____________


The sun has just drifted below the trees and Jensen is arguing with Aldis. The toe and poop that were found need to be taken into town and sent to the proper labs. Jensen had figured that, considering what had happened earlier that afternoon, Aldis would have jumped at the chance to get back to civilization. He was wrong.

"So, what, you think I can't hack it?" Aldis asks, arms folded across his chest, standing beside one of the county trucks.

"What? No! I think you had a traumatic experience, and I'm-"

"Forgetting that you were right beside me for that traumatic experience, and that you had a traumatic experience of your very own yesterday too? You're one up on all of us, so how come I'm the one being sent home?"

"Oh, for..." Jensen scrubs his hand through his hair in frustration. "Jesus Christ, I'm trying to be nice here! Will you just let me be caring and considerate for once, 'cause it don't happen that often."

Aldis snorts. "Please. You're such a toasted marshmallow."

"Pardon?"

"All crusty and hard on the outside, but nothing but sweet, warm gooeyness on the inside." Aldis looks entirely too smug for his own good. "Toasted marshmallow. Ask anybody."

"Forget quitting; you're fired," Jensen says.

Before Aldis can retaliate, a laugh startles them both. Jared's leaning against a nearby tree, obviously amused and enjoying himself.

Jensen scowls. His relationship with the now easy-going Game Warden has obviously come a long way from the contention filled first meeting, but he still doesn't like the idea of the other man finding him soft. "Aldis," he growls out, "get your ass in the truck."

"Fine. But, I'm coming back tomorrow morning." Satisfied that he's had the final word on the situation, Aldis climbs into the cab and starts the engine.

"You know," Jared says coming up to stand beside Jensen, "you could have gone with him. Get a good night's sleep in a real bed. Take a nice, long shower."

"Is that your less than subtle way of telling me I stink?"

"Hey, I'm a Fish and Game officer; I don't mind the smell of Eau De Lake Water. But Aldis was right. You've had a rough two days and there's nothing wrong with taking a night off. Chris and I can handle things here."

Jensen purses his mouth and thinks of the best way to phrase what he wants to say. "While I appreciate the offer," he says, "and the tact with which it was presented, I'm gonna be here for as long as my men are here. And that's that."

Jared studies him for a moment, then nods.

"And for the record, my insides are not warm and gooey."

Jared's smile has a bit of an edge to it. "How about sweet?"

Jensen blinks. "Uh... You hear something?"

Instantly, all possibly flirtations are gone, and Jared's on alert. "What, like an animal?"

"No, like..." Jensen scrunches up his face. "Like Tom Jones."

_____________


As Jensen and Jared make their way back to camp, specifically the section that Misha claimed as his own, the music gets louder and more defined.

"It's not unusual to be loved by anyone..."

"Yep," Jared says, "that's Tom Jones."

Jensen shakes his head and quickens his stride as he rounds a copse of trees. "What the hell is going-" His complaint cuts off with a yelp as he finds himself teetering at the edge of deep hole. The only thing that saves him from what would surely be a painful headfirst tumble is Jared's strong, heavy hand on his shoulder. Jensen sputters a bit as Jared puts his other hand at Jensen's waist and drags him back from the edge. The perpetually shallow part of Jensen's brain takes note of easily Jared maneuvered him. The rest of his brain tells that part to shut up; he needs to be angry, not smitten, right now.

Rob Benedict and Travis are standing in the large, deep hole, shovels in hand. The looks on their faces are an interesting mix of guilt and fear.

"It's a trap," Rob says.

"Not for you!" Travis says quickly. "Its for the crocodile."

"Hey, at least we know it works." Rob shrugs.

Jensen closes his eyes and silently counts to ten. When he opens his eyes his men's expressions have lost the guilt, and tipped over into complete fear. Jensen doesn't want to closely analyze anything, but that does make him feel a tiny bit better.

"And who, pray tell, directed you to do such a thing?"

"Misha," Rob says.

"He paid us," Travis adds.

Jensen rolls his eyes then asks, "how much?"

"Five hundred bucks."

Jensen stares at Rob who still looks fearful, but now also looks a little smug. "Seriously? Damn. Fine, give the man his money's worth, but no more moonlighting you hear me?" He nods at the chorus of 'yessirs'. "And put up some signs or something so us non-crocodiles don't break our necks."

"We need his equipment," Jared immediately says when Jensen turns to him.

Jensen grunts and shoves him back a little bit so he can sidestep the hole. He resumes his march towards Misha's tent. He spies Chris and Sam in the near distance settled around a campfire, and he vows to have a few words with them later.

"And we need him conscious and with full access to all his faculties to run said equipment," Jared continues, hurrying after him.

Jensen doesn't bother to answer, not when he's got Misha's tent in his sights. It's a huge, ostentatious, cabin-style affair big enough to easily fit six or seven full-sized adults. As Jensen watches shadows move on the other side of the canvas, he knows just who those six or seven other adults are.

"Son of a bitch," he mutters, pushing through the unzipped flap. What he finds inside is very much a party atmosphere, but at least everyone still seems to have their pants on.

"Hey!" Jensen growls.

"Hey!" everyone jovially parrots back to him.

Jensen can feel his blood pressure spike. He stalks over to Misha's iPod and disconnects the speakers. His deputies groans are cut off when they realize just how pissed he is.

Malik sheepishly raises a hand in greeting. "Hey, Jen, we were just... uh..."

"Making merry!" Misha cries, wrapping a companionable arm around Richard's shoulders. Richard, for his part, makes his eyes very wide and mimes a crazy sign next to Misha's head.

"Anyone who is not a pain-in-my-ass crocodile expert, get the hell out. Now." Jensen levels his best glare at the men and women under his command and is grateful when they all file out without fuss. "Oh, and watch where you step!" He turns towards Misha, a scowl firm on his face. "This isn't a party, Mr. Collins."

"But now that you're here..." Misha smiles brightly, but when he sees it has no effect on Jensen's countenance he says, "if I promise to replace it with something more pleasant, do you think you could pull that stick out of your ass?"

Jensen suddenly finds himself standing behind Jared, who's looming rather menacingly over Misha. "You need to show him some respect," Jared says, "or have you already forgotten how precarious your position is here?"

Feeling at once both pleased and annoyed at Jared once again stepping in to protect him, Jensen places a calming hand on the small of Jared's back. "We need him with enough of his faculties to run his equipment, remember?" he says softly.

"Fancy equipment aside," Jared says, not letting his gaze waver from Misha, "you're here because I'm allowing you to be here. You might want to keep that in mind and alter your behavior accordingly."

