Hunter of the Shadows Book 3

Enemy at the Door.

Chapter 21

Now…

Bobby is sitting with the boys, frying up some bacon in an old pan.

"Last time I was in shit that deep was back in Nam," he murmurs, and though his words are few they are charged with emotion. "There was nothing I could do other than stay at the back and keep on plugging silver rounds in those damn Type Ones. It was the only chance I could give you boys."

Dean claps a hand on Bobby's back and squeezes gently. "No offence, dude, but you're human. You did the best you could."

"Don't me make feel no better 'bout it," Bobby growls, softly.

They sit in a comfortable silence for a few seconds, while Bobby dishes up the bacon onto wooden platters.

"I'll never forget the looks on their faces, or those deep, red eyes," Sam shivers slightly. "I still remember how it felt just before they attacked, and how I thought it would be the last thing I ever saw."

Dean huffs. "And we should've known. Hell, we even told Lucas, right from the start, there was a possibility Crowley had infiltrated the Canadian Pack with Type Ones."

Sam nods slowly as he chews on his bacon, then swallows. "He'd already done it with the Pack Council. But these new converts were a whole different ballgame."

"Yep," Dean turns to stare into the camera lens, as though making sure he has our complete attention and understanding. "'Cos they weren't Pack elders, soft from years of sitting on their asses, or even just ordinary cooks or farmers.

These guys were NLSU."

Then…

I realised who they were. We hadn't been introduced to them all, but we'd seen them around. At least eight had been on guard duty outside our quarters when Sam was under house arrest, changing shifts every four hours or so, but there were two in particular that had me riled.

These were the two non-lunars who had accompanied Captain Byrnes and Sergeant Fisher on the sabotage mission. Clearly they'd succeeded since cannon remained silent, but someone had gotten the drop on them and taken the Captain as hostage. What that meant for the Sergeant I couldn't say for sure, but I could hazard a fair guess that the poor guy was dead already. As for the Captain, we hadn't seen him since before the grounds were stormed.

All these thoughts ran through my head a split second before the bastards charged.

As we began to spring forth once more to meet our foe, the world seemed to suddenly slow down on its axis. It felt like trying to run through water, our legs weighted down, our arms refusing to move with the speed we so desperately needed. The new Type Ones, however, were also affected so it wasn't all bad news.

"What the hell?" I ground out, angrily, trying to push forwards another step.

"I don't know for sure," Sam answered, sounding as strained and frustrated as I felt. "But I think there's some psychic energy going on…"

And then we all heard her.

I've managed to stall 'em, and I temporarily disabled their block, Missouri's tired voice chimed in our heads. You can all now thought project but not for long, and Sam... that ain't all you can do, honey. Now, here's ya chance! Her inner voice became shrill and commanding. Push 'em back, and keep pushin'!

The weird hold on us was gone so unexpectedly that we nearly face planted, but latent momentum kept us on our feet and racing towards the floundering new Type Ones, still imprisoned by Missouri's mental grasp.

Keep going! The Cook screamed in our heads. I can't hold 'em off for much longer… move!

Even I could see how they were slowly regaining what Missouri had snatched away from them, and I knew there was a good chance that by the time we reached them they'd be back in full control of their capabilities.

"Shit!" I griped, half scared shitless, half pissed off. "We're not gonna make it."

"Oh. Yes. We. Are!" Sam roared, and sped up into a full on sprint with one human fist extended right out in front. So great was his speed that he outran the rest of us, getting a good lead.

"Sammy, no!" I screamed out.

"What the hell is he doing?" demanded Tobius anxiously from nearby.

"I don't know, but I'm gonna stop 'im before he gets himself killed," I answered, determinedly and picked up the pace. "Sammy, you get back here now!"

But he ignored me and carried on. Head lowered, eyes glowing fiercely, his battle howl rose another octave just as his fist opened up, fingers splayed wide. Then he suddenly stopped dead and stood, paws stubbornly planted, human hand still outstretched.

It was like walking into a vacuum. No noise, just silence, as though someone upstairs had switched off the sound, until Sam slowly pulled his hand in, then punched it back out with almost enough force to crack his shoulder blade. It was instantly followed by a millisecond of blinding, white light, and all sound returned with Dolby digital surround as the new converts of Crowley's army, screaming and howling, all went flying up around twenty feet in the air and backwards.

