Black Magic Rabbit

"Four dead divers in five days, off Mustang Island, Texas."

Dean set down his burger to read the article Sam had slapped in front of him. "Texas?"

"And not just dead - maimed. Barely anything left, apparently," Sam continued.

"What do you think we're dealing with?"

"They're telling the public shark attacks, but no locals have reported sightings. Could be a spirit. Death by shark as a whacked-out warning, maybe?

"Maybe. We got any leads?" Dean asked through his mouthful of beef.

"Yeah, one." Sam pointed to a name in the article. "Steve Jennings was part of the first diving crew. The crew that just happened to catch footage."

"Footage? As in they got the thing on tape? And they haven't wrapped the case?"

Sam shook his head. "None of the officials have made a statement about the tape and the case is still open. Makes me think it's our kind of thing."

"Awesome." Dean pulled out his wallet and threw a few bills on the table.

✝

In two days, Dean drove the Impala into Mustang Island and past a crowd gathered near a dock. After sharing a glance with his brother, Sam stepped out of the car and into the crowd.

"What's going on?" he asked.

Another one," a girl in jogging clothes answered. "It's just so horrible." She hadn't looked away from the dock. "I can tell you one thing, though. I am not going near that water any time soon."

"We got another one," Sam told his brother as he climbed back into the Impala.

✝

That afternoon Sam and Dean entered the county sheriff's office, all suited up and flashing their badges.

"Sheriff Gladstone?" Dean addressed the cop. "I'm Agent Hedley, this is Agent Nelson. We're inquiring about the recent diving deaths."

The sheriff nodded and gestured for them to sit.

"Can you bring us up to date on the case so far?" Sam asked.

The sheriff shook her head. "I've got five dead men, five grieving families. No link between victims, no shark sightings, and no leads."

"Wasn't there a witness to one of the attacks? A Mr. Steve Jennings?"

The sheriff looked up. "Well, not exactly. Steve says the whole thing happened underwater. They were filming the dive, but the tape must've come back up scrambled or something. What I saw of that footage is definitely not what happened. It's scientifically impossible. The tape's worthless."

Sam and Dean shared a pointed glance before Dean sad, "We'd like to borrow that tape, if possible."

✝

Dean handed the footage to Sam as they descended the law building's stairs. "Why don't you head back to the motel and check out the tape. I'll hit up the morgue, get a look at the bodies."

"I'm not sure there'll be much to see, Dean."

"Eh," Dean shrugged, and he and Sam went their separate ways.

At the morgue, Dean pulled all five slabs. There seemed to be no method to the madness. One man's face was gone along with most organs and both arms. Another was all bones from the waist down and missing an arm as well.

He pulled the magnifier over and flipped on the light. He could see tiny indents where the bone was clean.

Dean pulled out his phone. "Well, you were right. There's not much to see. But I did get something. It looks like these people were eaten. The bones are covered in these tiny teeth marks - "

"Well, it fits."

"What?"

"I'm pretty sure this footage is fine, Dean. It's real. There's no distortion, the images are clear - "

"What's on it?"

"I think you better get over here. You'll want to see it for yourself."

✝

"Bunnies."

"Yep."

"Bunnies."

"Yeah."

A silence stretched for a couple seconds.

"Bunnies."

"I'm not sure what you're trying to get at here, Dean."

"But dude. Those were bunny rabbits."

"Yes they were. You saw them with your own eyes."

"And you're positive it's not tampered with?"

"I ran the DVD through all the software I could think of. It's clean."

"Well they can't be bunnies."

Sam shrugged. "Not normal bunnies at least."

"So, let's check 'em out."

It was easier said than done. After hours of research, the boys still had nothing. No history texts or online articles unveiled the mystery behind the carnivorous, sea-dwelling rabbits.

"Yeah, they're black," Sam said to Bobby over the phone. "No webbed feet, they just looked like normal… rabbits." He sighed. "Except they were underwater." Listening, he nodded. "All right, thanks Bobby." He turned back to Dean, who was still on the computer, searching for any hint of bunny lore.

"Bobby's checking into it."

"I've still got nothing, man. Is there anything we can do? Any possible leads to follow up?"

Sam thought for a moment, then said, "Maybe that Steve Jennings guy. Might've seen something."

✝

The next day, Dean knocked on the door of 428 Maple Place.

