Title: hunting
Disclaimer: the brothers, Rebecca, and 'shifter aren't mine
Warnings: daemon!AU; takes places during "Skin"
Pairings: none
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 655
Point of view: third
In the dank darkness of the sewer, Rhiannon snarled. "Stay close," Dean whisper-yelled at her, but he heard her get farther away. "Damnit!" he muttered. "I told her we stick together."
He carefully followed after her. He'd gotten out of the habit of hunting alone since Sam came back, and so had Rhiannon—back when it was just them, she never left his sight and refused to let him leave hers.
But Sam was checking on Rebecca and Micah her raccoon daemon, and Dean needed to kill this shapeshifter bastard. The son of a bitch had worn his face.
"Dean!" Rhiannon yelled and Dean picked up his pace.
He found Rhiannon trying to free Micah from a muzzle and chain, and Rebecca unconscious next to them. Dean knelt down and picked the lock on the muzzle; once it was lose, before it even came all the way off, Micah was chattering a mile a minute, too quickly for Dean to understand.
Rhiannon chuffed at him and Micah hushed. Dean moved over to Rebecca; her hands and feet were tied.
"Micah," Dean said, "Start over and slow down."
"The cops had just dropped us off," the raccoon told them. "We went inside and the next thing I know, I wake up here."
Micah got himself completely free and hurried to Rebecca, checking her over.
"She'll be fine," Dean assured him. "But me and Rhiannon have to go."
Micah stared up at him. "You're gonna leave us alone down here?" he asked plaintively.
"Sam and Gariel went to check on the two'a you," Dean told him.
Micah nodded. "I can lead Becky out when she wakes up."
"Good man," Dean said. "Ry, let's go."
They wasted no time getting out of the sewer, but Dean knew they couldn't risk taking the car. "Go on ahead," he told Rhiannon and she rubbed against him before loping off.
Dean made his own way to Rebecca's house, avoiding people wherever possible. He got there in time to hear Rhiannon's roar—he recognized it as a cry of pain.
"Leave her alone!" Gariel hissed as he hurried through the house.
The tableau that met his eyes pushed his rage into hatred: Sam unmoving on the floor, the 'shifter still wearing Dean's face holding Gariel off with a—a pitchfork? The fuck?—and a giant anaconda wrapped around Rhiannon.
He had a clear bead on the 'shifter and he shot the bastard in the back three times, a cluster right where his heart should be. The 'shifter fell, the anaconda faded away, and Dean leapt to Sam's side. "Ry," he called. "Sweetheart, you okay?"
"I'll be fine," she answered. "Gariel?"
The viper coiled on Sam's chest. "I'm fine," she said. "I distracted him before he could do more than knock Sam around."
Rhiannon limped to Dean and sniffed at Gariel, just to be sure, Dean knew. He only calmed when he felt Sam's pulse, strong and steady. Then he turned to examine the shifter's corpse.
Dean smiled when he saw the bastard's arm. "Looks like you tore a chunk outta him," he told Rhiannon.
She gave him a panther-smirk and said, "I did." Her tail lashed as she continued, "That's when his daemon got me. She was a tiger at first, then became that snake."
Sam stirred, slowly coming 'round. Gariel slithered even closer, tasting his skin as his eyes blinked open.
Dean knelt back at his side and asked, "Sammy?"
"Dean?" Sam turned his head. Dean was determined to let Sam make the first move—no telling what kind of torments that shapeshifting son of a bitch had put Sam through. Sam studied him, one hand coming up to stroke Gariel's head. Sam's gaze flicked to Rhiannon, crouched just behind Dean.
"Dean," he said, sounding sure.
Dean smiled and stood, offering his little brother his hand. With Gariel wrapped around his arm, Sam let Dean pull him to his feet.
