Hunter of the Shadows Book 3
Enemy at the Door.
Chapter 22
I implore you all to keep an open mind with this chapter.
Now…
"I still can't believe it," Sam whispers, sadly. "When did John get the jump on Cornelius?"
Dean sighs and wraps an arm round Sam's shoulders. "According to eyewitnesses from the Canadian Pack, there weren't as many Type Ones attacking the rear gates as Cornelius made out, but Crowley was among them. Bastard must've abandoned the main doors once it was clear he'd lost the initiative, and made for the rear of the grounds."
"I guess," says Sam, still looking sad, but now his brow is creased with thought. "It was a little convenient that all Cornelius' team was wiped out before backup arrived, huh?"
Bobby nods and takes a sip of mead. "I wasn't there when he was taking care of that last wolf, the one who survived, but Missouri swore that wound wasn't mortal because she'd already pulled out the silver arrow before she moved onto the rest of the wounded. Poor sucker died before the Doc could confirm it, though."
Pastor Jim is sitting up with a blanket around his shoulders, hair in disarray, so it's clear he hasn't been awake long. "Andy, Gerald and I came back into the infirmary just as Cornelius was leaving. He appeared upset, I'll grant you, but it was all a little…" the priest waves a hand back and forth, as though he's having trouble describing what he saw. "…stiff and disjointed. I put it down to his own healing battle wounds at the time, combined with the grief of losing close pack members…" he heaves a self-deprecating sigh. "But now we all know differently. John murdered the poor injured wolf to keep his secret safe a while longer."
Without warning, Sam changes, slowly and limb by limb, until he's fully wolfed out and lying across Dean's lap. The red wolf sniffs and turns his head away, rubbing his long snout against Dean's belly.
"Easy, Sammy," Dean whispers, stroking his fingers through the young wolf's long fur. "I know the hard part's coming up. Try and go to sleep, buddy. You don't need to go over all this again."
A soft, muffled woof from deep within Dean's tee-shirt says otherwise.
"Ok," Dean replies, instantly, still stroking Sam's fur. "Alright I get it, dude…"
When he lifts his glowing gaze to the camera, unshed tears sparkle in the firelight.
Then…
"You sonofabitch!" I snarled, standing abruptly.
Sam snorted awake and blinked up at me.
"Dean, what's wrong?" then he saw Cornelius and got up. "Oh! You…" he blinked and that dimpled smile of welcome faded before it had truly even formed.
John gave a small bow.
"And there's my little bastard," he grinned at Sam. "You're looking a little peaky there, Sammy. I hear those spells are a real bitch."
"Don't you call him that!" I snapped and took at pace forward, pushing Sam behind me.
"Don't call him what?" John smirked, nastily. "Bastard, or Sammy?"
"Neither!" I hissed. "And he sure as hell ain't yours."
The grin dropped off his face in an instant.
"Oh you got that damn straight!" he retorted with such bitter malice I was almost taken aback. "And he never was!"
Silence fell heavily in the wake of his inference.
Dean... what? Asked Sam, sounding confused.
I dunno, Sam. I replied, only semi-confident. But don't listen to him. Demons…
Lie? John finished for me. The grin returned, and it was beginning to piss me off. Sure they do. But sometimes they tell the truth, just to mess with your head.
Those black eyes mocked us.
I guess I was right, he added, smugly. Sleepworm did give Cornelius back his thought projection. Damn shame he never lived long enough to appreciate it, huh?
I heard Sam's strangled gasp of dismay and felt my own grief threaten to overwhelm. Cornelius was already dead, his body only standing up and moving around because of the demon lodged inside it.
It wasn't fair. Cornelius had deserved a cleaner death than this. A warrior's death.
I realised right then that whatever else John had to say about Sam, I didn't want to know.
No. That wasn't quite right.
I didn't need to know.
Guys? What's going on? Matthew spoke up from the sofa, his voice slurred with sleep.
Nothing for you to worry about, I murmured, gently, but kept facing John, body tense and ready to launch an attack at the slightest provocation.