Misha, obviously showing that he has some sense of self-preservation, takes a few steps backwards. He cocks his head to one side and lets his big, blue eyes travel from Jared to Jensen and back again. "Ah. I understand. My apologies, Officer Padalecki. It won't happen again. As for the party, crocodiles are very brazen. They like to come on land and are attracted to noise."

"So, you want it to come into our camp?" Jensen asks.

"It would be easier if we could get it to come to us, yes" Misha says. "I, along with the help of your fine, outstanding men and women, have set traps up along the perimeter. If it comes in here, we'll catch it."

"Which would be great," Jensen says, "unless it manages to eat one of us first."

Misha puts his hands on his hips and huffs out a breath. "Why are you such a pessimist? You've managed to survive two encounters with it."

"Yeah, and the third time's the charm, right?" Jensen asks, his voice bone dry.

"I agree with Jensen," Jared says, sounding more like his usual, non-homicidal, self. "This kind of activity stops."

"Fine. No more parties."

"Good." Jared seems mollified. He motions at Jensen to proceed him out of the tent.

Jensen narrows his eyes and tries not to feel rankled at the subtle order. He walks out and, bypassing Chris and Sam who are still chatting at their fire, heads down to the lake. He stays above the rocky shoreline, not wanting to get too close to the actual water. He can hear Jared, who has the stealth of a rampaging moose, coming up behind him.

"I'm sorry," Jared says.

"For what?"

"I know I kind of pulled rank back in there. It's just... the guy was acting like a presumptuous ass. He should, you know, respect you."

Jensen can feel some of his ire drain away and then the rest disappears completely as Jared actually scuffs the ground with the toe of his boot. Jensen's not sure if he's ever seen anything that adorable in real life. "I don't think Misha has a lot of respect for anything," he says. "Except, maybe his beloved crocodiles." Jensen fidgets a bit, then asks the question that's been gnawing away at him for a while now. "Jared, why didn't it eat us? Me and Aldis? Why did it let us go?"

Jared's eyes widen. He reaches out and puts a hand high on Jensen's shoulder. Jensen can feel Jared's thumb brush against the skin just above his collar. "Honestly? I don't know. It had a full-sized moose just this morning, remember? It probably wasn't hungry yet."

"Yeah," Jensen says, letting himself slightly lean into Jared's touch. "Maybe." He huffs out a laugh. "Or maybe it can sense that I'd taste bad."

"Oh," Jared says, his grip tightening and his voice drifting dangerously close to purr territory, "I don't know about that."

Jensen can feel his body moving towards Jared. He's gravitating towards the other man, but instead of stopping it, Jensen's lifting his head up, positioning himself to be kissed.

A loud yelp has them both jumping away from each other. From the distance they hear Richard say, "I'm okay. Fell in a hole."

Jensen's shoulders slump. "Fucking Misha."

Jared has the nerve to chuckle a bit. "I'll go see how Rob and Travis are doing with those signs." He turns away, but not before giving Jensen a wink.

A wink

Jensen scrubs a hand through his hair and decides then and there that if the crocodile doesn't kill him, Jared just might.

_____________


Morning comes and they're back out on the lake. Jensen's piloting the boat this time, and he is most decidedly not happy. "I don't see why you both have to go into the water," he says as Travis and Sam assist Jared and Misha with their wetsuits.

"Two sets of eyes will be better than one," Jared says in a blatantly patient tone that sets Jensen's teeth on edge. "If any of your deputies were certified divers, they'd be suiting up too."

"Thank God I take my vacations to Montreal and not the Caribbean," Travis mutters.

"We're not exactly going to our deaths, here," Misha says. "Crocs don't attack underwater."

"Excuse me?!" Jensen turns his head and fixes Misha with an incredulous look. "Then what do you call what happened to Jake Abel? Wait, let me guess, it was an aberration."

"Yes," Misha says, "it was. Crocodiles don't see that well underwater. They have these nictitating membranes over their eyes. It protects them from irritants, but it blurs their vision."

"So, Abel was just unlucky."

"Yes, Mr. Abel was extremely unlucky."

"He also had no idea he was in danger," Jared says. "But we know the risks, and I'm prepared." He holds up a long, silver cylinder with a handle on one end. He then proceeds to affix a bullet to the other end and finishes by placing a cap over the tip. "Bang stick," he says.

"Yeah," Jensen says, "I know what it is. I also know that's a direct contact weapon. In order to make that work, the damn thing'll have to be right up on you."

"This is insurance, Jensen," Jared says. "That's all."

"So, why don't you have one of those things?" Travis asks Misha. "Or a tranq gun, or something?"

Misha smiles. "Because I have a little more faith in the natural order of things than our dear Officer Padalecki. Besides, if you tranq a crocodile underwater he'll drown."

"Would that be such a bad thing?" Jensen mutters. He can practically feel Misha's eyes glaring at the back of his neck. "We don't even know where he is, if he's in the same spot, or if he's moved on," Jensen says. "This could just be a colossal waste of time."

"That's why I brought this," Misha says, patting the black box in his lap. He opens it up to reveal a laptop, and with a few keystrokes a squeaking sound fills the air. "This will be piped through to the speaker you'll be placing underwater. The sound will travel, and we should expect a quick response once he hears it."

"What the hell is it?" Sam asks.

"The cries of distressed hatchlings," Misha says.

"They eat their own kind?"

"The large ones eat almost anything."

"Jen," Jared says, "let's stop here. Travis, would you mind putting down the anchor?"

Misha hands his laptop and the speaker over to Sam. "Wait until we're down there, then click play." He looks at Jared, and they both pull down their facemasks and put in their mouthpieces. Without any fanfare, they flip themselves backwards over the side of the boat and quickly disappear from view. Jensen counts off thirty seconds in his head then motions to Sam. She starts the program and slowly lowers the speaker into the water.

"So, what, we just wait?" Travis asks.

"And keep our eyes peeled," Jensen says moving to the bow of the boat and scanning the surface of the water. "You two have watched Animal Planet or Nature or whatever. You know what a partially submerged croc looks like, right? If either of you see anything that looks like two eyes, or a floating log, call out." He hears Sam and Travis' affirmatives, but he doesn't take his eyes off the lake.

Minutes pass. Five, then ten, and there's nothing.

"Maybe it's not even in the water," Sam says. "Should we radio Chris or Malik; check in with the land teams?"

Jensen's about to say yes just to give them something to break the monotony when, with a sickening sense of deja vu, the boat rocks. Except this isn't a little, dinky canoe. This is a good-sized, substantial whaler.

