Hunter of the Shadows Book 3

Enemy at the Door.

Chapter 7

Introducing James Purefoy as Marcus, Lord Alpha of the Canadian pack.

You might remember him from his portrayal of Mark Anthony in HBO's Rome; he has also starred in Solomon Kane, Resident Evil,

and played the Black Prince in A Knight's Tale.

And just because I love you all so much, I have thrown in another much loved character last seen in season one.

Now…

"That place was huge," Sam comments, chewing absently on a piece of lettuce. "I remember when you guys showed me around later. And it was a completely different way of life to the Home pack."

"Better or worse?" asks Tobius, watching his boys with amusement.

"Not better, as such," replies Sam and glances at Dean.

"Not worse either," Dean nods in agreement. "Just… different, I guess. Though, the Canadian Pack at least gets HBO Afterdark."

"One is nomadic, stays as far away from mankind as it can get, and kind of still lives in the Stone Age," says Sam, deliberately ignoring the HBO comment. "But the other has kept in touch with the rest of the world all these years, and moved with it."

"And if you could choose…?" Tobius raises an eyebrow. One gets the impression he already knows the answer, but he's interested regardless.

"Neither," Sam and Dean answer together.

"Well, I wouldn't mind spending a little quality time with either pack," says Dean, seriously. "They are family, after all. The Home Pack are great outdoor wolves, cunning, loyal, and would give their lives for each other. Their pack outlook is uncomplicated: eat, sleep, mate, keep each other safe, move on. They're happy, so long as the rest of the world leaves them alone. The Canadian wolves? Different story. They're almost domesticated, but in a good way. They have a lot we can learn about pack politics and the history of werewolves, and I know Sammy here spent some hours in the archives with all those historical scrolls." He shrugs. "And Castiel is pretty cool, once you get to know him."

"Once you get use to his… ways," Sam wrinkles his nose in amusement. "But Dean's right about the Canadian Pack. Their impact on the human world is almost as great as the human world's influence is on them." He takes a sip of soda. "They just don't go blabbing about it, and mankind remains safe and ignorant."

His smile turns soft and affectionate. "But, I like where we are now. Just us three, caught somewhere in the middle of both packs, maybe, able to return to either from time to time,just to say hello and let them know we're still alive, but we remain independent from them, and moving around when, and where, we're needed."

"Semi-nomadic non-lunars," Tobius nods slowly. "I think we've just named our pack-type."

"Huh?" Dean gazes at his Sire, quizzically.

"The Home Pack are nomadic, the Canadian Pack are static," said Sam, warming to the idea. "We are semi-nomadic."

"Semi-nomadic," Dean says it slowly, as though savouring it. Then he nods. "I like it!"

He chuckles and leers at the camera. "Semi-nomadic… Sounds vaguely dirty!"

Sam throws a piece of tomato at him, but Dean turns his head, elongates his mouth into a snout, and virtually snaps the morsel out of the air.

"You're gonna have to get up earlier than that, dude," he says, chewing the tomato with relish, his snout morphing back to human.

Sam shakes his head, laughing.

Then…

Castiel was patiently waiting for us outside, standing quiet like a sentinel, watching the gardens with narrowed eyes.

"Good evening, brother, nephew," he announced, gracefully, without turning his head. "I'm to escort you to dinner."

Tobius paused to study him. "Will Marcus be there?"

Castiel did turn and face him then. "He will be along later. Said that he wouldn't miss Cook's latest experiment for anything, nor would he miss seeing his favourite brother on his return from the world."

I glanced sharply at his face. There was no expression, no hint that Tobius being the favourite sibling bothered him at all. In fact, he seemed at peace with the idea. There was even a faint smile of brotherly fondness, his eyes a little bright with genuine affection.

Whatever else Castiel was, no matter how quiet and weird; he loved his brothers.

"In that case," said Tobius, patting Castiel on the shoulder. "Let's not keep Cook waiting. Believe me when I tell you that woman is positively lethal with a spoon, so it wouldn't pay to piss her off."

Castiel seemed a little surprised at the expletive but said nothing.

"Uh…" I still wasn't sure about leaving Sammy, yet I didn't want to appear disobedient or rude towards my Sire and father in front of another pack subordinate. "Just for a little while, maybe?" I pleaded.

Sire's eyes softened. "Just long enough to eat and be sociable, then we'll both return to Sam, I promise."

That was good enough for me.

Now, eat your heart out Adam Richman, and let me tempt you with this...

