"Tell me again why we're here?" Sam whispered as he maneuvered himself behind a large hedge.
"You said it yourself. We're here for werewolves." Dean crouched beside him. A man was pacing back and forth while a pale, blonde woman yelled at him. Something had obviously back fired on the group.
Sam watched the dramatics play out before them. "But Chase said that it wasn't the werewolves causing the problem."
"I know what she said."
"Then why are we here?"
With a sigh he turned to face the complaints. "I want to be sure that they're not the ones causing the problems. This no human diet sounds shady to me."
Sam nodded his agreement. They watched the two werewolves argue until Sam spoke up again. "So, have you heard from Chase?"
"What? No." Dean shook his head and tried to concentrate on what the woman was saying.
"Really. You haven't called her or anything?"
"No, Sammy, why are you asking?" Did he just hear something about a new hunt come out of the guy's mouth?
"Just wondering."
Dean ignored him and continued to listen. The woman wanted a challenge. A new challenge. Something was getting too predictable and easy, but the man didn't agree. He must be the head of the pack. They continued to argue until a new appearance caused them both to straighten up. A new male strode in. He carried his power like a scepter and the two bickerers knelt down and bowed their heads.
So this was the top dog. Dean smiled a little. Aside from the stench of control, the guy didn't look like much.
"What's he saying?"
Dean shot a look at his little brother, and went back to his undercover work. What was he saying? Something about rights and life. Dean started to move closer. Suddenly, the leader looked up, alert, and said something to the other two who scampered away. Frowning Dean kept moving forward.
"Um…Dean?" Sam said behind him.
"Shut-up or they'll find us." Dean crept forward.
"Dean, they already have."
Dean spun around and saw the two fighters leering behind them.
"Well, well, well," the woman said in a soft-as-ash voice, "Looks like I get my wish after all."
"The Gods must love you, Desiree." The man leered at the brothers.
"They must." She laughed, and the sound resonated in Dean's ears. "Wanna come with me, baby?" She asked him.
"Sorry," Dean jerked away from her grasp, "I don't think you're my type."
The man chuckled and twisted Sam's arm. "Don't hurt him, Des."
"I wouldn't dream of it." Desiree shook out her blonde hair, "We're gonna have so much fun." With a wicked smile she jerked Dean to his feet.
The brothers were led into the same clearing they had been watching for the past hour. Watching as they were forced on their knees, the leader sauntered over. "Desiree, my dear, you didn't plan this did you?"
"No, Damien." She wasn't so cocky anymore.
"Good, girl." Damien knelt down so he was face to face with the boys. "It's really a shame you two decided to crash our little party." He gestured to the rest of the pack that had assembled.
"You know what they say," Dean retorted, "a party isn't a party until it's broken."
"I completely agree." Damien stood again and sauntered to the middle of the group. "We had been doing so well. No human in sixty some years is a massive accomplishment. But, sometimes we need to go great lengths to keep a secret." He suddenly looked behind them. "You're late." The words made the hair on the back of Dean's neck stand on end.
"My apologies."
Dean's head snapped up. The voice was so familiar. He tried to turn around, but the man's hold was a lot stronger then he would have thought. Damn werewolves.
"It's of no consequence." Damien stepped past the brothers to the new arrival, "We've just been drooling over a set of intruders."
"Intruders? How did-" The voice stopped suddenly. "What are you planning?"
Damien's laugh was cold, "You know the rules. We keep our existence a secret at all costs. Tonight we get a slight treat." The pack's laughter followed the statement.
"But they're humans."
"If you've learned nothing from us my dear, please remember this: only the strong survive. Now," he motioned for Desiree and the other man to let Dean and Sam stand, "put the tall one away for now. I don't like teams." He watched as Sam was led out of sight.
"You fu-" Dean started to say.
"Ah-ah." Damien grinned, "Anger will not help you right now."