A large man of about twenty-eight with dark hair and thick glasses answered the door.

"Mr. Jennings?" Sam asked. The brothers pulled their badges.

The man nodded.

"We're looking into the diving deaths, and we have just a few questions to clarify."

The man led them inside. He began to speak without prompting.

"I - I don't know, I mean one second - and then - just, Jimmy, you know?"

Dean looked to Sam, wondering whether his brother had understood what the man had said. When it was apparent neither of them had construed the poorly structured statement, he then cleared his throat and asked, "Is there anything odd you can remember about the attacks? Sounds, lights, even feelings you had?"

"Any detail can help," Sam added.

Jennings thought for a few seconds. "There was this - this noise, you know?" Both brothers waited for more, but no elaboration came.

"And this noise, what did it sound like? Can you describe it?" Sam asked patiently as Dean rolled his eyes.

"Um… a sort of… giggling? Yeah."

"When did you hear this giggling?" Dean asked, leaning forward now.

"Well, Jimmy went under and everything was fine but when things went wrong, you know? I heard it when he started, you know, moving a lot?"

Dean stared at the man for a moment, then said, "Thank you for your time."

✝

"They giggle," Sam told Bobby a while later.

"Black, aquatic, people-eating, giggling bunnies," Dean scoffed from the driver's seat. "Hey, did it bug you that he talked in questions?" he asked as soon as his brother hung up.

Sam ignored the comment. "Bobby's never heard of anything like this before. He said he'd call up some other hunters, see what they know.

An hour later, at the motel, Sam's phone rang.

"Bobby, thank god. We're running out of leads fast."

Dean watched as his brother listened for a few minutes, then hung up the phone again.

"Well?"

"Gremlins," Sam said, taking a seat on his bed. "Apparently Rufus has heard a hunter's tale or two about them. No one's ever seen them outside of Scandinavia, and it's really weird for them to be in a warm water port like the Gulf."

"That fits the other monsters' M.O.s lately," Dean interjected.

"Yeah. Anyway, gremlins take the form of the first animal they see. I guess this time it happened to be a black rabbit. They live off of human flesh and travel in packs of at least thirty."

"All right. So how do we waste 'em?"

"That's where things get a little challenging." Sam paused and looked down to his phone in his lap.

"Yeah?" Dean prompted.

"They can be killed one of two ways: by a blade forged in holy fire or suffocated."

"So we have two options here. We can find a blade forged in holy fire and start whacking at the water to get these things or just pull them out of the Gulf?"

"Well, yeah. But suffocation isn't easy either, Dean. We need to lure them out of the water. We need bait."

"Fine, I'll do it."

"Oh, great, glad that's settled," Sam said with an eye-roll. "We also need to keep them on land until they're dead."

"Will salt work?"

"I don't know. Maybe sea-salt. I'd have to look it up."

Dean shrugged. "No problem."

✝

"I feel like an idiot," Dean muttered to his brother.

"Just let me double-check your equipment and you'll be ready to go," their diving guide, George Hardy, said, snapping clips here and there on Dean's wetsuit.

"If it helps at all," Sam muttered back, "you look like one too." Dean gave him a sarcastic smile. "Now remember," Sam continued, his tone no longer joking. "They've got to get a piece of you. They have to finish what they start, and that's the only way they'll follow you out."

"Yeah, got it."

"Well, you're good," Hardy said. "Whenever you're ready, we gotcha."

Dean gave his brother a nod, took a deep breath, and jumped.

"It's kinda funny, I guess, you guys diving now," Hardy started, congenially. "I mean, with all those poor guys, you know? Hey, what's - "

"Listen, George." Sam had begun spreading a salt line. "We're not exactly diving for the fun of it. Any second we'll have to pull him up, and he will not be alone. When that happens, I'm going to need you to go inside."

"What the hell are you - what does this - "

"I really don't have time to explain. Either do as I say, or you'll be pulling up a corpse." What Sam actually meant was "Do as I say, or I will force you to," but he thought the guide got the message.

Sam stepped up to the him. "I'll pull him in, you wait inside."

Hardy nodded and handed over the line. As he turned to go into the cabin, he paused. "You hear that?" he asked quietly.

Sam focused on the air around him and could soon make out a low hum.

Within seconds, there was a tug on the line, the signal to pull.