"The hell was that?" Travis asks.

The boat moves again, a couple of feet this time, and Sam says, "holy shit! It's the anchor line. Something's got the anchor."

Just as the words come out of her mouth the boat jerks with enough force and momentum to send Jensen sprawling against the side. The edge of the railing catches his knees and, once again, Jensen's sent ass over teakettle into the water.

Jensen's only under for a moment, then he's breaking the surface, gasping for air, and watching something tow the boat halfway across the lake as Sam and Travis scream. It stops as quickly as it took off.

"Jensen," Sam calls out, "hang tight. We're coming to get you."

But they don't. Jensen can see Sam and Travis at the controls, but the boat's not moving yet, and if he wasn't scared out of his ever-lovin' mind he'd be really fucking pissed.

"It's the engine," Sam yells. "It won't start. We're trying; just hold on!"

"'S fine," Jensen says softly through chattering teeth. "No problem. Take your fucking time." He has to keep treading water, kicking his legs, but he tries to keep his movements smooth, economical. "It can't see me," he says. "It can't see when it's underwater, so it can't see me. Keep breathing. It can't see me." He keeps his eyes trained on the whaler, but something else draws his attention. There, in a space between him and the boat, the water starts to dance.

"God," Jensen says. "Please, God, no."

The roar of the boat's motor cuts through the air just like the hull starts to cut through the water. They're coming for him, and as Jensen watches them draw closer, he just hopes they'll get to him first. Travis is already hanging over the edge, arm outstretched, ready to grab him. And Jensen needs to get out of the water now, now because there's something beneath him. He can feel it. There's something underneath him and coming closer, and when the boat pulls alongside him he reaches up with both arms. Travis grabs one and Sam grabs the other, and all three pull him up. Just as his feet leave the water, he feels something come up behind him.

It's Jared. Jared, bobbing up like a cork and scaring everyone half to death. He spits out his mouthpiece and starts babbling questions, but Jensen's only concern is getting him the hell out of the water. He lets Sam help Jared get unhooked from his scuba gear, but he keeps a tight hold on Jared's forearm. When he's free from all the extra weight, Jensen and Travis haul him into the boat.

For a moment all Jensen does is cling to Jared's arm.

"What happened?" Jared asks, running a hand over Jensen's forehead.

"Something grabbed the anchor. Boat got pulled. Fell overboard."

"Again?"

"Shut up. Where's Misha?"

"I don't know. We went in separate directions; I lost track of him."

"Look, over there," Sam fires up the engine and steers the boat towards a small grouping of bubbles. Misha appears, and she brings the boat alongside him.

"Did you see it?" Are the first words out of Misha's mouth as Jared and Jensen scramble to get him in the boat. "I saw it! Did you see it?" He blinks at Jensen. "And why are you wet?"

"You saw it?" Jared says. "What did it look like? How big is it?"

"I just saw a shadow, but it's big." Misha chortles, like having a mutant croc swim past him is the highlight of his existence. "Pretty damn, fucking big." His face morphs from glee to horror. "Oh, Jesus, is the speaker still going? Pull up the damn speaker!"

"Travis, get the speaker up!" Jensen calls out. He and Jensen finally manage to pull Misha over the side, scuba gear and all, but before he can take a breath Sam is...

Screaming.

Sam never screams.

Jensen spins around just in time to catch Travis from going overboard. He grabs him by the back of his belt and wonders why he's shaking so erratically, why he isn't helping to keep himself in the boat. Jared is beside him in an instant, and he gets a handful of Travis' shirt. Together they haul him upright and keep his body from going into the water. Not that it matters, since Travis was dead the second his head was torn off.

_____________


Jensen would really love to have five minutes to himself to either cry or vomit - or possibly do both - but he can't. He's the Sheriff, and one of his deputies is dead, and another is almost catatonic, and he has responsibilities, dammit.

He watches, almost dispassionately, as the EMTs load most of Travis into the back of an ambulance. One of them, Mark, comes up to him after the body's secure. He's got a clipboard in his hand and an apologetic look on his face.

"Sorry, mate," Mark says, "but I've got a couple questions before we take him to Traci."

Jensen nods. "'Course."

"Do you know the cause of death?"

"I'm pretty sure it was getting his goddamn head ripped off, Mark." Jensen shakes his head. "Sorry. I'm... Put down animal attack."

Mark looks doubtful. "Are you sure you-"

"Just... Animal attack."

"All right. And..." If it's possible, Mark looks even more distressed. "The head... I don't suppose-"

"If we find it, we'll let you know." Not that they will. Find it, that is. Jensen knows that if poor Travis' head isn't in some creature's gullet, it's at the bottom of the lake. Either way, it's lost, and how the hell is he supposed to explain this to the kid's parents? "Mark, I would greatly appreciate if you could keep this on the Q.T. At least until I notify Travis' family."

Mark looks pained. "Odds are the news has already leaked. More than a few people are mighty interested in what's going on out here, and we both know Cassidy has a police scanner."

Jensen winces. He had forgotten about Katie. He's going to have to bite the bullet and try and talk her down before she runs a special edition that'll probably scare everyone into an early grave. "Just..." He claps Mark on the shoulder. "Try your best, okay?"

"No promises," Mark says, "but I'll see what I can do."

Jensen nods his thanks, then turns away - he doesn't need to see the ambulance leave. Chris is waiting for him.

"Don't ask if I'm okay," Jensen warns.

"Wasn't gonna," Chris says, more subdued than Jensen's ever seen him.

"How's Sam?"

"Not that great."

"Take me to her?"

_____________


Sam's sitting on the back of one of the pick-ups. She's got a blanket around her and a mug of something hot clutched in her hands. Jared is beside her with his arm lightly resting across her shoulders.

"Hey," Jensen says softly. "I'm gonna take you back to town, okay?"

Sam struggles for a moment. She's proud and stubborn, but even the most stoic of peoples have their limits. "Okay. That's... okay. I need my things, I-"

"Okay, get your things," Jensen says. "Meet me at my truck." He watches as Sam squares her shoulders and walks towards her and Alona's tent with her head held high. After a moment's hesitation, and a silent, yet heartfelt conversation with Jensen, Chris follows her.

"Think she's gonna be okay?" Jared asks.

"Eventually," Jensen says. He scrubs a hand through his hair. "Look, I need to go in and... make the notifications to Travis' family. Don't do anything stupid while I'm gone."

Jared purses his lips. "Maybe you should stay in town."

"Saying that counts as stupid."

"I'm serious," Jared says, scowling. "U.S. Wildlife is on its way. Evidently, this was enough to get them interested. All we're gonna do is sit tight until they get here."