The kitchens were incredible. Three walk-in cold rooms, each easily the size of a public library, housed enough meat, fish and veg to cater to the whole pack's needs.

They were restocked at 5am sharp every Monday morning.

The meat came in fresh from the cattle ranch just inside the north wall, the fish came from the farmed lakes next to it, and the vegetables, comprising mostly of potatoes, carrots, suede and turnip, came from the fields next to the wheat.

In case you were wondering, the Canadian pack holds some four thousand wolves, including the families who live independently outside the wall, though remain loyal to and considered a major part of the pack. That figure also includes the young wolves chosen to guard the English Royal Family, or other royalty scattered throughout Europe and the rest of the world.

Then there are the scholars among them who, like Sam, wanted to study higher education. Some of these kids headed to places like Oxford, or Cambridge, in the UK, while others stayed on this side of the Atlantic, mainly keeping to the North in order to be closer to home.

There were even one or two immigrants from the Home pack, who had decided to live in closer proximity to humans. In return, some of the older wolves of the Canadian pack retired to go and live with Lucas and his family. Every so often, several times a century, both packs would get together for what Tobius termed "a right jolly knees up". The families would take it in turns to host the gathering, choose the time and place, and send word a few months beforehand.

But I digress.

Back to business...

There were also three walk-in freezer units, even bigger than the cold rooms, along with six massive storage silos for grain. On top of that, you had the dairy rooms. Ten of them, filled to the rafters with some of the best homemade cheeses the pack had to offer, along with some imported brands, mostly from France and Germany. Milk, a werewolf's favourite non-alcoholic drink, was stored at the back of the dairy rooms in large vats that were filled from an access pump on the outside wall.

And that was just the start of it.

Now on to the actual cooking area.

Think of the Roman Coliseum, and you might get some idea of the vast size of the place.

There wasn't a single shelf without old fashioned copper pots and pans dangling from it, and there were several huge Aga-style cooking stoves right at the back, each around half the size of a Challenger tank.

The only piece of equipment that might have been called modern was an elderly looking food processor that had seen better days. It was monstrous, and took up half the middle work top. But seeing as the entire room was decked out with around ten of these scarred, old, wooden work benches, I doubt anyone was complaining.

All light was natural during the day, with the sun shining down from sunrise to sunset through high-arched, gothic looking, stain glass windows. Like Tobius' quarters, and the ornamental gardens I'd seen earlier, the dancing wolf theme was a predominant feature here, casting multi-coloured wolf shapes across the entire room. It looked strange, but kind of nice.

At night, massive, black, wrought iron chandeliers, hanging down from the high ceilings, were lit up with natural wax candles – which, I was reliably informed, were also made on site.

I spied at least twenty non-lunars chopping, marinating, basting, sautéing, baking, you name it, whatever the hell it is chefs do that makes food taste so damn good, and suddenly understood where Sire got his passion for cooking from. The smells were tantalizing enough to make my mouth flood with saliva, and I barely bit back a growl of appreciation when a platter of roast duck, pork, lamb and beef marched past me, seemingly on its own, drifting in mid air.

Mystified, I looked a little more closely, and realised it was being carried by the shortest, most bad tempered looking guy I'd ever seen. Seriously, his scowl would have soured sour cream.

"That's Pierre. His food is amazing, don't get me wrong," Sire murmured, quietly. "But, except to compliment him on his dishes, do not talk to him. He really is an obnoxious little tit with very little personality." He snorted. "And don't think you can take him in a fight. He might be a short arse, but the bastard's got a kick like a mule."

The sly grin on Sire's face suggested that he was only half joking.

But that roast meat platter was calling out to me. I stared after it mournfully, wondering if the little guy would notice if the duck was suddenly and mysteriously missing a leg, or a wing…

Don't do it, pup, Sire warned, obviously amused. Save your appetite for Cook. Now, her food really is something to behold.

He grabbed my arm and gently escorted me along after the silent and brooding Castiel.

Absolutely everyone was busy in this place. Not a single person was idle, and anyone that looked like they were even remotely considering an escape from their duties were soon handed another set of tasks.

But everything, and everyone, was perfectly well coordinated, like watching a dance. You've seen some of those celebrity chef shows, right? Like, All Stars? Well, these non-lunars would have put them to shame. On All Stars, they fight and scrabble for ingredients, and blame each other when something goes wrong.

But not here.