Each and every one of them smashed at full force into the building behind, which happened to be the Council Chambers. One hundred bodies slid, limp and stunned, to the ground. Some groaned in pain and others didn't move at all, but the fragments of bone sticking out of the Council walls, coupled with blood leaking from the backs of the new-born Type Ones' heads, told us they were no longer much of a threat.

Sam let out a deep, soft growl and collapsed to his knees, while his body completed the change to full human. I cautiously moved towards him, noting how his head hung down as though too heavy for his neck to support, and darkened, sweat damp hair covered his eyes.

"Sammy?" I called softly as I approached. "You ok?"

He shook his head slightly but didn't reply.

Dropping down in front of him, I gently brushed aside his hair and checked his eyes. They were still glowing but it was faint. Thankfully, the pulsing light was blue-green. I don't know what else I expected, especially since it had been days since the Sleepworm was ripped out of him, but I sure was glad to see his normal colour shining at me.

But the kid was exhausted. Panting heavily with fatigue, he reached out with a shaky hand and grasped my shoulder, desperate for support and reassurance.

"You did great, kid," I whispered.

When he swayed suddenly, I firmly wrapped him up in my arms, supporting his head against my shoulder. It was like holding toddler Sam again, comforting him after one of his nightmares.

"I'm so proud of you, Sammy. Rest now, ok? Let me take it from here."

I don't know where Sire found it in the middle of a battlefield, or maybe we'd been kneeling there together for longer than I realised, but in the next moment, he was enfolding us both inside a thick, warm blanket of animal furs.

"Come on you two," he murmured, and helped us up from our kneeling position. "Leave the clean up to us."

I glanced up at Tobius. Just over his shoulder, worn and bloodied from battle, but standing firm and powerful, the Canadian Pack Alpha and his Beta, my uncles, both nodded. Their eyes were shining with the pride and sadness of a hard won victory.

Sire gestured towards the Council Chambers. "We'll be staying in Marcus' quarters. Now go," he insisted with a gentle smile. "There's nothing more for you pups to do here. We have everything under control."

When Tobius moved to stand near his brothers, a lump grew in my throat. Sammy and I had fought along side these three magnificent warriors… and they were our family.

We must have missed the last part of the battle, because when a shout came from behind, all five of us slowly turned to see the remainder of Crowley's army being arrested by the Canadian Pack, and herded away. It all seemed a little anticlimactic.

"Wh-what will happen to them?" asked Sam, tiredly.

"They'll be kept under armed guard until such a time comes when we can find a way to return them to their former state," replied Marcus.

"Brother," said Castiel, urgently. "With respect, I'm not sure that's such a good idea."

"Indeed," added Tobius, though he sounded reluctant. "We might never find a way to change them back."

Marcus sighed deeply.

"What would you have me do? Execute them all?" he shook his head. "Many of those wolves are just as much victims of Crowley's deceit as we are, if not more so. It would be mass murder. No, there shall be a trial. An open Were trial to establish who was coerced, and who volunteered. With Missouri's help, I'm sure nothing shall remain hidden, or covered up, or kept secret."

I sensed, somehow, that Tobius was relieved by Marcus' decision, and I certainly felt Sam's shoulders sag a little.

"In the meantime," Marcus continued. "There has been enough blood shed this day. We must tend to the wounded and pray for the dead," his eyes rose to the heavens, watching weak, wintry sunlight break through the snow-laden clouds. "No matter which side they were on."

Castiel nodded and moved off to organise the clean up, account for what was left of the NLSU, and make general checks on the population's wellbeing. There was also the question of Crowley's whereabouts, and judging by the look on the Beta's face, that issue was considered a high priority.

Tobius and Marcus would make a tour of the grounds, assessing the damage to the perimeter wall and buildings, and check that Dave the Doc had enough medical equipment.

Bobby and Jim waved to us from a distance, and I heard Andy, in my head, explaining that they would catch up with us later. They had work to do. No doubt they would stick around to help the Pack put itself back together, but right now Sammy needed rest. That mojo he used on the Type Ones had really taken it out of him.

