Hunter of the Shadows

Title taken from a line in Metallica's 'The Thing That Should Not Be'

Chapter 4

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Please refer back to the warnings in chapter one. I've no wish to upset or offend anyone.

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Dean stares sadly into the camera.

"He's a lot better today. He had some sleep. Think may be its time to move on."

A brief glimpse of that boyish smile.

"And yeah, Sam knows about..." he points between him and the camera, and delivers a wry wink "...us. Woke up last night and caught me in the act. But don't worry. He ain't the jealous type."

Dean sniffs, good humour fading once again.

He looks truly worried now, but also a little melancholy.

Another voice speaks up, and it's comforting, solid, though it's still full of fear, anxiety and exhaustion... but it's the love and trust that really presses the right buttons.

"We'll be fine Dean... now just get on with the story... I wanna hear the rest."

Dean stills, realising Sam's been awake and heard everything, then snorts a little and wipes his nose on a sleeve.

"Yeah, Sammy's right...I should go on."

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In the past...

After an eternity I reluctantly pulled back from the embrace but kept him in my grasp. Staring at him, my thumb gently wiping away an errant tear, I realised I wasn't looking forward to asking.

"Sammy who did this to you?" I demanded softly. No way was this because of a hunt; some of the cuts were fresh and others were barely healed scars. Whatever, whoever it was had been continuous and part of me already knew, didn't need the confirmation.

Sam dropped his gaze and shifted nervously from foot to foot, at the same time fiddling with a frayed thread on his elderly looking hoodie, sniffed a few times and even opened his mouth once or twice.

"Sam?" My voice grew harder as my suspicions took on a firm outline. "Tell me who did this!"

Sam flinched and gulped.

"Y-you have to understand...I had to tell him...he would've hunted you..."

I shook my head.

"What? Dude you're not making any sense."

Oh yes he is, and you know it. Came Tobius' voice in my head.

Glancing round to make sure my sire was the only one watching us, I grabbed Sam's arm and dragged him along the sidewalk, then hid us both in the alley in back of the motel block. Gently pushing him down onto a trashcan, I sat on one opposite making sure to keep in physical contact at all times.

Fixing him with a steady gaze "Tell me."

And after a few false starts, he did. Sam filled me in on everything that happened since my disappearance six months ago. Only I hadn't exactly disappeared in John's eyes, as Sam went on to explain.

He thought I was dead.

After I left, Sam had thought long and hard about what to do next, and came up with a plan. And though I hated it I also had to admit he was right.

"I even found a deer carcass out in the woods," Sam smiled grimly, eyes filled with torment. "I built a pyre... threw in some dry timber and dead leaves... you couldn't tell the difference after I used the salt and gasoline." He shrugged sadly. "So long as no one looked too closely. Anyhow, when Dad came home I had to tell him how you'd healed so quickly, then I told him that I shot you with silver at your request. Said you couldn't bear to live like that and begged me to kill you. I don't think he believed me at first, didn't think you'd ever ask that of me..."

He's right. I wouldn't.

"...but I showed him the body and... he just... broke. Never saw him cry like that before. Scared me. Then he went back to the cabin and sent the doctor away... don't know what excuse he gave him. Didn't much care."

I stood abruptly and Sam watched me pace up and down.

Anger. Pure anger, hotter than molten steel raged through my veins.

"Dean..."

I barely realised Sam had spoken until he planted his tall frame in front of me.

"So this is what he does? You did the 'right thing', the very same thing he would've done... and he beats the shit outta you? Godammit!"

"No! He wasn't mad at me for that." Sam grabbed my arm before I could resume pacing. "He blamed me for you getting turned in the first place. Said if I'd been paying attention it wouldn't have happened." He dropped my arm and turned away in shame. "And he's right..."

I couldn't believe it. I just couldn't. Dad had a violent streak sure; you don't train as a marine, then later, as a hunter without it. But he'd never used it on one of us before. And this was six months ago?