In this kitchen, everyone knew their place, their purpose, and they all knew exactly when to execute that purpose. Any sense of competition, or attitude problems, were deemed selfish, and quickly and fiercely stamped on. Food was the only priority. Childish arguments and personality clashes were resolved with a hard slap to the side of the head by a team mate, and a sharp reminder that they were on the clock and being watched.

These guys not only defined the term 'teamwork', they practically invented it.

And I was about to find out how...

"Well, I'll be!" a loud, high pitched, feminine voice practically screeched across the kitchen and echoed off the stained glass windows. "Toby Le Salle, in the flesh at last! Where the hell you been all these years, baby?"

Everyone stopped what they were doing for about a nanosecond, then carried on as though nothing had happened.

Tobius appeared to cringe at the nickname, and I bit back a laugh.

Some years ago, when we were celebrating Sammy's birthday, the poor kid got completely shitfaced. We had to carry him back to the cabin from a local bar, and all the time he was saying how much he loved us, and calling his grandfather "Tobeeeey!" of which I took some pleasure reminding Sire that very same night.

Sire had threatened us with violence if we ever called him that again, so to hear it being yelled out across a large kitchen of busy chefs was quite the treat. Especially by a short, plump, homely looking, African-American she-wolf, carrying a wooden spoon, and wearing a sweet, bright smile stretching from ear to ear.

Tobius pulled himself together and smiled back, his green eyes twinkling with pleasure. With a small bow, he stepped forward, grasped the woman's palm, bent low, and delivered a gentlemanly kiss to the back of her hand.

"Missouri," he murmured, voice a soft drawl, charming as always. "My dear Cook. It's been a long time."

Missouri, or Cook, appeared to almost swoon, but she soon put him well and truly in his place, with a swift thunk to the back of his head with her spoon.

"Ow!" Sire rubbed his wound, frowning petulantly. "Cook…"

"You're darn right it's been too long!" she huffed, and placed her hands on her hips, indignantly, reminding me a little of Jose the werebear whenever she scolded us. "Boy, it's been at least thirty years since I last saw your cute ass! What happened? You forget we exist? Honey, I thought you clear dropped off the face of the planet!"

Missouri reminded me of an angry hen, the way her short, curly hair and large hang down earrings seemed to wobble slightly with each movement.

Sire grinned and swept her up in a big hug, ignoring the way her meaty fists drummed weakly against his back in protest.

I apologise, dear lady. It was rude of me to abandon you for so long without word, said Tobius soothingly, brushing a hand through her hair.

Credit where it's due, though the cook was fighting it, I could see she was falling victim to his charms.

Allow me to introduce you to my son. He put her down and grinned again. Dean? This is my most favourite chef of all time. She taught me everything I know about cooking.

He stepped back and winked at me over her head.

Then she turned and fixed me with a deeply penetrating stare. It also went on way too long, beyond the realms of comfort. All I could do was stand there and grin my most charming grin, hand held out invitingly. But she ignored it and carried on staring.

Hmmph! She said at last, hands back on hips, still scrutinising me. You're a handsome, kid, I'll give you that. And while you're lusting after Pierre's platter, it's a plain, old fashioned, bacon double cheeseburger that haunts your dreams, boy, huh?

I stared at her, mouth hanging open, and quite possibly drooling.

C'mon, she said, suddenly smiling kindly, and indicating I should follow her with a quick jerk of the chin. I'll fix you something extra special. You're gonna need all the strength you can get if you wanna help Sam.

Embarrassingly, I found myself trailing after her, all wide eyed and hopeful, with Sire and a faintly amused Castiel following on.

So you told her all about us, huh Sire? I asked, plainly.

No. Came the surprising answer. I didn't need to. She saw us coming, before we even knew to hit the road for Canada. She's known all about you and Sam for a long, long time.

Huh? I answered dumbly.

Her name is Missouri Mosely, Dean. She's a psychic, and knew John Winchester, albeit very briefly. He went to her for help just after your mother was killed. Missouri was visiting a friend down in Lawrence, Kansas at the time. Sire sounded a little guarded, and I wondered about that. Take my advice; don't ask her about him. She really didn't think too much of the man.

I'm not sure anyone thought much of him. Least of all me.

And now that Sire mentioned it, her name did seem kind of familiar. In fact, the more I thought about it, the more I realised I'd met her once before, when I was just a small kid and still traumatised from the fire that took my mom.

Shaking off the distant memory, I rationalised that I had more pressing matters at hand right then.

Food. I was starving.