"You filthy dog!" Dean struggled against Desiree's hold, "You no good, son of a bitch-"
Damien held up a hand to silence the rant. "The rules are simple. Make it to the clearing in the middle of the forest, and you live." He slid a knife from his belt.
"My pet," he gestured for the voice to step forward, "Do tell him good luck."
Still attempting to break Desiree's strong grip, Dena watched a tall, cloaked figure glide next to Damien.
"Go on." Damien lightly pushed the person forward.
The woman's high heels clicked out an eternity as she moved forward. She paused directly in front of him, and Dean heard her take a deep breath before she slid the hood back from her face.
His jaw dropped. Chase was biting her scarlet bottom lip, and her kohl rimmed eyes refused to meet his face.
"Chastity, don't keep us waiting."
She pushed a brunette curl behind her ear.
"Chastity." Damien's voice was no longer light. She cringed as the sound waves hit her.
"Luck," she murmured kissing his cheek. She moved her head to whisper in his other ear, "Stay away from the clearing. Head for the road. Meet me at my apartment," and place a red kiss on his other cheek. As she pulled away she whispered again, "I'll get Sam. Don't look back."
Dean glared at her. Her curls had fallen from the security of her ears and were waving in the slight wind.
"Lovely." Damien grabbed his arm and trailed the knife through his skin. Blood oozed from the fresh gash and Dean watched as the pack's eyes went form dark to a sickening yellow color. "Run while you can," Damien taunted.
Desiree released him, and with a last look at Chase, Dean took off toward the road.
XxXxX
She watched the pack take off after giving Dean a slight head start. They couldn't catch him…wouldn't catch him…please, don't let him look back! Thoughts rambled of their own accord in Chase's mind. Please, God, don't let him look back.
"Coming?" Damien turned to her.
"No."
Damien sighed. "Pity." He turned and ran after the pack.
Chase made sure he was out of sight and hearing until she cautiously made her way to Sam. Turner had tied him to a steel rod that stuck out of the ground. They normally kept animals tied here. She frowned at the irony. "Sam, I need you to scream."
"What?" His eyes didn't trust her anymore. Not as if he had trusted her in the beginning.
"Please, Sam," she begged, "If you want to live. Please."
He shook his head. "What can you do?"
The phrase 'if looks could kill' briefly crossed her mind. "Nothing unless you let me. You want to get out? Want to see Dean again?"
"They're going to kill him." His glance finally broke and he hung his head.
"No. They won't catch him, Sam, he'll be fine."
"How do you know?"
Chase knelt down and put a hand under his chin. Raising his face to look in his eyes she explained, "He has too much to live for to go out like that." She released his face and stood. "Now, please, scream."
After a second's hesitation, he did. She grinned at the volume and emotion in his voice while quickly cutting the rope that held him. "Follow me." Cutting through a slight expanse of forest, Chase led Sam to her car.
"What about Dean?" Sam started to turn back.
"No!" Chase grabbed his arm, "He'll either be there or meet us there. He'll be fine. I swear." She shoved him in the car and shut the door. "He'll be fine," she said again to herself.
XxXxX
Dean ran. He ran past trees, and mildewed leaves, and streams, and rocks, and finally across a river of asphalt. He could hear them until the end. They never got any closer to him, almost like they knew he would wear out and become an easy kill. No chance, he kept saying to himself, keep going. They have no chance.
He didn't know if he'd make it to the road, didn't know if he would make it to his car, didn't know if they would catch him. But he kept running. Chase wouldn't let him die. He knew she wouldn't…she couldn't.
His car was right where he left it. The black paint just waiting for his return. He could still see the yellow eyes in the trees when he slammed the door, and he knew they would keep hunting him. As long as there was a full moon they would keep hunting him. One week of hiding. Or, better yet, a week of target practice. He liked the second idea.
