Hunter of The Shadows
Chapter 22
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Dean's journal is interrupted by an animalistic snore and he grins.
"Told ya Sammy," Dean whispers, smugly. "Ya still need more rest."
Sam is sprawled out across Dean's lap and most of the sofa. Long furry rear limbs stretch out behind, large muzzle resting on front paws, and snuffling lightly in between each snore. Even in deep sleep he's obviously aware of, and comforted by, Dean's presence, the slow sweep of strong, calloused hands as they continue stroking his ears, and smoothing down his fur. Or, perhaps, it's the soft crooning of Dean's quiet voice that comforts him, as the older werewolf recounts their life thus far.
"We gave him a good send off." Dean nods slightly in remembrance. "We headed back here, invited the werebear family over for an evening meal, and held a light celebration." He chuckles sheepishly. "At least, it started out light. There was so much noise and music, the cabin walls nearly caved in. And it ended with Gerald asleep outside on the log pile, and Sammy being sick all over Josie. She was really good about it though, just mothered him, cleaned him up and tucked him in, whilst Tobius washed the dishes, and I dried. Little Janaya-Maria must've thought we were all lunatics that night, but she seemed happy enough."
He pauses as Sam stirs with a small low doggy-whine, legs twitching in his sleep.
"Aw!" Dean grins. "Chasing squirrels in his dreams again, I guess. That means he's hungry."
Leaning down, Dean blows a puff of air into a spiky ear, laughing when Sam growls, lifts a massive paw and attempts to swat away the irritant.
"C'mon Sam," Dean whispers, gently tugging on the ear. "Let me up so I can get us some food."
Sam's only response is to open one eye and yawn widely, exposing an array of sharp, but impressive fangs. Dean sighs and attempts to slide out from underneath, Sam offering no assistance whatsoever.
Glancing at the camera Dean shrugs, takes a breath, and heaves his way to freedom, Sam rolling further into the sofa and grumbling in his wake.
"Don't laugh," Dean points at the camera like a teacher making a valid point. "Yeah, he seems all cuddly and cute right now, but don't let that fool you. Sam's a big fucking wolf, taller than me, and easily weighs the same as several bales of hay. So don't piss him off whatever you do."
He's about to head into the kitchen, but grabs the camera at the last moment, and peers into the lens, at the same time walking slowly across the room.
"He wouldn't need to bite, or claw your throat out." Dean waggles his eyebrows. "Sammy'll just sit and crush the life out of you."
"I heard that!" comes from the living room, voice a little scratchy with sleep.
Dean winks at his digital audience.
"Sounds like someone's changed." He raises his voice. "What sandwich dya want? Roast beef and mustard? Or pork and apple sauce?"
The camera turns and a sleepy Sam, naked from the waist up, is leaning against the doorway. His hurriedly thrown on jeans hang low on his hips, unbuttoned, his need for food more important than appearances. Alternately rubbing his eyes, and scratching at the kind of washboard abs that would make the diet coke boy green with envy, Sam hums deeply as he thinks it through.
Dean rolls his eyes, and Sam finally reaches a decision, his voice just a little too cute and shy.
"Both?"
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It's true what they say.
Parting really is such sweet sorrow.
Sam's eyes filled with tears, but he bravely blinked them away. It was probably the longest hug in Winchester history, my boy clinging on to me, his long lanky arms wrapped round my shoulders.
But I was no slouch either.
I was amazed the kid could breathe at all, the way I held him close, my own arms tense and shaking with grief.
Which was a darn stupid word.
Sammy wasn't dead or dying.
He was only going to college, and we'd agreed to give him two months grace before visiting, to allow him time to adjust. Sounded like a damn lifetime to me; since taking him from John, we hadn't been apart for maybe little more than a few hours at a time.
So yeah, this was gonna be tough as hell, on the both of us.
Tobius was gazing at us, pride and sadness flitting across his face as Sammy gave in, and sobbed quietly into my neck.
Dean...
