Hunter of The Shadows

Chapter 20

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Dean's staring into the camera, and the shadows under his eyes tell the audience that this part of his story is about as dark as it can get. And it seems even the curtains, fluttering in a sudden soft breeze, sense a grim foreshadowing...

"Dude!" Sam calls from the bathroom. "We got any more toilet paper?"

Dean sighs in mild frustration.

"He always has to spoil the mood," he mutters, then calls out "Cupboard under the sink!"

A scuffling, then a small noise of triumph as Sam discovers his prize.

Sam is heard taking a breath of satisfaction, and slams the bathroom door shut.

Dean shakes his head, and grins tiredly into the camera.

"Like father like son, huh? Sure wish I'd remembered that sooner..."

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Its actions such as this... our martyrdom that follows, our justification, arrogance, and the lies we tell ourselves... that truly turn us into monsters.

- Johanna Aldridge. The Channel Islands. Liberation day 2009.

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Couldn't tell ya why of course, but I was tempted to order Sam off the hunt and stay safe in the motel room. It wasn't that I didn't have faith in the kid, just the opposite. But I had a bad feeling some serious shit was going down tonight.

"Sam…"

"Don't say it," he countered with a grimace. "You need me on this, Dean."

He fixed me with a determined stare, and something told me I wasn't going to win this.

"He's right," Tobius interjected and I glared at him. It wasn't often Sire interfered, but this was one time I wished he hadn't. He softened his approach when he caught my ferocious gaze. "Sam can handle it. He's easily as good as us, and he's proved himself on many occasions."

That much was true, but I still wasn't happy. Turning to Sam, I matched his stare.

"We don't split up. At any time. You hearing me? You stick with me or Tobius, and no wandering off, no matter what happens." I crossed my arms, jaw clenched. "I mean it."

Sam studied me for a minute or two before nodding slowly.

"It's a deal." He turned to the bed, reaching for his machete, but then glanced back at me with a curious expression on his face. "What's got you so spooked, dude?"

There was no derision in his voice, just concern.

Shifting nervously, I realised I had no answer to that. At least not one I could put into words.

"I…" Frowning, I sighed heavily. "I just got a bad feeling 'bout this, ok? Please, just be extra careful tonight. Stay close by. Promise me?"

Another long moment passed, with Sam watching me closely, before he answered softly.

"Ok." He nodded again. "It's ok, Dean. I promise."

I couldn't help the relief that followed, but still that feeling of deep dread plagued me.

We had no idea where the werewolf would strike next, but given that it was the last night of the full moon, it was time to haul ass. We had the entire campus to cover, but with so many students still up late, either studying, or spending time at the bar, we couldn't risk wolf form. And in any case, carrying machetes round our necks just wasn't viable.

Try painful.

Our clothes were doused in the evil smelling herb to cover our scent, some complicated Latin name I still couldn't pronounce, and didn't much give a shit about anyhow.

The only thing that mattered was the vamp couldn't smell us coming.

We were each packing wrapped silver blades, and .45s loaded with silver.

If the hunt was successful, the vamp would lose its head, and the werewolf would lose its heart.

It was potluck, just advancing stealthily about the campus, testing the air for the lunar dependent, the smell of Old Spice and cigarette smoke.

We rechecked the alley by the bar, but the kaleidoscope of scents had faded considerably since our earlier visit. As the hours tripped passed, I grew impatient, wondering if maybe this whole thing was a wild goose chase. Maybe the vamp had given up and gone home.

Doubtful.

And it was a damn good job impatience hadn't turned to complacency.

Hearing a faint noise to my left, I instinctively ducked, and the sound of something impacting with the wall just above my head turned my blood cold. Chips of brick and cement rained down, and the sharp twang of silver reached my nose. Scrambling backwards, and tucking myself into the relative safety of a recess in the wall, I frantically sought out my main concern.

Sammy, get down!

At the same time I was being targeted, Tobius grunted loudly as something barrelled into him from behind, knocking him flat on his belly.

It was the lunar dependent, and it immediately set about mindlessly tearing Tobius to pieces. Sire grit his teeth and scrabbled for his .45, swinging it round over his shoulder, and fired.

It made a hit, but only a scratch. The poisonous silver was enough to make it yelp and back off however, and Tobius rolled free, taking aim once more.

Another shot from over head, and this time way too close to Sam. The kid ducked, rolled, and came up again behind the cover of a dumpster.

Dean! You ok?

I'm fine kiddo. You?

Never better.

I sensed the shaky eye roll that accompanied the snarky remark, and grinned.

Tobius let out a loud roar when the werewolf leapt gracefully out of his line of sight, and pounced. Cloth ripped and seams tore, stitching coming undone, as Sire changed mid attack, taking his opponent by surprise.

They both went down, snapping, growling and clawing at each other. There was nothing we could do to help him, pinned down as we were by our own hidden, silver-wielding enemy.