The Impala screeched to a halt in the parking lot of Chase's apartment complex. He slammed the door and sprinted up the three flights of stairs to her loft. Without bothering with the formality of knocking, he pushed open the door and ran into his brother.
"Dean!" Sam said, relief evident in his voice. "I never thought I'd be this happy to see you!"
"Same here." Dean muttered looking around.
"Are you alright? What happened?" Sam's inquisitive nature began to take hold. "Did they ever catch up to you? Did you have anything on you?"
"Enough with the interrogation, Sammy." He glanced at his brother's tight face. "Take it easy. I'm okay. You're okay. That bitch Chase, though, is about to die!" He yelled the last part hoping she would appear.
"She can't hear you," despite his worries a small smile tugged at Sam's face, "She's in the shower."
"Figures. I might die, and she's worried about being dirty." He sighed, "Sam, go…read or something."
"I'm not ten, Dean."
"Yeah…well…"
Sam shook his head at his brother's idiocy. "She doesn't have wireless here. The building's lobby does, though. I'll be there for awhile. Maybe I can find something to help with this." He grabbed his silver laptop and headed out the door.
As soon as it shut behind him, Dean scaled the steps to Chase's small bathroom, and, met with a closed door, shook the handle. It was locked. He felt along the top of the door frame and found the key he expected. When he opened the door, a warm, vanilla scented fog hit him in the face.
"Dean, the point of a locked door is to ensure privacy." Chase's voice carried above the tap of the water hitting the ceramic shower.
He glared at the black shower curtain, "Some people don't deserve privacy. You know, like the ones who stab you in the back?"
"Are you implying that I've deceived you in some way?" The curtain rippled as she moved.
"You could say that." Dean leaned against the wall and crossed his arms on his chest.
"How so?"
He shook his head in amazement. The bitch was playing with him just like he had seen her do with the vampire when he and Sam entered the bar. "You might have mentioned that you're a fucking werewolf." He thought he heard her sigh, but he couldn't be sure.
"Dean, what time is it?"
He glanced at his watch, "Eleven thirty."
"And what kind of moon is out tonight?"
"Full." Where was she going with this?
"Mmhmm. And what do werewolves look like at eleven thirty at night during a full moon?"
"Like wolves." Was there a point to her questions?
The room suddenly grew silent. Chase had turned off the water, and he watched her wet arm reach for the grey towel that hung on a hook adjacent to the shower. Seconds later, the curtain was pulled back and Chase stepped out. "And what do I look like to you?"
She really didn't want him to answer that. Her hair hung in dripping tendrils over her shoulders and down her back, and the towel, though fixed firmly around her, hung attractively on her frame. Complete with a few beads of water scattered across her shoulders she was straight out of one of Dean's fantasies. One of his top three fantasies. Damn it.
"Not a wolf," she answered for him. She roughly shoved her way past him, and the jolt roused Dean from his dream.
"Then why were you with them? Are you so damn special that they won't kill you for knowing their secret?" he asked following her into the open bedroom. She paused momentarily, giving Dean the perfect view of a second tattoo. It was a pistol with the phrase "No me tangare" written below it. Don't touch me. A warning. Oh hell.
"Actually, yeah, I am." She fumbled around in a drawer and pulled out a pair of blue pajama bottoms and a grey tank top.
"The fuck you are." He grabbed her arm and spun her around to face him. "You might as well tell me what flavor of evil you are now because it won't be long until I find out myself."
"Flavor of evil?" She snickered, "And what do you think you'll be able to do when I tell you? Kill me?"
"If I have to."
She gazed at his serious expression, and finally gave Dean the information he wanted. "Loup-garou."
"Lou what?"
"Loup-garou," she repeated slowly, "Ever heard of it?"
He stared at her.
"So you haven't." She jerked her arm out of his grasp and backed up a step. "I suppose you could call us werewolves, but that would be the simplest of terms. We're more like…shifters," she paused as if searching for the rest of her explanation, "No. Not shifters."
