Hunter of the Shadows Book 3
Enemy at the Door.
Chapter 23
Now…
Jim and Bobby share an astonished look. This is obviously news to them, but they wisely decline to comment.
Sam takes in a shuddering breath and exhales slowly through his snout, the memory of that event and the news it procured obviously still burning a little too bright.
It's silent for a while as hunters and werewolves alike chew it over.
Jim Murphy is staring up at the night sky, eyes slightly narrow in contemplation, while Bobby is studying the forest beyond their camp.
Sam, as usual, is gazing soulfully into the fire, eyes soft and sad, while his red fur is stroked and groomed by Dean's long, gentle fingers.
The three pups, Arthur, Matthew and Logan, having long since grown a little bored with all the talking and lazing around, are quietly play fighting over by the cabin. Arthur appears to be teaching the young wolves some hunting basics, and is showing them how to stalk their prey.
One might get a deep sense of camaraderie and loyal friendship already forming between these three, something any Alphas and Betas would be wise to take note of.
Their prey, however, seems a little worse for wear. One eye is missing, as is one leg, and its' fur has definitely seen better days, but the pups don't seem to mind these imperfections.
"Thought that would keep the little guys out of mischief for a while," Dean turns his head slightly to watch them play with the stuffed toy, and his mouth quirks in an amused smile. "Hey, Sam? You remember Ted, right? Our friendly, mutilated training buddy?"
Sam shifts his head a little on Dean's knee to gaze up at him.
"Sure you do," Dean chuckles, softly. "It's how we met Gerald for the first time, huh? Scared the living shit out of you, as I recall, going head to head with a real live bear taking a full on crap in the woods."
Sam huffs, grumbles, narrows his eyes and glares at his fatherbrother.
"Ok, ok!" Dean capitulates, with a laugh. "He made you 'a little nervous'. Right."
Bobby Singer throws another log on the fire and pulls a bottle of bourbon from his backpack. He takes a long, healthy swig and passes it to Dean.
"Here," he grunts. "Drink and talk."
Dean's smile fades and he takes the hint. Upending the bottle, he swallows half of it down and wipes his mouth. But before he continues, there's something he needs to ask.
"You ok, Sammy?" he raises an eyebrow at the red wolf. "You want me to stop it here?"
The younger wolf just blinks and Dean nods.
"Your call, dude."
Then…
Sire hadn't known 'til now. That was clear from the misery on his face. This was as much news to him as it was to the rest of us.
But, Sam...
"I was never a Winchester," Sam sniffed and gulped, still clutching at his mutilated arm. "I was a werewolf all along..."
"Nah, Sammy," John informed him with a disgusted smirk. "You were a half-breed with demon blood. Your inner wolf was lying dormant. Given a couple more years, your true nature would've emerged, and if I'd known back then? I'd have been more than happy to put a silver bullet in you. It was only Dean, here," he sneered at me "who hurried things up a little."
Sam flinched at his tone and hung his head, in despair or shame I couldn't tell.
But John had more to tell us. And tell us he did, with great delight.
After Tobius ripped out his throat, John went straight to hell. No surprises there.
When Tobius sent Gordon Walker down to join him, Hell began recruiting spies and agents, gathering their forces and tracking down all the special kids. With Sam being a target, John readily volunteered and made it his personal job to bring Sam down. The kid was meant to take his rightful seat as Duke of the Ninth Circle of Hell. The Ninth Circle is the most powerful; it's the one reserved for traitors and betrayers, and it's also the one that holds the key to releasing the Morning Star himself.
Ok. Slow it down for the Devil's advocate here, (pun intended):
My guess is, if it were true then Azazel either knew or didn't care. Sam was always his number one target. Maybe it was even an important little detail needed to bring Sam to the role.
I mean... a duke of hell? Big Scary Title, right?
Something a half-breed werewolf of royal lineage, with an important dash of demon blood, would have been perfect for?
A soul that screwed up might've been like gold dust way down south of Heaven.
Once I turned Sam, it didn't really matter to Azazel that Sam was no longer even part human, or that he might no longer have the all important demon blood. It was an annoying inconvenience that could be fixed; it was never too late. He still wanted him. That Sam still had his powers made Azazel all the more determined to bring him back into the fold, by capturing, and eventually fully or partially humanizing the kid by re-infection with demon blood.
Who knows? I'm just guessing here.
