Hunter of the Shadows
Title taken from a line in Metallica's 'The Thing That Should Not Be'
Chapter 5
Author's notes: I'm feeling both nervous and proud of this chapter all at the same time, mainly because I'm not sure how you guys are going to react to this; it does explain the story summary if that's any help. Please remember to check the warnings in chapter one.
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"Like I said. Last time one of us was human. Sorry kid." Dean's not looking into the camera now, more staring into some kind of darkness only one person can bring him back from.
And he does, with just two words.
"I'm not." Sam smiles and shakes his head weakly.
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The past...
His heart was slowing down; I could feel it... hear it. It reminded me of the wounds inflicted on me by Tobius, the painful throbbing heart beat... blood pulsing, pumping, escaping...
I stared down at my brother.
Maybe...
I was terrified it might not work, just a false hope rising. He was hit with a silver bullet...
It had to work! I couldn't allow myself the slightest doubt.
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Tobius glared at me.
"You can't be serious!"
I glared right back without a flinch.
"Oh I'm serious alright. Now help me remove the damn bullet before it's too late!"
Father shook his head, already fully dressed, and crouched down beside Sam, gently running his hand through the kid's soft hair.
"I know what you're trying to do Dean; you're desperate and I understand that," sorrowful eyes pinned me in place. "But Sam was already weak and injured before this, coupled with being shot with silver, the chances are he won't make it."
Tobius was only being honest for my sake, I knew that, but I still felt anger boiling away inside.
"You'll only prolong his suffering. Could you live with that?"
I levelled him with my fiercest stare.
"If it gives him a chance then you betcha I can live with it!" I hissed back. "Even if he never forgives me, I'll live with it!"
Tobius opened his mouth to reply.... must've seen the look on my face and changed his mind.
I laid Sam down and pulled the jacket tighter around his shivering frame.
"Sammy, close your eyes, just for a little while," I whispered into his ear and smiled when he obeyed. Even after all he'd just seen, he still trusted me.
Tobius gave in and nodded.
"Hold him still." Sliding a blade free from his discarded ankle holster, he reached forward and quickly sliced at the bullet wound, gently probing the damaged flesh. Sam gasped, lids flying wide open, his body bucking violently, and I struggled to keep him still with one hand firmly across his eyes. He didn't need to see this.
The blade wasn't sterilised but there was no time and it didn't matter for our purposes. Either Sam would live or die; an infection wouldn't change the outcome at this stage.
Tobius dug around some more, blood still pumping and spilling over his hands, drenching Sam's clothes. Father's top lip curled at the scent of fresh blood, an involuntary reaction, the inner wolf howling with hunger. I felt it too, regardless of who the blood belonged to.
The bullet came free with a gut churning sucking noise, and Sam fell limp and exhausted. Time for the next stage.
It didn't take too much concentration as my body was on a tight rope; one tiny push and over we go!
Mere seconds later, I was shaking myself from head to tail. Unlike Tobius, my coat is pitch black all over, long and well groomed with pride, and I saw Sam's eyes widen on seeing me like this. Somehow, I didn't think he was admiring me; poor kid was scared shitless, but let me tell ya, even in wolf form I can make heads turn.
I bent my head and carefully sniffed at my brother's wound, now made all the worse for the field surgery, and gently licked away at the blood.
This was it.
Time to find out.
Good luck, my son.
One swift glance at Tobius and I bit deeply into the flesh and muscle of Sam's upper arm and shoulder, his blood flooding my mouth with its sweet taste. As tempting as it was, I blocked it out, concentrating on Sam and Sam only. I gently applied more pressure when he cried out and struggled weakly. One soft warning growl and he stilled, though it took some effort on his part; poor kid was no doubt in a world of pain.
It had to be enough. No more.
Sam whimpered softly when my jaw finally, slowly, released him, and I extended my muzzle to lick away the salty tears from his face. He was staring at me in fear, completely confused, probably wondering what he'd done wrong. After all, his big brother had turned into a wolf and bitten his arm clean down to the bone.
Sammy...
His eyes widened in amazement and tilted his head to one side, breathing still laboured from the chest wound.
"Dean, time to go." Tobius laid a gentle hand on Sam's scalp when he just blinked up at us in bewilderment, his body still in deep shock. A familiar set of keys were held up in front of me and Tobius flashed a quick grin. "Get him to the Impala. No sense leaving it behind for someone to steal." He glanced back at the carnage in the alley. "I'll take care of this mess."
