Ten
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Sam wrenched the half-creature, half-Veronica off him. He scrambled across the floor. She snarled and bayed at him, throwing herself at his back.
They went down in a heap. He felt claws in his skin, felt his shoulder burning. He grabbed and pushed. There was a gasp and a crash.
He didn't look back. He pulled himself to his hands and knees and aimed for the door.
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The old man stepped in through the hatchway to the Command Deck, looking around. He whistled in surprise.
"Whoa. Someone needs a few screws in here," he said, surveying the run-down room with a critical eye.
"Don't they," High Command said.
He looked over at her. "So that's what you look like," he nodded with a smile that touched his eyes. "Where's the arrogant asshole then? He must be pretty low on steam by now."
"He is," she nodded. She stepped to one side, holding a hand out toward the stanchion behind her. "He's all yours. I'm just sorry I didn't ask you to do this a year ago."
"I wasn't strong enough a year ago," he admitted quietly. "And he was too strong. Now it's come full circle - leave him to me," he said firmly.
"Good luck," she said gently.
He inclined his head slowly and High Command looked at the assembled girls, watching with worried eyes. She gestured them back toward the exit.
"Don't you worry, ladies," Head of EP said with confidence, no even turning around to check they were leaving. "We'll have this vessel back to normal in no time."
They began to move to the hatchway behind him. He grinned evilly, stepping round the stanchion and finding the figure of Free Will out cold on his back on the desk, his arms out wide.
"Okie dokie," he said, clapping his hands together and rubbing fiercely. He walked straight up to the prone younger copy of himself. He put a hand out and gripped the front of the t-shirt, hauling it up toward him. "Hey," he snapped, slapping harshly at the face. The eyes blinked and rolled in their sockets. "Afternoon, sunshine," he called, his voice dark with maleficence.
"You?" Free Will grunted. "What do you want?"
"I'm here to educate you in the ways of caring and sharing. It's my department, after all," he warned with the same evil smile.
"Oh yeah? Bite me," Free Will spluttered.
"Oh I'll do worse than that," the old man breathed maliciously.
He drew his fist back and slammed it into the young face with all his weight.
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Sam leapt to his feet, turning. The snapping, snarling animalistic girl threw herself at him. He dived to the carpet. She rolled over his back, crashing into the door. She flipped over with superhuman agility and found her feet.
She bounded to the sofa, leaping over it to find--
Sam gone. The room empty.
She whipped round quickly, a deep growl echoing from her throat. Now more fur than girl, she tipped her head back and sniffed at the air. Then she began to slink toward the kitchen.
Claire lifted her head from Dean's lifeless throat, looking at her hand. "Oh shit," she whimpered. "C'mon, Dean! What's going on with you!"
She shuffled round on her knees. She gripped his nose shut, yanking his mouth open.
"Not exactly the way I'd hoped this would happen," she muttered nervously, tipping his head back a little. Then she took a half-breath and leaned down. She sealed her mouth over his and blew.
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Free Will grasped at the t-shirt on his assailant. They grappled for control. Head of EP swung his elbow and it cracked into the younger man's head. The old man gripped either side of the head beneath him. His elbows stuck out to keep the younger man's grip off him.
"Now we'll see who's the 'old man' and who's the whiner," he growled.
"No! Stop! Don't you--"
Head of EP pulled. Free Will was faster. He yanked on his arm. His elbow flew into Head of EP's temple. They went over in a heap.
The assembled spectators winced and growled encouragement as the two men, their only visible difference being age, grappling and struggled on the decking. Free Will shoved himself loose and rolled away. Head of EP's arm shot out. His hand caught the boot. He dragged, using it to pull him to his feet.
Free Will turned on his back, trying to kick at the old man with his other foot. But Head of EP simply grabbed that ankle too. Trapped, Free Will waited. Head of EP yanked and crawled up him. Free Will's boots snapped up and walloped into the old man's chest.
He was propelled off him. He landed on his back, whoomfing to a cracking stop that made the crowd gasp in horror. But he sprang up again with more alacrity than a man of his years should have had. He grabbed the shoulder of the younger man. Free Will was spun around. Head of EP's hands clamped onto either side of his head. His elbows rammed out to protect his grip.
"Why you--!" he growled in fury.
Free Will struggled and tried to push back. "Don't - you - touch--!"
Head of EP yanked on his hands. He drove his forehead down with all his weight.
The assembled girls winced in preparation for the impact.
But there was none.
Instead they watched, transfixed, as the two heads overlapped - as if sharing the same space. It lasted the blink of an eye.
A strange popping sound made them all jump. And then there was just one figure, one man, tumbling to the decking.
High Command and the Pilot raced over. They rolled him onto his back. He was coughing and gasping in air with desperation.
"Easy - easy," High Command instructed, holding his arms down to the floor.
She looked him over, finding him exactly as she remembered Head of Emotional Processing. But as she checked him over, she found he was beginning to look more like Free Will. She looked at the Pilot quickly, who seemed to be having the same trouble identifying the man. For although he had the same almost-spiked hair, the same build, the same clothes, the same lickable freckles over his face, he wasn't young.
But neither was he old.
In fact, the best description she could come up with was… indeterminate. High Command began to smile, even as she looked up at the Pilot, who was trying to keep his shoulders still.
"Which one are you?" the Pilot blurted. "Head of EP or Free Will?"
The man's face, red with exertion and adrenaline, turned to look up at them. He coughed again, but this time he was smiling.
"Both," he panted.
"Both?" all of the women bar High Command chorused.
"Whoa…" he breathed. "Been a while, but suddenly I feel more like me."
"It's so good to have you back in one piece," High Command grinned.