But because the kid's will had unexpectedly proved too powerful in the past, something stronger and more robust was needed.
Apparently, Sleepworm had been the first step on the path, the stuff that would make Sam vulnerable to transformation and addiction.
And John had been more than happy to assist.
So, you see, one after the other, everything we thought we knew about our past took a tumble. John kept knocking us down at every turn; it was exhausting, and debilitating, just listening to him.
Sire gazed in silence at the kid who might once have been his boy, his son.
Sam was in shock, suffering from severe blood loss and the loss of everything he once held not-so-dear.
Staring at first my Sire then my son, I realised in that instant that it didn't matter.
Not one bit.
So what if Tobius had once been Sam's real father? None of that counts. Not with me or werewolf lore.
I am Sam's father now.
The rest is just history.
When I changed Sam into a full werewolf, I changed it all for the better.
Little wonder being turned by a sibling, albeit maybe only a half-brother, hadn't killed the boy. Instead, he'd survived and flourished, and in time he'd grown into a beautiful, strong, kind hearted wolf and formidable hunter.
So, no. It didn't matter to me. Everything was as it was supposed to be and I couldn't be prouder.
I am Sire's son.
Sire is Sam's grandfather.
And if John thought, even for a moment, that this new knowledge would weaken our pack, our bond, he was quite mistaken.
Because in my mind, it meant that we were connected by blood all along.
Before we even knew of the existence of Tobius Le Salle, Duke of Normandy and Aquitaine, we were already a part of him.
Because of Mary.
We were destined to come together as family.
As Pack.
The demon had finally overplayed his hand.
No. His news hadn't made us weaker.
It had only made us stronger.
Sammy…I whispered.
The poor kid looked over at me, eyes filled with hurt and desperation, while John hovered like a vulture, grinning with triumph and sickening glee.
Sam just blinked owlishly, too overwhelmed by pain and confusion to respond, so I summoned the most supportive, most loving, patient and kindest smile I could manage under the circumstances, and told him everything he needed to know.
You're mine.
My son, my blood, my reason for everything.
You've always been mine, even when we were human, and no one can take that away.
No one can take you away from me!
Sam nodded weakly, a small amount of hope blossoming in his eyes.
Touching though this is, I've got a job to do, John interrupted, sounding bored. So if you don't mind, Sam, I thought I'd have myself some fun before we get down to business.
He chuckled loudly.
"If it's all the same with you," He grinned at Sam, raised the sword and readied for another attack. "I'll take you back to Hell one piece at a time!"
Sam tried to move but he'd lost too much blood and the silver had knocked him for six. He collapsed onto his side, panting heavily, unable to move, run or defend himself.
I struggled harder but no matter what I tried, I just couldn't break free. "Sam..."
"Sammy...rrrrrreeeoooowwwlllllllllllll!" Tobius suddenly roared, his neck muscles straining, fangs digging into his own bottom lip drew blood, claws extended outwards and raked deep trenches in the stone wall either side of him.
He was freeing himself, slowly but surely, his anger and fear over-riding all rational thought, and fighting the demon's hold on him. His narrowed eyes glowed like green fire, face scrunched up in fury, and as John's sword swept upwards, Tobius, fully wolfed out, wrenched himself away from the wall, howling and roaring like a monster from your worst nightmare.
I'd seen this before, when Archy attacked us at the cabin, but this time there was something even more terrifying about it.
About Tobius.
It all seemed to happen in slow motion.
John's sword reached its' zenith and began the downwards swing, Sam closed his eyes and turned his head away, resigned to his fate. Tobius leapt, growling and snapping at the demon. His goal was obvious.
Sire no!
Just as the sword tip punctured Sire's chest, the door crashed open and in walked our salvation. The Canadian Pack Alpha and his Beta stood on either side of Cook like a protective guard of honour, all three of them fully wolfed out.
Before John could press his advantage and ram the sword deep into Sire's heart, Missouri Moseley growled angrily, raised her right paw and the sword was torn free, taking a chunk of Tobius with it. It whirled away and I heard it clatter along the floor on the far side of the room. Finally, the demon was swept up and pinned to the ceiling, his black eyes going wide with shock.
I dropped away from the wall, landing awkwardly in a heap on the floor. First thing I did was find that damn silver sword by Marcus' desk, and kicked it out onto the balcony as far away from the demon as I could get. I swore I was gonna have that damn thing melted down, locked away in a cursed strong box, and dumped in the nearest deep ocean.
