Hunter Of The Shadows
Title taken from a line in Metallica's 'The Thing That Should Not Be'
Chapter 15
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"Sam don't... look! Just let me help you, ok?
"I think I can manage using the restroom on my own by now, Dean. And besides," Sam risks a glance at the camera, and shuffles awkwardly on his crutches. "Really don't want this on film, ok?"
Dean's sigh is frustrated, but affectionate.
"Ya such a whiny little bitch!" He closes the bathroom door behind Sam, offers up a small smile, and takes his seat on the couch. "As I was saying, we had a great time that night, but things got a little more difficult for Sam after that."
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Back again...
Those hard decisions I spoke of? They were coming about all too soon for my peace of mind.
Not sixth months later, Tobius was nudging me in the right direction, encouraging me to have that talk with Sam. I didn't want to do it, but he had a point. Sam had a right to be happy.
But it was just so hard, watching him, day in day out, learning, growing bigger, stronger, faster... kinda like the bionic man, but with more hair. So, like a selfish bastard, I kept putting it off.
The hunts became more serious. More dangerous.
No longer were we tracking deer, bear or rabbit; we were moving from state to state hunting strays. It was time for Sam to really prove himself in the field.
And prove he did.
Sam ducked and dived, falling into place right beside us, just where he belonged. But my heart was heavy with the possibilities.
One such hunt in particular turned real nasty.
Even I wasn't quite prepared for it.
Sam didn't enjoy the actual kill, tried not to believe it was too late, that a man-eating non-lunar couldn't change. And he kept up that faith, despite everthing he'd seen. He just never stopped trying.
Venice Beach, California. 01:30 in the morning.
The police were everywhere, lights flashing, and sirens wailing, so nobody noticed two guys in dark suits until we were right in their faces, demanding cooperation.
Two young girls mauled to death by a stray dog.
At least that's what the report stated, but we knew better. Flashing fake FBI badges got Tobius and me in to see the bodies, whilst Sam scouted round the area, also in human form, asking questions and making observations. In a thriving population, wolf form was too conspicuous at this stage.
Mauled to death.
Never was there a bigger understatement. More like dismembered, half eaten, hearts and throats ripped out, and the claw marks on whatever was left of the poor kids, were a damn sight bigger than a wild dog.
It was a stray alright. Our kind of stray.
The bodies stank of urine, its scent over-powering, like a werewolf staking a claim. And that was some strange behaviour for non-lunar, even a stray. The only time we stake a claim is with our chosen mate, and we mate for life. So unless this was some kinky mating ritual gone drastically wrong, it was a fairly safe bet our stray was completely insane.
Not a comforting prospect.
But it was on leaving the morgue the shit really hit the fan.
Dean, I've found him. I'm tracking him now.
Sammy, stay where you are, don't get too close. This one's different.
Ok, but hurry Dean.
I glanced at Tobius worriedly and he nodded. We headed back to the Impala, locked my clothes in the trunk, then slunk out onto the beach front using the shadows as cover. Now that the die was cast, it was my turn to hunt in wolf form, Tobius the one armed with silver bullets.
Before I joined the hunt, Sire carried a small, fabric-wrapped, silver dagger round his neck on a cord, the hilt shielded with iron. Something I hadn't noticed the night he turned me. The wrapping was soaked in either menthol or oil of cloves, depending on whatever was available to cover the scent of silver. One small tug in the right place, and the wrapping dropped away. Life was much easier for him these days; guns could be silenced, gloves would protect our skin when handling silver bullets, and no one was likely to question a guy out walking his young dog, even in the early hours of the morning. Well, yeah, they might, but Tobius was great at bullshitting his way round the cops.
Where are ya, Sam?
Santa Monica pier.
Jesus! You must've been moving fast... a light pause, and anger reared its head ...I told you to stay in human form! This place is too public to have two damn great wolves runnin' round!
One wolf we might get away with, but two? Not only would the law get suspicious and call the pound, effectively arresting anything on four legs in sight, but it also ran the risk of tipping off the stray. But, by the sounds of things, we already had.
Dean, he's gonna attack again.
Tobius laid a hand on the scruff of my neck, giving a light scratch.
Go get 'im, Dean. I'll be right with you.
