I don't own Supernatural. Darn. I do own Asher Michaels and this story, excluding the bits from the show. My friend Shauna owns Amelia Shaw, and I am using her in my story with her permission. This fic is rated for violence, blood, language, drinking, sexual situations and, hopefully, some scary shit. I don't know how good I will be at writing scary stuff since I've never actually tried before. Enjoy the stories.
Monster Hospital, Book Three: Werewolves.
Chapter Four: Tracking.
The scene near the depression yielded no more information for Dean, and it wasn't that he didn't look. The older Winchester had spent the rest of the day searching the immediate area and the small town, but he had come up with nothing—the trail he'd been able to follow had disappeared all of six feet from the rim of the depression. Frustrated and angry, Dean had gone back to the motel room where Sam and Amelia were on the phone and internet respectfully, contacting every hunter they could and looking for any information or lore on werewolf packs. Dean hadn't even bothered to ask what they'd come up with. He'd just ordered pizza, had a shower and then dug into said food when it arrived, his thoughts so focused on Asher and what she might be going through or what she might be like now... He remained completely silent, the uncharacteristic state earning him several bizarre looks from Sam and Amelia.
Around midnight, when Sam and Amelia had fallen asleep, Dean climbed out of bed, dressed, and left the motel, intent on driving around and listening for active werewolves. As the Impala pulled out of the parking lot, Amelia and Sam were awoken by the rumbling of the engine, but knowing there was no way to stop Dean or change his mind, they contented themselves with trying to go back to sleep. They would help when they could and right then, Dean needed to get the mad chase out of his system before he could think more clearly.
A ways outside Beaver Falls, Dean pulled the Impala over to the side of the road, killed the engine, and climbed out. The night was calm and quiet and clear; the moon, just this side of full, hung bright above him, surrounded by the bright points of stars. If he hadn't been so distracted, he might have stopped to admire the beauty of the sky above him. As it was, Dean walked into the field he'd stopped beside until he couldn't hear anything except the few insects left in the early autumn. Then he stood as still as he could and listened. And he didn't have to listen for very long.
A ragged scream cut through the air and Dean turned to face it just as the pained noise turned into a long and mournful howl.
He knew it was Asher.
Dean took several steps in the general direction the scream had originated from before he realized there was nothing he could do by himself. He stopped and stood in the furrows of the already-harvested field and stared ahead as other howls joined Asher's, none of them sounding as pained or as sad... they all sounded happy and joyous. There were no lights to indicate the house, but because of the moonlight, the hunter was able to make out the dark shape of the building standing in the middle of nowhere with nothing else around it, not even a shed or barn. Dean made a mental note about the location, and then, reluctantly returned to his car, wishing there was more he could do to help Asher that night; he realized as he marked the gravel of the shoulder so he could find the same spot in the daylight, that he hadn't really expected to find any leads to Asher's whereabouts that night. He hadn't expected to find her yet.
As he climbed behind the wheel and turned the Impala back towards Beaver Falls, he cursed himself. He should have come prepared. He should have woken Sam and Amelia.
Funnily enough, the other two hunters said much the same thing the next morning.
"What were you thinking Dean?" Sam asked.
"What if you'd been attacked!" Amelia interjected.
Dean, who was seated on Asher's bed with the other hunters standing in front of him, just shrugged. "I wasn't thinking, okay? But I heard her. She's still alive," he said with a pointed look at Amelia.
The statement had the effect he had hoped it would. Amelia gaped and her anger faltered, but Sam wasn't going to let his brother get himself off the hook that easily. Sam shot an apologetic look at Amelia and then glared at Dean. "How can you be sure it was her you heard?"
"I just know it." Dean sighed and rubbed his hands over his face. He didn't know how to explain how he knew it was Asher, just as he wasn't sure how he'd been able to identify Asher at the scene in the depression.
"I believe you, Dean."
He looked up at Amelia and they had one of those moments of understanding, where they knew what each other had experienced with regards to Asher; Sam didn't have the same connection to the werewolf as the other two did, he wasn't as close to her. "Thanks Amelia," Dean said. He wanted to add that her support didn't really help, that they didn't know the situation surrounding Asher, and that he wasn't even sure if they would be able to save her when they found her. But that would require Dean to explain what he had found at the depression, and he didn't really want to bring that into light yet. Maybe he wouldn't have to. "We should head back out to that house and see what we can see," he said, standing up and forcing Sam and Amelia to take a few steps back.
"You and Amelia can go. I'm going to go and talk to a few people in town and see if they saw who or what was responsible for the attacks." Sam sighed and ran the fingers of one hand back through his hair. "If it is the wolves who are attacking people, we should be out of the woods for now."
