Hunter of the Shadows

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

Chapter 13

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Dean's chuckling, good humour once again restored. But then this guy's philosophy is obviously the 'glass is half full'.

"Sammy in training..." His eyes glow with fierce pride, but he just shakes his head in amusement, before pointing at the lens with great showmanship. "Just wait and see..."

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Here we go again...

Sammy crouched low on the ground, leg muscles tense, hindquarters raised slightly, tail low. He growled angrily then snarled, teeth bared, and his hackles began to rise up.

Sam no longer looked adorable. He was huge, powerful and downright scary like this.

He was magnificent.

So it was completely wasted on the squirrel who turned its' back on him, unconcerned, and scurried up the tree trunk. Sam looked a little deflated but soon recovered, shaking out his thick mane and strolling nonchalantly away. As in human form, Sam's hair was long and thick, and right by his ears it was soft, just like his puppy coat had once been.

Hmph. Soon showed him huh Dean? See how fast he ran away from me?

Uh… sure. Whatever you say kiddo. I replied, trying not to laugh but failed when Sam shot me a suspicious look that said he knew exactly what I was thinking.

It was Sam's second week of training and the day of his sixteenth birthday. He'd tried the intimidation tactic on every creature we encountered on our hunting treks, but word had obviously gotten out that the youngest werewolf just couldn't bring himself to hurt them, so not one critter was taking him seriously. But even back then I had no doubt in my mind that if someone or something threatened his family, there'd be hell to pay.

We didn't actually do much training that day, just let the kid enjoy his birthday with some good old fashioned family frolics, rolling in the mud, play fighting in which the two of us ganged up on Tobius, hunted him, then attacked by pouncing on top of the older werewolf. He was a good sport about it all and rolled over, exposing his soft underbelly in submission, allowing Sam a small victory. We both watched with fond amusement as the youngster strutted round us, head held high, chest puffed out, thoroughly carrying the joke to its extreme before snorting with laughter at himself.

That was also the day a very important letter was delivered. The writing on the envelope was old fashioned, and in black curly letters Tobius Le Salle stood out. There was no address, clearly hand delivered but Tobius wasn't worried, almost seemed to expect it. Ripping it open he began to read, an eyebrow slowly rising.

"Well, well, well. Didn't think she'd ever go this far," he muttered softly.

Sam and I glanced at each over our thick rare steaks in au poivre sauce and shrugged. But it was good news because Tobius started laughing.

Oh it was good all right.

In spite of the truce, Tobius did sometimes keep in contact with a vampire nest down in Florida. The head vamp was some chick called Lenore Tobius had befriended – and he used the term loosely – around the time of the Boar war. They'd helped each other out from time to time over the years and it seemed she'd just done us another good turn. I found it strange that Tobius never kept in contact with other werewolf packs, yet he was quite happy to hear from a vampire of all things.

"Lenore is responsible for the rise of passive vampires." Tobius smiled when I asked. "They only drink animal blood, not human. She's been free of human blood for over four centuries. And because of her teachings there aren't many nests left now that touch humans, but those that do are left for the human hunters to deal with."

"Ok." I nodded slowly. "So what's the good news?"

Sam leaned in, eager to hear this.

"Some of her family ran into a certain hunter with vampiric tendencies." Tobius handed over the letter. "They currently have him under lock and key whilst they attempt to re-condition him."

Whilst Sam studied the letter I raised an eyebrow.

"Do you think that's even possible?"

Tobius shook his head.

"Honestly? No. I think he's too far gone for that now."

"What'll happen to him then?" Sam asked hesitantly.

I sensed his fear; Sammy was very sick and badly injured at the hands of Gordon, but the emotional abuse on the kid had been even harder to bounce back from.

"They'll treat him well, keep him fed. He'll have a comfortable enough life," Tobius answered.

"What?" That shocked the hell out of me. "Just so he can escape and come after us again? No way!"

"Dean, they won't kill their own kind unless they're forced into a corner," Father explained patiently. "It's not in their nature."

Sam just remained silent, food untouched and growing cold.

Tobius suddenly stood.

"I think a double celebration is in order."

He pulled open the drinks cabinet and retrieved an unusual shaped bottle, amber liquid sloshing thickly against the glass. It was his favourite brandy, a gift from some long dead French president I'd never heard of.

"Come on you two, cheer up. Sam turned sixteen today, his training is going well and Gordon's out of the picture…"

"Temporarily," I grouched.