"Then I'll be coming back to sit tight with you." Jensen can see Jared working up to another argument, but a sharp yell has the both of them running towards the far side of camp. Jensen longs for the days when his conversations weren't interrupted by screaming.

They round a tall thicket, and what Jensen sees on the other side is going into his mental scrapbook. Chris is upside down, hanging by his ankle from a large tree while Misha solemnly stares up at him.

Jensen has heard the term 'gobsmacked' before but until now he's never had an occasion to experience it. "What the-"

"He stepped into a trap," Misha says.

"And, why haven't you gotten him down?" Jensen asks heatedly as Jared checks on Chris.

"Well, he has a... a certain look of homicidal mayhem on his upside down, purpley face."

Jared checks Chris' face and looks back at Jensen. He purses his mouth. "He kinda does."

"I don't care!" Jensen bellows. "Get him down now!"

"Will he promise not to hurt me?" Misha asks.

"Collins, I have no desire to even look at you," Chris grinds out.

"Okay," Misha exhales, "well, it's just a counter-weight. We can pull him down."

Jared and Jensen grab onto Chris' belt and pull him to the ground. Misha steps up and unwinds the rope from Chris' ankle, and Jensen helps Chris to his feet. The smaller man sways for a moment, then lunges towards Misha.

Misha lets out a yelp and takes off through the trees. Chris follows, stopping only to pick up a rather substantial tree limb along the way.

"Chris," Jensen calls out as he's taking chase, "you can't kill him! We need him to work the sonar!"

Jensen can feel and hear Jared close behind him as the strange group weaves between trees and through the underbrush. They come out of the forest a few hundred yards down the lake. Chris is steadily advancing on Misha, who's obviously torn between the carnivorous creature living in the water and the homicidal deputy on shore.

"Goddammit, Christian, now is not the fucking time for this shit!" Jensen says. "Will you please act like the adult I think you might be."

"Guys..." Jared's voice sounds odd.

"Oh, I'll act like an adult, after I pound his smug, little face." Chris takes another, threatening step forward.

"Guys!" Jared says urgently.

"Jared," Jensen says, turning towards him, "I'm trying to diffuse a-" With a start Jensen realizes what's gotten Jared so riled. There, a little bit down the shoreline, staring at them in a rather unimpressed manner is the largest black bear he's ever seen. "I hate nature," Jensen says weakly. "Chris, Misha, if both of you would stop being idiots for a minute you might see that we're all about to get horribly mauled."

That stops the posturing.

"Holy shit."

"Oh, dear."

"Nobody move!" Jared says. "Black bears don't normally attack humans. We just have to get ourselves out of its territory." In a softer voice he says to Jensen, "get your weapon ready just in case."

Jensen nods and unsnaps his holster, hoping like hell he's not going to have to kill the damn thing.

"Okay," Jared says, "I want everybody to raise their arms above their head and wave them around. Good. And now I want everybody to start moving back the way we came. Slowly. Nobody even think about running."

Raising their arms didn't illicit any kind of response, but when Misha and Chris starts to move the bear rears up on its hind legs.

Jensen has his gun drawn and a bead on the bear's skull when something explodes out of the lake. It's the crocodile. Like a pre-historic nightmare, huge and horrible, big as a school bus. It surges out of the water, its jaws clamping down around the bear's middle.

Jensen barely registers Jared's arms around his stomach, pulling him back. All he can see is the carnage in front of him - the bear crying out, snapping at the croc, and the croc biting down harder. Then it drags the bear under, and the whole thing is over.

It lasts seconds. Seconds, and the only thing left on the shore are the four men.

"Okay," Jared says softly, "we need a bigger boat."

_____________


"The scales were oval, correct?" Misha asks, tapping away on his laptop.

"I was kind of paying attention to his teeth," Jensen says faintly. They're in Misha's tent, and he's sitting in some kind of ridiculous-looking, but really comfortable inflatable chair. Jared's hanging over Misha's shoulder, watching him research. Chris had been shaken enough by the experience that he'd volunteered to make the notifying call to Travis' family, and he'd gone back to town.

"Yeah," Jared says, "they were oval."

Misha hits a few more keys then says, "it's an Asian crocodile."

"Asian?" Jensen shakes his head. "What, was it a pet someone let loose? Or did it escape from somewhere, like a private zoo or something?"

"Those are two possibilities," Misha says.

"You think it came here on its own," Jared says slowly.

"That's another possibility. The larger the crocodile is, the older he is," Misha says, "and ours is at least thirty feet, correct."

"I'm thinking thirty-five," Jared says.

"The big ones have been on the move. I've been postulating that."

"But to move across an ocean and a continent?" Jensen rubs at the bridge of his nose. "That's-"

"Theoretically possible." Misha glances at his laptop screen. "Not probably, but possible. It could have started its journey over a hundred years ago. And at thirty five feet, there aren't a lot of things that would willingly mess with it."

"A hundred..." Jensen blinks. "How old can these things get?"

"No one really knows," Misha says. "The Irwins rescued a male freshwater back in nineteen seventy. It had been a sacred animal to a local aboriginal tribe for a hundred years, and it's lived at the Australian Zoo for the past thirty. Do the math. And I know its a different animal, but Aligator Snapping Turtles have been found with Civil War era musket balls embedded in their shells." Misha shrugs. "The only way to know for sure, is to cut them open and measure the lamellar growth rings in their bones and teeth."

"Well," Jensen says, "when it comes time, I'm sure Jared and I can make certain you're in on the necropsy."

Misha's face twists into an ugly sneer. "Of course. I should have guessed that the minute your back-country mind comes up against something it doesn't understand your immediate reaction is either kill it, stuff it, or fuck it,' because God forbid we try and treat this creature with-"

Jared starts his looming thing again. "What did I say about-"

"It killed one of my deputies, Misha," Jensen says firmly, "and one of Jared's colleagues. Travis was... he was a good guy." Jensen takes a deep breath. "I know it was an accident, and I... I don't blame the crocodile for doing what comes naturally, but its existence here is a danger. I sympathize with your position, I truly do, but my first priority is the health and safety of the people of this county. Now, if this thing was confined to the lake, I'd say go for it. Bring in all the fancy equipment you could afford and take as long as you need. But crocodiles can travel over land, right? And who's to say that one day, while you're fiddling with your machines, it might decide to take off for greener, and more populated, pastures? Can you imagine that thing in a populated area? Can you?"

"He could be over a hundred years old, Jensen. Can you imagine that? He might have started his journey before the first World War, hell before the turn of the last century. Think of all he's lived through."