Dean? I think I know where he is! See that dorm window on the first floor of the building opposite us?

I narrowed my gaze, and sure enough, there he was.

Our self-appointed personal assassin was standing far back from the window, standard procedure to avoid being illuminated by the streetlights. But the bastard must have underestimated our eyesight, 'cos once you knew where he was, he stood out like a nun in the Playboy mansion.

Ok. Good job, Sam… Sammy?

The little shit broke cover and ran across the street, stopping just under the window, and pressing his back to the building.

To say my heart was in my mouth didn't do it justice.

To say I was so gonna beat the living crap outta him when this was over…

But then he was off again, sliding along the wall, and heading for the fire escape.

Nonono… don't you fucking dare… Sam! Get your ass back here!

Just chill dude. You keep his attention, distract him, and I'll sneak up and cut his head off.

I reeled in shock and anger.

Though I saw the logic in it, the little bastard was breaking his promise. It was an unwanted distraction, however, and way too late for Sam to turn back. We needed to get the job done, once and for all.

I hardened my heart and did as he asked, but deep down, I was seething with fury.

Dodging in and out of streetlights, silver bullets zipping over head, I made slow progress to the dorm, hopefully giving Sam enough time to get in position.

A loud crash and a shout had me breaking into a run, and I bounded up the fire escape, screaming for Sam in my head.

D'n…

He was hurt.

Badly, by the sound of things, and I could practically taste his blood in the air, thick, pulsing and hot.

Sam, I'll be right there. Just hold on...

Heart in my throat?

Nah.

Now it was sinking like a lead weight.

A stepladder, tins of paint, and a strong whiff of solvents explained why no students were running around, screaming in terror.

The place was closed up for refurbishment.

Sam had obviously broken the lock on the fire escape, because the door was still swinging gently on its hinges. I headed into the hallway, following the scent of Sam's blood, but the biggest breadcrumb was the sound of a familiar voice.

The voice of someone I once considered a friend.

I slowed and crept close to the doorframe, heart filled with dread.

Sammy? You ok?

Uhuh…

I concentrated on listening, waiting for the right moment. Sneaking a quick peek only made my heart pound faster with fear.

The vamp's back was to me, and Sam was on his knees, hands gripping something protruding from his stomach.

Something sharp and, above all, silver.

A thin length of wire ran from a hook fixed at the front, and when the vampire tugged on it viciously, the kid gasped and choked on his own blood.

"…you hearing me, Sammy?"

That voice was burning me, but it was the look of total heartbreak and betrayal on Sam's face that nearly finished me off.

I couldn't see the guy's face, but I knew who it was all right.

Question was, how long had he been a vampire?

And who turned him?

I was about to find out.

"I ran into Gordon Walker…"

Now why wasn't I surprised to hear that?

"… didn't wanna believe him at first. He told me what you guys did… to your own father. You murdering bastards!"

"C-Caleb… p-please… you don't understand…!" Sam was trying to stall him and it was working.

"Oh I understand all right, kid."

I'd never heard Caleb sound so heartless, especially towards Sammy.

Gone was the snarky, lovable family friend who once taught me how to construct a Molotov cocktail, and showed a six year old Sammy how to tie a reef knot.

In his place was a cold, ruthless murderer.

"A good man lost his life just to save your sorry, wolf asses. Then Gordon turned me," Caleb was shaking with anger, "against my will! All because of you! To hunt you down, and make you pay!"

His eyes gleamed with mad fury.

"But know this."

Oh yeah, he was so far over the cuckoo's nest it wasn't even funny.

"I'd have gladly hunted you anyhow. I don't need no vampire senses to avenge John's death. But I needed to feed. Figured I may as well make use of the lunar out there."

So Gordon had turned him to help with the hunt?

Huh. A little extreme.

But then, I guess that's Gordon's MO. Every one of our encounters with that dude so far had been extreme, so why would this be any different?

Though it hurt me to do it, I held off, waiting for any more information that might prove useful. Anything that might tip us off should other hunters come looking for us.

Sorry Sammy…

S'ok.

He understood, God love him.

Attaboy!

"J-John…" Sam rasped out, and blinked a few times, "he… h-hurt me… tr-tried to k-kill Dean…"

"Because you lied to him!" Caleb suddenly roared, and yanked on the wire again.

Sam grunted in pain and barely managed to stay on his knees.

"Now, call to them! I know you guys can share thoughts. Gordon told me all about werewolf lore. So go ahead, call your daddy and grandpa so they can watch me tear you in two!"

Sam was fighting the change, and losing. His ears began sliding up, teeth lengthening, eyes glowing fiercely as he fought the effects of the silver embedded in his gut. Tears leaked down his face when Caleb tugged again, and Sam let out a small sob of pain.

I'd heard enough.

Sam was getting sick and losing too much blood.

He wouldn't last much longer.

"I'm sorry, Caleb," I whispered, huskily.