"No he's right, Dean," Sam finally spoke up, suddenly looking a little brighter. "At least we know where he is now, right? We can stop hiding and looking over our shoulders. As for the other hunters he's supposed to have told about John's death… have we ever heard from them? They probably wouldn't know us if they ran into us on the street."

There was some comfort in that, and yeah, they both had a point. Not the best situation, but if we now knew where Gordon was all the time it was a definite improvement.

So we raised a glass to Sam on his sweet sixteen, then took him into the nearest town for an evening of beer and pool, content in the knowledge that we were safe for the time being.

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"Deeaaannnn…. yaknowIloveyaright?"

I smirked. It seemed the beer had been a little strong and gone down a little too smoothly. I held him up with an arm round his waist.

"Yeah, love ya too."

"Y… yo… youthebest... hic… man…" Sammy swayed and blinked, his tall frame wavering dangerously, and my arm tightened. Tobius stepped up to support his other side and we lead him back into the cabin, dumping him fully clothed on his bed. Yeah, he'd definitely gotten over his fear of alcohol.

"To… Tob… Tobyyyyyyy…" Sam wailed in a singsong voice, and not to mention totally out of key, assuming there was meant to be a key in there somewhere; it was a little hard to tell.

I turned to grin at Tobius.

"Toby? That's definitely your name from now on."

That earned me a deep scowl.

"It's not often I feel it necessary to issue a direct order, but if I ever hear that word fall from your lips again…" and went on to explain in quite graphic detail how he intended to exact his revenge.

I began to wonder if Tobius wasn't getting a little obsessive about rectal thermometers. In any case the threat made me wince, and that seemed to mollify him.

"I'll get some water on standby," Tobius jerked his chin at Sam, who was now snoring loudly and drooling quite excessively, mouth wide open. "He's going to have one mother and father of a hangover in the morning."

I chuckled softly then began removing Sam's boots and socks. Even more comical was Sam's nose. It was elongating and shortening as he snuffled and gurgled in his sleep, the excess beer obviously messing with his inner wolf switches. It might have been cute if not for the long stream of saliva running down his chin.

At least he hadn't been sick; I was grateful for small mercies. Last thing I felt like doing was cleaning up piles of vomit in the small hours of the morning.

Guilt assailed me a little; werewolves can get drunk but the alcohol doesn't kill brain or liver cells, doesn't cause renal failure or gastroenteritis. We don't even suffer from addictions. But I still wondered if we were setting a good example for Sam, getting him drunk when he'd only just turned sixteen. It hardly seemed responsible behaviour…

And that had me laughing out loud. We had bigger worries than one binge drinking session that wouldn't do any harm, and it was the kid's birthday after all. Maybe John Winchester had affected me even more than I'd known.

Kicking off my own boots I dropped face down on the next bed. I didn't hear Tobius come into the room, but he must have done at some point; when I woke up some hours later there were two bottles of water on the nightstand between our beds.

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"Good morning Dean!" Tobius was bright and cheerful, with a glint of mischief in his eyes especially when he saw the run down, hunched over form trudging along behind me. "And good morning Sam! How's my favourite grandson? Feeling somewhat delicate perhaps?"

Sam let out a pained moan in reply and I tried not to grin. The kid slumped into a chair at the kitchen table, buried his shaggy head in shaky hands and muttered something along the lines of "Please... just let me die in peace."

"Aw Sammy." I patted him on the back then stuck my mouth close to his ear. "You hungry? How about a nice greasy fried breakfast? Line that stomach!"

"Deeaaannnn..." Sam was close to sliding off the chair into a puddle on the floor. "God! I hate you so much right now."

"Sure ya do." I opened the cooler and had a good rummage through the contents.

Chuckling softly, Tobius poured some coffee and slid the mug across the table.

"Its decaf but the sugar might help as a pick-me-up."

Sam raised his head and offered up a small grateful smile before sticking his nose in the mug, and began slurping loudly.

Tobius wouldn't even allow caffeine in our diets because of its stimulant properties. Just like pain meds caffeine is bad for our metabolism, throws it out of alignment or something, and in any case, we don't really need it.

"Sure you don't want anything to eat?"

Sam carefully placed the mug back on the table and opened his eyes to slits.

"Uh... fruit juice... or ice cream?" He whispered. "Or maybe an entire year's supply of aspirin?" Sam fixed Tobius with the puppy dog eyes.

