Hunter of the Shadows Book 3
Enemy at the Door.
Chapter 10
Now…
Bobby Singer carries over a large platter of cooked meat and nudges Sam with an elbow.
"Get to eating, kid."
Sam smiles, fondly. "You read my mind."
He tucks into a large hunk of venison and ignores the juices running down his chin. Sam's obviously famished because he's tearing at the meat with an almost childlike enthusiasm and smacking his lips, blue-green eyes glowing beautifully.
The gruff human flashes a rare smile at the boy and nods.
Dean watches his brotherson proudly.
"It's good to see him back in love with his food again," he says to the camera, fingers stroking the soft downy ears of the sleeping pup in his arms. "He needs all the protein he can get…" he halts suddenly and blinks, aware that maybe he's said too much. "But that's something I'll go into later."
"Here," a hand appears under Dean's nose, bearing another flask of mead. "If you're going to talk about the past, then at least do it under anaesthetic. Less painful that way."
The voice is a thick, pleasant sounding Scottish brogue, deep, husky, and tainted with amusement. Its owner appears briefly on screen, with his thick, shaggy eyebrows raised and long, grey beard glinting in the firelight.
"So this is the infamous camera?" he wrinkles his nose. "Forgive me for saying so, but it's a wee bit smaller than I imagined. But then again, last time I saw one of these, Buster Keaton was just starting out."
Tobius looks up from his wooden bowl with a mock-derisive snort.
"Ach, don't you come it with me, laddy," says the Scot-werewolf. "Are you forgetting who it was that stumbled into a London film theatre, blind drunk, and singing "It's a long way to Tipperary" just after we got back from Dunkirk? Never been so embarrassed in all me life!"
Tobius growls and turns his nose up.
"Now, Lucas," says Victoria from out of shot. "The way I heard it, Tobius was the only thing keeping you upright!"
Lucas cocks his head to one side, glaring at Tobius.
The two Alphas seem to be having some kind of silent conversation that has the rest of the wolves laughing at them.
Dean is grinning and watching the show with interest, until the two senior wolves slink away, taking their argument elsewhere. He raises an eyebrow when Lucas snags a few flasks of mead along the way.
"That'll keep 'em happy for a while," says Dean, pouring himself and Sam another healthy slug of mead from their own flask.
Sam smiles happily around a mouthful of venison, meat juices smeared all over his nose. It would normally make for a disgusting sight, but somehow Sam still manages to look adorably childlike. The puppy in his lap is now asleep, it's little snout twitching, tail wrapped around Sam's waist, as though never letting go.
"So, one more journal entry for tonight and we hit the hay for a bit, huh, Sam?" asks Dean, and takes a long gulp of mead. "It's been a long day, and everyone else seems to bedding down."
"Sounds good to me," his brotherson mumbles, softly, and finishes off the rest of his platter while Dean settles himself comfortably.
Then…
Next time I woke up, the question of Sam's sight was still fluttering around the edges of my mind.
"Hey, Sire?"
"Hmm?"
"Do you think the Sleepworm is responsible for Sam getting his sight back?"
Tobius glanced up at me from his seat at the desk by the window. The PC was humming away to itself and, though the room was still fairly dark, morning sunlight seeped around the edges of the heavy drapes, gradually brightening the walls and tapestries.
"It's possible," he admitted, thoughtfully. "Stranger things have happened, so I wouldn't discount it completely. No one truly understands the way Sleepworm functions."
I chewed that over for a few seconds, but noted the small frown on Sire's face.
"What are you doing over there?" I asked, curiously.
"Trying to get an email through to Castiel," he answered, sounding a little frustrated. "But it keeps bouncing back off the server with a delivery failure message."
"Let me see," said Sam, catching us all by surprise. We hadn't realised the kid was awake.
"Sammy…" I tried to intercede because the Kid still looked pale and shaky, in no condition to be getting out of bed.
"I'm ok, Dean," he said, firmly, threw the covers back and sat up. After he swayed and blinked, the stubborn little shit finally added, "I might need a hand, though."
I helped him off the bed, and with an arm round his waist, and one hand tightly clutching at his, we slowly began to shuffle across the room. Sire got up to assist, but I shook my head at him.