Lucky for me, Missouri made the most exquisite burger I have ever, ever tasted. A half pound of lean burger patty, spiced up with something Cook refused to divulge, six rashes of crispy, Danish back bacon, thick slices of melted mature cheddar, juicy tomato and fresh lettuce, hot English mustard, home made ketchup, and rounded off with a large, tasty pickle.

Oh, and a side of onion rings, each one the size of my hand!

I was in heaven, and ruined for life. I'd never be able to enjoy diner food in quite the same way again, not while I knew this taste-sensation heaven existed.

Seated at a big, old, pine table at the back of the kitchen, we were still chowing down, and I was on my second burger, when the room fell silent.

Not even a muttered thought projection could be heard.

Tobius and Castiel quietly stood up.

Uh… I chewed and swallowed as quickly as decency allowed. Something I should know?

Tobius was staring straight ahead, a fond, enigmatic smile on his face.

The Alpha is here, Dean.

Oh! I rose to my feet, as gracefully as I could manage with ketchup on my chin. That's cool. Wondered when we'd get to meet him.

Sire's mouth twitched, then he stepped around the table towards a guy who actually looked a little older than Sire by a couple of years – but I guess that comes with the responsibility of such a huge pack. Like Tobius, he was good looking enough, a half inch shorter maybe, but no less imposing.

Head slightly tilted downwards, as though he appeared to be frowning at me, his eyes were brown but glowed the same green as mine and Sire's in the evening light.

My first impression: This was a guy you didn't cross and if by deed or misfortune you managed to, you might just not live to regret it.

I looked up into the intense gaze of the Canadian Pack Alpha.

Who stared back, quietly assessing in a manner so hauntingly familiar it almost took my breath away.

Oh, he's your brother alright, Sire, I whispered. You both went to the same school of 'who can stare the hardest and longest'.

Shut up, Dean, but Tobius' mouth twitched in amusement.

Suddenly, the Alpha graced us with a dazzling smile and held his arms open, the universal invite for a welcoming hug.

"Brother," said Marcus, his voice, strong, rich and deep, hinted at the same upper class English accent as Sire's. "Welcome home."

The affection with which he enfolded my Sire in his embrace was genuine.

In an instant, the big, intimidating Alpha was gone, and in his place stood a little brother who'd desperately missed his big brother.

He closed his eyes tightly, and held on as though never wanting to let go of Tobius, and it kind of reminded me of the way Sam had clung to me all those years ago, when we rescued him from an abusive John Winchester.

The Alpha released Sire and they patted each other on the back.

Sire looked pleased to see his kid brother again, but he stepped back to allow the Alpha to address me.

Marcus bowed slightly.

I am truly honoured to meet you, young Dean. Your Father writes to me often about your exploits, and about Sam. He tilted his head, eyes half closed, as though he were assessing me all over again. And it's an even greater honour to serve as host to your upcoming prime.

Really? I raised an eyebrow in complete surprise.

Judging by the flash of guilt across Tobius' face, and the way Castiel shuffled uncomfortably from foot to foot, it had been planned for a while now.

It was meant to be a surprise, brother. Tobius seemed faintly disgruntled but I doubted he was going to hold it against Marcus.

Marcus, for his part, looked a little startled, then immediately contrite.

"I do apologise," he said, with another slight bow, sounding genuinely regretful. "I hope I haven't spoiled things for you."

"Not at all," I answered, graciously. "The honour is all mine."

Marcus broke out that dazzling smile again, swiftly stepped forward with his arms open, and I found myself subjected to an affectionate, yet very manly hug, complete with manly slap on the back.

A slap that nearly sent me flying. Man, that dude is strong!

"Now, you boys sit down and eat!" Missouri, with her mother-hen ways, managed to reduce two tough, fierce, pack Alphas to mischievous little boys with just seven words, and by God it was hard not to laugh at the way Tobius rolled his eyes at Marcus.

Marcus just grinned with that wonderful trace of Big Brother worship that I still sometimes get from Sammy.

Uh, now that the introductions are over, I said, trying not to sound too eager to get away. I really want to go check on Sam.

Tobius nodded and made a move to follow but I held him back with a hand on his chest.

Dude. You guys haven't seen each other in a long time. I'll send for you if there's any change.

No. Reunions can wait, he said, gazing apologetically at his brothers. We've been gone long enough.

"Of course," said Marcus, nodding. "Your grandson needs you. But... may I come along? I've heard so much about the pup, and I'd like to be there... for what it's worth?"