Cornelius! The youngster whispered, delightedly. You're back!
No, it's not him, Matthew, Sam told him, sadly. It's just someone who looks like him.
But… the pup began, then I imagined him taking a long, hard look at John. He sighed and whispered, forlornly: Yeah, I can see that now.
Sure wish I'd been that quick.
I heard the creak of the sofa as someone stood up.
They don't need to be here for this, said Sam, quietly, coming to stand beside me this time.
I raised an eyebrow at John, who laughed.
Why not? he shrugged, carelessly. I've no interest in these mutts. Tell them to leave.
Though we already knew who he was really after, I didn't trust him one little bit not to hurt the younger boys just out of spite.
Keeping my gaze on John's, I gestured to Sam. Get the pups out of here.
I'm not leaving you to face him alone, Sam answered, his tone suggesting that no argument in the world would persuade him to go.
I'm not asking you to, I replied, reasonably. Just get them to the door.
John roared with laughter.
"You're pathetic, Dean. I taught you better than that. You just let him walk all over you," he inched closer, sneering widely. "What kind of leader allows his subordinates to disobey a direct command?"
He was twisting our words, trying to turn them against us.
"Sam, get the pups out," I repeated through gritted teeth.
I heard him wake up Arthur and Logan with a few soft words, then the patter of paws as Logan and Matthew rounded the coffee table on the opposite side to John and me. Arthur came into view next, pale and limping, barely awake, the blanket still wrapped around his shoulders. It was a testament to how sick and injured he still was that he didn't even question what was going on. He just followed the two brothers blindly and without argument.
I nodded as Sam edged towards the door and opened it, allowing the three youngsters to pass through.
Just as Arthur set foot outside, the door slammed shut, presumably knocking the poor kid halfway down the stairwell on the other side. Sam jiggled the door handle, trying to get out, but it was wedged shut.
"Kids! You ok out there?" he yelled, frantically, still pulling uselessly on the doorknob. "Arthur?"
Ah, ah, ah, Sammy! John sneered. You're not going anywhere.
Then he turned back to me. And as for you, he raised a hand.
I was lifted off my feet and flung backwards. Hitting the wall on the other side of the room knocked the wind right out of me but, instead of sliding down the wall, I remained pinned in place.
"Dean!" Sam cried out, now facing away from the door, eyes wide with worry.
"M'ok," I answered, trying to shake the fuzz from my aching head. "Can't move, though."
Sam's eyes darkened with anger.
"Let him go," he growled at John, who grinned and shrugged.
"I don't think so, Sammy," he countered. "Not until I've got what I came for."
"And what is that exactly?" asked Sam through gritted teeth, head up, all defiance and fire.
John's grin dropped and an expression of sheer fury and hate took its place. Eyes narrowed, his gaze fixed on Sam.
"You," he said, quietly, like the toll of a death bell.
I kicked and fought but to no avail. Stuck halfway up the wall, I watched helplessly as John began to pace slowly up and down.
"Why me?" asked Sam, looking wary, angry and confused, but no longer quite so defiant. His confidence was waning slightly in the presence of his oldest enemy, and I silently begged him to remain strong.
The demon carried on pacing, his steps slow and purposeful, black gaze never leaving Sam's.
"Well, now," John replied, voice soft and menacing.
But he didn't get much further than that.
Sam? Dean? Sire called, urgently, from outside the locked door. Are you ok in there boys?
John Winchester's here! I yelled in my head, desperately. He's poss…
But the demon waved a hand at me and I knew my thought projections had been silenced. When I tried to speak out loud, nothing came. My mouth just gaped open like a goldfish at feeding time.
"You talk too much, kid," John informed me with a smug sneer.
"Dean!" Sire called aloud this time, but neither Sam nor I could answer him.
There came a loud thud at the door, then another. There was some grumbling and swearing, followed by more thuds, then the door gave out a loud cracking noise, and the head of a spear slammed through the wood, splitting the door from top to bottom.