"Just explain it. Pretend I don't know anything about shifters, werewolves, or whatever," Dean demanded. He crossed his arms again as if they could be a shield against the emotion radiating off of Chase. She was angry, but not enough to make it obvious.
"I'm half wolf, half human. I don't have to have a full moon to become a wolf. I can change at will. I can control it. I'm part of the werewolf pack to observe them, possibly protect others from their actions, but mainly to get rid of the blood sucking filth that inhabits this city."
"But you hunt with them," Dean stepped closer to her again, "You kill with them!"
"No!" The force of her comment pushed Dean back. She advanced towards him and he noticed the predatory look in her eyes.
"You're just as guilty as they are!" Dean convicted, "You've got just as much blood on your hands as they do."
"It's not the kill I live for." Her voice was low, menacing.
"What then. What do you, Chastity Stone the Loup-garou, live for?"
Fuck you, Dean Winchester. Fuck you." She tightened the grip on her clothes and made for the haze filled bathroom.
"Convince me that you're not like them!" Dean yelled at her back. She stopped, and he watched the tension tighten her back.
She slowly turned back around, "I don't live for the kill, I never have."
"Then why do you do it? You can obviously remain human if you want."
She stalked closer, "I live for the freedom of the hunt." Chase set her clothes down on the table beside her bed, and positioned herself directly in front of him. "You have no idea the power that comes with the change. It's intoxicating. The senses. The raw strength. It's an escape from myself. And then, to be presented with a challenge," she placed a hand on his chest, "it's a great big game to the animal, and so it's a great big game to me. And they run," a light laugh escaped from a distant memory, "They try so hard to get away, but they can't. They're not fast enough."
Dean knew she wasn't fully with him anymore, that she was lost in whatever feeling she was trying to explain. But he didn't care. He was spellbound by the way her words were strung together, how they sounded imbedded with her voice, and where her hand was so damn hot on his skin. He could feel it through the thin fabric of his shirt, and fuck if she wasn't good at this.
"You know they're yours, though, when they look back," she continued. "Then they trip, fall, and before they know it," a slight push on his shoulder sent him toppling back onto the floor, "you're on top of them."
So this is what it was like to look into the eyes of a natural born killer. Dean would never admit it, but he was terrified of the girl leaning over him. He wanted to tell her to stop, that he believed her, but something wouldn't let him. Maybe it was a sick desire for death, or maybe it was a sick desire for her. Either way, he didn't say a word.
She took a deep breath and leaned close enough to whisper, "Their heart's beating so fast, the blood is racing through the veins, and fear is practically dripping form every pore. It's better than the best drug. But you've got to keep in mind that all living things can die from fear. You've got to remember that they won't last too long like that, but it's so hard to tear yourself away from the simple smell!"
Her mouth moved against his neck, and he wasn't sure that she wouldn't kill him.
"You do it, though. One last breath, and you take," she pressed her lips to the vein on the side of his neck, "what's," her mouth moved to his jaw, "yours." Her face hovered over his, "But the whole time, you wish the chase had lasted longer."
No. He was ready for the chase to be over. He slipped a hand behind her head and brought her face down to meet his. She relaxed into the kiss, not putting up a fight when he deepened it, or even protesting when their positions were switched and he was above her. If he had been thinking he would have questioned her willingness, but he wasn't thinking, and he didn't care. The important things were her lips on his, his skin on hers, and the damned towel that had to come off. In an attempt, he boldly started to slide his hand up her leg.
Instantly, her arms were no longer around him, and instead of pulling him closer her hands were pushing him off of. She scrambled up from the floor. "You can stay until sunrise," she said between breaths, "but after that I want you out of my apartment, and out of my town." With that said she grabbed her clothes and stormed towards her walk in closet. "And, just so you know," she said before closing the door, "I've never killed a human."