Sire sank to his knees beside Sam, clutching one hand to his own chest wound, the other gently brushing the hair back from Sam's face.
"Pup, can you hear me?" he whispered, eyes running over Sam's prone form from head to toe. "Come on, child, open your eyes."
I heard Sam's soft whimper of pain and glanced over to see his eyes opened to tiny blue-green slits, searching the room, seeking me out.
Dean…
Not even sparing the demon a glance, I strode over to my injured son, pulled him up off the floor and cradled him gently in my arms.
"Just take it easy, Sammy" I crooned, then caught Sire's eye.
He looked pale and sick, the consequence of his own run in with silver.
"How you doing there, Sire?" I asked, softly.
"Had worse. I'll live. Feeling better already," he answered with a strained voice, smiling weakly. "But we should check Sam's arm for silver."
Right. Check for silver… I looked down at the wounded appendage and tried not to grimace. Where to start?
His arm was a mess, almost completely severed from the shoulder. Muscle and sinew was exposed and arterial blood swamped the entire wound, saturating the Persian style rug underneath Sam's body. It was hard to see anything because there was so much blood.
"We'll need to flush it out," said Missouri, changing back to human and picking up a discarded blanket to wrap around herself. "Lay him on the sofa and I'll call the doc."
"Why bother?" came John's voice from the ceiling, and he laughed at me when I looked up and sent him a murderous glare. "He doesn't have to be your concern, your burden any longer. Let the little shit go with me. I'll take good care of him."
His leer made me want to throw up.
Missouri's right hand came up and mimicked a mid-air slap. John's head snapped to one side with the force of it, lip bursting and spraying blood around. He opened his mouth, no doubt to return with some derisive comment or insult, but blinked in surprise when nothing came out. Black smoke billowed and waned as he tried to escape, but Cook had him bound good and tight.
"You just shut your noise, asshole!" Cook told him, and even Sire raised his eyebrows at that. Clearly it was a rare occurrence to hear the lady cussing so vehemently. "I'll deal with you later."
Dean… Sam whispered to me, staring up at the body of his close friend, reanimated by John Winchester. Cornelius... Is he really dead?
I followed his gaze and studied the pallor of Cornelius' skin. There was nothing to tell me either way, but somehow I knew the answer.
Yeah, Sammy, I replied, sadly. I think John was telling the truth about that.
Sam blinked back tears, let out a soft sigh and his body went limp.
"He's passed out, poor boy," said Marcus, supporting Tobius with an arm round his shoulders, and nodded to Castiel. "Fetch the brandy would you?"
Castiel, silent and brooding as always, crossed the room and fished out a fresh bottle. He twisted off the plastic seal, uncorked the lid, and poured some into a crystal tumbler.
"Here, brother," he murmured and brought the tumbler back over to Sire. "You'll feel better in no time."
Missouri, having called Dave the doc, grabbed Sam's legs and helped me lift him onto the sofa. He remained unconscious and sprawled out in my lap, head hanging over the crook of my elbow, blood smeared up his neck and across his face.
Tobius took a small sip of the brandy then passed it on to me, pressing it against my mouth when it became apparent that I had my hands full.
"Do you think he'll be ok?" I asked, after a swift gulp, badly in need of reassurance.
Sire crouched down beside us and chewed absently on his lip before answering.
"Honestly? I don't think any of us will ever be the same again. Not after this."
It was a simple statement, sadly uttered without drama or preamble and yet, at the time, it felt like one of those life changing speeches that some great leader would make.
Yeah. Corny, I know.
I stared hard at Sire and lowered my voice. "What John told us, about you and Sam...?"
Tobius sighed. "I just don't know. He might well be lying through his stolen fangs, Dean," he rubbed at his chin for a second then dropped his hand down between his knees. "But if he isn't…" he shrugged, wearily. "It doesn't change a thing, as far as I'm concerned."
It was the effect this would have on Sammy that worried us.
I could sense the demon above us, held captive to the ceiling by Missouri's mind mojo, no doubt listening in and studying our reactions. Tobius' eyes flickered upwards, a mere glance at John, but then he turned his gaze back on me and gave me a very slight nod.
"This stays between us," he said, softly. "We don't talk about it at all, at least until Sam's feeling well enough to. No one else needs to know at this stage. Even if it was true, human lore has no place here. Sam is my grandchild, and you are my son. That's the truth of the situation, now. That's all that counts."