"Like I said," Jensen says, "I sympathize."

Misha angrily shakes his head. He looks at Jared. "What about you?"

Jared looks uncomfortable. "This thing being here does have ecological significance, but I gotta side with Jensen on this one. If we could confine the croc to one area it would be different, but sooner or later this eco-system is not going to be able to support a creature this size, and you know it. And when that day comes he will go looking for more food."

Misha slumps into his chair. He's quiet and despondent for a moment, then he says, "what if there was a way we could capture it?"

"Capture it?!" Jensen says. "It... but... Misha, it ate a bear."

"Yes, Jensen, I know; I was there. We'll find it, and tranq it. I have enough with me to put it out."

"I thought you said you can't tranq a croc?"

"Underwater," Jared says. He gives Misha an inscrutable look. "You want to find its liar."

"Yeah, I do. It has to come out sometime. Two teams on the ground, me flying overhead. We can find it; I know we can."

"One team," Jared says. "We're not splitting up."

Misha smirks. "I apologize. I should have known better than to think the two of you would do something like that."

"Okay," Jensen says, trying to ignore Jared and his blush, "let's say you two manage to pull this off, and we catch the damn thing. What then, buy out all the duct tape in town to restrain it?"

"We keep it sedated until I figure out what to do with it," Misha says. "You know I think... I need to make a call, but I think someone I know has an empty tank in Portland. Worse comes to worse, I'll transport it to the swimming pool at my parent's place in the Hamptons. The important thing is, it'll be alive." Misha leaves his makeshift desk and kneels by the inflatable chair. He takes one of Jensen's hands into his own. "I know you think I'm just some rich, whack-job, fuck-wit who wouldn't know a sane thought if it landed in front me and started doing the Cabbage Patch-"

"Keep going," Jensen says.

"And I know this is asking a lot, and I don't want to belittle your loss, but this thing, here - in Maine - at thirty-five feet, it's... I believe in the natural order of things, and I don't bandy about the word miracle, but this might be the closest that we poor humans get to something truly wondrous."

Jensen stares into Misha's eyes, seeing earnestness where before there was only snark and sarcasm. He doesn't think of himself as a bleeding heart, and there are other crocodiles in the world, but Misha's right. Here, Lake Winchester, might be home to one of the biggest, the oldest. Killing it would be the easy solution, but it wouldn't be the right one. "How long do we have until the federal guys get here?" Jensen asks Jared.

"A day, maybe two."

"Fine. But, for the record, after this I refuse to feel guilty by a Humane Society ad ever again."

_____________


Jared had spent a good deal of the previous evening with Misha, absorbing as much as he could about the burrowing habits of crocodiles. Jensen had spent the time trying to convince his deputies that more good could be done by capturing the creature than by enacting bloody vengeance on it. Not all of them were convinced, and Jensen had said he didn't blame them.

Now, with the sun barely peeking over the treetops, Jared, Jensen, and their small group of volunteers take off with Misha in his helicopter. The plan is for Misha to look for a likely crocodile resting spot from the sky, then drop the others off to take a closer look on the ground. Malik, while not venturing out with them had offered, along with a newly returned Chris, to keep an eye on things back at camp.

Fifteen minutes into their trip Misha sets his chopper down at what Jensen thinks is an unremarkable section of shoreline.

"All right?" Misha asks Jared.

"All right," Jared says, grabbing his pack and tranq gun and hopping out of the chopper.

Jensen shares bewildered glances with Aldis and Alona, but the three of them grab their own packs and weapons and follow Jared.

"Keep in touch," Richard yells out from the seat next to Misha's before the helicopter lifts up to resume the air search.

Jared shoulders his pack and takes a good look around. "Step lightly, guys. It looks like he's come ashore here before. And remember, if my tranquilizers don't work and he's charging, you have my full authorization to shoot the bastard."

Jensen's fingers tighten around his rifle, and they begin to search the area. He has no idea what they're looking for - besides a giant-ass reptile - but Jared does, and watching him be all competent is a definite turn-on.

A few minutes later Jared shakes his head, and with a wave from his hand they're trekking into the woods. They follow the shoreline, but stay well back from the water. Misha and Richard check in several times. They haven't found anything either, but Misha still sounds optimistic, and Jensen keeps the second guessing to a minimum.

Several hot, tired, and mosquito filled hours later he's ready to call the whole thing off. He's also pretty sure, from their grumbling, that Alona and Aldis feel the same. Even Misha was sounding defeated when he'd radioed them a short while ago, warning that he had to visit the county airfield to refuel. This was a fool's errand, and it might be time to acknowledge that.

"Not to sound like a five-year-old on his first long car trip, but how much longer are we gonna do this?" Jensen asks, slapping at something on his neck.

Jared checks his watch and scratches at a bite on his own throat. "As soon as Misha's back in contact, we'll tell him to pick us up." He sighs. "I got all caught up in the possibility of saving this thing that I forgot the reality of our situation. It's just too much ground to cover. If we had more people, more time, better resources..."

Jensen bumps Jared's shoulder with his own. "I get you. At least we can say we tried."

"Yeah." Jared ducks his head. "Does it make me a bad environmentalist to say I'm kind of glad I won't have to face that thing again?"

"Pretty sure it just makes you sane. That thing is..." Jensen pauses and pulls a map out of his pocket. He studies it for a moment while doing some brief mental calculations. "You know, we should be close to Beaver's place. Might as well head over there and check on the old guy. Let him know what's lurking."

"Good idea," Jared says, "and by then I'm sure Misha will-"

Jared's comment about Misha cuts off abruptly as the sound of rustling leaves grabs everyone's attention. Weapons are up, ready, and pointed at a section of brush maybe fifteen feet away. It's so close; they're practically on top of it. There's another rustle, and some branches sway from the movement. Jared nervously glances at Jensen, then takes a few steps forward. The bushes stays still. He takes another step, and a furry brown body scampers out from the thicket and careens down towards the shore.

Jensen uses the hand not holding his rifle to clutch at his chest.

Aldis and Alona aren't faring much better.

"Fucking beavers," Alona wheezes.

"No, it's okay. I'm alright," Aldis says, putting a hand over his heart. "I didn't really need those ten years that just got scared off of me."

Jensen safeties his gun then turns to check on Jared. The big guy's bent over, staring at the ground. Jensen hopes he's not going to puke.

"Hey, man," he says, putting a steadying hand on Jared's shoulder. "You okay?"

Jared looks up, his face solemn, then points to the patch of ground he had been staring at.