"Ah!" said John, a little too casual and gleeful for my liking. "The hero returns to save his brats. How touching." He snorted with contempt. "It'll be good to have him here for this. Nothing like a parenting reunion, huh boys?"
Tobius used the spear to pull away the rest of the door and allow him entry. He strode inside the room, eyes gleaming with fury. Watching him take quick stock of the situation, I could see the thought process going on in Sire's head, the moment he came to the sad conclusion that Cornelius was no longer himself.
And in that moment, Sire shoved aside his grief and challenged the demon.
"Let my boys go, John," he growled, fingers flexing around the spear.
John laughed, cruelly.
"In good time," he said, and tilted his head to one side in consideration. "Yes, it is good to have you here. Perfect, in fact. I never thought I'd see the day when I would finally catch up with you, Tobius. A human against a non-lunar? I think it's pretty obvious who would win. But as a demon?" John shook his head, mockingly. "Now that's a whole other kettle of fish."
Tobius studied the demon for a moment, then relaxed a little. "Ok. I'll bite. Let's hear what you have to say."
The demon shook his head again. "Oh no. Not just yet," he said. "Ya see? Me and Sammyboy here have a little score to settle first."
With a flick of the wrist, Sire joined me halfway up the wall, pinned and useless, arms and legs flailing, and completely mute.
Sam gulped but stood his ground as our demon ex-father approached him, then stopped a few feet away.
"Think you can take me, kiddo?" John asked, suddenly sounding concerned and loving in a way that made me want to hurl.
Sam's nod was jerky but his clenched jaw and flared nostrils told me his stubborn nature was in charge here.
"Ok, then," John waggled his eyebrows and began to circle the kid. "Let's go."
Sam hunkered down, hands morphing, nails elongating, becoming thick, sharp claws that could gut a human in the blink of an eye. His fangs gleamed in the firelight, eyes glowing while his long snout formed smoothly.
Sam took a graceful step to the side, and the demon followed seamlessly, his own partial wolfing out process taking place.
It was wearing Cornelius' meat suit, using his voice... God only knows what that was doing to Sam, but he handled it admirably.
When one made a sudden movement, the other repeated it, and so on, each one watching the other closely. It all took place in absolute silence, apart the heavy breathing of the fighters.
I was terrified for Sam. We'd all been down this road before up at Mont Noir. Sire and I were pinned, helpless to move, unable to save Sam before that damn silver sword pierced his chest. I couldn't bear to watch it a second time, but I feared I had no choice.
The circling didn't last for long. Sam had learned a thing or two since Mont Noir.
Breaking the stalemate, Sam leapt, curled up into a ball and vaulted over the sofa. His rear paws slammed into John, who almost lost balance and nearly ended up in the fireplace.
The demon appeared shocked for a second or two, but soon recovered with a similar counter attack, which didn't work. Sam had already darted away to a safe distance and was gearing up for another assault. He came on fast and strong, hurling himself forward into a full on sprint and turned at the very last second, kicking his legs up, those clever rear paws once again smashing into John's face and sending him flying backwards over the coffee table.
But John was instantly up on his feet again, spitting teeth and wiping the blood from his nose. This time, he was mad as hell. His chest puffed up, paws up, claws out, his mouth opened and he let loose a fierce roar of absolute rage.
Panting, puffing, fangs on display in a fearful snarl, John suddenly sprang up onto the coffee table and before Sam could move backwards, John swiped at him, catching him across the left arm. Sam howled in pain as those claws raked across from arm to chest and gouged deep into his flesh, and it only made him angrier.
In a powerful roundhouse kick to the head, Sam almost got himself free, but John stubbornly held on, trying to bury his claws inside Sam. He was aiming for the kid's heart and I struggled harder to get off the wall and defend him, but I remained pinned like a friggin' butterfly in some sick scientist's collection.
John flexed his claws, pulled Sam right up into his face and grinned, saliva dripping from his fangs.
