Hunter of the Shadows Book 3

Enemy at the Door.

Chapter 15

Now…

"When Crowley set up the fight arenas, he got himself tangled up in some damn dark, powerful stuff," Bobby informs them, his voice gruff and thick. "Black Plantain has a lot of significant uses in black magic, and the occult signatures it left behind would have been a beacon to any hell spawn looking for it," he raises an eyebrow at the boys. "While humans and Weres alike went about their business, completely oblivious to what was going on, every demon on this continent would have sat up and paid attention."

"Yeah," says Dean, voice low and menacing. "But only one demon acted on it."

"Because he warned the others off, and he had the backing of Hell itself," Sam adds, quietly. "In John's mind, we were his alone, and no one was going to come between him and his… sons…"

Then…

I was dying to change. The water was freezing, the result of melted snow straight off the mountain peaks, and a heavy waterproof fur coat would have been a godsend. But there was no way I'd have been able to hold on to the tree, try to navigate with my feet and ensure Sam stayed safely onboard.

I gazed at his bloodstained head. The wound still looked horrendous but, being a non-silver related injury; it was starting to show the faintest signs of healing already. I would've sighed with relief but I didn't want to jinx us.

As before when Sire and I had started out after Sam, when he was kidnapped by Crowley, the snow was mostly limited to the tree tops, sheltering the ground and keeping it free of ice. However, the river banks were lined with snow and icy mud wherever the tree line didn't quite reach, and though I wasn't looking forward to stepping on that shit in my bare feet, I would've taken that any day over this damn freezing cold river.

We couldn't die of the cold, but in that water right then? I sure wanted to.

Sam wasn't fairing any better. His skin was covered in goose bumps and his lips were blue.

But what was so much worse? I was bored out of my fucking skull!

Sam was still out for the count and there was no one to talk to, apart from an occasional rabbit or squirrel staring at me from the river bank. They must have guessed how hungry I was because I could swear the little bastards were taunting me. Their twitchy noses seem to say "Hi Dean. Bet you wanna eat us, huh? Na-na-nana-na! Biteme, biteme, biteme, water bitch!"

"Furry fuckers!" I hissed at them, for all the good it would do me.

They just sit there, watching me helplessly drift by and swearing loudly. To this day, I'm sure they were laughing at me.

"C'mon Sammy, wake up dude," I begged, then nearly swallowed half a gallon of river as a small patch of white water swept over the tree trunk.

"Sonofabitch!" I gasped, spluttered and spat in disgust.

But then came my reward. With a soft groan, chattering of teeth and fluttering of eyelashes, Sam started to regain consciousness.

"Hey, you with me, Sam?" I gently poked and prodded at the kid.

"Ow!" he moaned, softly, eyes finally opening to slits. He winced and shivered, fingers clutching at our makeshift raft and morphing into claws, instinct telling him to change and get out of the damn cold.

"Sam, no!" I barked out, making him flinch in pain, and his eyes snapped open all the way. "Sorry, kid, but no changing, ok? We can't do that right now."

Though, frankly, I was kind of surprised his body had taken so long to give way to it. Maybe a fractured skull slowed those animal urges right down, what with his noggin trying to heal and all.

"Huh?" he murmured, then groaned loudly. His body slumped downwards, nearly pitching him into the water again with the movement.

I grabbed on to him one-handed and gave him a shake.

"Hey! Cut that out and wake the hell up!" I snapped, but he just gulped several times as though he was about to be sick, and I felt guilt zinging through my gut. My tone and volume must have hurt him.

"C'mon, kid," I said, more softly this time. "Let me know you're ok."

Pulling his chin up, I gazed into his concussion-glazed eyes and smiled when he nodded slowly.

I indicated our precarious circumstances with a nod of my head. Sam's gaze swept up and down the tree trunk, and then his eyebrows furrowed into a confused frown.

"Wha-? Ow." Sam muttered again, unhappily. "My head."

"Yeah," I winced in sympathy. "I'm guessing you smashed it open on a rock when we took a swan dive over the falls. Cracked your skull good and rattled your brain about, but it's already healing."

Sam managed a small nod, but turned a little green when the trunk rose up on a swell and slumped back down again. He swallowed carefully.

"When you say 'already', how long have we been on this thing?"

This was a tough question to be a smartass about, because I'd left my Rolex back in Sire's room, and Sam's own watch had gone missing. We couldn't know for sure, but Sire guessed it was stolen by the Type Twos when they abducted him.