Jensen's not quite sure how he had missed it, but maybe that's why he's a Sheriff and not a wildlife agent. There, in the soft ground in front of Jared, is a footprint. A really big footprint.

"Jesus Christ." Jensen crouches down to get a better look. It's as big as his head and looks like it would be more at home in some fossilized rock in Utah or on the set of Jurassic Park.

"Aaaand I'm back to quitting," Aldis says.

"Well, until you get to a place where you can print out your resignation, how about you and Alona look for other tracks," Jared says, rummaging through his pack. "Jen, you want to help me make a cast?"

Jensen looks around and fingers his rifle. "Not especially."

"Oh, come on," Jared cajoles, grinning. He takes out a bottle of water and a little container of plaster, and shakes them both in what he probably means to be an enticing manner.

"I might, you know, mush it, or something," Jensen says, shifting slightly.

"You're not gonna mush it."

"There could be mushing happening."

"I'm sure you can be anti-mush for a little-"

"Guys," Alona calls out, "I'm loathe to interrupt the adorable banter, but you have to see this."

Jensen scowls at being called adorable, but Alona looks too tense to be repentant. He shrugs at Jared, then, watching his footing, he lightly walks over to where Alona and Aldis are standing at a break in the trees.

Aldis inclines his head. "Check it out."

Jensen turns and looks in the direction indicated. It's a relatively straight shot down the shoreline and Beaver's house is plainly visible, not more than half a mile away. He can see the man himself, leading a cow. They're close to the water. Too close. "What the hell is he doing?" Jensen feels something tapping against his chest and he accepts the binoculars Alona is offering. "Thanks." Now he can clearly see Beaver, the cow - with what looks like a dishtowel wrapped around it's eyes - and... "Oh," Jensen says faintly.

"What?" Jared asks.

Jensen hands him the binoculars. "Look ten feet into the water." At the giant head, he doesn't say.

"Holy shit," Jared says, paling.

Jensen decides he doesn't need to watch the upcoming carnage. Jared's look of disgust tells him all he needs to know. There's the sound of splashing and a sharp, frantic bleat. Jensen winces.

Jared lowers the binoculars and rubs at his eyes. "Wow. Did not see that coming."

"Yeah," Jensen says. "I think it's time we had another little chat with Mr. Beaver."

_____________


"I haven't broken any laws," Beaver says belligerently.

Jensen wants nothing more than to punch him in the face, and from the thunderous looks the others are sporting, he knows he's not the only one holding back.

"Oh, I'm pretty sure you have," he says, "would you like me to list all of them, or just the felonies? Let's start with lying to law enforcement officers which happens to be called Obstruction of Justice!"

"What was I suppose to do," Beaver asks plaintively, "tell you the truth? You'd just end up going all gung-ho and trying to kill it. It's been living here peacefully for six years, and-"

"Six years?!" Jared says, jaw dropping. Jensen knows his own is probably on the floor as well. "It's been here six years?"

"Well, I don't know how long it's been here," Beaver says. "That's just how long I've been feeding it."

Jensen runs a hand over his face. Six years, and he had no idea. "Keep talking."

Beaver scowls. "All I know is, Steve was out fishing one day and it just sort of... followed him home. We started feeding it some scraps - it'll eat most anything - and it kept coming back. It didn't seem to bother anybody, and we were the only ones who lived out here."

"And it just appeared?" Jared asks. "You don't know where it came from, or how it got here?"

"No," Beaver says. "Do you?" He looks genuinely interested.

Jared opens his mouth, possibly to share all the information he and Misha complied, but there's something Jensen needs to address first.

"Mr. Beaver," he says, "now that we know about the crocodile, why don't you tell us what really happened to Mr. Williams? Did you put a blindfold on him and lead him down to the water?"

Beaver looks surprised, and then the belligerence is back. "Kiss my ass, and suck my dick, flatfoot."

"No, thank you. Did the crocodile kill Mr. Williams, yes or no?"

Beaver hems and haws a bit, but finally says, "yes, all right! But it was an accident. Two years ago, one of the horses got loose and went to the lake to get a drink. Steve saw the crocodile coming in, and he tried to get the horse, but... Like I said, it was an accident." Beaver wipes at his eyes. "I knew if I reported it then people like you would come out here and kill it. Two wrongs don't make a right, so I... I just kept quiet."

Part of Jensen feels for the old guy, he really does. But that doesn't excuse anything. "Sir, because of your negligence, a deputy and a wildlife officer are dead. Deputy Tal is going to stay here with you until I send someone to collect you, do you understand?"

Beaver sniffs. "I understand you're an asshole."

"Good enough." Jensen motions to Alona, who starts to escort Beaver towards his house. He looks at Jared. "Six years."

"Misha's gonna have a field day with this," Jared says. "So will other researchers for that matter. Jensen, this could change... this could change some fundamental things we think we know about nature."

"Yeah," Jensen says, "it's trippy. And we can speculate all you want, after we catch the damn thing."

"Right. Yeah." Jared sounds distracted. He's staring at what remains of Beaver's herd.

"Thinking of starting a new career as a dairy farmer?" Jensen asks.

Jared snorts. "No. But I do think I have an idea on how we can trap the croc." Jared looks at him. "Live bait."

_____________


Misha is, not surprisingly, thrilled with Jared's idea.

Beaver and the cow, not so much.

Jensen's letting Beaver's increasingly anatomically impossible curses roll off his back while he watches the chopper and its mooing payload head back to camp. "By the way," he says to the irate older man, "I'm also commandeering your boat."

____________


Back at camp Jensen's deputies have been joined by a few of Jared's friends from Fish and Game. When asked, Chad, Sandy, Mike and Tom all say there was no way Jared is going to be the only one with water-cooler bragging rights to this takedown. Jensen admires their frankness and the anticipatory gleam of the hunt in their eyes, not to mention the extra ammunition they've brought.

There's an even mix of people carrying tranq guns and high-powered rifles - even those rolling out Misha's almost comically large net have some kind of weapon on them. Chris pulls out a hand cannon complete with shells he can barely get his fingers around. At Jensen's raised eyebrow he merely says, "last line of defense."

Misha is slowly circling their area of the lake with the cow dangling limply from its harness. It had stopped mooing at some point and seemed to be, if not enjoying, then at least complacent about it's aerial tour. Until the chopper's altitude drops, that is, and the poor thing is dipped into the lake like a giant teabag.

"God, I'm glad this county doesn't have a chapter of PETA," Jensen says, cringing at the animal's plaintive cries.

