Hunter of the Shadows Book 3

Enemy at the Door.

Chapter 12

Now…

Dean takes a bite of his salmon and groans loudly in ecstasy.

"Oh man!" he says and licks fish flakes from his lips. "That truly is a work of art."

Sam nods. "I know, right?" he replies, and reaches over for another portion of fish. "Definitely not farmed salmon."

"What? How can you tell?" Dean stops eating and eyes his brotherson sceptically. "'Cos it had a bigger smile on its face, or something? Sam, you are so full of…"

"No, it's true," says Sam, earnestly. "Wild fish always tastes better than farmed, 'cos wild fish lead happier lives with more natural food sources. Makes the meat sweeter."

Dean looks like he's about to refute Sam's claim, but he pauses for consideration.

"Yeaaah, ok" he concedes, grudgingly. "I guess I can understand that."

A small boy with a shy smile is snuggled up under Sam's blanket, and he nods eagerly when Sam offers him a piece of the succulent fish.

"Eat it all up, now Logan," says Sam, kindly. "It'll help you become a big, strong wolf someday."

The boy chews slowly and methodically on the salmon, clearly taking Sam's advice seriously, unlike his brother, Matthew, who's still struggling to wake up. The older kid snorts softly, before sitting up and rubbing at his eyes. Blinking and staring around, his gaze finally lands on Andy. Matthew kicks off Dean's blanket and launches himself at the werebear with a small battle cry.

"Whoa!" Andy yelps, nearly toppling over, and begins laughing helplessly.

The boy is tickling him without mercy, digging small hands into Andy's waist, making the werebear giggle stupidly.

Dean grins. "Looks like someone taught the kid some bad habits while we were away, huh?"

Josey sighs fondly. "Yeah, Matthew, Logan and Janaya decided they wanted to play with Andy.

Gerald snorts with laughter. "Andy unwisely decided to show them how much fun a tickle fight can be. Only he didn't count on the three crafty youngsters ganging up on him."

Dean laughs loudly. "Serves him right for falling for it!"

"I think it's great," says Sam, gazing at the four of them with a wistful smile on his face. "Andy's so good with them."

"Hey!" Dean calls out softly, and reaches out to gently rub Sam's left arm. "So are you. You'll be well enough to join in soon enough, then they'll be crawling all over you."

Sam just looks down at his arm where Dean is touching it. "Yeah, I know. Just… still feels weird."

Dean quirks a concerned eyebrow. "It's not hurting you, is it?"

Sam shakes his head. "Nah. And it works just fine, though a little stiff sometimes. Just gonna take some getting used to."

Dean stares at him, eyes searching Sam's face. Apparently satisfied that his brotherson is telling the truth, he pats him on the shoulder and says "It'll be good as new before you know it, dude."

Then…

Castiel stared at Sam for a second, then nodded approvingly. "You're looking much better, youngster."

Sam nodded. "I feel much better."

"He should do," said Missouri. "I pulled that damn Sleepworm right out of him. It was a spirit alright. A nasty, blackened soul straight from the depths of hell."

Dave raised the glass filled with the black ooze. "If you'll excuse me, I'll get this back to the laboratory and placed in confinement."

The guy nodded to us all and hurried out of the room.

"Good," the Beta answered, abruptly, and turned to Tobius. "At 4 o'clock this afternoon Crowley called a vote of no confidence. Marcus has been confined to his quarters under armed guard until tonight when the council will reconvene."

Holy crap.

Castiel continued. "Tobius and Dean, you have been called to attend as witnesses, Missouri will be required to confirm the exorcism was a success, whereas Sam…" his gazed softened and became apologetic as he glanced at the kid. "I'm afraid you'll be arrested, bound in wrapped silver and made to stand in front of the council…"

Sam paled.

"Now, wait just a damned second," I yelled out, furiously. "I thought you said…"

"Patience, nephew," Castiel reprimanded me, softly. "If we are to beat Crowley, we must be seen to follow the correct procedures or any evidence we have in Sam's favour can and will be dismissed by the council out of hand."

"But…" I began.

"Trust me, Dean," said Castiel, expression hard and uncompromising. "They won't even bother to look at it. Crowley has too many followers, now."

"Always was a slippery bastard," muttered Cook. She rubbed Sam's shoulder gently and whispered something to him. The kid nodded but still looked miserable. Whatever words of comfort she was offering Sam, they weren't working.

Tobius sat down on the bed with a loud huff. "How? That's what I don't understand."

He shook his head, obviously completely bewildered, which was an unusual look for him.

"How on God's green Earth did Crowley get so many of the council on his side? And so quickly!"