It was probably half-way across the country by now, getting spray painted or stripped for parts.

"Hard to say, but…" I looked up at the sky. "It's long past lunch, I know that much."

"How can you tell?" Sam asked, miserably.

"Apart from when the sun passed over head?" I answered with a smile. "Try both our stomachs growling. And you were unconscious!"

Sam shook his head slightly. "Yeah, about that…"

I know, I said, sensing he was too tired for much more. Just a little longer and we can take a break. Wolf out, warm up, I'll catch us some food. Gonna have to be raw, though, dude. Crowley's a long ways off but he's still tracking us.

No fire, Sam sighed. Gotcha.

Hey, we'll be fine, I said, letting go of the tree with one hand so I could rub his shoulder. We'll get some rest…

Can't afford to rest, Dean, Sam insisted, shakily, and still looking green around the gills. Gotta get back to Tobius and Castiel. Warn them about Crowley and his army.

I should have known the kid would take this tact, and though I'd been thinking that exact same thing not so long ago, I was ready for him.

Nope, nuhuh, not gonna happen, I kicked hard with my feet and the tree trunk surged forwards a little faster with the current. Not until your head's fully healed, alright?

But…

No buts! It was time to exert my authority. And let's face it; the kid had kind of brought this on himself. Like you said. I'm your alpha until we get back to Sire. So that's an order, Sam, which means no arguments.

He sulked for a time, but joined in with the paddling.

I reckon we covered a fair number of miles before the sun showed the first signs of setting, its once bright rays diffusing into oranges and reds. Sam seemed to be growing much more lucid, words not so slurred, and the deep gash on his head had partially sealed shut. It would remain red, bruised and swollen for a while longer, but even that would eventually fade with time.

But the cold was weighing on us. We needed to head for the shore, change and find somewhere safe to sleep for a few hours before the sun went down completely. Then we had to make a decision: how to get back to Tobius without running into Crowley. I sensed another one of our epic journeys ahead of us, because our trek back wasn't going to be nearly as swift as the journey away down river.

Dean look, Sam pointed ahead suddenly, as we rounded a bend in the river. We're real close to the bank here. How about it?

It was a natural cove, tiny and sheltered by some close standing pines and their thick canopy. The best part was the evidence of a few healthy rabbit warrens.

My mouth watered. Yeah, Bugs Bunny and his family was gonna get it tonight!

It did seem like a convenient place to ditch the white water rafting trip, and just in time. Sam's gut was groaning vacantly again, and my balls were about to drop off.

All ashore, Sammy!

I waited until Sam had untangled himself from the branches, then we pushed off together, letting the tree float away, finally free of its heavy burden. We were changing in the water, and paddling along at the same time. Just as the cove came alongside us, we clambered up the bank, shook out our shaggy fur and began loping around joyously, albeit Sam was still a little slow and woozy. But already we were warming up and it felt damn good.

Ok, food! Now! I growled, and began frantically sniffing the ground. You rest up and…

Sam snorted indignantly. I'm not waiting for you to get lucky, Dean. I'm hungry!

Cheeky bastard, I grunted and butted his shoulder gently with my snout, but let him join in the hunt.

I could eat at least three rabbits, he complained with a soft whine some time later.

Huh, I could manage four easy! As acting Alpha I had to one-up him, never mind how childish it was.

And some roast potatoes, Sam added, obviously trying to torture me, the little shit! And thick, meaty gravy. Maybe some of those Yorkshire puddings Tobius likes to make on Sundays. Or Irish stew with dumplings…

I'd had enough.

Sam! Cut it out! I barked at him, sharply. You're hungry; I get it, so am I! Now shut the hell up before I drown you in my own drool!

Sam actually sniggered. Sorry, dude.

Right… I grumbled with mock petulance, and we continued with our hunt for food.

Our patience prevailed. Sometime later, I'd caught five rabbits, all plump and juicy, and Sammy had found some wild nuts and berries. But it wouldn't satisfy us for long. We'd not eaten in a couple of days, and with all the energy expenditure of late our metabolism would punish us cruelly if we didn't make up the deficit and soon.

Sam took a nose dive back into the river, disappearing beneath the surface, while I scouted out a decent place to curl up and sleep.

I found an ideal spot around a mile up on one of the mountains. Well below its snowy peak, a small copse, hemmed in by thick pines with low hanging branches, made a cosy little den; it could have been created just for us. There was a rocky outcrop just above it that made for a great observation post, because it looked out over the river and surrounding forests. A good commander could hold an effective ambush in a place like that.

