Chapter Eight: Alive
Sam pushed through the crowd of students, staring straight ahead, thinking only of the shapeshifter that could be any of his classmates.
Someone shoved him and Sam stumbled.
"Hey, watch it!"
"Sorry," Sam muttered, distractedly.
He made it to his locker and slipped his pack off his back, wrestling it into the narrow space.
"Hey, Sam!" the boy turned around and saw Russell moving through the crowd toward him.
"Hi," Sam greeted the other boy and smiled.
Russell leaned against a locker and ran a hand through his pale, spiky hair.
"So, you coming to Homeroom today?" he asked with a wry grin.
Sam shrugged, "I was kind of late yesterday; didn't see the point."
"Hey, that's alright, Civics with Mr. Dawson is boring as Hell; you didn't miss much, trust me," Russell assured him.
The first bell rang but neither boy moved.
"So, I was wondering, a few friends and me were gonna go down to the park after school, maybe play some basketball and, well, maybe you'd like to come along? I mean, there's only three of us and if you agreed than we could have two-on-two," Russell asked, awkwardly.
Sam really wanted to say yes, but he knew that his father would disapprove. He'd already been socializing instead of looking for the shifter and he was sure playing a few rounds of basketball after school would count as going way off the reservation.
"Sorry, I can't… but thanks anyway," Sam apologized, hoping Russell didn't see the desperately eager look on his face.
"Aw, that's alright," Russell said, "Maybe some other time."
"Yeah," Sam muttered, knowing there wouldn't be another time.
His gaze shifted. He wanted to be friends with Russell, he really did, but he knew that as soon as his Dad had killed the shapeshifter they would move again.
Sam's view traveled upward, admiring the ceiling tiles painted by the students.
"Russell?"
"Yeah?" The blond boy's gaze followed Sam's, his blue eyes confused.
"Are those cameras?" Sam pointed to a round, black half-circle in the corner where ceiling and cinderblock wall met.
"Why, do you like having your picture taken?" Russell smiled jokingly.
"I know someone who doesn't," Sam muttered to himself and pulled his backpack from his locker, not even pausing to close it as he began making his way toward the exit.
"Where are you going?" Russell called after him.
"Mr. Sullivan, I trust you are heading to Homeroom?" Sam heard Mrs. Gates call out to Russell from down the hall.
This is it! Sam thought happily as he ran out the door, this is how we'll find the shapeshifter!
W
"Dad!" Sam cried breathlessly, having run the entire way back to the motel. He couldn't have been more excited to see the Impala still sitting in its parking spot.
"Dad! Guess what I've found!" Sam pushed the motel door open and stumbled inside.
"Why aren't you at school? Did something happen?" John stood and stood imposingly in front of his son.
"Hell yeah something happened!" Sam couldn't help but smile.
"What?" John snapped.
"The school has security cameras! I think we'll be able to see the shifter on at least one of them… see the eye-flare, you know," Sam explained.
John reached out and gripped his son's shoulder, "I'll drive you back to school and talk to the principal, get a look at that footage."
Sam couldn't help but be proud of himself; John hadn't actually given any praise but Sam thought he must be happy with him. He had finally done something right.
W
Sam peered out of the Impala's rain-streaked window at the mansion-like house across the street. His father was sitting in the driver's seat, his dark eyes likewise glued to residence of Mr. and Mrs. Vern Cameron.
While watching the junior high's security footage, John had seen the shapeshifter, masquerading as Natasha Cameron, a girl in Sam's Homeroom.
Wasting no time, John had pulled Sam from his classes on the pretense of a dentist appointment. Instead, the two had gone back to their motel to prepare.
His father had insisted they watch the Cameron house because they didn't know when exactly the shifter was going to make its move. Sam had argued, not wanting to get caught snooping around outside someone's house but John had swayed his son by telling him that lives were in danger- what would happen if the shapeshifter killed the Camerons because they hadn't been there to stop it?
They had been sitting in the car for the past two hours and Sam was staring to think that nothing was going to happen- he wasn't looking forward to coming back night after night until the shifter decided to attack- when suddenly all the lights in the house went out.
"Shit," John muttered and opened the car door.
Sam scrambled out after his father.
"Let's go," John ordered and both father and son made their way silently, swiftly toward the house.
John motioned to his son and he opened the wooden fence into the backyard.
Sam barely had time to notice the manicured flower gardens; thick golf course-like lawn and in-ground pool before sliding open the patio door.
Dumb luck, Sam thought as he silently closed the door after his father.
Both Winchesters turned on their flashlights and peered around at the living room furniture.
John pressed a finger to his lips and Sam nodded.
The house was quiet- not a good sign- and Sam felt his heart begin to beat rapidly in his chest.
John pushed his son forward a little and together they walked through the quiet house.
Gripping his flashlight in one hand and gun loaded with silver rounds in the other; all Sam could think about was the hunt for the baobhan sith and how that had ended.
This will be different; Sam told himself; it has to be.