"Back in one piece?" the Pilot asked.
"We were never meant to be split like that. Free Will - he was on a real self-destructive kick," he heaved in disgust.
High Command patted his shoulder. "Well you certainly look more 'together' to me."
"Can I get up now?" he grinned. "I got a vessel to wake up."
The women grinned and pulled on his arms, hauling him to his feet.
"Mmm," he teased. "I could get used to this."
"Just get us ship-shape," High Command grinned.
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Sam edged round the doorframe, padding in his bare feet to the far wall. He felt for the window ledge, his fingers sliding along the painted sill in the hopes of finding a latch.
They did and he paused, listening. Then he bent down and tried to make out the catch in the darkness. His fingertips pressed and pushed, trying to find a way to slide it to either side.
A creak.
He froze, his heart in his mouth. He listened.
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Claire's hands rested on Dean's chest as she counted down to the next compression. She felt a ripple go through the breastbone under her touch. She sprang back just in time as he coughed and spluttered.
"Awww crap," he gasped, apparently in pain.
She grabbed his shoulder nearest her and rolled him onto his side, holding him there as he tried to fall onto his face.
"You're ok, it's ok," she assured him, hearing him cough and suck in air. "Your heart stopped for a moment."
"And you didn't - didn't - rip it out?" he gasped, his head quite comfortable against the carpet.
"Does it look like it?" she demanded. "I just saved your life, Dean Winchester! Now just stay there while I call an ambul--"
"The other - other werewolf!"
"There's another werewolf here?" she asked dumbly.
"Sam!" he coughed.
"Sam's the other werewolf?" she puzzled.
"Not a - a teacher," he wheezed. "We didn't check - check the rest of the staff."
"What are you talking about?" she demanded, completely, uncomfortably, and in every other way, lost.
"She made sure he'd call her - maybe cos she jumped us the night before," he rasped, still sucking in air.
"Who? What?"
"She wanted me out of the - the way!" He coughed raggedly. "Werewolf could be - could be - Veronica!" he panted angrily. He swallowed, still desperate for more air than he could drag in. "Phone - call him!"
She pushed herself up using his shoulder, running to his jacket on the bed. She lifted it and shook it until his phone fell to the blankets. She snatched it up, going to the menu and searching through names.
"Sabrina, Sacha, Salene, Sally, Samantha, Sandy - he's not in here!" she cried, panicking.
"S," he panted, getting his hands under him.
"I'm looking under S!" she protested. "Wait - 'Sasquatch'?"
"Call it!"
"You have your brother in your phonebook under 'Sasquatch'?"
"Call it!"
"Alright! I am! I am!" she gabbled, her fingers moving on the keypad.
Dean managed to get himself sitting up, leaning against the bed with his arms on his knees as he wheezed in air. She heard the line click and jumped in fright, tossing the phone at him. It hit him in the knee and he cursed, snatching it up off the floor and pressing it to his ear.
"Goddamn it, Sam! Answer your friggin' phone!" he snapped at it. "Pain in the ass voicema--. Sam! We checked all the teachers but not the rest of the staff - your date could be the wolf! I'm coming to get you!" He pressed the red key and tossed the phone at his bed.
Claire rushed over and helped him up, dragging him to a stop.
"Wait! You should go to the hospital, check--"
"Are you off your meds?" he demanded shortly, pulling his arm free of her guidance. "Which bit about my brother being on a date with a possible werewolf is not important to you?"
"Do you even know where he is?" she demanded.
"No - but you will," he said. "And it'll answer a few questions on this whole mess." This time his hand went to her arm and he pulled her toward the door with him.
She shook him free and picked up his jacket and phone. "One thing," she said quickly.
"What?"
"I do this - I track her down for you."
"That's the plan!"
"And then you end it for me. I want this to be over," she demanded.
He stared at her for a long moment. "You sure?"
"Never been more sure in my life."
"Let's go." He turned but stopped short. She bumped into him and he turned on her. "Uhm… Is that your car outside?"
"Yeah."
"Keys."
"You are not driving my car!"
"Can you drive and wolf-shift at the same time?"
"Point taken."
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The Pilot ran to the monitors back in Operations Centre. She collided with the stanchion and snatched up the comms mouthpiece.
"All stations! Report in!"
Voices sounded off from around the vessel and she couldn't help grinning.
"Adrenaline Control? How deep is the trouble we're in this time?" she demanded giddily.
"Er - we're not," came the female reply. "All levels are evening out by themselves! We're monitoring and ready to jump in there, but--"
"Afternoon, ladies," came a rather suave male interruption. "Sorry to butt in like this, but High Command and me just want to let you know we've got it all under control."
"EP!" the Pilot grinned.
"Well you're half right," came the pleased response. "Emotional Processing and Free Will have had a kind of merger - a reintegration. This new department, Situational Evaluation, will be manning both stations from now on. Everything else is up to you. You girls have a nice day, now."
The Pilot hung the comms piece up slowly, beginning to laugh in relief as she did so.
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Dean turned the engine over and rammed Claire's Ford into Reverse, screeching out of the motel car park. The nondescript car leapt onto the main road as if kicked, tearing off toward the centre of town.
"She lives somewhere near the school," Claire said hastily from the passenger seat. "I should be able to catch her scent from there!"
He turned the corner, casting a glance up at the sky as he did so. "How does this werewolf thing work? You gonna stick your head out the window to howl and pee on the seats?"
She grinned, shaking her head. "Not if I can help it."
"Good." He looked at her for as long as he dared before putting his attention back on the road. "How wolf do you go?"
"You got your gun on you?" she asked carefully.
"Always."
"Save it for the wolf - and you'd better hope it's Veronica."
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