Which was just what we had in mind, except we had no intention of being around to see it.

When I made it back to the river, Sammy had quite a pile of fish. Mainly trout, with a few others I didn't know the names of mixed in for good measure. We were in for a real feast that night.

Helping him carry the load, I showed him the trail I'd deliberately made to and from our new base, pointed out certain aspects of the trail, the odd usefully placed tree or rock. Sam nodded along, thoughtfully, and by the time we got up the mountain, we'd hashed out a plan.

We didn't worry too much about cleaning up after dinner. There wasn't a lot left to worry about anyhow. We were so damn hungry that we licked the rabbit bones clean, then chewed the marrow out. Connective tissue, kidneys, liver, heart, even the brains and eyeballs were enthusiastically consumed. The only bits left were the skins.

As for the fish, they were devoured pretty much in one swallow.

That is sooo much better, Sam rumbled contentedly, rolling on his back and stretching oversized paws out and up. His rear legs scissored wildly for a few seconds, tail thumping the forest floor, and he heaved out a great sigh of relief.

I grinned over at him. Yep, if not for the deadly pursuit of a Type One army, we could almost be on vacation, huh?

Speaking of, Sam flipped over and studied me with big bright eyes. We still haven't had a vacation yet. Where you wanna go when this is all over? We keep talking about it but we never seem to get the chance. There's always something getting in the way.

Kid was right. If it wasn't human hunters, vampires, and demons out to get us, it was ghost possessed Wiccans, and kids with special abilities trying to gouge our innards out.

Hmm. I suppose Hawaii's out of the question? I asked, mischievously.

Have you gotten over your fear of flying? Sam snorted back.

No.

Then there's your answer.

Good point.

It was time to get back to work.

The next stage was to set up a few traps around the perimeter of the area. And these consisted of deep pits dug and fitted with spikes we'd fashioned from torn off branches, whittled into points with our teeth, and covered by more branches and general forest detritus.

As a finishing touch, Sam climbed up a tree and gave one of its branches a gentle shake, allowing a light dusting of snow to fall on the covered pit.

Simple but effective. We hoped.

Sleep came easy after that. With the sounds of the night, a hooting owl, perhaps on the hunt for its own food, and the rustle of something frantically mating in the undergrowth, we slipped into a restful slumber with one ear open for trouble.

Only a couple of hours, that was all we needed, and woke up well before midnight to a crescent moon lighting up the sky. We climbed to the observation post and looked out across the landscape, watching for signs that our pursuers were on their way.

Nothing so far, and I hoped that they'd come across this place in darkness, all the better to fall for our ruse, not to mention the traps.

Sam watched the land, head tilted to one side.

Looks so peaceful and quiet, huh? Like nothing out there could harm us.

Yeah, I offered, quietly. Like the best of illusions.

We had no doubt, even as we stood there, that a hidden army was crawling through the trees and along the river banks, searching for us. It sent a cold tingle down my spine.

We had a good lead on Crowley, who would be blindly following the river. He'd find our temporary bolthole, there was no avoiding that issue, but we could try to put him off the scent for a while, just to buy us more time.

It was gross, as plans went, but we hunted high and low. Sadly, we did eventually find what we were looking for, just not what we'd imagined.

An elderly, lone, grey wolf signed his own death warrant when he made the mistake of crossing our paths. It hadn't been our intention. Just some deer blood, maybe an elderly stag for preference to make it look like a real skirmish had taken place.

I guess, in the end, this was the most believable.

He attacked us first, but I'm still not proud of what we did. He was just defending his territory, his hunting grounds. Once we had him pinned, the old wolf just blinked slowly, proudly, as though resigned to his fate, stopped fighting us and gave in.

I dragged him nearer to our base camp, offered him a silent apology, and made it as painless and swift as possible under the circumstances.

Dean…Sam bit back a sob, while we used our paws to smear the earth with the poor old wolf's blood.

I know, Sam. I'm sorry. I really am, and if there had been another way…I shook my head, sadly. But there's just too damn much riding on us getting back. Too many lives at stake.

I felt bowled over by it, the sheer weight of taking an innocent's life just to save our own.

It was big picture time, and that old wolf deserved our respect.

We left him where he lay, couldn't afford to do anything else. It had to look like we got caught up in a fight. But we would be back once this whole thing was over. The grey wolf would be properly put to rest on his own turf.