Is it over, now? Sam whispered as we stumbled along, heading for the Council Chambers.

For us? I answered, uncertainly. I guess so.

The fact that we could now thought project should have been a comfort, but it wasn't. Perhaps we'd fought Crowley's Type Ones too many times to trust in it.

Sam didn't say anything more, just concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other while I held him up, but I believe he was about as confident as I was right then. It felt like there was a loose thread, hanging just in front of us but out of sight. Like a pesky spider's web that hits you in the face and you just can't get rid of the feel of it, no matter how many times you swipe a hand over your nose.

But I was too tired to think straight so I shrugged it off. After days of running around after Crowley in the wilderness, the battle against the Type Ones, and Sam's magic use, it was time to trust our family to protect us when we were so vulnerable.

C'mon kiddo, I pulled Sam a little closer and tucked his head under my chin. We both need food, brandy and sleep.

Much later, while dozing under the influence of some good brandy, stretched out on one of Marcus' comfortable leather sofas and soaking up the warm fire, there came a knock at the door.

I exchanged a glance with Sam and rose to open it, but Sam pulled me back and stood up in my place.

Sam? I stared at him.

Me Beta, you Alpha, he grinned, his face lighting up a little, despite the dark rings of fatigue under his eyes.

Oh for God's sake… I huffed, sat back and folded my arms across my chest.

Our visitors, however, came as a surprise.

Castiel stood in the doorway, the firelight flickering over his face revealing a bemused smile, and two pups snuggled in his arms.

We recognised them immediately.

Matthew? I gaped. And is that Logan?

Both pups stirred and blinked up at us.

What the hell you guys doing all the way out here? Asked Sam, in a similar state of shock.

Before they could answer, a gruff and angry sounding Scotsman spoke up on their behalf.

That's a bloody good question, and one I fully intend getting the answer to! growled Lucas appearing behind Castiel in the doorway, also bearing the weight of a young wolf. Once I've checked his leg for silver.

It was his son, Arthur, pale and unconscious, and clearly badly wounded.

Ok, so this was serious and while Sam and I were dying to ask, now wasn't the time.

Despite his anger, we could tell that the Home Pack Alpha was terrified of losing his son.

As Sam and I relieved Castiel of Matthew and Logan, Lucas strode into the room and laid his pup on one of the sofas.

We gently put the young brothers down in front of the fire with a stern warning to stay where they were, then set about helping Lucas tend to his boy.

Castiel gave a small bow, muttered something about sending for food, and left the room, making sure to close the door behind him. I knew he'd be back to check on us at some point.

Sam rummaged through Marcus' desk, pulled out a first aid kit and handed it over to the Home Pack Alpha.

After he'd examined his son's wound thoroughly, Lucas only found a tiny fragment of silver near the surface and pulled it free before it could cause any further damage.

Instantly, Arthur's face seemed to regain a little colour. He shifted, whimpered softly, and settled down again, while his father wrapped the wound in a clean bandage.

What happened, exactly? I asked, handing Lucas the brandy.

The Alpha took a swig and wiped his mouth. After you left, a hunting party of Type Ones wandered into the area, probably looking for deer and not expecting to find anyone. We took 'em by surprise, killed their leader, wiped out most of their team, in fact, but we must've missed one.

He turned to gaze at his sleeping son.

And I would've bought it if not for this wee rascal. Lucas began tucking a discarded fur blanket round the kid, then brushed a few strands of hair back from his eyes. He came out of nowhere, with those two youngsters following at his heels. He nodded to the younger pups lounging by the fire. Arthur pushed me out of the way, took a silver arrow in the leg for his trouble, and when the Type One tried reloading, he found his concentration was buggered by two wee wolf pups, Matthew clinging on to his arrow hand, whilst Logan took a good, long bite at his love spuds, and wouldn't let go.

Sam and I winced in unison and laughed.

Lucas smiled in amusement, though his eyes were still dark with the memory of seeing his son injured in battle. I sure knew how that felt.

Sam glanced over at Logan, the younger of the two brothers. Dude, that must've left a nasty taste in your mouth.

The pup rolled his eyes and batted at his brother with a tiny paw when he sniggered. Like you wouldn't believe.

