A/N: Hello, dear friends! I was a little hesitant to go this way with this chapter. This entire story is going in a different direction than I had planned, but hopefully for the better. THIS IS A REALLY LONG CHAPTER AGAIN. SORRY!
-If you don't like graphic stuff, this probably isn't for you. The real nastiness isn't here yet, but we're getting up there.
-I love my reviewers! Keep 'em coming! If I had time I would personally respond to each and every one of you, but know that I read every single one of your reviews and I give you air-hugs for them!
Here you are, hope you like!
Chapter Six: A Helping Hand
"Dean!" Sam hissed, clawing his way through an especially unruly grove of prickly leaves. "Dean, slow down," A branch was snapped backwards into his face, and Sam's nose barely missed pulverization-by-leaf.
Sam sighed, following his brother through thicket after thicket of brambly woods. He knew that Dean was hurt worse than him, and it worried him that his brother would rather pass out from exhaustion than take a five-minute break.
"Sam, do you want to find Dad before a werewolf eats him or not?" Dean's voice rang hollow through the dense pocket of trees they were now encroaching. Sam knew that Dean's crude humor was by no means meant to be cruel. He's more concerned than he'll let on.
It had been almost two hours since they had last heard the cry of the werewolf, and it was making Dean wary. He knew he was taking a chance by drawing them out, but he saw no other option to finding their father. They had tried his cell again, but it rang without luck.
Then, Sam thought tiredly, Dean came up with the brilliant plan of scouting the woods. For what? Who knows. Maybe they were looking for werewolves. Maybe they were looking for Dad. Dean either didn't come up with the rest of his plan, or there was some hidden logic in thrashing about aimlessly in the park's forest. Yeah, right.
"We've been here before," Sam rested his forehead against the bark of a tree in front of him, trying to catch his breath. "We're going in circles, Dean,"
Dean spun around, wincing at the sudden pain in his back. Wonder how Sam feels about dried blood sticking your shirt to the rest of your body. Sam had fashioned a makeshift bandage from their father's ruined jacket to stop the bleeding on Dean's hand, and he didn't give it a second thought. With a gun tucked securely into the waistband of his jeans and a knife grasped tightly in his bandaged, bloody hand, Dean looked the part of the tragic hero.
For once, Dean had no response to his brother. He dropped to the ground, gingerly resting his back against the smooth bark of a pretty, flowering tree. Sam followed suit, facing away from Dean. He lay his head on his knees, arms wrapped securely around his legs.
"We're never gonna find him."
"Come on, Sammy, the forest isn't that big," Dean replied bracingly. He would never tell that he was thinking the exact same thing.
"If anything, the werewolves'll find us first,"
"Not if we catch 'em beforehand,"
"Dean, they already know we're here,"
"Yeah, but they don't know where,"
"Wasn't that part of your plan? To make noise or something so they would attack and we would be ready?"
"It was," Dean gave no more than that. It would have been a good idea, Dean thought, his mind succumbing to his pain. If only we weren't so god damned tired.
"So you mean to tell me," Sam's voice rose as his anger mounted. "That we've been trekking the woods for no reason at all?"
"How the hell else are we supposed to find Dad if we don't look for him!" Dean shouted these words at his brother's back, rising suddenly. "You just expect him to appear? Or maybe the werewolves'll drop off a nice Dad package for us, whole and complete! Is that what you think? Snap out of it, this isn't something that you can fix by reading a damn book and knowing what's in it! Nothing's gonna help us now but our experience, Sammy! And that means looking for Dad, because he's not just gonna drop out of the sky because we want him to!"
Sam had turned completely around, his mouth hanging open. He wasn't sure if he followed his brother's logic, but he knew there was a point to it.
"You're scared, aren't you?"
"No," came the very unconvincing response from the oldest Winchester. His face was a pinkish hue. "I'm just freaking out a little, okay?"
"Okay," Sam said softly, watching Dean carefully. We have to find Dad, Sam thought.