It was no comfort at all, knowing that had we let him go the chances were he would have fallen foul of Crowley's army, and his end probably wouldn't have been anywhere near as quick or humane.

We rolled over and over in the blood and dirt getting it stuck on our fur and paws, until it had infected almost every part of our bodies. We would never be able to forget this, and not just because of the stench. Our physical disgust couldn't even match our inner turmoil. We avoided each other's gaze for a while after and didn't speak, while we prepared for the next stage of our daring escapade.

We ran back to the river, making sure to leave just enough of a blood trail to enable Crowley to track us, but not too much to cause any suspicion.

We jumped in the river with a small splash and swam around for a bit, gently nipping at each other's ears and tails, all those hard to reach places. After a thorough soaking, and the last of the grey wolf's blood had washed away, we crawled out of the river at the same place we entered, and carefully followed the edges of the false trail all the way back to the body. We leapt from ground to rock to tree, and changed from form to form and back again when necessary, keeping as close to the trail of blood as possible without actually touching it.

Our stench, a mix of rabbit, fish and blood of the dead wolf would be all over the place, confusing anyone tracking us into heading along the river again, with any luck. It wouldn't fool them forever but maybe for long enough, if we moved quickly.

We stood there for two minutes silence over the dead wolf, heads bowed respectfully.

Then, without a word, we bounded silently away in the opposite direction of the river, leaving no visible trace of us behind, and climbed further up the mountain.

Maybe we would run out of luck. Maybe when Crowley saw the body, he'd know what we'd done. After all, he was ancient, had seen every trick in the book and probably even invented a few of them himself.

Maybe he wouldn't fall for it. Maybe he'd find our clean scent out of all that mess.

That was a lot of maybes, and we had to hope no to all of them. But at the very least if it slowed him down, that might prove enough.

It was just a great shame the old wolf had paid the ultimate price for keeping the pack, and in turn, the world safe from the growing number of Type Ones.

Doesn't seem fair, huh?

We ran long into the night, only stopping to sniff the air, check for trouble and alter our course when needed. There was still no scent of Crowley, and Sam wasn't getting any psychic twinges, but by that point Crowley might well have recloaked. He could have been right up close and we wouldn't have known until it was too late.

Marvellous.

Our journey was based mostly on guesswork and we only had our sense of direction to go on. Most of the time we ran in tandem, Sam in front at his insistence, but sometimes we were able to run side by side.

I couldn't get my mind off that grey wolf. I'd murdered the poor bastard, never mind that it was all for a good cause. As Sire once told us, the crusaders used that excuse too many times, and look how much blood was spilt because of it?

All in the name of God.

If I were still human I'd be embarrassed for my kind.

But right then, as a Type Two werewolf, hunter of lunar and non-lunar strays, I was more than just ashamed. I felt remorse like nothing else I'd ever experienced before on a hunt.

Dean?

Uhuh?

What happened back there…

Sam, don't.

No, we need to talk about it, Sam pressed again, a little more forcefully.

This ain't the time.

It's the perfect time!

We're supposed to be on our guard, not holding a heart to heart!

Sam skidded to a halt and I nearly ran into him.

Sam, what the fuck?

Blue-green glowing eyes regarded me with concern and sympathy, and I wanted to cringe.

Sam padded forward and nuzzled into my ear.

We have to get this out, and let it go, ok? We can't objectively face what's ahead of us with this kind of crap on our shoulders.

He licked my chin and blew gently into my snout.

It's ok. I mean, it isn't but… there wasn't much choice…

I snorted and backed off. There's always a choice!

Not in this case, he whimpered and padded forward again, regaining the ground I'd given, but this time ducked his head under mine and gently pushed upwards. It was his time, Dean. I saw it in his eyes and he knew it. He'd lived a long life and tonight he was ready to go. You gave him an honourable death. You let him go down fighting like the proud warrior he was. No wolf could ask for more, Were or not.

Sam whined softly and pressed closer to me.

If he noticed I was shaking with grief, if he felt the wetness of my tears on his fur, he kindly said nothing.

And weirdly enough, Sam was right. The guilt wasn't gone, the burden of an innocent death could never be erased, but somehow it became a little easier to bear. There was no way I could have faced what was coming for us with my conscience loaded down like that.

Looking back, knowing what we know now, it might have been the final straw that broke us. Instead, we became closer than ever before.

C'mon, I gave him a gentle push. Let's keep going, huh?

He stepped back and eyed me, sadly, for a second.

Yeah, ok.