Matthew returned the playful swat in kind, but his eyes gleamed with pride in his little brother, and no small amount of mischief. I think he farted too, 'cos afterwards Logan sure smelled of shi…

I think we get the picture, boys, Lucas interrupted with a splutter, not used to hearing such language out the mouths of babes. Needless to say, these three will be given a very stern talking to when we get home! He waggled his shaggy eyebrows at the pups and they just giggled at him.

Lucas rolled his eyes and shook his head. Youngsters these days. They can never take anything seriously.

Despite the levity of the moment, I could tell that the pups, including Arthur, were indeed facing some serious punishment. Arthur in particular, in fact. He had disobeyed a direct order from his Alpha and placed his life, and that of Matthew and Logan's, in serious danger.

After the longbow ambush, and as soon as he'd escorted the injured wolves back to his mother, Arthur had absconded into the night. A little while later he found himself saddled with the insular wolf brothers, who had followed him from home at a discreet distance until Arthur figured out he was being shadowed.

There'd been an argument, of course, but the brothers were insistent. Cornelius, the Home Pack Beta and their kind of adopted father, had been gone too long and they were determined to find him. Their biological parents had abandoned them shortly after Logan was born and hadn't been seen since. Out of all the members of the Home Pack, Cornelius was the closest thing to real family the two boys had ever known.

Arthur had tried to order them to return, citing the journey as too dangerous for them, but the brothers had come too far to turn back. So with a promise from the pups to stay behind him at all times and do as they were told, Arthur reluctantly continued with the long journey.

Sneaking out on his pack, journeying across some tough and downright treacherous terrain, to come to the aid of his Alpha and father, had been foolhardy, reckless, and downright stupid.

Lucas winked at Sam and me.

Dangerous it might have been, but it was the stuff Alpha's were made of.

We filled Lucas in on the battle for the main gates, how Bobby, Jim, the werebears and the vamps attacked from the rear. How Sam, with Missouri's aid, took on a battalion of NLSU-trained Type Ones and literally blew them away with his powers.

Lucas nodded along, listening intently and sharing time line information of his own at various points.

Conversation began to wane when we all started yawning again, and Lucas got up to throw some more logs on the fire. The young brothers leapt onto the sofa to curl up between Arthur at one end, and Sammy and me at the other.

The Alpha turned to us and raised an amused eyebrow.

Any other questions?

Sam nodded and leaned over, obviously not wanting the youngsters to hear.

"Has there been any word on Cornelius?"He whispered, nervously. "Last we heard, he was at the rear gates when they were attacked."

Lucas smiled a little sadly. Two of his team were killed outright in that skirmish, and the other was badly wounded, but Cornelius himself is… ok, I suppose. Not brilliant, but ok. The Alpha shrugged. The cavalry arrived at the last second just as he was about to go down with the others: thanks to a wee transportation spell supplied by Mr Singer, Vicky and her girls got there just in time to back him up and they kicked some serious Type One arse. No doubt, they'll all come and see you both once they've finished tending to the wounded, so get some sleep, all of you. I need to go check on the rest of my pack.

Sammy and I could at least relax a little, now. Our brother-in-arms was safe, and Matthew and Logan still had their father-figure.

The walls were no doubt already under repair, the Type Ones were under lock and key, there'd been no sign of John Winchester, and Crowley was being hunted by Castiel and his squad.

We had nothing to worry about.

Right?

An hour later, Missouri arrived with several platters of good, hot food, but when she saw the pups, including Sam, all sleeping soundly, she smiled and shook her head.

Eat, honey, before it gets cold, she whispered to me, softly. Let them all sleep for now, and I'll bring more food for them a little later.

Yeah, I guess so, I shrugged a little despondently.

Cook then stared at me with a shrewd look in her eyes. You don't think it's over, do you?

I stared back, biting my lip and wondering how to answer that. In the end, I kept it simple.

Not a chance.

Hmm. Missouri sat down on the sofa next to ours and studied my face. What does Sam say?

He's not said anything, but I know he feels the same way, I replied.

The Cook nodded slowly, got up and headed for the door. Before she left, she gave me a couple pieces of advice.