"I got this."
Sam stopped halfway, closed his eyes and took a slow, deep breath.
You in any pain, Sam?
No. Just tired. And hungry. I'll be fine once I've eaten.
I've placed an order with Missouri, pup, Tobius announced. Food will be here shortly.
Sam smiled, wearily. Thanks, Tobius. I could eat a horse right now.
We made the rest of the short journey without incident.
"Here," Sire gently tugged Sam into his chair. "You need this more than I do."
Sam nodded his thanks then quickly got down to business.
"Ok, let's see what we've got," Sam studied the computer screen, frowning. "This is interesting."
"What is?" I asked.
I had a look and none of it made a lick of sense to me. Computers just aren't my territory.
"Well, from what I can make out, this isn't an automated delivery message," he answered, clicking away at the mouse and moving it around the pad. "These were hand typed."
"What does that mean?" I felt a little out of my depth here, but I was determined to make an effort.
"It means," Sire leaned over Sam's shoulder. "That these weren't automatically generated by a delivery failure. Someone deliberately sent these out."
I think I understood that part, but what I didn't get was why.
"What for?" I asked. "Why doesn't Castiel just email us directly and tell us to stop?"
"That's what I'm trying to find out," said Sam, still moving around the screen. "I think there's a message hidden somewhere in these notifications."
We kept quiet, letting the kid work. I watched the mouse cursor moving around the screen, until it passed over an innocuous looking semi-colon, where the cursor flickered into a tiny fist-shape with a pointed finger.
"There!" Sam exclaimed, and clicked the left mouse button.
A new window opened up, and inside was the serious face of Castiel, staring right back at us.
"Took you long enough to figure it out," he said, tonelessly, voice a little muffled through the computers speakers.
I glanced at the top of the PC'S flat screen monitor and spied the tiny in-built webcam.
Tobius let out a breath.
"Only you, dear brother," he muttered, fondly. "So, I'm assuming this isn't a social call?"
"I don't do social," said Castiel, his eyes straying to Sam. "It's good to finally meet you, child. I'm glad you're awake. I trust you are feeling better?"
Sam looked a little taken aback at first but recovered quickly.
"I am well," he said, quietly. "Thank you for enquiring."
The kid hesitated before asking a tentative question of his own.
"H-how is the Alpha?"
Castiel's eyes seemed to darken, but he nodded.
"Much better. He is healing satisfactorily."
"You didn't go to all this trouble with the cloak and dagger shit just to ask Sam about his health," I interrupted, folding my arms and not caring that I'd just insulted the Pack Beta. I wanted answers, and one way or another I was going to get them.
"No," Castiel answered. "That was only part of the reason. I wanted to warn you not to let anyone in unless you are absolutely certain it is me, or the Doc."
Sire cast me a quick glance. "Not even Crowley?" he asked, all fake innocence.
"Especially not Crowley," snapped Castiel, and paused. Guy seemed a little shocked at himself. He cleared his throat and continued in a calmer tone. "What I mean to say is, there are things we need to discuss and quickly."
"You mean about the charges against Sam?" I asked, laying a hand on Sam's neck and squeezing gently.
"No longer an issue," came the answer. "Once I explained things, Marcus insisted on having those dropped, against Pack Council ruling."
So it had all been an act on Castiel's part. He'd known right from the get go that something was off.
Sam sagged back against me; I felt instant peace and relief settle around us, and even Tobius seemed to let out a shaky breath.
"I'll bet that went down well," Sire muttered.
"Indeed, it didn't," Castiel leaned closer to his webcam, his tone ominous and wary. "It is rare for an alpha to go against the advice of his council, though not unheard of. But I must warn you, some of the elders did not leave the Council Chambers happy. As pleased as I am for you, Sam, that true justice has prevailed here, there may be elements among the Pack who will cause dissent and attempt to have the decision reversed. Already there is talk of a vote of no confidence against Marcus."