Jared pats his shoulder. "It's for the greater good. Besides, she probably would have ended up as croc food anyway."

"Yeah." Jensen can't believe he's feeling sorry for a cow now. He steels himself, knowing that it's just going to get worse from here on out.

"I hate to say it, Misha," Jared says into his radio, "but the more she thrashes, the better. Try to keep the tension taut, though. We don't know if she can swim." He frowns at Jensen. "Can cows swim?"

"You're seriously asking me that question?"

Jared shrugs. "Cows aren't normally in my purview."

"Neither are crocodiles."

"True. Think we're gonna pull this off?"

Jensen puts a hand on Jared's back, high enough for company's sake, but low enough to be at least a little possessive. "Have faith in the cow, Jay."

Jared laughs and leans back into the touch. "Faith in the cow. I can do that."

_____________


Night falls quicker than anticipated. Half the trucks are maneuvered so their spotlights can illuminate the area. The others stay with their beds facing the water, ready to jump into for a quick getaway. Misha is still hovering, and the cow is still bobbing in the water, but it's stopped its kicking. Like the people on the shore, it's gone from antsy, to tired and bored.

Jensen checks his watch. "Jared," he says softly, "if it hasn't come yet..."

"Yeah, I know." Jared brings his radio up to his lips. "Misha, I think we're about done here."

"The cow has disappointed me," Misha's tinny voice says.

Jensen was never fully behind this plan to begin with, but now that it's failed he feels unaccountably distressed about the whole thing. "It probably wouldn't have worked anyway," he says, mostly to himself.

"Hold on!" Misha's voice comes over the radio. "I think I've got something on the radar screen. Wait... He's coming."

Jared and Jensen exchange startled glances. "Do you have visual confirmation? How far out is he?" Jared says into the radio.

"No visuals, just radar. He's thirty meters out, and coming in slow, but he is coming!"

"Look alive, people," Jensen yells. "Get into position; we've got a croc on the way." He slaps Jared on the arm and together they move towards one of the trucks. They climb in the back and ready their tranq guns.

"All right, Misha," Jared says, "bring him in."

Misha starts to slowly bring the cow towards shore. It's thrashing again, kicking up water and acting like the best bait it can be.

"Remember to aim for the sides and the stomach," Jared calls out, "these darts won't pierce its back."

"Oh, shit," Jensen says, pulse ratcheting up a notch. "It's here. I can see its head."

"We've got a visual, Misha," Jared says. "Keep coming in, nice and slow."

Jensen's hands flex as he watches the croc's massive head slowly advance on the struggling cow. More of the croc is surfacing now; his entire back is visible, down to his tail. He hears curses and sounds of disbelief from the people around him.

Without warning, the croc strikes at the cow. Its entire upper body leaves the water, jaws snapping at air as Misha pulls the cow out of its reach. Multiple darts are fired and while most ping harmlessly off its back, Jensen can see at least one strike home in the croc's neck. There's no elation, though, because something is very wrong with Misha's chopper. It's moving side to side erratically with short, jerky movements.

"C'mon," Jensen says, dread growing in the pit of his stomach.

The chopper comes dangerously close to the shore, then the cable dangling from its bottom is released and the cow drops into the water with a mighty splash. But the cow's splash is nothing compared to the water that goes up when Misha's helicopter slams into the lake.

"Fuck!" Jensen, along with everyone else, hits the deck as a rotary blade flies past the trucks. Wide-eyed, he looks back towards the disabled chopper. "Misha?! Does anyone see Misha?"

"We lost visual on the croc!" Mike yells.

"Goddammit." Jared slaps the side of the truck. "Back us up. Everybody, loose the tranq guns; switch to the rifles."

Everyone obeys. Chris gets out his cannon.

For a moment the only sounds Jensen hears are the nightsongs of frogs and the erratic, heavy breathing of people around him.

Then there's Misha's muffled voice saying, "balls!" The door to the chopper opens and Misha climbs out, looking even more wild and disheveled than usual. "Did we get it? Where is it?"

"Don't go into the water," Jared says. "Just, stay put. Stay still."

"Right," Misha says, clinging to his chopper like a lamprey. "No going in the water. Got it."

"Does anybody see anything?" Jensen asks.

Before anyone can answer, they all see the croc rise out of the water again, right next to the downed helicopter. Misha, startled, looses his grip and falls into the water. There are shouts and screams as the croc goes under again.

Jensen doesn't realize Jared's moving until he's already out of the truck and down to the water's edge. He curses and follows, dimly aware that a few others are doing the same thing. They stand there, eyes searching, rifles trained on the water.

Misha surfaces and scrambles back onto the chopper. Jensen lets out a breath he wasn't aware he was holding.

"Where is he?" Misha asks, frantic.

No one answers. There's no sign of it. The night is once again still and calm. The water is once again hiding its secrets.

"Will you idiots please get back in the damn trucks!" Chad says, voice cracking.

Jensen reaches out to tug at Jared's sleeve when the croc surfaces again, lunging towards them. Jensen's moving by instinct, and he can feel the hot breath from the animal's maw as it snaps at the air where his head had just been. Gun shots ring out as Jensen ducks and rolls. He feels a hand grab his arm, and he and Jared run towards their truck.

"Go, go, go!" Jared's screaming. And as the truck starts to pull away, he and Jensen dive into the back. The croc is on their tails, lumbering after them, unbelievably fast for its size.

Jensen's lost his rifle, but he still has his handgun. He pulls it out, aiming and firing, hoping to catch the croc in an eye, or the soft palate of it's snapping mouth. The croc's jaw catches the bumper and the entire truck jerks. Jensen's not ready for it - he's been more focused on firing than holding on - and the word spins as he's thrown from the bed.

He hits the ground hard, jarring his shoulder and hip, but he rolls with it, and he's on his feet as the croc comes for him. There's the sharp retort of more gunfire. Jensen can hear his name being called - screamed - but all he can see are teeth, and he can't move because this was inevitable, wasn't it? This creature had given him too many free passes, and now it's going to collect.

Except it doesn't take him. Instead it spins around, perhaps annoyed by the constant barrage of bullets. Jensen's senses return, and he's ready to make a run for it, but he doesn't get the chance. As the creature turns, its tail lashes out, catching Jensen in the chest and once more he's moving through the air.

He has just enough presence of mind to note how ridiculous this is and wonder if this is his fourth or fifth life he's on, before he's hitting the water. Hard.

He flounders for a moment, and when he's regained his bearings he sees the croc has regained its interest. It's heading his way again, cutting off his access to the beach. He doesn't know what to do, then he hears Misha's voice.