No. Longer than that. It only became physical six months ago, when I wasn't around to stop it.

Another bout of pacing didn't calm my temper and I suddenly whirled round and grasped Sam's upper arms.

"How often Sammy? How often does he do this to you?" To my shame, I confess to shaking him a little in desperation and anger when he didn't answer right away. "Tell me!"

Sam made a small noise, a cross between a whimper and a moan, as tears sprang to his eyes, and he flinched. Badly. Staring at his arms I quickly released my grip and yanked up the sleeves of his hoodie.

"Oh... Christ!"

Not only were his arms covered in deep bruises but the bones were misshapen, as though broken and not set back properly, just left to heal disjointed. Unable to let go or stop myself, but dreading what I might find, I ran my hands gently over his hunched shoulders feeling for lumps and bumps, the evidence of further breaks.

And there it was, at least one. His left shoulder; an old break that still hurt him nonetheless. Now I knew what I was looking for I realised he wasn't hunched, but one shoulder hung slightly lower than the other. Stepping back, casting a fearful gaze over the rest of Sam's body brought no further reassurances, and I could see how he stood awkwardly, one foot turned inward a little. The poor kid was lame.

It took a while before realising that Sam was talking, his voice was so quiet.

"...it wasn't so bad at first. He was so angry, yelling, throwing things; by that point he was sinking two bottles of Jose Gold a day." Sam sat back down with a dejected sigh. "I was still hunting with him up 'til about four months ago, but I screwed up on a job and Dad got hurt, hit his head pretty bad. Nothing major, though, not even a concussion. We'd only just moved to the area and we were renting a two story house..." Sam glanced up at me and could see I was wondering at the significance of that last statement. He bit his trembling lip before finishing. "Dad threw me down the stairs that night."

"Bastard!" I spat viciously, fists clenching, jaw working and I could feel the warning tingles in my fingers. My body was itching to change. Something must have shown on my face, or maybe my eyes, because Sam started looking real scared, but continued in a small voice.

"After that it became a regular feature and I had to stop hunting." He shrugged almost casually, as though it didn't matter.

Of course it damn well does! A regular feature? What? Some fathers play baseball with their sons, but John prefers using his teenage boy as the ball? Fuck...

"...too many broken bones and Dad refused to take me to the ER." Sam was watching me carefully, as though worried I was going to lose it. He wasn't wrong. "I had to look after my own injuries; it's kinda hard to splint a broken arm one –handed." Another shrug. I was beginning to hate those things; so self-condemning, as though someone had told him it was ok, that John had every right to treat him like a punching bag. "I did the research, Dad would go on the hunt, locking me up for the night." The kid licked his lips morosely. "I guess, one of these days, he'll either throw away the key or not bother coming back. No more than I deserve..."

Though I wanted to right then, shouting wasn't going to help him and we were running out of time.

"Wasn't your fault Sammy," I whispered, reaching out and rubbing his poor broken shoulder. "And Dad had no right to blame you for what happened that night."

We just stared at each other in silence. This wasn't going the way I'd expected. This wasn't the proud and defiant little brother I'd left behind six months ago. The emotional abuse I'd been virtually oblivious to was bad enough, and he'd endured it somehow; but this...

Stepping forward, I cradled Sam's too thin face in my hands and rested my forehead against his.

"Sammy..." I bit back a sob and took a deep breath. "I'm not leaving you here with him. You're coming with me kiddo."

"Like hell he is!" A loud familiar voice bellowed out. Six months ago, I would've been happy to hear it, but now it grated on my eardrums, shredded my nerves and I swung round, snarling, growling, already unbuttoning my shirt.

Standing protectively in front of my brother, I felt the tingling spread to my jaw and the end of my nose, telling me that change was inevitable. Shrugging out of my leather jacket, I wrapped it around Sam's trembling shoulders. "Look after this for me Sammy."