Sire's eyes narrowed. "Let me guess who started that one off…"
"Crowley," Castiel nodded. "I'm afraid so. He is insisting that Marcus made an illegal decision not in the best interest of the Pack. You must understand; Crowley is very popular among the Pack elders, and by lore he is quite correct. There is a chance he can win this, and if he does he'll take the Alpha seat." His eyes flickered to me. "Hence the cloak and dagger routine, Dean. I fear Crowley may use his status within the NLSU to monitor all internal and external emails. I'm also pretty sure he's monitoring all thought projections from under fifty feet away, so be careful what you say, or think. As they say: walls have ears."
Sam and I blinked. Judging by the look on the kid's face, he was feeling as devastated as I was.
"Not if we have proof that he may have orchestrated this entire farce," Tobius announced, green eyes glowing fiercely. He stood up, rolling his shoulders and glaring down at his brother's face on screen. "We don't have much time before Sam's system is completely cleared of the Sleepworm, so pay attention brother."
Castiel cocked his head. "What do you propose to do?"
"Firstly," answered Tobius, "it's about what you are going to do. Go to Marcus, and ask him exactly what Crowley said right before Sam attacked him."
Castiel stared at him for a moment, nodded, then disappeared out of shot.
Sire gently swung Sam's chair around to face him.
Sam, pup, I need to ask something of you… Tobius began, eyes kind and sad.
But Sammy just sighed. I know. Don't apologise, ok? I get it.
Sire nodded at me and I understood.
I hated this, but it was our only chance.
There was no way of knowing for certain if this was going to work, but if it did and we caught it on webcam, recorded in full with Castiel as a witness, Sam was home free, Marcus' position as Alpha was safe, and Crowley was gonna have a lot of explaining to do.
I retrieved the iron manacles from the bed and brought them over to the desk.
Kneeling in front of Sam, I gently began chaining his wrists and arms to the chair, wishing like hell I could have protected him better, kept him out of harm's way. Instead, I let him get kidnapped, right off the side of the road, right in front of us.
And now we were going to force him into a rage attack, just to prove his innocence, and possibly send the kid to a dark, hell-hole, when we'd only just got him back from there.
It just wasn't fair. Rather like dogging and bullying a rape victim in the witness box.
Dean, it's ok. The kid whispered, gently, but I just couldn't meet his gaze until he begged Look at me? Please?
When I looked up at Sam, his glowing eyes were awash with compassion and sympathy.
I know what needs to be done. And this isn't your fault.
Sam…
I mean it.
"Are you ready for this?" Tobius made a gesture to the screen, where Castiel was sitting back down and watching us with an air of guarded curiosity.
We all nodded.
"Does Marcus remember what Crowley said, right before Sam attacked him?" Sire repeated the question, clearly and loudly for the benefit of the webcam.
Castiel looked directly at Sam, watching him carefully.
"He said 'Gotta love brotherly love, huh?'"
Straight away, Sam's eyes darkened to purple. As we watched, all semblance of humanity upped and left, leaving a wild animal in its place, hissing, growling and snarling, wrenching at the chains and shaking his head violently from side to side. He wasn't as ferocious as he had been the first two times we'd witnessed it, but it still shook us up seeing Sammy like this.
Castiel sat back in his seat, drumming his knuckles lightly on the keyboard.
But Sam wasn't finished.
"IIIIIseeeeeeeyouuuuuu!" he hissed, saliva building up at the corners of his mouth.
I stumbled back in shock.
Whatever it was, it wasn't Sam. Not only did it sound nothing like him, but the sheer malevolence with which the words were delivered just couldn't have come from Sam.
It was like he was possessed, or something…
And once the idea entered my head, I just couldn't let it go.
"Sire?"
It seemed that Tobius had come to the same conclusion because he nodded shakily and reached into a desk drawer, narrowly missing Sam's snapping jaws by inches when the kid threw himself forward in the chair, straining against the chains.
Tobius' hand remerged with a black sharpie pen.
Will a devil's trap work? I enquired, anxiously, watching him drop to his knees.
Probably won't make any bloody difference, but do you have any better ideas? said Sire, already marking out its basic design on the stone floor.
I shook my head in despair. I guess not.
The thing was, as far as we knew, werewolves can't be possessed. We have natural built-in defences against it. Any demon or ghost that tries it will quickly find themselves homeless.