Dean and Amelia nodded and then the group of hunters fell into silence as they moved around the room, preparing for the day ahead. Sam changed into his black suit and fished around in the box for his FBI ID; recently, it had been remade with help from Amelia. Dean and Amelia armed themselves with two guns each, one with regular ammunition and one with silver bullets. Dean also brought Asher's shotgun, loaded with buckshot. If they did rescue her, she wouldn't want to be without a weapon. Amelia also thought to through a change of clothes into a bag. She knew Asher and her transformations better than anyone and she assured Dean that if she had in fact changed even once, she would need clothes. While this concept greatly interested Dean, he didn't say anything about it. It was about nine in the morning when the hunters were ready. Sam took the Impala to drive around town and Amelia and Dean climbed into Asher's massive truck, the engine roaring rather loudly in the morning air. Amelia let Dean drive because she was still rather flustered by her sister's absence and possible danger and didn't think she'd be able to drive very well.
The day was mild but overcast, conditions favourable for daylight hunting. The drive out of Beaver Falls and into the countryside was done in silence, but Dean was able to find the spot where he'd parked without much difficulty. He parked the truck on the side of the road and he and Amelia, armed for bear—or wolf as it were—strode into the empty field, the house that was their target clearly visible a short distance away.
"You think that's where she is?" Amelia asked, her voice guarded.
Dean nodded. "That's the only building around here, and I know that's the direction I heard the howl from. I suppose I could be wrong, but we should definitely check it out."
"It's better than what I had before you got here." Amelia sighed and looked at Dean. A stray breeze blew her pale hair around her head and nearly tugged the cowboy hat from her head, but she clamped it back down. "Thank you Dean."
"For what?"
She shrugged. "For not being afraid to show that you care about her, I guess."
"Oh. Yeah, well... you're welcome, I guess."
Sam didn't like to admit that he was afraid, but the big man he was supposed to interview next scared him. He was tall and bulky—all muscle, no fat—and there was something inherently... wolfish about him. Something about his pale eyes and the way his greying brown hair surrounded his square face. Currently, he was sitting in a booth in a bar, having agreed to meet with the "FBI" only if he could have a drink while he did so. Sam had agreed, getting the gut feeling that told him this man would have some information. Whether it would be of any use remained to be seen.
The younger Winchester walked into the bar, the lone establishment of its kind in Beaver Falls. "Are you Richard Green?" Sam asked as he approached the man.
He nodded and cleared his throat with a rough growl. "I am. You the fed?" Sam nodded and sat down in the booth across from the man. "So what does a fed want with a bunch of animal attacks?" he asked, draining whatever the drink was in his hands.
Sam was a little put off by the man drinking this early in the day—although, he supposed, it was getting closer to lunch time. Sure enough, as he waited for the answer, Richard waved over a very haggard-looking waitress and ordered a sandwich and basket of fries. Realizing he was a little hungry, Sam ordered a sandwich as well. "We don't believe they are animal attacks," Sam answered once the two men were alone again. "We've connected the murders here to a string of murders and attacks in the area." It was the common answer he and Dean always fell back on it.
Problem was Richard Green didn't seem to be buying into it as readily as most did.
"Is that so?" he asked, one corner of his mouth pulled into a sneer.
Sam nodded, playing into the FBI charade. He had no other options—telling the truth was always the very last resort and never used except in the most extreme of cases. "I know how unbelievable it sounds, Mr. Green. I'm just interested to know if you saw anything when the attacked happened by your house."
The sandwiches came then and Richard paused to prepare the sandwich and fries the way he liked them. When he was satisfied and had taken several bites, he answered the question. "Nope. I wasn't home that night. I was out hunting."
Richard Green didn't seem overly worried about the murders in Beaver Falls and that made Sam suspicious. But what could he do about it? Nothing without drawing suspicion onto himself. He sighed and dug into his sandwich as he tried to think of what to say next. Were there anymore questions he could ask? "Do you know anyone who saw anything? Anyone that would be willing to talk about it?" he asked. Last-ditch effort.
Mr. Green shook his hairy head, something in his wolfish eyes gleaming. "Nope."
The expression gave Sam the sense that the man was hiding something, but how to get it out of him? Sam leaned across the table slightly and narrowed his eyes. "You're not telling me something, Mr. Green. What are you hiding? Who are you protecting?"
"I ain't protecting no one."
"But you are hiding something."
"Everyone is hiding something," Richard replied, his lips stretching back across his yellowish teeth in a sinister grin. "But I'm not telling you my secrets, boy."
Sam huffed, realizing his wasn't going to get anything out of this man after all. "Fine, Mr. Green." He got up from the table and dropped a couple bills on the table, just enough to cover the bill and tip; he didn't really think the waitress would get the tip. Without waiting for the wolfish man to say anything else, Sam turned and walked back out of the bar, hoping that Amelia and Dean had found something useful. He would have to keep an eye on Mr. Green though... Sam settled into the Impala and drove around the block, parking somewhere where he could see the bar from, but he wouldn't be immediately obvious to anyone exiting the building.