We don't even know if he's alive, came an unwelcome thought. We're putting ourselves in danger without even knowing the circumstances. Something inside Sam still hoped that there would be a completely rational explanation for all of this. Maybe the werewolves don't have Dad. Maybe they don't even know he's here. Maybe he just tore his jacket…
Shut up. That's never the way it is.
All of a sudden, Sam froze. He knew very clearly what would happen next, and he opened his mouth to warn Dean. But before he knew it, Dean was on his feet, gun pointing towards the monstrously large creature that had just emerged, snarling, from the deep underbrush. We didn't even hear it coming.
Jesus Christ, Dean thought subconsciously. That has to be the biggest motherfucker I have ever seen.
The werewolf was at least ten feet tall, with limbs as large as the tree trunks beside it. Sam scrambled to his feet, fingers grasping at the revolver in his back pocket. His hands shook as he aimed, not knowing what good the regular bullets would do against the silently moving giant.
"Sammy," Dean whispered out of the corner of his mouth. "Sammy, don't move,"
Duh, Sam thought.
The werewolf grunted. It sniffed the air, dropping onto all fours. Every fiber in Dean's body screamed Shoot the bitch already! but for some reason, his finger remained loose on the trigger. He felt that by killing this creature, he would lose any connection to finding out what happened to their father. Dean spotted the matted, bloody fur on the haunch of the werewolf. It looked as if it had already fought with something, but Dean and Sam knew that this wasn't one of the werewolves that attacked them.
It was then that the thing most unexpected occurred. Right in front of their eyes, the werewolf twitched, falling onto the ground. It whimpered a silent whimper, its fur already growing back into its skin. Slowly but steadily, long, pointed ears were replaced with human ears, and claws and paws turned into hands and feet. The creature shuddered, all of a sudden not a creature anymore. It was a human. The person was shrouded in darkness, and the boys couldn't get a good look at it.
Holy…was all Dean could come up with. With a glance at Sam, he began edging forward, ignoring his brother's frantic gestures to stand down.
Without warning, the person struggled to his feet, completely naked. It was then that the moonlight hit the human, and Dean took a step back in shock. It wasn't a he. It's a she.
She looked no more than twenty five years of age, with luminous white skin and dark black hair that seemed to conduct electricity on its own. Her eyes were wide in pain and fear, and she clutched the gash running along her side. She had no modesty in covering herself, and her eyes landed on Dean, who instantly raised the gun at her face.
Without delay, the girl lifted her hands above her head. "I want to help you," she rasped in a voice of dangerous innocence. "I am too weak to fight. I know what happened to your father,"
Sam was hearing this all through a daze. Never before had he heard of a werewolf mutating out of want.
"How…how did you do that?" He stuttered out. The she-wolf turned her eyes onto him, and he felt her laser eyes pierce his chest.
"We are a very powerful group. That was the last of my strength, as I am no longer welcomed as one of them,"
She put her hands down to her side, wincing at the injury running the length of her body. It hadn't been visible in her other form as being so extensive. Dean's eyes widened at the sight of her blood. It was lustrous silver, flowing like teardrops out of her body.
"Your father injured Yaswan. He is our leader, and without him, there is no one to take over the pack,"
"Why are you telling us this?" Dean practically spat at her. "You're one of them!"
"But I'm the only one who didn't want to be." Her sad gaze locked with Dean's ferocious one. "And now, it is the end of my life. I know it, I can feel it. And I can redeem myself by helping you,"
"Why should we trust you?" Unknowingly, Dean had moved in front of his brother. The girl noticed this as well.
"I have no wish to harm the little one, or yourself for that matter. You are stronger than me, as I am drawing my last breaths,"
"Where's our father?" Dean barked, knowing he should not be taking the advice of this woman-creature. She talks like Yoda, man. This is the weirdest thing that's ever happened to me, bar none.