So, you think this is one of the side effects of Sleepworm? I asked, keeping a close eye on Sam's chains in case they showed any sign of wear or fatigue.
Possibly, said Sire, though I'm more inclined to think it's something in the actual drug itself that, perhaps, broke out in Sam. And if that's the case, then Crowley did more to the Sleepworm than just a rage ritual.
Just as he said it, Sam let out a terrible roar, his head snapped back, and I went flying across the room. My head connected with the wall and I saw stars for a few seconds.
Dean! Are you ok? Sire called out.
"Yeah," I mumbled aloud, feeling dazed and blinking heavily. "Yeah, m'fine."
Sam's harsh laugh echoed throughout the room.
"IIIIIseeeeeeeyouuuuuu!" he said again, that creepy, unSamlike voice, grating across my nerves.
By the time I got back up, Tobius had Sam in a head lock, with two fingers pressed down hard on the pressure point behind the kid's ear.
Sam shuddered, gasped, and went limp in his grandfather's grip.
We both stared at him.
"Bed?" Sire said, suddenly, looking weary.
I gave a sharp nod. "Bed."
"Ahem," a voice came from the computer. Castiel seemed worried and embarrassed all at once. "Is there anything I can do?" he asked, genuinely concerned.
Tobius barely spared him a glance as, between us, we unchained our boy and carried him across to the bed.
"Yes, you can do something," said Sire, shortly. "You can start praying."
"Understood brother," Castiel bowed his head, respectfully.
"Oh, and one more thing," I said, just before he signed off.
"Anything," Castiel uttered softly.
"Get more chains," I swallowed hard and glanced at Sam's face. "'Cos when I catch up with Crowley, you're gonna need something to keep me from killing the fucker!"
Once Sam was secured to the bed, I paged the doc. We waited anxiously for the guy, pacing the room, and trying to figure out just where the hell we were supposed to go from here.
You guys are probably sick to death of this damn room, but spare a thought for us. We were practically climbing the fucking walls!
"So, ghost or demon?" I asked, and Sire stopped his pacing.
"Could be either, but ghost seems more likely," he answered. "One of the spirits we saw in the syringe Dave used the other night could be messing with Sam's powers."
"Dammit!" I snapped, thrusting a hand through my hair in frustration. "This just keeps getting better and better!"
"He should be alright when he wakes up," said Tobius, sympathetically. "Some of the Sleepworm would have worked its way out of him by then. The spirit will have little control over Sam unless someone uses his trigger."
But it begged a big, neon-lettered question, one with solid gold edging and an alarm bell.
"Sire," I turned to him, not looking forward to the answer. "If this Sleepworm can now make werewolves vulnerable to ghost possession, what about demons?"
Tobius gazed at me in hopeless despair. "I just don't know."
We didn't need to discuss the consequences if that were the case.
The doc arrived in good time and, after a thorough examination, assured us that Sam was physically unharmed.
"However," he added, packing away his stethoscope. "If it's true what you say, that he showed signs of possession, performing an exorcism could be very tricky. We just don't know what kind of emotional damage it could do. This is…" he flapped a hand around, a helpless gesture that told us how gob smacked he was. "This is unprecedented. Never happened before."
He stood and stared at Sam, looking thoughtful.
"Leave it with me," he murmured and headed for the door. "I know of someone who might be able to help."
Shortly after Dave left, Sam woke up with a start, looking scared out of his mind and shivering from head to toe.
"Wha-what h-happened?" he gasped and looked up. He took in the sight of his chained wrists for the second time that day and sighed, shaky and clearly exhausted. "I'm g-guessing th-things d-didn't work out t-too g-good, huh?"
I sank down onto the bed and pulled the blankets tighter around him.
"S'ok, Sam," I told him, gently unlocking the manacles again. "It worked just fine. Castiel now has proof to take to the Council on your behalf."
It seemed to put Sam's mind at rest for now, but I could no longer tell him he was safe or out of danger. Not with a rabid, enraged and violent spirit embedded inside him.
TBC...
Thanks for all your wonderful reviews. There have been some extremely passionate responses regarding Crowley, and that has really impressed me. Give yourselves a pat on the back.
More to come soon...
Cheers everyone.
Kind regards,
ST.