"Feel familiar, does it?" the demon hissed, studying Sam's pain wracked face with delight. John flexed again, his paw burrowing its way deeper inside Sam's chest. "Isn't this where Jake got you? I hear a silver sword in the heart's a real…"he tugged harshly once more "bitch!"
Sam, for his part, cried out, no doubt the pull on his chest sheer agony, but he wasn't done yet.
Swiftly pulling back his head, Sam extended his jaws, and took a large chunk out of John's neck, not enough to disable the jugular, but enough to cause a painful distraction.
The demon howled and ripped himself away, claws retracting and dislodging from Sam's chest in a spray of blood.
"Does that feel familiar?" Sam retorted, eyes flashing with vengeful wrath. "Only last time it was my grandpa! Guess the apple doesn't fall far, huh?"
John stilled, chest heaving, one paw clutching at his bleeding neck.
"Grandpa, hmmm?" he murmured, a secretive look coming over him. "That's real interesting, Sammy."
Then he turned to Tobius and me, still imprisoned halfway up the wall, and raised a genuinely surprised eyebrow. "You guys really don't know, huh?"
I was suddenly reminded of his earlier comment about Sam, glanced at Tobius, who was glaring hard at John, and a weird feeling crept up on me. The answer was right there, right in front of me, just out of reach, but no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't grasp it.
"What the hell are you talking about?" demanded Sam, angrily. "Stop talking in riddles and tell me what you want from us!"
John snarled and huffed. "I would've thought that was obvious," he growled, the look of secretive, near-amusement was gone, eyes once again filled with hate. "You should've been watching Dean's back that night, Sammy. It should've been you who was turned, not Dean. But then, I guess it wasn't strictly necessary."
That was a real weird comment, and once again that feeling swam around in the back of my head. I tried to call out in protest, but all I could manage was a soft whine from my frozen vocal cords.
John turned his head to stare at me, expression suddenly sad.
"You wanna know why, Dean?" he whispered, forlornly. "You were my boy! My first born… my one and only true child, not this…" the demon snarled at Sam, who flinched, eyes filling with tears of long ago hurt "abomination! He was never mine. I would never have missed him like I missed you, Dean."
As the implication sank in, my heart seemed to freeze, and I sensed my Sire going still.
"Wha…?" Sam whispered, desolation written all over his young face. He cleared his throat. "I don't understand… Dean getting turned… it was an accident…"
Then it slowly dawned on him what John was inferring and his eyes widened, tears pouring down his face. He shook his head, miserably.
"No…"
It was almost as though I could hear Sam's heart breaking in the silence that followed.
Because I now had the answer to that feeling.
Demon's lie, but sometimes they tell the truth…
The demon grinned triumphantly. What occurred next was so fast I couldn't follow, but in a sudden flash of silver, he lunged forward. There was a soft swishing noise and a sickening squelch.
Sam fell to his knees, mouth open, gasping for air, right hand clutching at his left arm… which was barely hanging on to his shoulder by a thread of skin and sinew. Blood spewed down his arm, his body, all over the floor.
Oh god.
I wanted to puke. I wanted to scream blue, bloody murder, but most of all I wanted to go to him and try to ease his pain. But the demon wasn't finished tormenting him.
"Recognise this, Sammykins?" asked John, and held out a very familiar looking sword, covered in Sam's blood. "Yeah, I thought you might. Kindly loaned to me by Bobby Singer and Pastor Jim, though that's not to say they didn't put up a fight."
It was the silver sword Jake had forged with his own blood and used to nearly kill Sam at the battle of Mont Noir. John had taken it from Singer Salvage yard the night he attacked Bobby and the priest, leaving Jim Murphy with a broken leg.
He must have been hiding it under Cornelius' robes, because there had been no hint of it when he moved around or sat down.
Discarded nearby on the floor was a roll of grey cloth. I extended my snout and sniffed for it, but got nothing. Must've been used to cover the scent of silver.
Sonofabitch got the drop on us in more ways than one.
My heart squeezed tight in my chest when I glanced back at Sam. The kid blinked in shock, swaying, trying to hold himself upright and I prayed to whoever might be listening that there were no silver shards buried in his wound.