"Uh…" Castiel looked distinctly uncomfortable. "Some were already on his side, but you're right about his sudden fast gain of allies from the rest of the council."

Tobius raised his head and regarded his brother with narrowed eyes. "Go on."

Castiel sighed, trudged across to the drinks cabinet, grabbed the brandy and didn't even bother pouring it into a glass. He just took a large slug straight from the bottle and wiped the back of a hand across his mouth.

I got the impression he was stressed.

"As you know, I've suspected for some time that the fight arenas were being funded by senior Pack members," he said, and placed the bottle back in the cabinet. Then he hesitated, grabbed it up again, shrugged, and took another healthy belt. "We knew who it was but Crowley and I just couldn't prove it. Then the one person who might have been able to provide us with the evidence… disappeared."

I thought about that. "That Giuseppe guy, right?"

Castiel nodded. "That's the one. In fact, he contacted me that very night by phone, said he had something important to show me. A blank email showed up seconds later, and I never heard from him again." He smiled, grimly. "Crowley doesn't know about that part."

"So, if Crowley was organising the fight arenas, funded by Pack elders," Sam said slowly, his mind ticking over. "And he was obviously experimenting with Sleepworm…" he turned to us, eyes wide and mouth dropped open.

Tobius nodded and looked up at Castiel. "Christ. That's how he's doing it," he said, quietly. "Isn't it?"

I caught on quickly. "The Sleepworm. He's using it to control the elders by ghost possession, and when Crowley realised Giuseppe was gonna spill the beans, he had him killed."

That's gotta be a new one. A non-lunar pack run by ghost possessed werewolves? With control over a powerful, ancient race, he'd be seeking to take over the whole world.

"There's something else to consider here," Missouri spoke up, quietly. "Those spirits are only the beginning. Remember, before they got yanked out of hell they were already half way to becoming demons."

I stared at her. "Are you saying that they could go all the way? Become fully certified demons?"

She shrugged. "It ain't beyond the realms, honey. All it would take it is a good hard shove from a powerful enough demon, and over they go. And I have no idea if a devil's trap can hold 'em if they're riding a Were."

I breathed out slowly. Oh hell. "A powerful demon…" I glanced at Tobius. "Like John Winchester? Is he powerful enough?"

Sam sat up immediately, eyes darting between Cook and Tobius. "Could he do it, Missouri?"

The Cook shrugged again. "Well, given that he's been charged with collecting Sam for a seat in hell, he would certainly have some kind of higher status than your average demon. So yeah, it's possible."

We were all stunned into a brief silence, only broken by Sire.

"Hold on," Tobius cleared his throat, frowning. "We're getting ahead of ourselves, here. There's nothing to suggest your former human father is at the bottom of this, as yet." He added when he sensed my forming protest. "So let's just take one issue at a time. And at the moment, the issue is getting Sam fully exonerated, hopefully taking Crowley down in the process. And in order to achieve that, we need to make sure the pack council members are fully… enlightened."

He looked around the room, checking that everyone was on the same page. When we all nodded, Tobius got to his feet.

"Right. Castiel, what time is the council convening?"

His brother put down the brandy with some reluctance. "Usual time. Midnight."

This is a typical meeting time for most packs, signalling new challenges and fresh decisions ushered in by a bright new day.

Provided it wasn't pissing down with rain, of course.

Tobius bit his bottom lip. "Well, we've clearly got some work to do. Missouri? Are you up for this?" he peered at Cook, worriedly. "This won't be too much for you? If so, I can always call in some friends to assist…"

I'm certain he was referring to Pastor Jim and Bobby Singer, but Missouri clearly had issues with others encroaching on her turf.

"Oh hell no! This is my pack!" she replied, indignantly. "I can handle this, don't you worry!"

"Alright!" I said, and clapped a hand on Sammy's back. "Have we got time for a little fun before then?" I sent a meaningful glance Sire's way, who nodded at Castiel.

Castiel checked his watch. "Your guard will change in approximately five minutes. I can distract them." He looked across the room at Sam, showing a rare, fond and friendly smile. "Enjoy the hunt, youngsters, and be back by ten for the next guard change."

He looked around at all of us. "Remember. No thought projections tonight. Maintain silent running at all times. We must not give Crowley any excuses."

With that, Castiel and Missouri got up and Tobius escorted them to the door.

"I'll join you two in the kitchens in a little while," Tobius was saying, "once I've shown Sam and Dean the way to the hunting grounds."

"Good," replied Castiel. "So long as they keep to the rear of the forest, they should go unnoticed by other wolves. It's darker out there."