His grandfather chortled and shook his head.

"No aspirin, Sam."

Sam didn't bother to argue, knowing Tobius was right.

"'kay." And slumped back down in his seat, head bouncing gently on his arms.

Taking pity on the poor hung-over wretch, I dug around in the icebox and stood up triumphant. A few minutes later I pressed a stoneware desert bowl against Sam's forehead and he groaned with relief, one hand reaching up and weakly scrabbling at my arm.

"Raspberry sorbet." I announced softly. "Your favourite."

Sam opened his eyes fully and smiled.

"Thanks Dean." Pushing aside his empty coffee mug and grabbing the bowl, he eagerly tucked into the sorbet. "Wow. Man, this is great. So sweet and cold."

"Yeah, but don't eat it too fast huh?"

"Nuhuh," Sam insisted, licking the spoon enthusiastically. "You're the one who gets ice cream headaches." Then in a complete change of subject "So what we doing today? More training?"

Tobius rolled up his newspaper.

"Yep. But not with squirrels this time." The newspaper hit the table with a light thud. "We're hunting a bear."

Sam's jaw dropped.

"What? A b...bear? Uh..." he shifted nervously in his seat looking first at me, then Tobius. "You're kidding... right?"

I tried to hold in my mirth. This particular exercise was actually a lot of fun and nothing like what it sounded. It was a great way of learning to distinguish different scents, and Tobius often rigged up some pretty decent challenges.

So when we lead Sam outside after breakfast it was agreed that I would stay with him and assist the first time out, which was just as well. Christ knows where the kid would've ended up without me there to put him on the right track. He's scary bright, and as it turned out, too damn good.

"Ok."Sam's left leg jiggled up and down nervously. "So... a bear? What kind of bear? Brown? Grizzly?"

Tobius smirked and held something out.

"Teddy."

Sam nearly sagged with relief.

"I thought... I thought..."

Bumping his shoulder with mine, I chortled softly.

"We knew exactly what you were thinking, ya big dope."

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The teddy bear was dark brown with a small nose and blue eyes. It was once a cute child's toy but now it was kinda creepy looking, especially with one arm missing from my last training session when I ripped it out of Sire's hand and ran off with it. Tobius had patched it up as best he could, but there was no getting away from it; Little Ted wouldn't be putting up much of a fight, so Sammy had nothing to worry about.

To make it as realistic as possible, Little Ted was contaminated with a pungent smelling organic substance, in other words we rolled him in genuine bear crap. Sometimes it was deer or rabbit, whatever was fresh at the time. But today Tobius had found a steaming pile of the bear variety. If ever you needed any definite proof that bears do indeed shit in the woods, just refer back to this journal entry. And you can quote me on that, by the way.

After outlining the objective to Sam – find Little Ted by following his scent – we allowed him to get a good whiff of the stuffed toy. Grimacing with disgust, Sam choked a little and nodded that he was ready. Whilst I blindfolded him and shut him away in the cabin, Tobius tied some strong cord around the bear's neck then quietly sprinted off into the trees, dragging the hapless Ted behind him on the forest floor, effectively smearing the scent in its wake. The idea was to memorise a scent in human form, but follow and hunt as a wolf. Not as easy as it sounds, 'cos your nose is a little less sensitive as a human and it's possible to get confused with what you're hunting. It's an essential skill however, one that came heavily into play when Sam was kidnapped by Gordon.

"You ok there, Sam?"

"Uhuh." He was obviously still nervous.

"What's wrong kid?"

Sam gulped nervously, head bowed and I wished Tobius would hurry up and give us the signal so I could remove Sam's blindfold, all the better to read his face.

"I guess... I..." he sighed heavily and sniffed morosely. I noticed the blindfold was a little damp and my heart clenched for the kid. "I'm scared I'm gonna fuck this up, Dean. S'posing I'm no good at this?" he asked in a small voice.

"So that's it, huh?" I wrapped an arm round his shoulders, giving him an affectionate shake. "I'm not gonna tell you to stop worrying, and I'm not gonna bother saying that you'll ace it. I know you will, Tobius knows it... the only person here who needs convincing is you. And there's only one way you're gonna do that..."

Ok Sam. The hunt's on. Came Tobius' thoughts.

I pulled the blindfold away from Sam's head.

"Good, luck kiddo." I clapped him on the back. "Now, go get that nasty bear!"