"Mary, God rest her, cheated on me," John announced, quietly.
All eyes turned to him, Sam's included, no doubt all of us in equal states of shock.
"I knew at the time she was fucking someone else. I mean, why not? I was on night shifts, working overtime at the garage, trying to get the business up and running. I wasn't there for her," he shrugged, casually. "I get it. Honestly. Can't really blame her, I guess. I wasn't too nice to her at times. Too tired to carry on a normal conversation 'how was your day, honey? 'What would you like for dinner darlin'?"
The Bastard slunk closer to Sam. "But then you came along, as if to add insult to injury," he hissed in Sam's pale, weary face. "And I just knew you weren't mine, Sammy."
Sam shook his head. "N-no!" he cried, weakly, his face somehow turning a shade even paler than before. "I…"
But John wasn't about to let him finish.
"Never found out officially, of course, and Mary denied it 'til she was blue in the face, right up to the day she died," the demon sneered at Sam, virtually spitting at him. "But you looked nothing like me. Almost everything about you was her."
Sam gulped and whimpered in pain when John grabbed the shoulder of his injured limb and twisted. Whatever colour had been left in Sam's face was now gone, but he refused to scream, refused to give the bastard any such satisfaction.
Out the corner of my eye, I saw Tobius renewing his struggles, his teeth bared, ears sliding up his head.
"It wasn't 'til Tobius here," John jerked his chin towards Sire, who glared back at him in silent malevolence "dispatched me downstairs that the truth came out. Azazel was simply dying to meet me. And he told me, Sam." The demon's black eyes turned to the kid, then he leaned down and cupped Sam's chin in a harsh grip. "He told me who you really belong to. And boy! Did it sure blow me out of the water!"
John suddenly snarled and bared his teeth.
"You were Tobius' brat all along."
Sam's eyes widened and I heard Sire draw in a sharp breath.
I… wasn't really processing it. I just kept repeating a mantra over and over in my head.
Demons lie… Demons lie… Demons lie…
But just occasionally, a quiet traitor would add sometimes they tell the truth, just to mess with your head…
John laughed, long and loud with no trace of humour. "I just can't win with you, huh, Dean? Either I'm lying or telling the truth, now which is it?"
Sensing that the mystical gag was off, I glared at him, defiantly, refusing to speak.
"Well? I asked you a question, now which is it?" he roared, now seemingly mad beyond reason. "The sonofabitch who took my only son and made him into a monster, was the very same lowlife who, years before, fucked my wife and left me with his bastard to raise as my own! Tell me, Dean, why would I lie about that?"
I had several answers:
''Cos you're nuts.'
''Cos you're stupid enough to believe anything Azazel tells you'
''Cos no way would Tobius do something like that…'
But, just then, I glanced over at Sire. He was back to fully human, head down, eyes closed, and silent tears dripped down his face.
Another reason came to mind.
''Cos you're not lying. 'Cos maybe, just maybe, you're telling the truth…'
Tobius slowly raised his head and fixed his watery gaze on Sam.
"John was working late the night I dropped by, and Dean was upstairs asleep," he whispered, forlornly. "I was just visiting an old friend. I hadn't intended..." Sire shook his head slowly. "Your mother was so alone and scared... It was just one night, a moment of loneliness and weakness, just one slip, and I never saw her again, I swear. I didn't even know Mary had another child until I turned Dean and he told me he had a little brother. But still, I didn't figure it out... I never even thought... you look so much like Mary. Please forgive me, child. If I had known, I would have come for you sooner… If I'd known just what kind of a bastard was raising you back then, I would have come for the both of you so much sooner. But I never knew, Sam… I never knew…"
TBC...
Now I've really set the cat amongst the pigeons, eh?
Is he, or isn't he?
As promised, this is the chapter with the most potentially damaging revelation. Whether or not it's true is entirely up to the reader to decide, and I look forward to hearing your opinions on this matter (grins).
Cheers everyone.
Love ST xxx