A/N: for the lovely people who added this to their favorites, again I post early. and forgive me if I self advertise a little, but I have one other Supernatural piece, The Silver Bullet Murders that I would simply adore if you checked out
Previously: On their way to Landrick's home, Sparrow threatens to kill Dean if he doesn't shut up.
The Birds
Installment 10
"I wonder if she's threatened to kill him yet," Haaron mused aloud, snipping the twine he was using to stitch up Sam's shoulder with a pair of scissors.
"You mean 'if she's killed him'," Rat corrected handing Haaron a square of gauze and the roll of medical tape.
Haaron shot Rat a dirty look. "She won't kill him," he assured Sam, patting his uninjured shoulder, and handing him his button down, the least blood stained of his shirts.
Rat snorted. "Only because she doesn't have anyone to eat the bodies out there."
"Rat!" Haaron snapped, glaring now at the other shapeshifter.
"No," Sam said quietly, "He's right, how likely is it that my brother doesn't come back?"
Haaron's glare at Rat intensified. "He'll come back alive, Sam."
"Forgive me for being skeptical, but your sister's killed more than fourteen people."
Haaron sighed. "And she won't kill your brother," he reiterated, "he just reminds Sparrow of someone she remembers with… mixed feelings. That's all Rat's talking about."
Rat rolled his eyes and snorted again.
"What do you mean?" Sam asked over his shoulder, "Like an ex?"
Haaron laughed dryly. "Precisely. Wren was his name."
"Another shapeshifter?"
"No, just an ironic name. Some distant Cherokee heritage, or so he claimed. He and Sparrow were together for…" Haaron chewed the inside of his cheek, counting years.
"Three years," Rat finished for him. "And then the sonuvabitch left her when she showed him what she was. Mr. I'm-so-tough-don't-take-shit-from-anyone freaked the fuck out when he found out she was a shapeshifter." He walked around to stand in front of Sam. "The useless asshole was exactly like your cocksure, swaggering brother."
Sam winced.
Haaron patted his shoulder again. "I'm sure you're brother has more redeeming qualities than Wren ever had." He stood. "I don't know what all Rat keeps in that kitchen of his, but I'm sure I could scrounge something up. Are you hungry, Sam?"
Sam shook his head. "No, I'm alright."
"I'll make enough for three anyway."
Rat gave Sam a nasty look before following Haaron into the kitchen. Sam could hear him talking to Haaron in less than hushed tones, "You know we don't have to be nice to him." Sam studied the front door, closed in as much as it could be with a busted hinge, and considered leaving, but he didn't know where Sparrow was taking his brother, and he could bet the girl had already tossed his cell phone out a window, onto the side of the road.
"Hey, Haaron," he supposed it couldn't hurt to ask, "Where's Sparrow taking Dean?"
Haaron poked his head out of the kitchen, "If I knew that, I'd've already suggested we follow them."
Sam's shoulders slumped. "Oh."
"I'm sorry."
Haaron returned to the destroyed living room balancing three plates, each with a sandwich. He set them on the coffee table before dropping into a cross-legged position on the floor. "It's just tuna from a can with a little mayonnaise. It's all I trusted from the cupboards. Rat needs a woman," he grinned at the glowering boy perched on the overturned couch, "Or his house is going to mold until it collapses."
Rat crossed his arms and looked out the window.
Sam wasn't sure what to say. His head was struggling to wrap itself around just how human Haaron and Rat were. He felt an immeasurable amount of guilt thinking of how close he'd come to lumping them in with vampires and witches and other things that bump in the night. Gingerly, he reached to pick up the offered sandwich. Even the more violent than necessary Sparrow wasn't so hard to understand. She had two baby siblings to protect, and she'd kept them safe all these years without ever exposing them to the deadly required means. It was more than he could say for his father or brother. His own gentleness was perpetually on the verge of being squashed. He imagined Parakeet in life had been as amiable in nature as her brother was now.
"Does it taste alright?" Haaron asked. "I was a little worried the mayonnaise might be outdated."
Sam swallowed then smiled. "Tastes great, thanks."
"That's good."
"Haaron," he began after finishing his sandwich, "Can I ask a question?"
"You can probably ask a few," Haaron's gold eyes twinkled, "It seems we have plenty of time." He picked up Sam's empty plate and set it atop his own. Rat was still sulking on the toppled couch, plate in his lap, so Haaron left his be.
"How did you, uhm…" Sam couldn't quite think of how to say it, "Get like this?" He closed one eye and grimaced. "I mean, become shapeshifters?"
Haaron spared another glance at Rat. "It's simple genetics really. I don't know the specifics, but both my parents were shapeshifters, so it was pretty much a given all their children would be."
"Really?" Sam watched Haaron take their plates to the kitchen and put them in the sink.
"Mhmm. Dad was an eagle, which explains, I guess, why we had such a problem with pelt collectors…" He frowned and shook his head.
"You didn't know your father was killing pelt collectors, did you?"
"Not at all. I was aware we had many unwelcome visitors when I was little and that Dad chased them away. Rather naïve of me, I've decided, given how often Dad was injured. Sparrow, too, perpetually coming home with gashes and slashes and bullet wounds. I absolutely should have known – "
"And your mother, what was she?" Sam saved him from delving further.
"A mourning dove." When Sam arched a confused eyebrow, Haaron elaborated, "You know those pudgy gray birds that bob their heads and sound something like a cross between a cat and an owl?"
"Right, mhmm."
"Says a lot about my mother, her second shape," Haaron said with nostalgia and a warm smile.
"So, it's just sort of a general shapeshifting gene that gets passed down, not a specific species gene." Sam made careful mental note of each detail to be recorded the blank pages at the back of his father's journal.
Haaron nodded his head from side to side. "More or less. They tend to stay in the same family of animals. Rat, your mother was an otter, right?"
Rat nodded.
"There are theories as to where we originated from; each Native American tribe has their own shapeshifter legends, and it's supposed we were born of those figures." He put the tip of his first finger to his chin. "On Dad's side, Lakota Sioux, there's Iktomi, a spider, and Coyote. Mom is very very distantly Lenape, and they have Moskim, a rabbit. Rat, what about your mother?"
Rat shrugged. Haaron sighed, and turned his attention back to Sam. "And that's probably much more than you wanted to know."
"No, no, it's great. I just wish I had something to write it all down on."
"Don't even ask, Haaron. Find it yourself," Rat grumbled.
Haaron stood and left the room, presumably to find a pen and paper.
Sam's cell phone buzzed in his pocket. It was Bobby.
"Sam, I just got off the phone with Daniel Landrick…" he sounded panicked.
Rat and Haaron sat silently through the hurried conversation.