I stepped forward, machete already on the side-swing as he whirled round.

The head left its body, and landed with a sickening squelch on the carpet.

The torso stayed where it was for a few long seconds, blood spurting outwards, and, looking like something out of the opening sequence to Ghostship, toppled forward.

I couldn't help but stare, mesmerised by the sheer sadness that suddenly overwhelmed.

But I had more worrying issues, and I snapped back to reality.

Sam's head was bowed in defeat and pain, hands still clutching his stomach.

Short, shallow gasps for air filled the room as Sam desperately tried to hold on to his human form. Changing right then would have been excruciating, and the kid was in enough pain as it was.

Making my way over to Sam, I caught sight of the harpoon gun lying on the floor beside Caleb's body. It looked specially adapted; something our old friend had been good at. I cast one final, sad glance at the guy, then put him out of my mind.

It was kill or be killed, and I didn't think twice about it when Sammy needed saving.

Dean... m'Sorry. Sam sounded worrying weak in my head. And something told me his apology was for Caleb. Like the stupid kid felt it was all his fault.

Ssshhh. Just take it easy.

I was still angry with him, but it was tempered with admiration.

The kid had called for me straight away, and stalled the vamp as best he could. Caleb hadn't expected me to turn up so soon, giving me the edge of surprise.

Let me see… Sammy, come on. Let me take a look.

Sam moaned in pain when I pulled his hands away to reveal the wound. There was a shocking amount of blood, pumping out relentlessly, and the kid was growing paler by the second.

I actually felt proud of the way I held in a gasp, and kept my thoughts calm for Sammy's sake.

But I wanted to scream blue murder.

It wasn't just a harpoon.

It was barbed, like a retractable grappling hook. Once it caught in Sam's stomach, it snapped open, making it damn nigh on impossible to pull free without tearing the kid's insides to shreds.

Sam swayed suddenly, eyelids drooping.

"Hey!" I spoke aloud, sharpening my tone and tightening my arms around him. "Stay awake! Ya hear me? Don't go to sleep!"

His head dropped heavily to my shoulder. I held him up against me, one hand cupping the back of his head to hold him steady, the other wrapped round his back.

Tr-trying…

I know you are. You're doing good, Sammy. Just hold on now.

I couldn't believe this was happening again.

Sam, despite now being an experienced werewolf, had still been used as bait and gotten badly hurt. Caleb had effectively carried out what Gordon planned to do in the graveyard all those months ago, and damn near succeeded.

This had to be the most complicated plan I'd come across to date, and I suspected that was down to Caleb. That was the way his mind worked, and it made for a cunning and devious hunter.

But Gordon still lay at its foundation. Using another werewolf to lure us in was fast becoming his trademark.

"Dean?" A deep, tired voice spoke up from the doorway.

Tobius looked wiped out, covered in his own blood and breathing heavily. But the moment his eyes lit on Sam, he pulled himself together and swept into action.

Dropping down beside us, he pulled Sam's head away from my shoulder.

"Sam? Come on, boy, open your eyes," he whispered gently.

Sam complied, gazing painfully up at his grandfather, mouth falling open as though it was just too much effort to keep it shut. I could feel his body rippling with the change, shuddering as he gradually gave up fighting it.

Tobius pulled a small plastic zip bag from what was left of his mangled jeans.

"Listen to me, Sam. I want you to breathe nice and slow." He produced a small black pill from the bag and placed it on Sam's tongue. "Now try to swallow. That's it… good boy."

Tobius gently forced Sam's mouth closed, then stroked his throat, helping him get it down.

As usual, Sire sensed my questions.

"Concentrated wolf's bane," he explained softly. "Contrary to popular belief, it doesn't kill us. Just halts the change. It's a last resort, but he needs it right now."

And it worked immediately, Sam's body settling back down into human form, but unfortunately didn't stop the bleeding.

It suddenly struck me, once again.

The sheer responsibility of being a parent.

I was starting to panic.

"Help me get him up." Tobius seemed to get it, and gently as possible under the circumstances, we pulled the kid to his feet.

Sam moaned softly, sagged in our grip, and promptly passed out, body falling limp between us.

"C'mon Sam, don't do this." I cupped his chin, drawing his head back onto my shoulder, just as his breathing stuttered. More blood dripped from his mouth, staining my shirt and Sam began choking again.

Tobius glanced anxiously at his face.

"Motel room!" he barked out. "Now!"

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Authors notes:

See? I promised more Limp Sam, and I always deliver. So let's see those reviews, let me know just what you think of Sammy in Peril.

(rubs hands with glee).

There will be more limp Sam coming up, as Tobius and Dean fight to save his life, along with some fatherly love, and Dean... well. Let's just say he has a lot to think about where Sam's safety is concerned.

Cheers guys. Special thanks to Phx, Sendintheclowns, and Jen Burch for all their help and advice.

Kind regards,

ST xxx