"All I know is that he injured Yaswan. The group grew restless, and we can't kill or feed without Yaswan taking the first bite; it's a rule. So we settled on maiming the innocents that roamed the woods. It gave the others satisfaction, but I am the one with a little bit of human still in her. That is why they shot me, with one of your stolen weapons. Because I objected to their decisions,"
She took a breath and continued, her face pearly-white in the glow of the moon.
"Your father was hunting for Yaswan because he knew that once he died, the rest of us would die too. Our powers are all bound together, and if the leader perishes, the pack will follow. We are starving, as we have not fed in a while. If you father falls victim to my kinsmen, he will be consumed first by Yaswan, then rationed out to the others."
Dean swallowed, a lump growing in his throat. He pictured his father being devoured by these monsters. No way. His hand shook imperceptibly on the gun. No freaking way.
"How do you know he's our father? Why are you so different from other werewolves? Where did you get your power?" Sam darted questions at her, watching the girl drop to her knees in pain. His face constricted along with hers.
We can't do anything for her, Sammy, Dean sent a mental message to his brother. It's her time to go.
She smiled a gentle, sorrowful smile, her hair lifting off her back in the breeze.
"I cannot answer many of those questions. We are a mystical group, and I do not know all the answers myself. All I know is that they know you're here, and they are looking for your father as well. They do not want to die, so they will kill your father and bring him to Yaswan to renew his energy. You must hurry. You do not have much time. I cannot help you more. Stay out of danger, and save your father. Otherwise, the natural order will be upset—as our breed takes over. There is no hope without you, and your father needs your help. Good luck, children of the earth. I return to where from I came,"
Dean and Sam lowered their guns simultaneously as the breeze picked up around them. The girl bowed her head, raven colored hair whipping about her face. Her naked body shone with a luminescence that Dean knew he would not forget. As her silvery blood dried, she let out a pitiful howl and in an instant, dissolved into powdery silver ashes.
Sam's mouth was open. He stared at the spot where the werewolf had been.
Guess the books don't know everything after all.
Dean had never, in his many years of hunting, seen something so utterly frightening yet maddeningly beautiful. She was a curse, a blemish; yet she cleansed herself in the end. Can we trust her? Dean couldn't figure that one out. Her story made sense; it explained why the weapons were stolen, and why they weren't killed by the wolves already. Because they just want to kill Dad. Oh, shit.
Sam's mouth moved wordlessly for a second before audible sounds actually emerged.
"Whaa…"
"Yeah," Dean remarked, squatting down next to the silvery ashes. "I really don't have anything to say…"
"What did she mean—her breed would take over?"
"It means," Dean paused to gingerly prod the ashes, only stopping at Sam's grunt of protest. "It means that the fate of humanity rests in our hands. Basically," Dean tried to shoot a trademark grin at his brother, but found that it fell somewhat short.
"What?" Sam gasped, coughing as spittle caught in his throat.
"You saw how powerful these werewolves can be. They're not normal werewolves; they're evolved. If we don't stop them they can destroy humans, if all of them are as powerful or more powerful than that werewolf. And we're wasting time here. Unless you want your kids to be were-babies, we're gonna kill this Yaswan dude," Hopefully, before the werewolves find Dad.
"Do you trust her?"
Dean thought for a moment. "She was dying; there was no reason for her not to tell the truth,"
"This is way more than I bargained for. I just thought that we would have to drag a stubborn Dad out of here!" Didn't think we would have to save the day.
"It's up to us, Sammy," Dean walked over to his brother, the gun staying in his hand. "You ready to do this?"
"Can you really be ready for this, Dean?"
"Nope," Dean said cockily, throwing his head up to the sky. He tried not to belie his feelings of insanity at the moment. Taking on a pack of werewolves with two fucking clips of silver bullets. Oh, by the way, according to the now-vaporized werewolf chick, they're all magical in some way. That just makes everything better, doesn't it. "And we don't even have a plan. But we're gonna blow these bitches outta their comfort zone. We have a slight advantage, because I get the feeling that they don't think we're a threat,"
"Dean, they attacked us. Why would they do that if we weren't a threat?" Sam said bluntly. Dean turned sharp eyes on his brother.