"Dean..." and Sam gasped as his eyes locked with mine. My face was already starting to morph; muscles pulsing, bones rearranging themselves, ears sliding up my head.

"It'll be ok Sam, just trust me." Even my voice was changing mid sentence, deeper, hoarse, almost a growl as the vocal chords joined in the fun. I slowly turned back to face Da... John, and began removing my shirt, followed by the rest of my clothes until I was completely naked. John's jaw dropped as he gaped at me and I almost laughed.

My first ever change had come as a shock. It was sudden, painful, and more importantly ruined my favourite band shirt. I'd learned since then, getting naked was the only way to save my wardrobe, and in any case, a werewolf has nothing to be ashamed of in all departments.

John glared at me then turned his shocked and ferocious gaze on Sam. "You told me he was taken care of!" He cocked his high powered rifle, the very same one he'd used the night I was turned, and I sniffed the air, nose twitching furiously. Silver bullets, high calibre. I could smell the bitter tang already and fear began to build inside me.

Sam came to stand beside me, still wearing my leather jacket, and I growled long and deep, shifting my weight, preparing to strike. I had no compunctions about taking him down; after what he did to Sam, John was no longer my father or even human in my eyes.

"I had no choice Dad." Sam's voice was soft yet firm and brave all at once, and up until then I never felt so proud of him. "He's my brother. Doesn't matter what else he is." The kid raised his head a little more, meeting the gaze of his abuser. "He's still my brother."

"He's a monster Sam!" John roared back and I sure didn't like that look on his face. "He's not your brother anymore, just look at him! He's a brutal vicious murderer! And you had a hand in creating him you little bastard!"

I didn't need a mirror to know that my eyes were glowing, nose elongating, teeth sharpened and ears lengthened. Believe it or not, it's a pretty cool look.

And I wasn't just gonna stand there and take this shit from the likes of him.

"I've never killed anything or anyone that didn't deserve it." I growled back, voice now so deep and rough that John took a step back and tightened his grip on the rifle. I followed, stalking him, head lowered and eyes fixed on the face of the guy I'd once called Dad. Not anymore. Not after what he'd done to Sam.

"You hypocritical sonofabitch!" I spat at him. "How could you do that to your own son? He trusted you!"

I could feel Sam's growing anxiety with the confrontation as he kept pace with me. Reaching back, I grasped his arms and gently pulled him forward, displaying the bruises, cuts, fractures and breaks. John at least had the grace to look ashamed.

"You didn't even take him to get properly fixed up when you broke his leg, arm, shoulder...anything else John? Didn't fracture his skull by any chance? Or were you just working up to that?" I bared my teeth at him in a snarl, "and you have the nerve to call me a monster?"

John seemed to rally his anger once again.

"That's none of your godammed business." His gaze shifted to my little brother. "The kid needed discipline and I'm it! This is nothing to do with you!" He aimed the rifle right at my heart, finger on the trigger.

"How dare you point that thing at my son!"

I blinked. Huh?

Tobius stepped between John and me, clothes already removed, skin glowing in the faint light from the motel rooms. His body was on the cusp of change and I smelled his fury.

John scowled. "You... you murdering sonofabitch! You killed him!" He pointed at me in disgust.

Tobius sneered in response and began prowling up and down in front of him.

"And then you systematically set about slowly killing your youngest." He shook his head, almost in pity, eyes never leaving his preys'. "I inadvertently gave Dean a chance at a better life but maybe I should have taken Sam from you too. People like you don't deserve the gift of children."

And Tobius changed smoothly right in front of us all, the Big Bad Wolf pacing slowly, eyeing John with ill-disguised hate, just waiting for the detonator, which was...

...John's reply. "Fuck you!"

Tobius was on him in a flash of black and tan fur, easily knocking him to the ground, the rifle skittering away and I heard Sam gasp in shock.

The kid moved forward but I stopped him with a hand against his chest.

"Sammy don't. Let Tobius handle it."

"But he'll kill 'im!" Sam's voice wavered in alarm.