In other words, no one would be able to recognise Sam by his distinctive red colouring in the dark. At least, not from a distance.

By the time Castiel had distracted the new guards with a stern lecture about something unimportant, Sire had indeed taken us deep into hunting territory. We'd slunk out one of the rear windows, walked for miles across pack grounds, taking all the back alleys in the built up areas, sneaking by on roof tops, and avoiding all open lanes. We crossed streams and fields where the few cows and sheep still awake at that hour watched us with docile curiosity.

"Hey, guys?" Sam had whispered to us once we were out in the open and away from prying minds. "Are we sure this is gonna work? I mean, for Crowley to have pulled this off he must've had the whole council possessed." He huffed, and glanced around, worriedly. "And how? He went around injecting them in their sleep or something?

"I don't think it was the entire council, though I'm sure he's working on it," said Tobius with a grimace. "If he'd succeeded in corrupting all of them, then he would've been able to take the Alpha seat without a fight. All this business of a no confidence vote would have proved unnecessary."

That sure was something to consider, but Tobius had more to say.

"I suspect that Crowley's true supporters volunteered right off the bat, probably believed all his promises of riches and power, but I'll bet he didn't tell them the price of possession: being plunged into a black pit in your own mind," he said, thoughtfully. "But the others that are loyal to Marcus were probably possessed by force, and some might even have a form of immunity to possession. That's why this hasn't gone as smoothly as I suspect Crowley had hoped, because many council members are fighting it." Tobius sighed, heavily. "I just don't understand what he can hope to achieve when all is said and done. He'll find himself deposed someday, by dissatisfied pack members and council alike when he fails to achieve their goals and expectations. And even if that doesn't happen, the possessed will eventually rise up against him. Most spirits and demons are power hungry after all, and not the most loyal of beings."

He's right. Being Alpha is not a power trip for the light hearted. The responsibility is enormous, but especially so for a pack this size. I was beginning to understand why someone with a brain would hesitate before accepting such an honour.

Add to that, history has taught us via some exceedingly harsh lessons that no empire, no matter how strong it starts out, or how great it becomes, can possibly last forever. And Crowley's fledgling empire wouldn't last five minutes once his demon-possessed non-lunars got their grubby paws on it.

They'd tear it to pieces and then start on the rest of the world.

I sensed rather than saw Sam's nervous glances. I felt his eyes on me as Tobius whispered the reminder to return by ten o'clock.

We stripped off and hid our robes inside a hollowed out fallen log.

Sam shifted from foot to foot, eyes scanning the area.

"Hey!" I said, grinning from ear to ear. "You need to relax, ok? Forget about everything for a couple hours."

Sam bit his lip. "Dean, I'm about to go on trial for attempted murder, with a council of possessed Weres as my judges, jury…" he swallowed hard "… and executioners. Now, you tell me. How exactly am I supposed to forget about it?"

Kid had a point.

"Sammy, look at me," I said and waited until he fixed me with that scared, mournful gaze. "Take a slow, deep breathe, and look up at the sky."

Sam nodded and followed the instruction dutifully.

"See that?" I pointed up at the bright galaxies, milky ways and other such starry shit. I'm no astronomer, as you might have gathered. "Haven't a damn clue what any of those constellations, or whatever, are called, but I swear on all of them that we'll get you out of this, and everything's gonna be fine."

Sam snorted reluctantly.

"So, are you with me, kid?" I asked, bumping his shoulder with mine.

"Yeah, I guess so," he murmured back with a faint smile.

"Good boy!" I whispered, changing and melting into the darkness. "Now stay close…"

We had a good romp around for the next few hours, chasing each other and rolling around on the forest floor, scared a few squirrels and found a small lake not far from the pack wall. Sam waded in eagerly, letting the water lift his long fur, then rolled on his back, floating peacefully, paws up, eyes half closed in bliss.

A few trout swam by underwater and I dove down, kicked my legs powerfully, and snatched up a large fish.

Remembering the rule not to thought project, I swam up to Sammy, and presented him with the trout, nudging it onto his furry belly as a gift. Sam used his large paws to lift it up and examine it in the starlight reflected off the water. He nodded his thanks and proceeded to tear it preciselyin half with his fangs, then offered one half to me.

And yeah, I was right. Precisely in half, like he could've used a tape measure on it or something.

He's such a dork, and I can't help but love him for it.

It was weird, not communicating by thought projections, but not altogether unpleasant. Sammy and I can read each other like a book most of the time anyway. But I think we were both still looking forward to the end of 'silent running' as Castiel put it.