It seemed strange that the Alpha felt the need to ask permission on his own turf, but I appreciated the gesture anyhow.

"Thanks, that'd be great," I said, feeling a lump forming in my throat. The Alpha sounded so kind and concerned, I didn't have the heart to tell him no.

"Well, in that case," Cook held out several packages of grease proof paper. When the hell she had time to wrap up the remaining delicious burgers, I'll never know, but she must have moved quick as lightning. "Here. Make good and sure you eat every scrap, now, ya hear? And stop by again soon, Tobius! Don't make me take out my spoon again!"

"Oh, I can assure you, dear lady," Sire murmured with a wink and another gentle kiss to her hand. "I intend to."

Marcus watched his older brother with a faintly sad smile, as though he'd seen this harmless flirting all before, but was just remembering it for the first time in ages.

By the time we said goodbye to Cook, and filed out of the vast kitchen into the grounds, the sun had bled into the darkening sky, turning it deep shades of reds, oranges and fading away to deep indigo.

It was a short, but pleasant walk back to our quarters, with Tobius and Marcus quietly discussing Sam's situation, and Castiel still silent and watchful beside us, kind of like a dormant guard dog.

And that's when it struck me.

Cas?

Those strange blue eyes turned my way. Yes, my nephew?

You're the Pack Beta, right? The Alpha's bodyguard?

He full on grinned for the first time since I'd met him.

I was wondering how long it would take you to figure it out.

And he'd been right. It takes a beta to know one, after all, kind of like when I first met Cornelius of the Home pack.

Castiel was different from any non-lunar I'd ever met, but the signs were there, if one looked closely enough.

Wait. A thought occurred. You're the guy Guiseppe…

Yes, but I prefer not to talk about it, he said, shortly. I've already been scarred for life without discussing it with my nephew, of all people!

I considered that for a second, and decided I agreed whole heartedly. It was a little too disturbing, even for me.

And just like that, Cas was straight back to quiet and brooding, but somehow I didn't think it was because of what I'd said. It was just the way he was.

When we walked in, Sam was sitting up in bed, back against the head board, those glowing purple eyes fixed and unseeing. Dave looked up and smiled warmly, his own eyes sparkling with good news, and pressing his stethoscope against Sam's chest, just over his heart.

"I was just about to call you," he said, quietly. "Dean, I think he's coming back already!"

"Really?" Marcus shouldered his way past us in the doorway, and stood, looming over Sam's bed. "That's astounding! I've never heard of any wolf recovering that quickly from Sleepworm addiction. Are you certain?"

"My Lord, Alpha. Apologies," Dave bowed his head slightly out of respect, but didn't move away from his patient. "Didn't see you there. But to answer your question, I'm as certain as I can be under the circumstances. And you're right. It is astounding."

I watched Sam's face carefully, but I was damned if I could see any difference. He still looked pale and sick, drugged up to the eyeballs like a zombie.

"What makes you think that?" I demanded, worry making me sound a little harsher than I'd intended. "He still looks like shit!"

"Come here," Dave motioned me to come forward and sit on the edge of Sammy's bed. "Now take his hand."

At first I felt nothing.

Then, gradually, I picked up on what felt like random twitches, minor muscle seizures or tremors, but after a few more seconds I realised it was something more.

It was actually a series of perfectly timed hand squeezes.

"It's Morse code," Dave added, helpfully. "The only way Sam can communicate with us."

I blinked rapidly, trying to control myself, once I figured out what he was saying.

Or, rather, who he was asking for.

D-E-A-N.

Over and over again, never stopping.

"He's been like that for the last half hour, but I wasn't sure what it signified at first," said the doc, watched over us, still checking Sam's blood pressure and heart rate. "Thought it was just muscle spasms brought on by the withdrawal, and I was even preparing another dose of Sleepworm. Thank God I didn't give it to him!"

"How…?" I cleared my suddenly dry throat, and tried again. "How did you figure it out?"

"Back during World War Two, I was a communications officer," he smiled sadly. "Morse code became second nature to me, and I've never forgotten it. Once I realised Sam's spasms were perfectly timed, I had my answer."

"So, he's really trying to talk to me?" I asked, hesitantly.

"No way to be sure if Sam's cognisant enough at this stage to understand what he's doing, or if this is just natural instinct at work, to call for his sire and father," said Dave, gently. "Whatever else it is, this is a good sign for Sam's return, I promise you."