Sam removed his clothes shyly and changed, padded to the door then glanced up at me, whining softly.

You're coming too right?

In seconds we slunk into the forest, side by side, ears twitching. Though I was there to assist, this was Sam's lead to take. Which he did admirably.

Just one tiny problem though.

Sam picked up the scent of the actual bear.

Yep, Gentle Ben had taken a huge dump and wandered off, only to return a little later to find a couple werewolves cramping its style. Sam had raced on ahead, eager and oh so determined he was on the right path, ignoring my warnings, ploughing through the undergrowth until he pounced...

There came about a strained silence followed by a soft:

Oh shit. Dean? Uh... you did say it wasn't a real bear... right?

I've seen some pretty amazing sights over the years, but I have to say that absolutely nothing comes close to what I saw on battling my way through the forest and emerging from a close crop of conifers...

Sam was sprawled over the back of one big assed hairy bear, clinging on for dear life. I'm not sure which was funniest; the utter fear on my boy's face as he whispered

I daren't let go so don't fucking ask me to!

Or the look of utter surprise and shock on the face of the bear.

And Gentle Ben turned out to be not so gentle.

With a loud angry roar, the bear rose up on its hind legs, throwing Sam violently off his back and into a tree. The pup leapt back up on to his paws, shaking his mane out furiously. His stance suggested the only damage he'd suffered was to his pride, as he stalked towards his newly found nemesis.

Right! That's it! Sam's temper was sparked and that was never a safe path.

Uh, Sammy? I really wouldn't do that if I were you. I studied the bear, sniffing lightly. He looks pretty mad.

Hmph. Not nearly mad enough! Sam charged with a loud experimental war howl, and collided with the bear's chest, whereupon he was swivelled until he was upside down, head dangling between the bear's thick hind quarters, ears brushing the forest floor.

Ok. This wasn't quite what I had in mind. Sam swung helplessly as the bear appeared to be laughing, and I knew something was off here.

"Ok that's enough!" Tobius appeared from nowhere and clapped his hands before frowning deeply. "Gerald? I thought you were moving on today. Aren't you in enough trouble with your wife as it is without being late again?"

The bear... became a guy. And a really small one at that.

Gerald looked sad and grumpy all at the same time.

"I'm always in trouble. Don't matter what I do."

I glanced over at Tobius in disbelief.

He's a werebear? I thought they were just a legend!

Tobius snorted.

"I don't think I need to point out the general hypocrisy of that statement do I, Dean?"

Sam, having been dumped unceremoniously on his head, sat up shakily.

Gerald? Werebear...what?

Tobius sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"What did you do to piss her off this time?" It was obviously a conversation they'd had before.

Gerald seemed to sag despondently.

"Oh man! I sleep walk, ok? And last night... I left muddy prints all over the new carpet!"

I actually thought he was going to cry.

But Sam was gazing at him sympathetically.

And she made ya lick it clean huh? Man that sucks. Big time. Accusing eyes turned my way and I stifled a laugh.

The little guy looked gratefully at the pup, and there seemed to be an air of solidarity between them.

Sam slunk forward, body low to the ground.

Hope I didn't hurt you. Sorry. I'm pretty new to all this.

Gerald sniffed then smiled.

"Me too. My wife turned me last year but I don't think I'll ever get used to it," he shrugged. "But no, you didn't hurt me. Bearly a scratch..." he glanced around at us hopefully, silently begging for some kind of applause for the bad pun. "Get it? Bearly? Ya see..."

"Yes, yes." Tobius answered tiredly. "Very good. But I think we should be getting back."

Gerald's face fell.

"Oh. Ok. Well it was nice meeting you two." He nodded at Sam. "For someone who's new to this? Doing pretty good kid."

Without another word he changed and lumbered off clumsily into the undergrowth.

Sam stood straighter and puffed out his chest. Doing pretty good. Coming from a werebear huh?

I resisted the urge to laugh but butted my muzzle playfully against his rear haunch.

Don't get cocky kid.

It was a hellish strange encounter but for some reason Sam's confidence perked up a little after that. And it had a weird effect on me too. We had an actual neighbour of sorts, and that was comforting.

Somehow we didn't feel quite so alone.

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Authors notes:

Just a bit of fun there. I've read fics about werebears but I've never actually come across a film about them, and they fascinate me somewhat.

Hope that made you all chuckle a wee bit.

Kind regards,

ST xxx