Trust your instincts, Dean, and Sam's, she whispered, her deep brown eyes glowing green in the firelight. And eat. Ya can't think on an empty stomach.

She was gone in the next instant.

Day soon turned to night and a grandfather clock at the back of the room quietly tick-tocked away to itself. The fire died down a little, leaving red, glowing embers in the dark of the room that kept reminding me of the enemy and their bright cherry eyes. To discourage any battle fatigue-induced paranoia that might have been creeping up on me, I silently got up, added more wood and stoked the fire until the embers were ablaze once more. But it didn't help any. It was four hours after the battle and I still couldn't sleep, despite my exhaustion.

A familiar scent drifted up my nose and I smiled broadly when the door quietly opened to reveal a grinning Cornelius. He was a little scratched up around the face but his wounds were healing nicely. Someone had lent him one of the Canadian Pack robes, but it looked kind of ridiculous on him, since it was way too long, too big around the shoulders, and the belt wrapped twice around his waist. I guess it could've once belonged to Sergeant Fisher.

"You lived through it, then?"He joked.

"Sure did, but only just."I made a beckoning gesture with my hand and sat back down next to Sam, carefully pulling the kid's head back onto my shoulder so as not to wake him. "C'mon in. There's some food left over."

"Oh thank God!"The Home Pack Beta wolf sniffed at the platters on the coffee table in front of the fireplace and grabbed up a chicken leg. "I'm starving. Fighting off non-lunars is damn draining."

Yeah, I could vouch for that.

"Lucas told us about your team," I said, as tactfully as I could. "I'm sorry for your loss, Cornelius."

The Home Pack Beta sniffed and wiped his mouth. "Yeah. It was inevitable, I guess," he said, quietly, voice hoarse. "We were outnumbered two to one, after all. There was no way we were walking out of there alive. Not without backup."

I nodded in understanding. We'd got lucky round at the main doors in that our backup arrived before we were overwhelmed.

"Lucas said that one of your team survived the battle…"I began, quietly.

Cornelius pursed his lips. "But not for long. The wound was mortal."

He seemed disinclined to talk about it, and I didn't want to push. It was probably a little too soon, after all. Better to wait until the invisible battle wounds have had time to scar over.

The Beta took a bite of his food, then nodded at Sam, still slumped against me and snoring away. "How's he fairing? I heard about him using his powers. That was pretty risky."

I frowned. "How do you mean?"

Cornelius chewed and swallowed, his soft, blue gaze never leaving Sam. "Those Type Ones could have easily turned it back on him. It was dangerous. Brave, but very dangerous. Sam could've gotten badly hurt."

Couldn't exactly disagree with him on that. "Yeah, I know. But he had Missouri helping him. And besides, it worked. We won."

"Yeah,"the Beta looked thoughtful for a moment there. I was expecting at least some quiet confession of guilt about the loss of his compadres but, instead, he completely changed the subject. "So, that Sleepworm drug. You think it restored Sammy's sight?"

That threw me off a little. "Possibly. Doubt we're ever gonna know for sure. Why do you ask?"

He shrugged. "Just wondered if it could give me back the ability to thought project, is all."

Something was changing here. The dynamics of this conversation were all wrong, and the atmosphere had become notably awkward and tense. All I could do was play along and see where he was going with this.

"That's a risky business, Cornelius," I argued as convincingly as I could, knowing that something was dawning on me. Something terrible. "We almost lost Sam 'cos of that stuff. It's not worth it."

Cornelius carefully put down the chicken leg, and wiped his hands on his robe.

"No, I don't suppose it is," he murmured, tonelessly.

The Beta stood slowly and turned to me. As he did so, the sharp angles of his face, partially cast in shadows from the light of the fire, took on a more menacing facet. And, though the voice and body belonged to Cornelius, there was no doubt in my mind who this really was.

"Howdy Dean. Long time no see."

John Winchester grinned from ear to ear, and his borrowed eyes rolled black.

TBC...

I meant to publish this sooner, but work got in the way, so I apologise for not keeping to the 2 chapter posts a week. There's only a few chapters left, so not long to go now.

Hope you all continue to enjoy the story, and please remember to leave a review... it makes my hard work all the more worth it.

With love,

ST xxx