"Swim, Jensen! Swim to me!"

Jensen turns and starts cutting through the water. He's past the shallows and halfway to the chopper, but there's no way he going to make it.

"Dive under!" Misha yells.

He remembers; crocs can't see that well underwater.

Jensen takes a deep breath and dives. He presses his arms to his sides and lets the smooth moves of his legs propel him forward. It's still coming; he can feel it.

Through the murk, Jensen sees an old pylon from a previous dock and he ducks behind it. He peeks around and looks straight down the croc's gullet as it comes for him. Jensen winces and hunches in on himself, but the croc's mouth catches on the thick pylon. He cringes as the wood behind him shudders. It won't hold up to those jaws for long, so Jensen makes his escape while he's able.

Lungs burning, Jensen moves towards the dark shape that he hopes is Misha's helicopter. He breaks the surface by one of the floats, and Misha's hands are on him, helping him up and out of the water.

"Holy shit," Misha says. "Holy shit, Jensen." He rubs his hands over Jensen's arms.

Jensen realizes he's trembling. He takes a few deep breathes and tries to calm himself. He looks towards shore and raises a hand to Jared and the others.

Misha's chuckle sounds a bit hysterical, but his voice is relatively steady as he says, "if we make it out of this alive, I do believe you're going to get lucky tonight."

Jensen snorts. "So not my type, Collins." He knocks their shoulders together, and when Misha clasps his hand he squeezes his fingers. "And that's a pretty damn big 'if'."

"Yeah, well-"

The float beneath them rocks as the croc comes up through the damn helicopter, his snout and head snapping the pilot's door off. Jensen's back into the water - again - as he and Misha struggle to get away from the rampaging beast. They don't have to worry, though, because - after a few seconds of frantic splashing - Jensen realizes that the croc isn't rampaging anymore. In fact, it appears that it's-

"Stuck!" Misha cries out. "It's stuck!" He throws his head back and laughs.

"Moron," Jensen mutters, but he can't help but feel a bit elated himself. Though he's not putting his guard down anytime soon, it does seem that the croc is well and truly trapped by the twisted metal of the chopper. It doesn't stop the the animal from trying to get loose, and one mighty jerk has it, and the helicopter, moving dangerously close to where he and Misha are treading water.

"Come on." Jensen grabs the back of Misha's shirt and tugs him towards shore. He's trying to keep one eye on the croc, but when his feet hit land all he can see is the khaki of Jared's shirt as he's pressed into a firm, hard chest. Jensen lets his eyes close, and he simply breathes in Jared's scent.

"Fuck," Jared says. "Thought I'd lost you. Was sure you were... Fuck."

He hugs Jensen hard enough to press the air from his lungs, and Jensen has to poke him in his side to get him to loosen his hold. "Ease up, Jay. I'm all right," Jensen says. He pulls back and checks Jared over for any injuries. "What about you?"

Jared's smile is soft and sappy. "I'm not the one who went into the water. Again."

"Shut up."

"I think you might have a problem."

"Shut. Up."

"The first step is admitting it."

"Will you-"

There's the ominous sound of straining metal and everyone tenses, turns, and braces themselves. The croc still struggling in it's impromptu prison. Aldis raises his gun and shoots a dart into the creature's neck. Without a moment's hesitation, he then puts another one in an inch to the left of the first.

The croc shudders once, then is still.

"Just in case," Aldis says, shrugging. "You guys can start up the banter again. Alona's right; it's adorable."

"Weren't you gonna quit?" Jensen asks.

"Eh. Changed my mind. How could I leave all this adventure?"

As a counterpoint to the heavily drugged crocodile, Misha is almost frazzled with energy. "Where's the net?! Get the net. And a camera. Somebody find my camera! We need pictures. Lots of pictures. This is going in National Geographic!"

"Admit it; you're glad he didn't get eaten," Jared says, his voice a tickle by Jensen's ear.

Jensen shakes his head. "No comment." But he's smiling, and when Misha drags him and Jared in front of the comatose croc for a picture, he goes willingly.

____________


Jensen looks around the former campground. The tents are down, the trucks are packed, the crocodile's been contained - on its way to that holding tank in Portland - and the cow's been corralled. In a way, despite the horrors he's faced over the past few days, he thinks he just might miss this - the comradery and adventure, not so much the near-death experiences. Or all the dunking.

Jensen rubs a towel over his still-damp hair and turns to look at the lake. He can feel someone come up behind him and without looking, Jensen knows it's Jared.

"It really is beautiful out here," Jared says standing beside Jensen, their shoulders barely touching.

"Yeah," Jensen says. "It's not half bad. Still never gonna come out here voluntarily again, though." He listens to Jared laugh. "You ready to head out?"

"Just about, yeah." Jared grins, and holds out one of his hands. "Sheriff." They shake, holding on for longer than what's usually acceptable. "In spite of our less than auspicious beginning, I've been... You've been... It's been... really something," Jared finally gets out.

"Really something?" Jensen raises an eyebrow. "That's what you've got for me? I nearly die for like the tenth time in forty-eight hours and really something is the best you can do?"

With the blood draining from his face, Jared looks kind of waxy in the moonlight. "Uh... No?"

Jensen crowds in close to the bigger man. His confidence is bolstered when, instead of turning tail and running, Jared leans into him. "Look, I don't do well with beating around the bush, or being coy, or stuff like that, so I'm just gonna come out and say that I'd really like to see you again when our lives aren't in horrible danger." He takes a breath and goes for broke. "Like maybe tonight, when you stay over at my house."

Jared barks out a laugh. "That's one hell of an invitation." He lets his hands settle on Jensen's hips. "I don't know, though. Relationships forged in high-stress situations don't-" He doesn't get a chance to finish his sentence because Jensen's wrapped his arms around Jared's neck and pulled him down into a kiss. It's sweet, almost chaste, but the promise of more is right there beneath the surface.

They pull apart to the sound of wolf-whistles and cat-calls. Jensen knows even the night can't hide his blush, but he doesn't care. Not while Jared's looking at him like he hung the moon.

"What was that about relationships and high-stress situations?" Jensen asks.

"They end up being pretty damn awesome."

"Good answer."

_____________

end

Comments

[eastofwind.livejournal.com]

Dreamed the crocs was in the river I supposed to survey.
Can I ask somebody else do the survey works? (*^_^*)
crap I really need the data.

Good characterization for all of them. q(^^)p
Loved it.

[saone77.livejournal.com]

Hee. Sorry? ;D

I'm glad you liked the fic, though, and there's probably nothing carnivorous in the water. ;D