Hunter of the Shadows
Title taken from a line in Metallica's 'The Thing That Should Not Be'
Chapter 9
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Dean's smiling fondly into the firelight, gently rubbing a hand up and down Sam's calves as the kid slept on.
"We sure had a lot of fun that day. Sam was coming to accept us, what he'd become, and even Tobius seemed less... intense... more like the kind of grandfather the kid deserved." Dean frowns slightly "I don't remember John ever being like that with either of us. Maybe the memory's just faded. Which is kinda why I started this whole video journal thing..." He chuckles sadly with his confession. "I wanna remember everything. Good and bad."
His eyes glow a fierce green as he stares directly at the kid sleeping next to him on the couch.
"I don't wanna forget a thing."
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Another trip back to the past...
It was dusk by the time we returned to the cars and retrieved our clothes; Sam looked tired but happy, and fell asleep in the passenger seat the very second we hit the road. So he hadn't undergone a full change, but he'd practiced a few times on his hands and it no longer freaked him out.
I glanced over at him more than once during the journey and saw him shiver, noticed the way he was scrunched up against the door. I turned the heater on and effortlessly pulled the kid over the seat so he was tucked under my arm.
He didn't even wake up, just snuggled closer with a soft warm sigh.
Can't tell ya how good that felt...
Dean, we're pulling over for the night. Tobius informed me. I just heard on the radio there's heavy traffic ahead. Major pile up, could take 'til dawn to clear. No point trying to get back to the hotel at this stage.
No problem. I grinned when Sammy stirred, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.
Guys? Sam smothered a yawn. Where we gonna stay?
There's a motel up ahead, Tobius replied. With a fairly decent bar that serves an even better T-bone. I could feel him grinning at me in his review mirror. With blue cheese sauce if I remember correctly.
I was practically drooling again at the thought, and Sam chuckled loudly.
"Hungry again, Dean?"
He's always hungry, Tobius responded before I could. Eats me out of house and home! Never known anyone like him!
Sam's grin softened, eyes a little moist in the dull light of the dashboard. Yeah, I remember.
I tightened my arm around him. Missed you too, kiddo.
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Dinner was uneventful and relaxing, the steaks superbly grilled, the blue cheese sauce as good as I remembered. We didn't often pass through this way so when we did I always made the most of it; a few beers, couple games of pool, maybe a few turns at darts. Tobius had collected the key to our rooms so there was nothing else to do but relax.
Sam seemed to enjoy himself as we joked about, just like old times, and Tobius was quite happy to sit back and read the local news rag. It occurred to me that, if ever there was a need for Sam and I to pose as brothers, it was in places like this. No way could I pass for Sam's father, given the mere four year age gap, so introducing him to strangers as my little brother made sense; but with that realisation came sadness. I could never introduce him as my son, something that would've made me so damn proud.
At least we'll know, Dean, that's something to be proud of right? Sam was gazing at me with the kind of hero-worship in his eyes that I hadn't seen since he was seven years old.
I smiled and ruffled his hair. You betcha, kid!
It was as I put in an order for another beer that I felt a burning sensation in between my shoulder blades, the classic warning sign that someone was watching me, but when I turned round nothing was out of place, no one suspiciously turning their heads away. In fact the bar was virtually empty except for us and bar staff, so anybody trying to spy on us would have had a hard time covering their presence.
I don't see anyone but someone's here. Tobius didn't once look up from his newspaper, just rustled the pages a little.
I sniffed the air. Can't smell them. Outside perhaps?
Possibly.
Sam came to stand beside me as he took his shot, but I could see the tension in his shoulders. Trouble? Should we leave?
Tobius stood up and stretched, folding the newspaper neatly and leaving it on the table for the next patron. Now's as good a time as any. Sam, stay between your father and me.
Leaving our beer bottles on the bar and flirting a little with the kindly middle aged waitress, I waited for Sam to grab his jacket then followed him closely to the exit. Tobius held the door open and we strolled out looking for all the world like a family on vacation, though I kept one hand tight on Sam's shoulder. I'd nearly lost my boy once, I wasn't about to risk losing him again. We kept up the pretence until we reached our rooms, then Tobius shuffled inside after us, closing and locking the door.
"I'll stay here for the night, on the couch." Tobius decided and I nodded, more than happy with that plan. He'd obviously booked a room for himself, leaving Sam and I on our own, but if there was indeed a genuine threat then safety in numbers is always our cardinal rule.
Doesn't matter how strong you think you are, or how fast and powerful; silver bullets will always be faster, and all it takes is one.
