Supernatural: Fallen Son

Lion Hunt

'Have we any idea what did this?' Asked Sam quietly, looking down at a corpse on a clean, silver morgue table. He had his clipboard pressed to his chest to hide the bag of ice cubes under his shirt, and his feet tapped uncomfortably on the reflective floor of the room - trying to distract himself from his fever. Dean was behind him, and looked slightly worried about his brother's behaviour.

An overly-excited medical examiner, wearing circular glasses and wielding a long white coat, gibbered out an answer that was almost too fast to hear.
'Well, the others said that it was a bear attack, though the bite-marks here don't match. Too circular. If he was found anywhere else, I'd say that a shark did this.'
Dean gave Sam a confused look, and Sam whispered 'ghost shark?' in hushed tones. Dean coughed slightly so that the tall man didn't hear what the brothers were saying. 'Thank you, mr... Nygma.' Sam took a look at his name badge and thanked him. The Winchesters then walked off to a spot in the waiting room.
'So what're we thinking? That dude was literally torn to shreds.' Sam inquired. 'Well, humans can be vicious.' Dean answered. Sam's eyes visibly rolled. 'You can't be suggesting that a person did that? It looks like the shark attack!'
'But... the door was unlocked, and bootprints were found in the gravel outside the scene.'
'Hmm... shifter of some kind, then.' Decided Sam aloud. 'We've seen cases like this one before. A shifter, or maybe a skinwalker could do this.'
'Okay. It's just... I've never seen a skinwalker become a shark.' Replied Dean.
'How do we know it did?' Hinted Sam, and picked up the notes that he'd taken in the morgue. 'Maybe its bite just looks like one. I'm vouching for this being a new creature of some kind.'

About 15 minutes later, Sam was at the wide, mahogany table of the Men of Letters bunker. Books of lore ameliorated the wood around him, and he sipped a mug of coffee. He suddenly closed a book, and stood up to face Dean - who was looking at another meticulously organised stash of vintage pornography. Why the Men of Letters had all of that, Sam didn't know - nor want to.
With a loud 'harrumph', Sam got Dean's attention and then announced what he'd found in the book. 'Okay. I think that I've found a candidate for what we're dealing with. It's called a manticore - and is a shapeshifter with the jaws of a shark.'
Dean looked genuinely surprised at the sheer perfection of this diagnosis, and was so interested that he (finally) dropped his copy of Asian Beauties and walked over towards his brother. 'So how do we kill this thing?'
'Well - that's where stuff starts to suck. A manticore has a venomous tail, bite, claws and invulnerable skin - and the only way to kill one of them is by stabbing it directly through the mouth.' Sam grimaced, and shifted around on the floor anxiously when his ice-pack started to slither down his chest.

'Ah. Any particular material needed?' Inquired Dean, putting his arm on the table and failing to help himself eying the mess that the ice was making on his brother's top. 'The entry on the creature just stops halfway through. Apparently it hasn't been seen in America for thousands of years - but I think that we'd better use silver just to be sure.' Sam replied, much to Dean's displeasure.