"Duh, dipshit, their leader's hurt and they don't know what else to do. Confused werewolves are more dangerous than the regulars. Can you believe they shot one of their own?" Dean shook his head. It's a lot to take in, especially in five minutes.
"There's regulars?" Sam suppressed a grin at the look on Dean's face, knowing that his brother was trying to be serious. Dean would never let on that he was shaken by the werewolf's—girl's—knowledge and demise, but Sam knew. Sam always knew.
"They have our weapons. We have two clips of silver bullets, a knife, and regular bullets. Against a freaking pack of werewolves. You know, one bite and you start growing hair in places you never had before?" No matter how hard he tried, Sam found it hard to believe that they could defeat this.
Where did he learn to be this sarcastic? Dean pondered.
"Maybe growing that hair in those places would be good for you, Sammy," Dean snarked right back at his brother.
Sam harrumphed in reply, shuffling his feet.
"So what next?"
"What do you think?"
Sam sighed for the millionth time. "Right, sorry, I forgot your master plan. We surprise the werewolves with our crazy kung-fu abilities, hopefully before they get to Dad, and annihilate the entire magical clan, whom did I mention have superpowers? Oh, and if they do have Dad, we have to save him as well as our own asses,"
"But we have something else that they don't have," Dean bent down to tie his shoelace as he said these words to his brother.
"What's that," Sam stated in a bored manner, expecting something along the lines of Dean the Great.
"Each other." Dean said this without a smirk on his face, standing suddenly and studying his brother. He looks like Dad.
Sam smiled a little, taken aback. He knew just what his brother wanted to say. "I love you too, Dean,"
"Hot damn! It's not like we're on our deathbeds! Now, come on. I have a feeling that if we follow that were-chick's trail, we'll find our 'wolves," Dean brushed off the gravity of the situation, knowing full well exactly what could happen. No plan, no gear, no idea just how powerful these werewolves are. No Dad.
But we still have a fighting chance.
Sam hurried his pace to match his brother's as they crossed into the thicket from which the girl werewolf had emerged. If that was the size of the girl, wonder what the leader looks like.
"So why weren't the werewolves that attacked us that big?" Sam piped up from Dean's side as he stopped by entrance to the next patch of woods. Dean gritted his teeth as he bent to once again, tie his untied shoelace. Damn, werewolf claws hurt. Especially on the back.
"I don't know. Maybe they had been starving for a long time. Maybe they were the runts of the pack. Maybe they were kids. Maybe the woman that went poof in front of us was just abnormally large. Maybe…"
"Okay, okay," Sam stopped Dean's tirade, waiting patiently by his side while his brother tore maniacally at the stubborn shoelace, pistol by his side.
"Alright," Dean grunted, slowly and painfully straightening his back. "Sammy, no matter what, stay behind me, okay? You need to keep an eye out for Dad,"
"Dean, stop trying to protect me,"
"I'm not!" Dean acted insulted. "It's just that…uh…"
"I get it," Sam hid his smile with his shirt sleeve as Dean's cheeks darkened.
"Good."
The duo proceeded in silence, their footfalls making only a slight noise on the soft, dead leaves beneath their feet.
Time's running out, Dean thought worriedly, sticking his gun in his jeans pocket and replacing it with his knife. He studied the rusty-looking, bloodied edge. He hadn't noticed before, but the blood on the blade was silver. How come we didn't know they don't bleed red? Grimly, he hacked away with his knife at a wayward branch, clearing the way for his brother behind him.
We don't know a lot of things.
Our entire family's in danger.
We're in over our heads here, and there's nothing we can do to remedy that.
Oh my, I wonder what'll happen next! I'm ducking rotten vegetables from my disappointed fans…namely, my chihuahua. Tell me what you think- please review!
Next chapter on it's way!