Although his tone was demanding, I could see the insecurity in his eyes. He genuinely needed my support and understanding, and so did Sam. If we let it, this… thing… this new piece of possible history that had come to light, could easily tear us apart.
"You know I am, Dad," I whispered, tentatively, aware of just what I was doing.
Sire's eyes widened with shock, but were soon joined by a small, boyish smile that lit up his face and made him look years younger.
"Thank you, son," he replied, happily.
We might never know the truth because all blood evidence had been long ago erased when I turned Sammy into a full werewolf, into my son.
And even if it were true, that was in the past.
Sam's still my kid. You gonna argue with that?
'Cos Tobius sure won't.
The Doc strode into the room, eyes narrowed and eyebrows drawn down into a deep frown of concern. He stopped dead in his tracks when he caught sight of Sam, and gulped.
His gaze centred on Sam's arm, the vast amount of blood, and the colour seemed to leech from his face. That got me worried... ya know, like I wasn't worried already?
Dropping his medical bag onto the coffee table, he leaned down and carefully studied the wound.
"Well, Doc?" I asked, falsely jovial, trying to lighten the atmosphere after a few minutes of awkward silence. "Any good?"
But Dave shook his head, took a deep breath, and delivered the bad news.
"I'm sorry but it's been almost completely disconnected from his heart. See?"
He wiped blood away from the injured limb and showed me something really friggin' strange.
"His arm has reverted to human and all his old scars have been reinstated," he said, apologetically. "There's no point in trying to save it because it's already dead. Pretty soon it will begin to decompose."
He gestured to the fingertips where they had not only turned black and blue, but the fingers themselves had stiffened up as rigormortis quickly set in, and the skin was sunken and grey.
"In fact, it's already begun the process." Dave cast sorrowful eyes at me. "Sorry mate, but we'll have to remove it soon before it causes him even more pain."
I stared down at it in dismay.
The arm was twisted from old breaks that hadn't been given the chance to heal properly. Scars from burns, cuts and lacerations, all magically returned like a map of Sam's history. Everything that had been done to him by John before Sam became a (full?) werewolf was now on display for everyone to see.
"Y-you mean Sammy's gonna lose his arm?" I asked, eyes filling with tears.
Guess I was pretty slow at catching on, but… God!
"'Fraid so," Dave replied, solemnly. "A temporary state, but inconvenient nonetheless."
"You…" I began, then stopped and stared at him in shock. "What did you just say?"
Dave shrugged and patted my shoulder. "Yeah, I know and I'm sorry," he said, with genuine sympathy. "It's not gonna be easy. These things never are."
Surely, I was missing something, and for Dave to be so blasé over losing an arm…
I shook my head. "C-come again?"
"Bone regeneration," he answered with a frown. "It's not ideal and re-growing limbs involve weeks of agony, but these are exceptional circumstances. I'm sure I can give him something to manage the pain until the new arm is fully restored."
I blinked. "Huh?"
"Ah… yes… erm…" Tobius interrupted before Dave could explain and I raised a seriously demanding eyebrow at him.
"Werewolves can grow replacement limbs," Tobius cleared his throat and looked distinctly guilty. "I must have forgotten to mention that when I first turned you." He smiled sheepishly then threw up the jazz hands. "Ta Da!"
Sire watched me carefully, presumably checking for signs of an imminent hissy fit.
"Um… surprise?" he added, hopefully, no doubt trying to mollify me.
Whatever he was expecting, I think I disappointed him and everyone else who was watching me for a reaction.
Sam's mangled arm was the last thing I saw before the room started spinning, my gut turned over and the world went dark.
In short, I passed out.
When I woke up again, I was in a different room.
There was the large stone fire place, with a nice blaze keeping the place warm - which seemed to be a statutory feature around werewolves - a drinks cabinet in dark oak, various decorative weapons lining the walls, but most notable was the fact that I was in a soft bed, covered in warm furs.
"Dude, apparently you fainted like a girl," came a smug voice to my left.
I carefully turned my head and glared at the face grinning back at me.
"I did not faint," I answered, sounding a little snooty and defensive even to my ears. "I just… took some time out."
Sam's grin widened. "Whatever you say, Dean."