He was already turning away as I began the change back to human form. Sam was watching me with dazed, unfocussed eyes, face still badly pale, when I reached for my clothes and started yanking on my jeans.
Finally fully dressed, I crouched and scooped Sam up in my arms.
One of the things I remember most about that night was just how light he was, as a feather in fact. The kid had been abused, neglected and starved half to death; I didn't dare look round at John's remains, scared I'd lose it completely. But I was determined Sam would get his strength back, to force feed him if necessary but I hoped it wouldn't come to that.
You're probably sitting there thinking wow, he really was so sure this was gonna work. Damn straight I was. Sam was still alive after all. Chest wound that deep, blood loss that serious? He shoulda died boys and girls!
Face it. I'm a goddamn genius!
Keeping him calm, whispering reassurances, I carried the kid to the Impala and climbed into the rear seat, still holding him close.
Sam kept staring up at me in bewilderment.
"De..." he tried to talk but he was too weak and my name came out a choked half-word of pain. There were hundreds of questions swimming in his eyes and, looking closely, I could already see the black rim forming around his irises.
"Ssshhh. We'll talk later kiddo, when ya feelin' better." And he would. His heartbeat and breathing were gradually stabilising and the bleeding had stopped. I couldn't keep the smile off my face. "It's gonna be ok, Sammy. It really is."
Tears filled his tired eyes and his head rolled to the side as he lost consciousness.
Tobius slid into the driver's seat, started the engine, barking out orders as he backed the car up onto the road.
"When we get to the hotel, I'll leave you at the tradesmen's entrance. Get him up the fire escape and out of sight quick as you can. That amount of blood won't surprise my staff too much but the guests are a different matter." He pressed his foot to the floor and my heart sang along with the engine. I'd really missed the old girl...
"...keep him calm, warm and rested, stay quiet and lock all windows, don't answer the door until I can get back to you both."
He never told me what he did with John's body.
And I never asked.
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The car pulled in smoothly, that beautiful rumble echoing back off the walls and roof of the hotel's loading bay. I didn't have much time to reflect, because Tobius was suddenly opening the rear passenger door and taking hold of Sam so I could climb out. The loss of Sam's warmth sent a shocking wave of anger and protectiveness rolling through me, unlike any I'd ever felt before. I was stunned and pining all at once, until Tobius gave him back to me, and with a growl I huddled Sam closer than ever to my chest.
Mine.
That's what it was telling me. A persistent Mine!He is mine! thrumming through my head and body like a truth not even God could deny.
But what Tobius said next shocked the hell out of me and made me realise just what I'd done, how I'd changed things.
"Take care of my grandson." With a wry grin and a wink, Tobius was back in the Impala and driving off, leaving me cradling my...
Oh God!
But the stunning realisation wasn't nearly as scary as it should have been.
Sammy.
According to werewolf lore I was now Sam's father.
I wasn't too sure how Sam would react to the news, but as I stared down at the young werewolf sleeping in my arms, I felt something bust wide open in my chest.
Love.
Love for my son.
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Muffled voices coming from the loading bay broke me out of some pretty bizarre thoughts and I silently leapt up the fire escape, clutching Sam to my chest and protecting his head from the low hung wrought iron bars.
But I couldn't stop smiling, every now and then glancing down at my boy...my boy...just to make sure he was breathing ok.
The rear balcony door was not only unlocked but ajar. Either Tobius had planned it this way right from the start, or he'd phoned ahead and had someone prepare for the new addition to our family.
I took Sam straight to my room only to find the furthest bed from the door had been turned down waiting for him. Gently laying the kid down and unwrapping him from my jacket, I began checking his wound.
The bite on his shoulder and arm had already sealed itself and the forming scar would quickly fade; a definite sign my plan was working.
The bullet wound still had a way to go, and Sammy would likely need a lot of rest. Gently removing his clothes, I soon had him stripped down to his boxers, and tried hard not to stare at the further evidence of abuse and neglect. Sam was stick thin, ribs jutting out sharply, and the deep dark bruises covering most of his body terrified me.
We should have come for him sooner, but thank God we got there before it was too late because Sammy wouldn't have survived much longer.
He needed cleaning up; there was blood everywhere on his upper body, smeared up his neck, over his chin. It meant leaving him for a few seconds to go grab a wash cloth, but every instinct screamed at me to stay, and I couldn't get back from the bathroom fast enough.
"Hey!" I called to him softly, gently tapping his cheek. "Sam? You with me?"