I shot off into the night, passed the closed up beach cafes and surf stores, and out onto the sand, taking the most direct route possible, and all the while calling to Sam in my head.
Sam, you stay the fuck away from him!
Sam?
SAMMY, ANSWER ME DAMMIT!
I sped up, head down, ears flattened, tail straight, paws pounding away.
Something appeared in my peripheral vision.
Tobius, he's not answering!
The older wolf had caught up, and briefly glanced over.
He's probably stalking. Give the boy a chance Dean, he's not stupid; let him concentrate on what he's doing.
I almost snarled at that. He was right, but I wasn't ready to let Sam grow up just yet, and besides, I didn't want him getting hurt. He'd been through so much in his young life, and I just wanted to keep him safe.
Dean. I mean it. Let him handle this. The non-lunar can't really hurt him unless he's carrying silver.
I nearly skidded to halt right then.
And what about the gun? How the hell we gonna take the bastard down? Unless you found a real convenient place to shove it?
Teeth flashed in an amused grin.
The old fashioned way!
The small, wrapped dagger swung from its cord around his neck.
I huffed and snorted loudly, tossing my mane, and continued onwards, desperately calling out to my son.
Dean, it's ok. I'm fine dude, just chill. But he sounded... subdued... depressed maybe.
Sammy, where are you?
By the carousel.
Where is that sick sonofabitch?
Right here with me, back in human form. I'm talking to him. He's so desperate...
You're doing what?
I feel pretty sorry for him...
I nearly had a heart attack right then, and my paws slipped uneasily on the sand, just before I leapt up onto firm concrete.
He's not the only one you're gonna feel sorry for tonight, you little...
Dean! Tobius nipped painfully on my rear left haunch. Just hear him out.
And that was when it really hit me. Why Sam hadn't answered me on the desperate run to Santa Monica pier.
I was turning into John Winchester, not listening to Sam, not trusting him.
No. Tobius nudged me back over to the shadows. Not like him. Never like him. You love the kid and worry way too much about him. But you mostly trained him Dean, you need to have faith.
A dark shadow loomed over us, and I glanced up into Sam's tortured face.
Sammy, what's wrong?
"He... he wants to die." The kid sniffed miserably. "He hates what he's become. It was kinda forced on him when his family died, killed by non-lunars. He h-hoped... someone would st-stop him..."
I watched, sadly mesmerised, as tears slowly rolled down his face.
"He's so young, Dean!" Sam wailed in distress, and my heart sank. "Only a couple years younger than me.... and so hungry..."
Sam knew the rules.
Once a man eater always a man eater. There was no coming back from that; the taste of human blood forever ingrained on the wolf's taste buds, but, more importantly, the weight of human flesh would reside forever in his gut. And that was the real deal clincher.
Likely too young to fend for himself, he took what he could. As with most addictions, he would want more, never to find true satisfaction for his hunger. Of all the potential hunts we would walk into, this was the one I dreaded Sam coming up against the most.
The child-strays were always the hardest to deal with. And there was no such thing as human cold turkey, whatever the age. It just didn't work.
Tobius changed and stood, holding out his hand.
Sam glanced at the tiny dagger and shook his head, backing away.
"I can't... no! There must be another way!"
Tobius just tilted his head, saying nothing. But that look said everything.
The kid's desperate gaze darted between us several times, before finally settling on me.
It'll be ok, Sammy.
This was Sam's responsibility now.
I was tempted to take his place, do the gruesome job for him, but somehow I knew Sam would refuse. A strange, sad pride in my boy slid sideways into my heart, as I watched the terrible, inner conflict show vividly on his face.
He turned his back; shoulders slumped, and walked away.
We stayed quiet, heard the low murmur of soft voices, followed by a brief whimper and a gurgling noise.
Then absolute silence.
It was the right thing to do. Tobius settled his sympathetic gaze on me. He'll come to understand that in time.
I just prayed he'd never hate us for it.
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Sam was worryingly, yet understandably quiet for some days, sullen, refusing to talk. But when it grew into weeks, I knew something had to give.
We were staying at a hotel in San Francisco, only a few blocks from Pier 39. It was late evening and I knew where he'd gone, sitting on the dock of the bay, watching the tide roll away... yeah a cliché but that's the best way to describe it.