"No he won't," though it's no more than the bastard deserves "We don't kill humans Sammy. We protect them from our own kind. That's what I've been trying to tell you..."

"He almost killed you once!" Sam had me there, damn kid might be physically disabled but there sure was nothing wrong with his brain. I opened my mouth to reply but a loud yelp caught my attention, followed by a crash as Tobius was thrown against a pile of empty garbage cans.

What? I knew John's strength was awesome when riled, but seriously, up against a werewolf? You're kiddin' me!

Tobius was soon on his paws again, shaking his thick black mane and growling angrily. Pausing, he slanted me a quick embarrassed glance:

He got lucky!

I snorted with laughter, but John had reclaimed his rifle, raising it. I stopped thinking and acted instead. As soon as I moved, the rifle turned my way, I saw his trigger finger twitch and then I was on the ground staring up. Someone had pushed me out of the line of fire.

The muzzle flash and loud retort that followed nanoseconds later barely registered with me, because Sam was staggering backwards, clutching at his chest and gasping, eyes wide with shock.

"Sammy!"

His back hit the alley wall and he slid down, legs unfolding in front of him; a large stain blossomed across his hoodie and he looked down at himself in disbelief. Taking in the sight of his own blood, Sam raised his head to stare at John, the guy he'd known all his young life and trusted, the guy who'd just shot him. John slowly lowered the rifle with shaking hands and for the first time since our impromptu reunion began, I saw genuine remorse in his eyes.

Falling to my knees immediately, I pulled the kid into my arms and brushed the thick hair out of his eyes.

"Sammy hold on, it's gonna be ok."

Sam looked completely dazed but the tremors soon began, signalling his rapid slide into shock. I pulled him closer, pressing down on the wound and trying so damn hard not to cry.

The kid gazed up at me, eyes wide, mouth gaping open. "Dean?" His voice was little more than a whisper and he squinted a little, doing his best to stay awake.

"Sam... I..." John shuffled forward but I warned him off with a snarl.

"Don't even think it!" I shifted so John couldn't see him. "You ever come near him again... you so much as look at him and I'll kill you!"

But in shielding Sam, I'd left myself wide open to attack. John's sorrow turned quickly back into anger and he re-cocked the rifle with surprising speed, taking aim once again...

Another blur of fur and claws and Tobius was standing over John's body, blood dripping from his muzzle. Still gasping and shuddering, John was clearly dying but then I guess it's a little hard to live when your heart and throat's been torn out. It was a standard werewolf kill tactic; Tobius made sure John couldn't come after us. Human John was lethal enough but a werewolf version was just too scary to think about.

I wasn't going to waste any more time on him and pulled back from Sam a little to take a look at the damage. The kid was fighting hard, holding on as I asked him, but it was bad. Mortal.

The large calibre round had ripped him open unmercifully, blood pouring from the wound in spite of my best efforts.

Sam was still staring up at me, dark eyes desperate, face too pale. He was trying to speak but no sound passed his lips. The poor kid, my very human baby brother, was dying.

"Ssshhh, Sammy, just stay still. Don't try to talk." But my voice was breaking right along with my heart and Sam could see the truth on my face.

My body was still trying to change but I fought it with everything I had just to spend those last few precious minutes with Sammy.

"Dean..." I heard Tobius speak softly behind me. "I'm so sorry it came to this." Clearly he'd changed back because a large hand came to rest on my shoulder, squeezing gently.

Keeping my eyes on Sam I merely nodded.

"Love you, Sammy, love you so damn much." Sam's eyelids drooped a little and my gut clenched at the small gurgling noise in his throat. "It's ok to rest kiddo. I won't leave you again, I promise. You're safe now. Don't be scared..." I rocked him gently, just like when he was a baby, comforting him in his last moments.

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Author's notes:

I suppose I should have given a 'tissue' alert but I didn't want to give the game away too much.

See you soon folks.

Kind regards,

ST xxx