S'ok Sam...
Gonna miss you.
I know. Me too kiddo, but it's not forever.
Promise you'll come visit?
You know I will.
We both will. Tobius smoothly interjected as Sam pulled back from me, and nodded.
If Sam's puppy dog eyes are hard for me to ignore, then Sam's silent tears are downright impossible. Right then I was getting the full force of both, and it's a lethal combination. Sam stood there staring at me, eyes soft and cheeks wet with tears, looking so like the lost, lonely and frightened little boy I'd once rescued from John Winchester, that my heart just ached.
"You got ya new cell phone?" I smiled when Sam nodded forlornly. "Good. Keep it on ya at all times during the day, and keep it charged at night. Make sure you eat properly, drink plenty of milk, and get a good night's sleep. And Sammy?"
"Yeah?" he didn't even roll his eyes at my nagging, just sniffed and wiped his nose on his sleeve, gazing at me fondly.
"Don't forget to keep up your regular changes. Don't go more than a week in between at most."
We'd already mapped out the safe places for Sam to run at night, though the thought of him being out there alone chilled my blood. But this was important to his mental and physical health. Infrequent changes can lead to anxiety, paranoia, depression, and, according to Tobius, in extreme cases even suicide. Again, he didn't go into detail, and I got the feeling this information came about through another of his personal heartbreaks. Guy carries more weight, in that respect, than the moon.
"I have something for you, a sort of college gift," Tobius spoke quietly, surprising us both. "Actually, for all three of us."
He produced three small leather bound boxes.
Each contained a breathtakingly beautiful Rolex, in white gold.
"Lenore sent these a few days ago. Each one is handmade and individually crafted." Tobius pointed out the tiny motif under the crystal screen. All three were unique in that respect. Sam's motif was a red wolf, whilst mine was black, and Tobius' was black and gold. "They all contain a small tracking device that can be activated remotely by one of its sister-watches when needed." He pressed a small button on the side on his, and all three time pieces lit up like Christmas trees, and emitted loud beeping sounds. "Accurate to within ten feet, with a signal range of five hundred miles, the straps expand easily, so we will not need to remove them when changing, and they can be set to silent mode." Tobius smiled at Sam. "We can find each other no matter what."
It wasn't all she'd done to help us keep Sam safe. Since we can't smell vamps, it made sense to have one on campus. Even now, we were being watched over, as we said our goodbyes. Sam didn't know that part - we didn't want to worry him and I'm sure he'd have been pretty mad about it - and, frankly, there was only a minuscule chance he'd figure out he was being watched. Lenore had arranged a rota of hugely loyal friends and family to pass on through the campus every so often, each one charged with Sam's safety and under strict orders to keep their distance, and stay out of Sam's life. They would only report to us if something came up, but otherwise maintain radio silence, as it were. And it wouldn't be a constant vigil, more a sniffing round, and checking for signs of trouble. This was the deal for Sam's entire stay at Stanford, however long that would turn out to be. It sure seemed a lot to expect, but I guess Tobius' friendship with Lenore ran deeper than he let on.
I wasn't too sure about this arrangement at first, but Tobius assured me it was for the best. Had to admit, it made me feel easier about leaving Sam at Stanford, even though I'd never be more than a few hundred miles away at any given time; whilst Tobius would take on the hunts further afield, I would be circling, watching for trouble. So I guess you could say it worked in the manner of circles of protection, with an unknown vamp on campus forming the centre, me the middle clockwise barrier, and Tobius performing the wider counter-clockwise sweeps in the outer circle. Sammy knew nothing of this, of course. We couldn't ruin his aspirations to independence.
Elaborate, yes.
Waste of time and resources?
Not if it kept my boy alive and well.
I smiled at the kid and climbed into the Impala, leaving Tobius a private moment to say goodbye to his grandson.