I found myself humming that track as I approached, and stopped abruptly when I saw his tense form in the shadows.
The distant former penal island of Alcatraz loomed in the encroaching darkness, and tourists chattered on by us, searching for the best clam chowder to round off their evening. For a busy city it was actually kinda cool, even peaceful at times, though that wasn't because it was silent. Just the opposite. There was something about the place that spoke to me. Maybe it was the skyline, or the soothing waters that flowed under the Bay Bridge. Who knows?
Sitting down next to him, I'd already prepared my speech to start things off, but the little shit beat me to it.
Thank God.
"I slit his throat, then cut out his heart." Sam, his voice shaky with grief, didn't even turn to look at me. "I know... he knew... there was no other choice, ok? So please... just let me deal."
I nodded sadly, still staring out into the Bay, heart sinking. "Y-you... want me to leave you alone?"
Sam swallowed hard, then shook his head. "Nah. It's a great view from here. Be great to share it... ya know?"
He finally turned his head towards me, and I saw the sad acceptance on his face, the need for some kind of reassurance that everything would be ok.
Yeah. Just for a little while, kiddo. Then it's off to the nearest bar for some beers, ok?
Sam nodded, relaxing for the first time in weeks.
He even smiled at me a little.
But Sam wasn't quite the same after that, no longer so carefree. It was the very thing I'd been shielding him from, and now the other shoe had dropped.
It was too late to go back.
But he never lost that deep heart, and kind understanding. A part of me wondered if that would become a hindrance to him, that maybe his gentle nature and solid sympathy might get him killed.
But Tobius had a few things to say.
You know him better than that. Maybe it's not such a bad job for someone like him. A little compassion is often needed. It stops us becoming blood thirsty killers, becoming what we hunt.
And as more time and hunts passed by, I grew to realise he was right.
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By the time Sam hit eighteen, he'd become more than just an accomplished hunter; he'd turned hunting into an art form, and anyone privileged enough to get a glimpse of him in action would surely never forget it.
The swift sight of dark red fur, flashing across your vision, blue-green eyes glowing deeply... yeah, he was something special all right.
He was fast losing his trainee status, and becoming an equal.
A force to be reckoned with.
But what really stood out, was his ability to work so well with humans... with people.
I recall a hunt when I posed as a blind man, desperately searching for his missing daughter. Sam acted as my Seeing Eye dog, and my God he was good. He was all friendlyhappywannapleaseya, putting everyone at ease. People just saw him as some damn great handsome young dog, with beautiful, knowing eyes, and couldn't wait to stroke his fur, scratch behind his ears, and generally make a huge fuss of him. And the little shit just lapped it up, groaning in pleasure and rolling on their lush carpets, even when the humans were scared shitless of dogs. I'm pretty sure if we'd ever come across someone in the know about these things, our cover would've been blown. Surely Seeing Eye dogs didn't behave like that?
And I was amazed at what he got away with. It made me laugh, right up until I realised he was getting all the doggy treats. And not just some shitty cut price dog biscuits either, but these people, Sam's adoring public, were actually handing over prime steaks so succulent, they made my mouth water....
Dude! You're drooling!
Shuddup Sam!
The look on Sam's face suggested he was sniggering at me, so I fix him with a death glare.
"Oh, you poor man. I don't know what else to tell you..." Mrs Hargreaves cried out, dabbing at her eyes, and I shifted my attention back to the poor woman.
Oh, but she sure did. Don't know how Sam managed it, but he fixed those big wide, sympathetic eyes on her, snuffled and nudged his nose under her hand, licking affectionately, and the whole story came flooding out.
A few more visits like that, and we wrapped the case up in one weekend.
The worse thing? When we returned from the hunt, Tobius gave me his best smug look and:
I told you so.
Fuck Off!
The bastard chortled his way into the bathroom.
So yeah, Sam's experience with the child-stray left him saddened and changed, but he was still our Sammy.
Still my boy with the big heart.
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Author's notes:
And so the angst begins. This is just to wet your appetites, because let me assure you, this is merely just the scrumptious tip of the scrumptious angsty ice berg!
So lets see those reviews!
C'mon. Tell me how much you want it! You needy, angst loving, wonderful people!
Kind regards,
ST xxx