But just as we moved off I had something to add.

Sammy?

Yeah?

Thanks, dude.

He looked back at me. You've done the same for me countless times. We can't change the past. It's what we do with the future that matters now.

I snorted softly and bumped against him.

Smartass.

Sam just grinned back, long tongue hanging out the side of his mouth.

After around an hour of running up the mountain, we began to emerge from the trees, where biology gave into the elements and rock took over, and we encountered deep snow. Last thing we needed was to make our trail easier to follow so we skirted around the edge, just below the snowline, until we came to the other side, and hit a hiking trail stretching away along the mountain pass to the next peak.

But on our side it was almost a cliff face, with a big, snowy drop.

Dammit.

Yeah, Sam echoed my thoughts and stared down the long, steep rocky slope to the bottom of the mountain. It was our only option.

Humans were in enough shit as it was without bringing Crowley right to them.

So instead of taking the easy mountain trail, we jumped.

The two of us hit the slope curled into big, furry balls, tails wrapped tightly around our bodies, heads tucked in. Underneath the snow there were big, hard, sharp rocks and boulders, there was no getting away from that, but we made it to bottom in no time at all.

I felt like Wile Coyote after an anvil had dropped on his head.

Oh, man! Sam whined softly. That hurt.

Yup, I groaned and we both rolled on our backs, legs all starfished out.

Shit! Said Sam. Remind me never to do that again.

Sam?

Yeah!

Never jump off a mountain.

Dean?

Yeah!

Perhaps we should've learned that lesson when we plummeted over the fucking waterfall!

I huffed my displeasure out though my snout.

Shutup Sam!

Sam and Dean? A husky voice, heavy with a Scottish accent called out to us. Is that you?

We looked at each other in surprise.

Lucas?

We sprang to our paws, ignoring the twinges and aches as our bodies protested the movement, and watched with eager relief when twenty or more wolves circled closely around us, a protective wall of non-lunars, all from the Home Pack.

What are you doing all the way out here? asked Sam, excitedly, and bounced like a playful puppy towards the Alpha, whining with delight when Lucas nuzzled affectionately into his ear. I can't believe it!

So it's true, the Alpha peered closely at the younger wolf. You can see again! Sam, that's wonderful, youngster! He looked up at me with an air of approval. And I've also been hearing great things about you from Marcus, young Dean.

Either, Lucas had joined the modern age and got hold of a satellite phone, or he'd been busy learning some of Bobby Singer's craft.

I shook out my mane. Not that I'm unhappy to see you, Lucas, but what are you doing out here?

Another wolf stepped forward and I recognised her as Victoria, the Home Pack's first lady, as it were, Lucas' partner in crime.

We were on our way to join you for your Prime celebration, she said, and bowed her head graciously. There were too many pregnancies and pups to risk bringing the whole pack out here, so we took some of our senior members and left the others, along with the werebears, to look after the rest.

I blinked, feeling a little shy and over-awed at the immense gesture.

That's incredible, guys. Thank you.

Lucas grinned. You're more than welcome, laddie!

One of the other wolves, bigger than the rest, suddenly shifted into human form, his blue eyes twinkling with mirth.

The Home Pack Beta gave a small bow of welcome.

"Good to see you Sam and Dean," he said, kindly.

Sam changed forms to match and clasped the guy into a tight hug.

"It's good to see you Cornelius," he said, softly. "You're looking well."

These two were close friends, which was quite the feat considering how they started out almost at each other's throats. They'd helped each other when the rest of us couldn't, not even Tobius. They both understood what it was like to be trapped and bound in silver, tortured by the stuff until all you wanted was death.

And they also knew what it was like to lose a valuable sense to silver. Sam was more fortunate. His sight came back, admittedly by chance and through one hell of a risky business, but Cornelius lost the ability to thought project. Which was why, when he greeted us, he shifted to human form so he could communicate.

And he sure was communicating now.

"The big question is," the Beta was asking, gaze switching from Sam to me and taking in our no doubt bedraggled appearance with raised eyebrow. "What are you two doing all the way out here?"

Lucas nodded. Last we heard, you went chasing after your Uncle Crowley a few days ago, though the whys and wherefores are a little hazy and the Canadian Pack appears to be in some turmoil. How did you get this far out?

Ah. I gave one more bow of the head to Lucas and Victoria, then changed to join Cornelius and Sam.

"Listen very carefully," I said with a tired grimace. "Because the shit has well and truly hit the fan…"