He laid on the ground a moment longer, trying to figure out what just happened.. He had…and she just…shit. He pushed himself up and headed for the bathroom. He needed a shower.
When he stepped into the small, neat room he let out a string of curses. The tiles still smelled like her.
XxXxX
Chase revealed in the darkness of her closet. Here, she could see him, smell him, or taste him; as bad as the animal in her wanted to. She quickly changed into her pajamas, and, upon hearing the water start up again, stepped out of the space.
She was exhausted. Her hunt this morning and reliving it tonight was all she could take when her bed looked so inviting. Eagerly, she closed the distance between herself and the beckoning mattress and collapsed into the soft blankets. She was so exhausted.
"We've got 'em!" Desiree squealed. Turner grabbed her around the waist.
"Finally," he said, "Six months of hunting these bastards down, and now we've got them cornered." The rest of the pack nodded in agreement, and the affirmation was all Turner needed to continue. "They think they've disappeared, that the rumors of extinction could fool us!" He laughed maliciously, "But they were wrong. And tonight we'll rid what we can of the useless species!" His speech was met by cheers.
Damien stood, and the crowd immediately silenced. "It's time." He held up a hand to illustrate the beginning of the transformation. Silvery hair had begun to grow along his arm, and his eyes already had a butter like appearance.
Chase stood back from the morphing crowd. She could change must faster than them, and had to be careful that she didn't draw attention to herself. Until the filthy blood drinkers were gone she had to blend in, had to be a werewolf. Moments later, though, she let the wolf gnawing on her bones emerge, and the pack started for a street of abandoned warehouses.
They all knew the plan. Damien had briefed them relentlessly. No one would mess up because a mistake would mean exile, and that was a fate worse than death. Chase settled herself in front of the building that housed the coven. She was to wait until Damien gave the signal, and then the pack would attack. The vamps wouldn't know what hit them.
Now.
There was a rush of fur, teeth, and claws. The warehouse was full of screams, both of surprise and pain, and growls. It was chaos, and it took every bit of concentration a wolf could possess to not kill your own kind. The vampires were surprised. There were only ten, a weak attempt at resistance was made, but it only took a few moments for the job to be complete. One nest wiped out.
She heard a growl off to her right, and saw Damien sniffing a body. A human body.
A week later the pack was in the clearing, and Chase was trying not to scream. A beautiful blonde haired man faced the alpha male. The blonde that Chase loved, the blonde that promised not to die. Damien circled him, explaining that if he could reach the clearing in the middle of the woods he would be safe. The moon rose. The chase started.
She ran as fast as she could, and had soon overtaken the head of the pack. The blonde glanced over his should and tripped on a raised root. He fell, the sound echoing in the forest, and the pack slowly formed a circle around him and advanced. Chase jumped into the center, growling and fighting back for all it was worth, but she couldn't save him.
Forsaking everything she stood for, Chase returned to her human figure. He had seen the change, and, though almost dead, knew it was her.
"Chastity…" he whispered.
She wiped the dirt and blood off his face, tears falling freely. "You promised me," she whispered back, "You promised me you wouldn't die."
"You…" he coughed, blood overflowing in the corners of his mouth. "You lied…"
She shook her head. "I had to. I love you. You can't leave me."
He only stared at her a moment more before closing his eyes.
"Thomas!" She jerked up, gasping for breath. It took a few seconds for her to realize that it was just a dream, that she hadn't witnessed his death in reality for the second time. That he hadn't had to relive the torture twice.
Once she had clamed down, she looked around for Dean. The apartment was dark, and as she crept to the railing, she could make out both Winchesters sprawled over various pieces of furniture. Reassured that they hadn't been present for the dramatic performance, she lethargically crawled back into her bed.
Days later Damien demanded she explain what she was. Despite the differences, the pack still accepted her as one of their own, better even since she could kill whenever it was needed. But it didn't matter anymore. She may have still been alive, but she was already dead. After all, a wolf mates for life.