The living room was empty and so they made their way toward the kitchen. Sam froze when his sneakers squelched in something wet. Panning the beam of his flashlight down, Sam stared at a dark red pool spread along the slate floor.
Sam jumped when his father grabbed his shoulder.
John shook his head.
With his father's hand still on his shoulder, Sam was guided away from the scene.
John's flashlight beam swept across the kitchen, illuminating the body of Vern Cameron, a bullet wound in the back of his head leaking blood and grey matter.
Sam felt his stomach clench at the sight and fought hard not to puke. His hands shook, flashlight beam wobbling and gun shivering.
A sudden movement made Sam jump and John ran after it, stomping down the hallway into another part of the house.
"Dad!" Sam whispered loudly. His heart hammered in his chest, his grip slipped on his flashlight and he almost dropped it.
Sam followed his father, his footsteps light and quick.
There was a bang! and Sam's feet picked up the pace of their own accord, "DAD!"
No, no, no… not again, please; Sam begged silently as he rushed down the corridor, knocking over a spindly end-table and sending a blue and white vase crashing to the floor.
He saw his father sprawled on the carpet and the shifter duck out through a ground-floor window.
"Dad! Dad are you okay?" Sam went down on his knees beside his father. He saw blood soaking his father's shirt.
John groaned and clutched his shoulder, "Go get the shifter, Sam! Go! I'll be right behind you! Now!"
Sam leaped up dashed to the window, dropping his flashlight as he slithered through the open pane and dashed down the street, following the sounds of running footfalls in the dark.
It had begun to rain again and water splashed up to Sam's knees as he chased the monster.
Sam stopped in front of a seedy-looking alley, shaking his soaking bangs out of his eyes and tightening his grip on his gun.
He heard a low scraping sound and peered through the gloom to see a manhole cover slip back into place.
Shit, it's in the frigging sewer; Sam thought but steeled himself. He would do this; Sam would prove himself the hunter his father never thought he could be.
Sam went down on his knees and tugged at the cover. His fingers couldn't get purchase on the wet metal.
"Damn you," Sam muttered and sat back on his haunches. He wiped his forearm across his brow and leant down to try again when heavy footsteps alerted him to someone approaching.
Sam leaned back against the brick wall of a Thai food restaurant that made up one side of the alleyway, willing himself invisible.
A large figure stood silhouetted in the mouth of the alley.
"Dad," Sam hissed and John started at his son's voice.
Sam pointed a finger down at the manhole. John nodded and went down on one knee. Grunting with exertion, Sam's father shifted the cover until the opening was wide enough for Sam to wiggle through.
Sam came forward and climbed down the sewer, feet slipping precariously on the slippery metal rungs that served as a ladder for city and sanitation workers.
The light above was obscured as John made his way down after his son.
Sam's feet splashed into some unknown liquid and he squinted in the dim illumination. He wished he hadn't lost his flashlight.
The beam of John's torch cast a glow on the slime-covered walls and floor of the sewer pipe.
"Which way did it go?" John muttered, mostly to himself.
There was a fork; without being told Sam turned toward the left one, "I'll go down here."
"You see anything that isn't me, shoot it," John instructed and took off down the right tunnel at a jog.
In the gathering darkness, Sam searched through his pockets and brought out a lighter, not a great one- just a plastic Zippo lighter Dean had given him from some convenience store- and flicked it on.
The lighting was dim, Sam was barely able to see a foot in front of his nose, but at least he wasn't stumbling around blindly in a sewer.
Sam's eyes skimmed the walls and floor, worried about being ambushed. He tried to stay quiet but his already soggy sneakers squished on the cement and splashed through smelly puddles.
W
Sam checked his watch, he had been wandering around the sewer for almost twenty minutes without seeing or hearing anything.
He had to find that shapeshifter! He just had to!
"Sam!" The boy turned around at the sound of his father's voice.
"Dad, did you find it?" Sam asked as John hurried over to him.
"Yeah, it's dead," John nodded, "Let's get out of here."
Sam turned to head back the way he came when his father grabbed the back of his shirt and threw him against the wall. Sam let out a cry of surprise as his knees buckled underneath him and he skinned his hands on the cement floor.
Sam peered up at his father looming up at him, "Dad?"
"Yes, Sammy?" The shapeshifter's eyes flashed catlike in the gloom and Sam's heart skipped a beat.
"You're not Dad!" Sam gasped as the monster grabbed his collar and pulled him up, holding him against the wall.
"Well… I am now," the shapeshifter smiled.
Sam's eyes darted downward, searching hopelessly for his gun.
"Let go of me!" Sam swung his fists at the monster, catching the shifter's jaw with a right hook and felt like he'd just punched a piece of marble.
"Aw Sammy, don't you wanna know all about Daddy? Don't you want to know what Daddy really thinks of you?" The shapeshifter mocked.
1. Edited by BerserkerHellHound- you're the best, sis!
2. Thanks to cold kagome, AmaraRae, SPN Mum, Samstruck, OtakTouch, and LeighAnnWallace for reviewing.
3. Thanks to everyone who favourited or alerted.
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