"Don't worry Sam," Tobius remarked, and I turned to see Sam sitting on the furthest bed, biting his lip nervously. "We have adequate protection here."
The kid nodded but didn't look overly convinced.
"Unless whoever's out there is human. He could be a hunter right? I still haven't changed and that puts us all at risk..."
"Sammy, stop blaming yourself ok?" Sinking down into a crouch in front of him I patted his knee. "It's not your fault. If a hunter comes after us, we'll know." By this point I'd lost count of the number of times he'd needed reassurance but neither of us held it against him. The kid was still so insecure and felt responsible for everything that went wrong. "Now come on, shift over and stop hogging the TV remote."
Sam laughed and moved over to make space, while Tobius took the bed nearest the door. I kept the TV volume at a sensible level – not too loud or too low; no point in arousing suspicion should anyone be listening in. Chances were we'd smell them before they even got close.
"Cool! Lethal Weapon III!" One of my favourites it had to be said. Tobius snorted and pulled a copy of Andy MacNab's Bravo Two Zero from his duffle. I raised an eyebrow; that was a little modern for his usual tastes, normally use to seeing his nose planted firmly in an old classic or some mythology textbook. "SAS huh? You ever considered that sorta thing?"
Tobius didn't look up. Not only considered it; I had a stint as Commanding Officer of the 22nd Regiment during the sixties.
My other eyebrow shot up in surprise, and even Sam's head swivelled round at yet another stunning revelation.
"What? No! Really?
"No way!" Sam breathed out.
We'd both heard stories about the Special Air Service over the years, and not just from John. One of my favourite films during the eighties had been Who Dares Wins, staring Lewis Collins. I watched it over and over, knew it word for word, and quoted it to the point of driving Sammy insane. I'd read the SAS survival handbook by Lofty Wiseman until I memorised it. John called me a smart ass and wished I'd taken my school studies as seriously, if only to save him from the parent teacher meetings that more often than not were a direct result of my slacking off.
Tobius grinned.
"I trust that morsel of information will stay between us as always."
Thinking about it, Tobius as a leading member of the SAS wasn't really that much of a stretch; he seemed the type: discreet, determined, smart, cunning, and could disappear when needed. He's also the kind of guy you wouldn't want to argue with, though how he kept his werewolf status a secret from his colleagues was a mystery. Guess he had a lot of practice after eight hundred years.
We kept open discussion to a minimum after that. SAS officers, former or otherwise, often didn't like to advertise their presence unless it was a book-signing, and if someone was watching us the last thing we needed was to give them a heads up. Yeah, we could have moved on or turned back, but we'd come a long way and besides, whoever it was would only follow. Under usual circumstances, stalking our assailant would have been fun but we knew next to nothing about them and couldn't afford to take the risk of leaving Sam alone. He was too vulnerable.
More than we knew, in fact.
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"Sam? You nearly ready kiddo?" I called, hearing a faint scuffling noise as Sam searched for his other sneaker.
"Yep," A loud thud. "Ow! Sonofabitch!"
I pushed my back into the motel room just as Tobius brought the Cayenne back from a refuelling run. "You ok?"
Sam got to his feet, hopping on one foot and rubbing his head.
"Yeah, I'm fine. Found the damn thing under the bed." He sat down and began tugging the wayward sneaker onto his foot. "We having breakfast before we leave?"
"Sure, here." I handed over thirty bucks and ruffled his hair; it was becoming a habit but he didn't seem to mind. "Go get some coffee and doughnuts from the diner and we'll get under way."
"Chocolate doughnuts?" Sam asked hopefully.
I laughed.
"Yeah, but make sure you get plain for Tobius, ok? And don't take too long!" Sam rolled his eyes and jogged towards the diner.
"Come straight back, no stalling!"
"I won't!"
"And no talking to strangers!"
"Yeah, yeah."
"Except the waitress, you can talk to the waitress, but that's it!"
I watched him the whole way across the parking lot until he disappeared safely inside, then turned to grin at an amused Tobius.
"Don't know where he gets it from."
He snorted with laughter and clapped me affectionately on the back.
"No, I'm sure you don't." He grew strangely serious for a second and eyed me with concern. "How do you feel about all this? I mean, pretending to be brothers. I know how much that hurts."
And he did. Tobius and I could barely pass as father and son either, and people often assumed we were either brothers... or gay – don't get me started!
He looked young for his age, and I'm not just talking about the eight hundred years. He often passed himself off as thirty and sometimes managed younger. But I guess he was also talking about the strange looks he would get on introducing a fifteen year old boy as his grandson.
"Yeah, but we've spent most of our lives as blood brothers," I responded with a sad smile. "No real difference now huh?"