"Go, now!" Sam shouted. He heaved on the rope and soon Dean was back on deck.

"They get you?" Sam asked, anxious.

Dean pulled his mask off and answered, "Yeah." He was out of breath. "They're coming." He scrambled to his feet - wrestling out of most of his gear - and Sam could see blood dripping from his leg.

Without Sam's notice, the hum had grown to clear, piercing giggling that continued to increase in volume.

"Are you oka-"

"Stay there!" Sam shouted at the guide, who had opened the door meekly when he'd seen Dean.

All of a sudden, the giggling stopped. The water grew still and the air silent. Dean and Sam shared an apprehensive glance. As soon as Hardy took one step out of the cabin, Dean stopped him. "Stay. There."

Looking back to his brother, Dean noticed something had drawn Sam's attention.

At the edge of the boat where Dean had just climbed aboard sat a small, black rabbit, its fur damp and matted. Dean took a step back, into the middle of the deck, and Sam grasped the cylinder of sea salt.

"How many?"

"About twenty-five, thirty," Dean answered.

Suddenly, two rabbits sat at the ledge. Then a third. A fourth. In the blink of an eye, they all seemed to be on board and Dean was backing out of the salt circle.

"Close it, Sammy!"

To Dean's relief, the sea salt worked - the rabbits snapped at him, but couldn't catch. However, within two minutes the same high-pitched, piercing voices had returned - but they weren't giggling this time. They were wailing. Frantically, the gremlins hoped and crawled over each other, scrambling to find a way out and back into the water.

"Sammy! Come on!" Dean shouted about the gremlins' shrieks and motioned to his brother across the mass of black animals. Sam, with his hands pressed to his ears, searched for a pathway around the circle. He edged the rabbits until he reached cargo crates just to the outside of the salt. He climbed over them, spilling one into the circle among the teeming mass. Diving weights and harnesses were immediately lost among the panicking creatures.

"Come on, come on!" Dean clapped his brother on the shoulder and nearly pushed him into the cabin.

"Jesus Christ," Dean swore, once the door closed behind them.

"I guess we just have to wait it out," Sam told the others as he peered out the small window.

"Okay, what the hell is going on?" Hardy demanded.

Dean chuckled weakly. "You wouldn't believe us."

"Oh really? Rabbits just climbed onto my boat in the middle of the ocean and are now trapped in a circle of salt, making that unholy noise. I think I may be a bit lenient."

"They're gremlins," Sam supplied quickly. "They take the shape of the first animal they see when they near land. They live off of human flesh and travel in packs of about thirty. Sea salt can hold them, and only suffocation or a blade forged in holy fire can kill them."

Dean looked to Sam, then back to Hardy. "Yep, that pretty much covers it."

"So those - those things killed the other divers?"

"Yeah," Sam told him, crossing the room again to join them.

The diving guide nodded. "Oh."

Three hours had passed when the wailing finally began to fall. Five minutes later, Sam stepped out onto the deck. A mass of motionless, black fur lay in the middle of the boat.

"Let's make sure we got 'em all," Dean said, following Sam out. "Hey George. You ready to hook me back up, man?"

Distracted by the animals, Hardy hesitated a moment before answering. "Oh, uh, yeah, sure."

Sam scraped away some salt to reopen the circle. Dean went under and all was calm for twenty minutes. He was in quite a different mood when he was pulled up again.

"Dude you have got to try this some time."

✝

In the car on the way out of town, Sam called Bobby.

"We got 'em. We're pretty sure, at least." Dean listened to his brother's side of the conversation as Bobby apparently told Sam something he hadn't expected to hear. Dean tapped the beat of the music onto his steering wheel, waiting for Sam to hang up and share the news.

"What is it?"

"Bobby did some more digging and found some more detailed lore. He said gremlins are usually controlled. They sometimes just go wild, but never in large packs. He thinks another creature was pulling the strings."

"Yeah, like what?"

"Take your pick of Norse myths. Apparently gremlins are at the bottom of the food chain - practically anything can boss the things around."

"Well how the hell are we supposed to hunt the thing if we don't even know what it is?"

Sam shrugged and looked out the window at the passing highway. "I don't know. Maybe all we can do is keep an eye out for more gremlin attacks. Follow it up that way."

"Great," Dean groaned as they passed a call box.