Sammy was sitting up next to me reading from a book in his right hand, while his left arm was a stump, presumably bulky with bandages. The sleeve of his button down shirt was pinned over his heart, giving Sam a strange air of authority and vulnerability all at once.
I nodded to where his arm should have been.
"How's it feel?" I said, awkward as hell for asking.
'Cos let's face it, it wasn't exactly gonna feel good, now, was it?
Sam's smile faltered and guilt started eating away at me anew.
"Well, it hurt like a bastard at first and I couldn't sleep. It was driving me crazy, but Dave's been giving me some powerful meds, so now?" he shrugged and that smile suddenly re-emerged at full wattage. "The pain's completely Harmless."
How did this kid outgrow me exactly?
"Sonofabitch!" I growled. "I was gonna use that… like, much later on. Sammy, you are so inappropriate right now!"
The kid chuckled. "It's not inappropriate when it's me saying it," he tapped his stump, making my stomach churn a little. "And besides, I'm growing a new one, so I'm allowed to joke about it."
A soft grumble came from the bottom of the bed, and I looked up to see Tobius stretched out in wolf form.
I see someone's awake at last, he said and rolled on his back, head coming up to gaze at me, green eyes twinkling with merriment. Had quite enough sleep, have you?
I snorted, sarcastically. "And what were you just doing? Yoga?"
Sire laughed and wriggled his furry behind at me. Seriously, how are you feeling? You were out for several hours. Exhaustion, no doubt.
"Forget about me," I replied with a huff. "Sam…"
"I'm fine, Dean," the kid answered with an eye roll. "I woke up a few hours ago."
"Ok," I nodded slowly then glanced quickly between Sam and Tobius. "And?"
They knew what I was talking about. It had to have been playing on Sam's mind from the moment he regained consciousness.
Something like this sure would've bugged the hell out of me. It would haunt me for the rest of my days, not knowing for certain where I really came from, who I'd once really belonged to.
For me, it's a sense of security, knowing that if nothing else in the world stayed the same, your own personal roots would never change. That was important to me.
But then, my experience of John Winchester in the early years was very different from Sam's, which is a little shocking when you consider that we both grew up with the guy.
"Well," Sam replied at last, swallowing hard. "Like Grandpa said, we'll never really know the truth, so what's the point in worrying about it?"
As I suspected, Sam was glad to be rid of John and any connection he might have had to him. Kid didn't have many happy memories with his, I suppose you could call him, foster dad.
But now he had a real father in me, and a grandfather in Tobius.
I suddenly did the classic double take. With pleasure, I might add.
He called Tobius Grandpa.
They'd obviously had words before I came round. Somehow they'd worked things out, learned to understand each other.
I might even let you know about that someday... once I've wormed the rest of it out of Sam...
It was a good start for all of us.
Given everything that had happened to us during the course of our lives, no matter how messed up our family might seem, I guess we counted ourselves lucky we still had each other.
That's all you can really ask for in this world, immortal or not.
Of course, duty and love and all that other crap?
Comes with a price and it might well be worth it.
TBC...
I hope that's answered some of your questions and doubts, though as already pointed out: no one knows for sure and it's doubtful they ever will!
Also, judging by some of your comments, some of you seem to be labouring under some misunderstandings.
I feel I should clear up a few of these for you:
Dean is Sam's father in every sense. They are not brothers, they merely include the term 'brother' in their relationship ('fatherbrother' and 'brotherson') out of respect for the brotherly bond that existed between them when they were human.
Even if John was telling the truth, Tobius is still Dean's father, and still grandfather to Sam.
In other words, the terms father and grandfather are not just for show, they are literal.
Also, at the risk of disappointing people, and whilst I'm delighted and impressed with the enthusiasm, I should stress that this story has been mostly pre-written and, therefore, any suggestions or requests made of the next chapter cannot be taken into consideration.
Cheers for all the wonderful reviews everyone! I thoroughly enjoyed reading them. Your strength of feeling and passion for this story are wonderfully overwhelming.
Now, show me some love if you want the next one anytime soon, 'cos I've had a shite week so far, with my boss victimizing and harrassing me into a near total meltdown... seriously, I was so angry I had to go home and calm down with a bottle of scotch. I honestly wanted to hit him. I've already had one nervous breakdown partly because of him, and I swear to God I was heading for another yesterday!
So, please review 'cos it helps to cheer me up and keep me from killing either the boss or myself!
Love ST xxx