But there was a hell of a difference and we both knew it, and we both hoped like hell it wouldn't get Sam hurt.
Tobius gave a nod of understanding. It would be hard but not the end of the world.
For me, the end of the world had come too close to bear already when Sam nearly died. It was strange to think that was only a few days ago now, a little less than a week.
We talked about it for a while longer but only came to the same solution; the three of us would appear as brothers to the world, but inside we knew better.
"Sam should have been back by now," Tobius announced suddenly, and we both swung round to face the diner.
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Most people remembered a young teenage boy ordering three decafs and a bag of doughnuts. He'd visited the rest room but, after that, no one paid much attention.
Weapons drawn and ignoring the gasp of fear from our audience, we charged through the rest room door calling his name. Three Styrofoam cups stood by a washbasin along with a paper bag filled with doughnuts of varying size, shape and flavour. But no sign of Sam.
"Sam?" I yelled in panic and began throwing open every cubicle door. "SAMMY!!!"
"Dean, calm down." Tobius sniffed the air and frowned in puzzlement. Strange scents. Mixtures of...
He broke off and strode over to a half open window at the back. There was blood on the frame and sill. Whoever had taken him, Sam hadn't made it easy for them. But that was little consolation.
"We'll find him. Sam's own scent is clean and strong, and he can't have gone far."
But he had, dragged against his will. We traced him out into the parking lot of the bar but it was obvious Sam hadn't set foot inside the bar itself. His scent of sweat and weariness was mingled with fear about halfway across the parking lot, and there was something else. It was more than fear.
Adrenaline... anger... sheer terror...
I spun around, staring intently into the dark foliage at the edge of the lot. The diner and bar was surrounded by heavy forests, full of looming conifers and riddled with bracken. My nostrils flared, eyes heated and I felt Tobius move up beside me.
Sam was in pain...
Another long sniff, the air whistling through our nostrils, revealed a faint metallic tinge to the air, and blood, dark and sticky on the tarmac.
Silver...
Sammy... Oh Christ!
Tobius moved round in a circle, still sniffing intently. Human hunter perhaps but... another deep sniff, and he shook his head in frustration. Not getting much, mainly just Sam. We may have come across this one before but it's hard to be certain; so much damn silver in the air. He frowned again, head tilted to the side, eyes following something on the ground. You also smell that? Lean closer.
I ducked down to a crouch; nose extended and sniffed carefully, then reeled back in disgust, nearly dropping on my ass. Bastard tried to chloroform him but some got spilt.
Tobius nodded, eyes narrowed. Yes. Your son put up quite the fierce fight before he succumbed.
The pungent, sickly odour was still easy to follow. Too damn easy and it became obvious this was a trap. By unspoken agreement we headed deeper into the undergrowth surrounding the parking lot, shed our clothes and folded them neatly in a pile under a low hanging branch. We didn't stop moving just changed as we went, and to an outsider we might have looked like the seven ages of man in reverse.
Another two hours of tracking and Sam's scent was getting stronger. His pain and fear pulled at my heart the closer we got until it became unbearable.
You feel him. Tobius whispered in my head.
Yeah... I lifted my muzzle and whined quietly, conveying my distress. He's been hurt, badly... can't stand it...
Hush boy. Father appeared to be listening, so I obeyed without question and followed his lead. The forest would have been quiet as the grave to a human ear but what I heard had me stalking up and down, anxiously waiting for the order to proceed. And when it came; soft, muffled whimpers of pain and torment, my heart pounded with worry.
Father please! I have to go to him!
His ears twitched.
Go on ahead. Your son isn't far but be vigilant. There's trouble here...
Tobius sniffed the air again, snorting with disgust. I didn't need to be told twice and took off after Sam. The bitter twang of silver was so strong by now that the air was thick with it. But Sam was easy to find just following his sounds in my head and as soon as I laid eyes on him I was changing, the process harder, faster and more painful than I'd ever known it before.
He was tightly gagged, lying on his stomach, head turned towards me and surrounded by a pool of grey vomit. His wrists were secured behind him and scraped raw by the gleaming manacles. Further metal cuffs encased his ankles just visible under his jeans, but it was the matching collar round his neck that stopped me cold. A thick sturdy chain ran from a padlock on the collar and stretched away high up into the boughs of a tall pine tree.
"Sammy?" I whispered loudly and dropped to my knees beside him just as he sluggishly opened his eyes. Gently untying the gag, I noted the heavy bruising to his face, the large beads of sweat on his forehead, and struggled to keep from losing it.
Sam? Can you hear me? He flinched when I reached for the collar. It's ok. It's just me, Dean.
