A/N: Have some poorly constructed Superlock I rushed with before The Born-Again Identity. Initially meant to be a oneshot, but made it into a twoshot.
Pairings: mention of Sam/Ruby, Sherlock/Molly
They witnessed the fight closely. Sherlock had been splattered in black blood and Molly was quivering beside him, whimpering. The had been tied up together, back-to-back, and Sherlock was waiting patiently for one of their rescuers to untie them. Molly, on the other hand, was frightened with the whole thing. She would not stop shaking.
"Molly?" Sherlock said in a whisper and heard her say something. It was barely audible since she wouldn't stop herself from blubbering. "Molly, do stop." He reassured her, his voice sprinkled with gentleness.
The fight was over and one of their rescuers rushed over to untie them. He was bulky, very tall, and very sweaty. Brown hair, hazel eyes. He donned dirty blue jeans, a black shirt, and over it, was a brown jacket. "Don't worry, everything's gonna be fun. I'm Sam, and that guy's Dean." The male known as Sam pointed at Dean. He was beside Molly, trying to comfort her. "That's not going to work." Sam looked at his brother when he heard Dean tell Molly to shut up. Sam continued to work his way at clawing the ropes. When he succeeded, he brought a hand toward Sherlock, offering assistance.
Sherlock got up without Sam's help and wiped the black liquid from his skin. "What were those things?" He was wearing a purple dress shirt too small for him and unlike his usual attire, Sherlock had been wearing a pair of black jeans. Wiping the liquid from his dress shoes onto the grass, he helped Molly get up.
"Not from here, huh? Judgin' from the accents." Dean said, raising an eyebrow when he heard Sherlock speak. He didn't even consider answering the question.
"Obviously not." Sherlock squinted, examining both Dean and Sam.
Molly was still weeping. She dug her face against Sherlock's arm, her shaking barely reduced. "I want to go home, Sherlock. Back to London, back to John." Aside from the intense sobbing, she was capable of speaking loud enough to be heard. She felt a hand brush down her arm and she gasped in surprise, but eased down when it was Sherlock's hand. He told her that they can't return back to England just yet and all she did was give a nod. Though, she still didn't like being here. She wanted to be somewhere else. Somewhere safe.
It was Dean that finally answered after he and Sam had a nudge-fight as to who would tell them what 'those things' were. "Leviathan. These things that like to eat people. Allergic to borax. Gotta send 'em back to Purgatory." He was given confused looks from both Molly and Sherlock. "Um, yeah. It's a bit crazy. If you didn't believe in monsters before this, well, you believe in them now." He shrugged and started to walk away, but was interrupted by Sam calling out his name. Dean twirled back to the three and huffed out.
"We're sorry about this whole thing. I know it's tough, this whole experience, but you'll get over it." Sam looked at Molly and forced a smile. "These things, these Leviathan, they're everywhere. And I do mean everywhere. You may meet someone and they could be a Leviathan. You need to watch out."
"How do we know you're not one of them?" Molly asked.
Before Sam was able to say anything, Dean blurted out, "we just saved your skins! Without us, you two would be dead! And…" Dean took out a switchblade from his back pocket and made a small cut at the back of his hand, red liquid seeping out. "Yeah. Not one of those things. And neither is he." The older hunter patted at Sam's chest.
"You said that borax is their weakness." Sherlock saw Sam nod. His eyes started to roam around Sam's body. "Judging from your looks, you two have been doing this for a very long time. And you," he pointed at the taller American, "have struggled with so many things. You tried to run away from so many people. Your brother, perhaps. Maybe even your father. The police? Obviously. And by the condition of your hands, you are very violent during sex. Always dominant. And very attracted to the dangerous types."
The corner of Sam's lips twitched and he quickly stuffed his hands into his pockets. He heard Dean snicker and Sam proceeded to hit him with his arm. When he heard Sherlock say he was compelled to have sex with dangerous types, Sam thought of Ruby. Her face shaped into his mind, but he shook the mental image out of his head.
"Don't do this, Sherlock." Molly mumbled out, tugging at his shirt. "Let's just go back to the hotel."
Sherlock shook his head. "Not yet." He turned to look at Dean, his eyes wandering up and down his body. Checking how he dressed, what his face expressed, everything. "Daddy issues, I'm assuming? There's always got to be one." He heard Dean scowl. "Oh, don't be so hostile. So quick to anger. Where did that anger stem from? From Sam?" Sherlock's eyes moved from Dean to Sam, then back to the older hunter. "You can't trust other people. You trusted someone, but they betrayed you somehow. Am I getting warmer?" Another noise from Dean. "Yes. And from those bags, I'm sure you spend most of your nights experiencing bad dreams?"
Dean looked down at his feet, both amazed at the fact that a stranger he just met knew the basic things about him, and bitter that Sherlock pointed out something that even Sam didn't know. Just like Sam, he couldn't sleep. He would get nightmares about many things. His experience in Hell, the loss of Bobby and Castiel, and the possibility that Sam might die before him.
"But you have hope. Hope that maybe the person you trusted will redeem themselves?" Sherlock added, not only to soften the conversation, but to make Dean feel a bit better.
"Yeah." Dean said softly, looking back up to Sherlock. A broken smile appeared as he thought of Castiel. He's dead. But he promised he would. He quickly changed the topic and gestured at the two of the non-Americans. "I think it's time for the two of you to get back to wherever you came from. And remember, borax kills those bastards."
Sherlock pursed his lips in consideration and took a long look at Dean, which made the latter feel very uncomfortable by his strange expressions. "Right, yes. We'll get going. Thank you for your… help." He feigned a grin, baring his teeth, and pulled Molly closer to him lightly. "Let's go, Hooper." He felt her pull away from his grip to create distance and he began walking away from the two hunters, Molly beside him.