The house turned out to be farther away than Dean had judged, and the sun was past its midway point by the time they reached the shabby building. It was a two-storey farmhouse, not unlike the one the group of hunters had encountered when dealing with a massive nest of vampires, except this one was in slightly better shape. The whitewashed siding was peeling, and there were a few cracked windows, but the door was firmly locked and the house seemed quite stable; the grass had even been cut at some point in the last month, but it couldn't hide the trampled look, the paths cut clear through the lawn to the nearby woods. There were no cars anywhere, but when you could run on four legs, why have a car?
"This looks like the place," Dean said with grim satisfaction as he ran his fingertips along cuts in the wood of the porch. "Definitely animals around here."
Amelia was standing a little ways away with her eyes closed, one hand on her gun. "She's here."
Dean nodded and walked away from the house, grabbing Amelia's arm as he moved. When she gave him what-the-hell-are-you-doing look, he said, "We can't just barge in. We don't know what or who else is in there and we don't know what state of mind Asher is in. She could be... all wolf."
"She's not."
"I don't want to think so either, Amelia, but she could—"
"She's not."
Dean sighed and nodded. "Okay, but we still can't just run in there." He manoeuvred his cell phone out of his pocket and hit the speed dial commands for Sam's phone. "Sam, where are you?"
"I'm following the last man I interviewed. He's driving out in your direction."
"Do you think he's connected to Asher somehow?"
"I don't know, but I don't think it would be a huge leap. If you two are at the house, stay hidden. In fact, leave. He'll probably smell you, if he is a werewolf."
"Good idea. Let me know what happens. We'll go back to the truck."
"What?" Amelia snapped. "We can't leave!"
Dean hung up the phone and returned it to his pocket before shooting Amelia a glare. "We can't hang around. Sam's following a guy back this way and thinks he might be a werewolf. If he is, he'll find us and likely kill us. So let's go back to the truck, okay?"
Amelia sighed heavily and nodded, pushing to her feet and starting a slow jog back across the field. Dean followed suit, looking over his shoulder every once in a while to make sure they weren't being followed; once, he could have sworn he saw a face in one of the windows of the house, but by that point they were fairly far away and he couldn't be sure. They reached the truck and climbed back into the cab, Amelia immediately reaching under the passenger's seat to retrieve a pair of binoculars, which she used to peer back towards the house.
"I see an SUV and the Impala a ways behind it," she said after a couple minutes.
"He'd better not wreck my car," Dean muttered, earning himself a nasty look from his younger companion.
Amelia turned back to the scene across the field, binoculars pressed against her eyes. She pulled off her hat so she could more easily use the tool. "The man's gone into the house."
Dean's phone rang at that moment. "Sam?"
"Yeah. Did he just walk into the house you were checking out?"
"Yup."
"So he's our guy?"
"One of them, anyway."
"Are we going to head back to the motel to figure out a plan?"
"That's probably a good idea. See you."
Dean once again returned his phone to his pocket. Ignoring the dissatisfied look on Amelia's face, and the knot of guilt in his gut at leaving Asher behind, Dean started the truck and made the journey back to their motel in Beaver Falls. Again, they rode in silence, this time filled with anger instead of apprehension, and when they were in the relative privacy of their motel room, Amelia unleashed that anger.
"Why didn't we stay? Why didn't we go in there? They're just human!" she barked, throwing her things on her bed and stomping across the room to stare out the window. "She could be being tortured. She could be in pain! We can't leave her out there any longer!"
Sam, who had been at the motel when Dean and Amelia had arrived, walked over to Amelia and started speaking to her in hushed tones, trying to calm her down. But it didn't really matter, because Dean already felt terribly guilty and Amelia was right. They couldn't leave Asher out there anymore. The wolves shouldn't be able to change without the full moon, but if this was a pack, it was something they had never encountered before, and Asher had shown the Winchesters that they far from knew everything about werewolves; it wasn't a huge leap to think these wolves might be able to change without the moon. Dean dropped onto Asher's bed and put his head in his hands.
"What the hell do you want me to do, Sam?" Amelia snapped. "Pretend that my sister might not be injured or dead or a fucking animal?"
"I didn't say that—"
"I don't care what you said. I'm going after her. I'm sick of pussyfooting around these wolves." Amelia marched towards the door, slipping her guns and knives into place as she moved.
Dean followed her silently, arming as he walked as well. The gun and clothes for Asher were still in the truck, but Amelia added the silver chains to the load as well, just in case. After a moment, Sam sighed and joined them, the trio climbing into the truck without anymore words to each other. They didn't have a plan; they were just going to get Asher out of there.
Author's Note.
Another chapter done! Yay!
So, going by the current plans, there are 20 fics for Supernatural: 10 books and 10 one-shots. I have no idea if I'll ever get all those done, but I can hope. There's some really great stuff in there that I want to write. So we'll see.
Enjoy.
Next Chapter: Bestiality.