Our time together ran out way too fast, and we reluctantly headed back to our pile of robes. By the time we got back to our quarters Castiel was already waiting outside, with Tobius standing in the doorway, puffing on a cigar.

"Hurry," Castiel mumbled, and glared at us. "You're thirty seconds late. The new guard is on his way, though I stalled him as long as I could with futile errands. When he gets here, you act pleased with what he brings you, understood?"

I looked from him to Tobius and back. "Uh… ok?"

Tobius smirked but said nothing, just backed away from the door, allowing us entry.

Sam opened his mouth to speak the second we got in the room, but true to Castiel's timing, we soon heard footsteps outside.

"I have brought those… items, you requested, Sir," came a confused sounding voice.

"You can leave those with me," Castiel answered, brusquely.

The Pack Beta marched inside and dumped a load of stuff down on the bed.

We stared at the items.

Castiel shifted from foot to foot. "I told him you were nervous and liked to shine shoes as therapy, so he brought the entire night watch's dress shoes for spit and polish. I advise you to get started in case someone checks up on this later."

We carried on staring and he shifted again.

"Or not," he mumbled, now looking a little embarrassed. "Look, I couldn't think of anything else, ok? I'm no good at lying!"

"Alright, that's enough!" Tobius narrowed his eyes at me, warning me not to make fun of my uncle. "We've got more important things to consider."

Sam absently picked up a shoe, grabbed a tin of polish and a clean duster. "So," he said, cleared his throat and spat, loudly, on the toe of the shoe. "What's the plan? How are we going in?"

I grimaced but Sire gestured for me to pick up a shoe.

"Oh come on, Dean. Castiel's right. It can be therapeutic," he said with a smug grin, but he at least did join in.

By the time we'd heard the plan, and it was time to leave for court, there was a neat line of black dress shoes so damn shiny you could see your face in them.

And, strangely, it had calmed our nerves a little.

The guard was astonished when we handed the shoes back to him.

"Oh… wow! That's amazing!" he offered us tentative half smile. "Thanks, guys. You saved us a whole lot of work."

"You're welcome," answered Tobius, voice a little hoarse.

Yeah, spit and polishing over ten sets of shoes in less than two hours can leave you with a mouth like the Mohave Desert.

But the time had come.

The booted feet of Sam's prison escort sounded loudly, marching up the path towards our quarters.

"Squaaaad!" came the Sergeant's long, drawn out bellow. "Halt!"

The marching snapped to a smart halt like a single gun shot.

We waited, tense and nervous, for the inevitable knock on the door.

Tobius quickly clasped Sam to him in a one armed hug. "You'll be fine, my boy," I heard him whisper. "We won't let anything happen to you, I promise."

I followed it up with a hug of my own.

"He's right. You'll be out of there before you know it, dude," I stepped back and stared right at him. "One way or another. I won't let them take you from me, Sammy. We'll damn well run if we have to."

Sam seemed to relax a little and I could see a hint of relief in his eyes.

He nodded and glanced down at his feet. "I know. Thanks guys…" he whispered back.

The knock came, sounding ominous in the otherwise silent room.

Castiel waited for Tobius to grant permission, before opening the door.

Sergeant Fisher stood tall and grim before us, his face a mask of apology at what he was about to do.

"Sam Winchester," he boomed out in that deep, South African accent. "Son of The Honourable Dean Winchester, Grandson of His Grace the Duke of Normandy and Aquitaine. You are charged with the attempted murder of Marcus, our Pack Lord Alpha. It is my duty to escort you under restraint, and according to the lore and ordinances of the Canadian Pack, to the Council Chambers for judgement. Any attempts to delay or disrupt this course of duty will be met with extreme force as necessary."

He handed over a set of deep blue coloured sweats.

"Put these on, boy," said the Sergeant, kindly. "You'll be more comfortable."

I heard Sam gulp and I squeezed his shoulder. "It's ok, Sammy."

"Yeah," he said, not sounding convinced, but gladly got out of the robe and pulled on the soft sweats. "At least this is more manly, huh?" he laughed weakly.

It was all pretty intimidating, and even more so when they brought out the restraints.

Huge silver manacles, for both feet and wrists, were connected by chain links that had to be at least my hand's span in length.

"I thought you said these were wrapped," said Sam, his voice shaking with fear.

"Calm yourself, young pup," said Tobius, gently. "They are wrapped in a light plastic coating. The hardened silver is merely symbolic and meant for restraint only. It is not there to hurt you, I promise."

Sam nodded and stepped forward, head held high and proud, but I could still see the truth. Poor kid was terrified.

And so was I.