I just nodded, gratefully, unable to say anything more.

Reaching out, I palmed the kid's chin, tilting it, so I could gaze into his purple eyes.

Don't know if you can hear me yet, Sam, but I'm right here with you. You're gonna be fine, dude...

A hand on my shoulder made me look up. Marcus was smiling at me.

He's a fine young man, just like his fatherbrother, the Alpha assured me. And I look forward to spending time with you both, if you'll permit me.

My relief for Sam, that he would be back with me sooner than predicted, made me careless with my mannerisms. I gave the Alpha my best cocky grin, without even thinking about it.

Aw, that's sweet. So long as you promise not to braid our hair or anything.

Had no idea why I said that. Maybe it's because the guy was so much like Sire, and because I felt at ease with him. But I nearly swallowed my own tongue when I realised what I'd said and witnessed the mild shock on Marcus' face.

Oops. Sorry. I offered with a shrug, not sure how else to mend things. No disrespect meant and all that.

Marcus glanced over at Sire with a raised eyebrow. I'll bet this one keeps you on your toes, brother, he deadpanned.

Tobius pursed his mouth and tried to look stern. Oh, you better believe it.

Marcus nodded, eyes now glinting with mirth. Well, I'll take my leave of you, Master Dean. I'll be back tomorrow to make sure you are both comfortable and have everything you need.

I wasn't sure what to make of this. Uh… sure, dude. Looking forward to it.

Unable to contain himself any longer, Tobius snorted loudly with laughter. Marcus grinned and slapped me on the back again, this time nearly dislocating my shoulder.

With a final farewell, the Alpha headed out into the night, while Castiel just stood in the doorway, still watching the gardens, a slight frown on his face.

That was beginning to bug me, and I wasn't sure why.

Maybe it was because I got the feeling the Beta wolf wasn't just randomly scanning the grounds.

No. His intensity suggested that he was expecting trouble of some kind.

"Right. I'll also be back in the morning," Dave announced, taking the hint and packing up his medical bag. "And, of course, you have the pager should anything untoward happen during the night."

Pretty soon it was just us and Castiel.

"Dude, you gonna stand there all night?" I called out and waved at him to come inside.

The Beta looked over at me and nodded. Then he moved out of the doorway, onto the top step, and closed the door behind him. But we could still sense his presence outside our quarters.

I shared a glance with Tobius. "He always like that?"

"Pretty much," said Sire, and began to undress. "He'll be there all night. For our safety."

He was wolfed out and snuggled up beside Sammy before his robe even hit the floor. After I turned out the lights, I soon joined them, though I kept my human form. Instead, I slipped beneath the furs and pulled Sam down into my arms, warming his chilled body.

So, what's Castiel seen out there? I asked, still taking comfort from the quick, tiny squeezes to my hand, evidence Sam was still calling for me, over and over. It might have been kind of heart breaking, if not for the surge of relief it brought that I was finally getting my little brotherson back.

Castiel has always been extremely vigilant. Sire explained. He had a knack for it, even when he was a pup. However, I filled him in on everything; he is well aware of the dangers we face, and he knows John Winchester will show up here at some stage.

That was true. Even if he couldn't get in, he'd spend the rest of eternity staking the place out, trying to find the weak spots, and ascertain a point of entry. And, frightening as it seemed, he would get in eventually.

Don't kid yourself . Even a place like this is not one hundred percent secure.

Even if Marcus hadn't ordered him to watch our backs, Sire added, he'd do so anyway.

Tobius buried his nose in Sam's neck for a quick comforting lick – his way of saying 'I'm here too, Sam'.

Family means the world to Castiel.

And that was good to know, but it left me with another question.

Ok, but what about Crowley?

Ah, yes. Dear old Crowley. What can I tell you about him?

Tobius sighed a huge doggy sigh.

He's rather a law unto himself, that one. Has to do things his own way, in his own time, when it suits him. Don't get me wrong, if the pack is threatened then he'll man up and fight with the rest of us. Tobius stared despondently ahead. He's not a coward, exactly, but if it's not in his over all best interests, don't expect him to always come down on your side.

And that was really all I needed to hear.

Because that was 'Sire' talk for 'he's my brother and I love him, but I wouldn't trust the slimy little bastard as far as I could throw him.'

TBC...

Cheers my darlings. Don't worry; Sam is on his way back but I haven't made it easy for any of them.

Hope you all like the Canadian Pack Alpha...

Love ST xxx