But he whimpered and tried to shift away again. It hurt deep inside that he was so out of it he didn't even know me, until I heard him, finally.
"D-Dean, don't t-touch it... s-silver..."
Frowning, stomach churning, I touched the manacles and quickly withdrew my hand, hissing in pain. My fingers looked like they'd been badly scalded. And that explained more than I wanted to imagine. Sam's wrists weren't abraded from struggling, they were fucking burnt! A closer look at his neck, imprisoned in the thick collar, revealed similar lesions, only worse.
Much worse.
Oh Sammy...
It explained the stench of silver, so strong it was damn nigh on impossible to tell where it was coming from. Fortunately, the chain that kept Sam tied up like a dog wasn't silver; one quick tug and it fell to pieces. Yeah, this was a trap all right.
"Gonna getcha out of here, Sam," I muttered aloud as I scooped the kid into my arms, and barely stifled a gasp at the sight of so much blood on his shirt. "We'll get that damn silver off ya soon as we're safe."
"And that ain't happening any time soon," a calm, deep voice spoke up behind us and I turned slowly, keeping Sam shielded from the stranger as he stepped into view.
Tall, dark skinned, dressed in jeans and a blue plaid shirt he stared at us as though we were some kind of science project... which we were and he was no stranger to me.
He was Gordon Fucking Walker.
The sudden smile was blinding.
"Couldn't believe my luck when I saw you guys in the bar... and then I saw him," Gordon tried to see round me but I tugged Sam closer, tucking his head against my shoulder. "A young werewolf, not even undergone his first change. Quite the prize." He tapped his nose and winked. "I can tell. Been hunting things like you most of my life. That was pretty careless of you, letting him out of your sight like that. I figured his daddy would come looking for him, and I could have myself a real hunt." Another quick smile. "What ya say... Dean?"
What? We knew his name well enough; he'd introduced himself to us right before he stuck his silver blade in Tobius, but I'm damn sure I never told him my name.
Gordon stepped a little closer and my eyes widened when he began a running biography of my life.
"Dean Winchester, bitten and turned. And Sammy here... didn't care too much for silver." His brown eyes gleamed with mad excitement. "Ran into John some months back in a bar; he's usually pretty closed mouth, but not that night, Dean. He was real talkative. Told me you were dead, that young Sammy killed his own brother with silver bullets."
I felt Sam stir and give out a faint whimper.
Ssshhh it's ok.
"Where is he, by the way?" Gordon glanced around in an overly dramatic gesture and I could tell from the hugely smug grin he already knew John Winchester's fate.
S-sorry Dean... I slowly lowered my gaze to Sam in disbelief.
"You fucking told him?"
The kid just blinked up at me, tears filling his tired eyes.
"Oh, don't blame the pup," Gordon nodded congenially as he twirled a small blade expertly between his fingers. "I can be very persuasive."
Sam turned his head away in shame.
"Ya see, silver can initiate a change, Dean," Gordon kept up that hypnotic twirling, metal catching the light every now and then. "But only in those who've changed already. The younger ones however..." He tipped his head at Sam and I understood.
Silver can trigger a change in the experienced werewolf, acting like a real painful catalyst, but in someone like Sam it can prevent or halt it, causing horrendous pain and suffering. But judging by the steadily growing blood on Sam's shirt that wasn't all he'd had to deal with.
Gently gripping the material, I raised the hem of Sam's tee-shirt.
Oh Christ! His abdomen was criss-crossed with deep cuts and gashes, blood still oozing from each one, unable to heal with all that silver surrounding him. Gordon hadn't been content with imprisoning Sam in the lethal stuff; he'd tortured the poor kid with it.
The blade in Gordon's hand caught the light again.
"You fucking bastard!" I roared, blood boiling with rage. Sammy flinched in my arms and tried to struggle away but I held him still. "I'm gonna rip you to pieces for this!"
But Gordon didn't seem too worried by my threats and I soon found out why.
"Now, now, Dean. I pretty much know everything there is to know about Wolf lore. And when Sam told me you bit him? I knew exactly what he'd become, what he means to you now."
A stunned silence dropped like a stone and I tried to subtly sniff the air, searching for my father but the stench of silver cloaked everything.
"I don't care what you think you know about us, but there'll be no hunt, Gordon." I snarled. "Just you, heart and throat ripped out, me and Sam walking out of here."
"I'd take a closer look at that collar first if I were you Dean." Gordon broke in quietly.
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Author's notes:
So what about the collar? What's so special about it and what's it significance? See you soon with the answers.
Kind regards,
ST xxx