The shackles made Sam's wrists look tiny, and the chains themselves, wound as they were around his body, pinning his arms to his back made him look small and vulnerable, despite the fact he towered over most of the prison escort.

The ankle cuffs were designed to weigh him down in case he took it into his head to run. And no kidding! Sam could barely lift his feet under those damn things. Fortunately, the Sergeant waited for the kid, and even helped to steady him when he wobbled.

Sam was taken outside and the escort formed up around him in a deep, impenetrable werewolf square.

My son turned his head to look at me over his shoulder, his gaze pleading and scared, body trembling.

I broke protocol, and to hell with the consequences. It's ok, Sammy. I'm right here.

We both are. Tobius was right alongside me. We're not going to leave you, pup.

Sam nodded. Thanks guys.

It was all the poor kid could manage. He turned his head away to face the torturous journey ahead.

"Squaaaad! By the right!" the Sergeant bawled out. "Sloooow…March!"

In deference to his heavy chains, the prisoner was slow marched off into the night with Tobius and I trailing along behind.

Several pack members lined the route to the Council Chambers. Some were silent and watchful, perhaps afraid, but others were a little more vocal, yelling obscenities at the young, captive werewolf, calling him 'Alpha Slayer', which apparently isn't anywhere near as cool as it sounds, and is supposed to be one of the highest insults you could hurl at some poor bastard while they're making their way to court.

But that wasn't all they hurled at Sammy.

A rotten tomato sailed through the air and Sam was helpless to avoid it, but one of the guards, marching alongside him, reached out, caught it one handed before it could impact Sam's face, and threw it back.

Sergeant Fisher, having seen this, marched over to the perpetrator, a tiny, snubbed nosed, scruffy looking werewolf with an arrogant smirk on his face, and yanked him up by his shirt collar.

"There's lore in this pack, and in this land, Smithy," the Sergeant growled, snout morphing out of his face and revealing an impressive set of fangs. "Innocent until proven guilty. But I saw you throw that tomato, that makes you guilty of carrying missile vegetables in a public place!" He dragged the little wolf away and along with the escort. "You are charged with the attempted assault of Sam Winchester…"

The crowd had fallen completely silent, and watched Sire and me with some trepidation, probably wondering what we were going to do next.

Tobius stalked over to them and stood, growling menacingly, glaring at them.

"Anybody else wish to say something about my Grandson?" he said, softly, and whirled around in mock surprise. "No one? Really? Well, isn't that interesting! Because you certainly had a lot to say a few seconds ago."

Tobius took a deep breath and suddenly howled long, loud and furiously. The crowd collectively took a fearful step back, gazing at him with wide eyes when he followed them.

"You forget yourselves, pack!" he spat the word, contemptuously. "And you forget who I am! Anyone who so much as looks at either my son or grandson in what I consider to be a funny way had better start running…" he paused for effect and finished in a low, threatening voice "'Cos I'll be out to getcha!"

The crowd gaped at one another, and dispersed instantly.

Tobius shrugged when I stared at him, a little amazed and just a little freaked out.

"Lemme guess," I murmured, studying his guilty face. "You went to drama school right?"

Sire just cleared his throat and ignored the question. "Come on. We need to catch up to Sam. Poor boy will be wondering where we got to."

And he was. Sam's head was craned around almost one hundred and eighty degrees on his neck, trying to find us, eyes pinched with worry.

It's ok, Sam, muttered Sire, soothingly. We had a little crowd control to deal with enroute.

Oh, and didn't we just? I replied to that, sarcastically. Sammy? Your grandpa's a drama queen.

Really? Sam just sounded relieved we were back in his line of sight. You surprise me.

Before I could answer, Tobius nudged me and pointed.

The Council Chamber building was around two hundred meters of awkward slow marching ahead of us, and it looked every bit as intimidating as I had imagined of an inquisition head quarters. Tall, dark, unfriendly looking, with steep towers rising up into the clouds, just right for imprisoning princesses in. How the hell I hadn't noticed this leviathan of a building before was beyond me. It should have been possible to see it clear across pack grounds, and even beyond the main wall.

"Another magic based shield, of sorts," Tobius muttered, perhaps having seen the look on my face. "Courtesy of Missouri."

I swallowed hard when I spotted more armed guards lining the pathway, and surrounding the large, oak double doors. This event was huge.

"Sire?"

"Yes Dean?"

"We gonna be taking a long fucking vacation when this shit's over."

"Oh, I think so," he nodded in firm agreement.

TBC...

And so the trial begins.

Don't forget, you can catch my everyday useless comments and doggy photo captions on Twitter under (at) skagtrendy37.

Now. Show me how much you want the next chapter.

Love ST.