Sam frowned and turned his head slightly towards me. His eyes fluttered open as he let out a soft tired sigh, but the quiet moment didn't last long.
"Dean..." The kid groaned in pain. "Hurts, wh...whas wrong with me?" he slurred out breathlessly.
"Shhh, take it easy..." but I was scared something was very wrong. Sam was in too much pain.
Tobius was nearby, I could smell him. Then his hand was on my shoulder, trying to pull me back, and I refused to leave.
"No! He needs me!"
"Dean," Tobius whispered sharply. "If you panic now we'll lose him." He pushed at me gently, "I can help Sam, now GO!"
So I waited by the bedroom door, sometimes pacing, sometimes slid down against the wall. Drumming my fingers or tapping my feet, frustration and worry gnawed away at me. I now understood how a new father felt awaiting news of his child.
I'd always loved Sam more than life itself, always taken care of him when he was sick or injured, made sure I was there when Da...John was absent. Hell, I even went to his parent nights, the school play, picked him up from chess club. It was me that consoled him whenever it was time to move on.
Then Sam had been my geeky little brother.
But this was different. He was my son now.
Yeah, Tobius was right. I was panicking.
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Sam suddenly let out a heart-rending scream of pain that had me racing back to his bedside. A small transparent medical mask was now fixed over his mouth and nose, but that wasn't what stunned me.
Sam was shaking violently from head to foot and something scary was happening to his body.
"What the...?" No, please God no! "He can't change right now, not like this! He won't survive it!"
"He's not changing Dean," Tobius announced quietly as Sam's screams died down a little. He smiled faintly. "Take a closer look."
So when I did...
Holy shit!
Sam's muscles were rippling under his skin, ribs bowing outwards. Pulling the covers back revealed his lame leg twisting in on itself, bone grating on bone, and a loud snap startled me. Sam screamed again, louder this time, and I watched wide-eyed as the bone twisted again... and reknitted!
He was healing. All the damage John had inflicted on him was slowly reversing and fading. It was happening all over his body; his arms, the old break in his shoulder, all were realigning, righting themselves.
But Sam writhed in pain, sobbing, hands clawing at the bed sheets as his body flipped over. Recent bruises turned yellow and faded altogether, even the deep scar on his face had disappeared and his once broken nose was no longer slightly crooked.
"Easy boy, the sedatives will kick in soon enough." Tobius tenderly wiped the sheen of perspiration from Sam's forehead just as the kid's eyes fluttered shut and he passed out. Adjusting the straps on the oxygen mask, Tobius glanced over at me.
"We'll let him keep this on for now. He'll need it until all his injuries have healed."
Understanding dawned.
The mask was carefully delivering a gaseous infusion of pain meds and sedatives.
I was mildly surprised. Tobius rarely allowed the use of human drugs, especially pain killers. They're no good for werewolves, affecting our metabolism and screwing with our minds. We need to build up and maintain our own natural immunity to pain in order to cope with the regular changes.
I know what you're thinking. Why not just take the pain killers before and after a change? Or even take them all the time? We'd soon get used to them right?
Wrong. For two reasons.
Walking around doped up to the fangs is fine until an emergency change is required, then it becomes difficult. The response is slow and places tremendous strain on the body, which ain't good news if you're fighting for your life.
Secondly, if you suddenly stop taking pain killers, any change that follows comes as a huge shock to the system.
Either way, you leave yourself vulnerable to attack.
Tobius smiled. "Sam's circumstances are unique. I wasn't certain how being turned would affect his old injuries, but I suspected he'd need help."
And it made sense. All hunters carry scars, are always getting injured. It's a tough job in a tough world. Ya get used to it or die. Choice is yours.
But Tobius doesn't have scars, and since he turned me neither do I. Guess I should have remembered that.
Between us, we grabbed the blankets and began to cover the boy up, tucking him in securely. He sighed, muttered something I couldn't make out, and snuggled in contentedly. The meds were obviously doing their job.
Gazing down at him and brushing hair out of his face, that feeling ran through me again... he's mine. My son.
"Feels good doesn't it?" Tobius' kind, amused voice spoke up behind me.
Turning towards him slightly, I caught his proud gaze. "Feels scary... painful even..." My own voice was husky with emotion and I nodded in agreement. "But yeah, it feels good."
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Author's notes:
I'm sure you guys saw this one coming much earlier, but again it's one of the aspects of Dean's relationship with Sam that I was eager to explore; how Dean practically raised Sam by himself. Hope it fascinates you as much as it does me.
Kind regards,
ST xxx