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That first month went by slowly, with Tobius and me meeting up twice a week for a status report. There'd been little activity in our respective circles, which came as a relief, but at the same time it made life boring. We satisfied ourselves with night time hunts for fresh food, and when we realised this would be our lives for the next few years, began extending our investigations to haunting, myths and poltergeists.
Here, Tobius was the rookie. He'd only ever hunted strays, but now I was the teacher.
But the role reversal was short lived however, because it soon became apparent that you could indeed teach old dogs' new tricks, and Tobius resumed command. His SAS training and years on the hunt, all came into play, and I have to admit that a sawn-off sure suited him.
He would sometimes take off for a stray hunt on the other side of the country, but judgment and execution was carried out swiftly, and he was soon back in the outer circle.
In the meantime, I was missing Sam like crazy.
Sure, we called each other every night, but it just wasn't the same. Sam always sounded pleased to hear me, and we talked for hours. But no mention was made of a premature visit, and I wasn't going to offer.
It was imperative we stayed apart for those two months, or Sam would never overcome the loneliness, and feelings of homesickness, but most of all he would stay withdrawn from his new surroundings, unable to maintain the friendships he would so desperately need during his education.
Pretty sure Tobius didn't much approve of the nightly contact, but he never said a word. I think he understood the hard time we were both having. And besides, something strange and new was emerging that would ultimately make the decision for us.
I wasn't sure what it was, but the accompanying feelings of discontentment and sadness had me distinctly unsettled. For some reason they felt foreign, like they didn't really belong to me.
Yet, they were familiar... as though... like looking through a mirror, maybe...
... and seeing Sam on the other side.
I know. I'm not making much sense, even in my own head.
"Something wrong?"
Apparently, Tobius was picking up on it, because he was looking at me strangely. Again.
"I... I can't describe it... it's just weird..."
I tried, but the words weren't coming out right.
Tobius smiled knowingly and took a sip of brandy.
"But you've felt it all along," the smile became pensive, his eyes sharp and attentive. "Only now it's stronger than ever, the bond between you and Sam, the sense of separation, and loss..."
You felt it when Gordon took Sam from you...
The room was silent for a long while until I figured it out, and when my heart leapt, my eyebrows went with it as the truth sank in.
Tobius nodded slowly. Now you understand.
Sammy... my God. Is this how he's feeling right now? I... I thought it was just me! I mean, I know how I'm feeling, but how... why...?
Placing the brandy glass back on the coffee table with a small thunk, Tobius turned to look at me.
Are you really that surprised?
Well... duh! Sure, we can mind read, but sense each others feelings? I shuddered, that's just plain creepy, dude.
It's not mind reading. We read each others thought projections, Tobius huffed impatiently, knowing full well he was splitting hairs. And it was inevitable this would happen. You and Sam have a bond like no other.
I just stared at him, one eyebrow raised in question.
Another impatient huff, accompanied by the Tobius eye roll, and he started talking.
"When you turned Sam, you did something that has never been done before. No werewolf has ever been able to turn a sibling." He leaned forward in his seat, elbows resting comfortably on his knees. "Or any blood relative for that matter. Something to do with the genetic material being too similar and it causes a horrifying rejection, a kind of graft vs host disease, when the donor DNA - you in Sam's case - tries to enter. What you did," Tobius fixed me with a deep stare, "shouldn't have been possible."
That last sentence struck me dumb, and my hands shook so badly, brandy sloshed over the rim of my glass.
"In heart, he'll always be your little brother, but Sam being your son is not just a metaphor, Dean, nor an accident. There's always a reason these things happen." Tobius was watching me carefully, gauging my reactions. "The fact is, the bond between werewolf parents and their children is especially strong, stronger than their human counterparts. But you and Sam were bonded by human blood first. And that makes all the difference. You were already a part of each other, and now..." his voice trailed off and I nodded.
I was beginning to understand.
Tobius? Big believer in fate and destiny, but that's not to say he believed it couldn't be changed. What he was implying was incredible. If he was right, Sam had been destined to one day become my son. And if I was buying that, then I also had to be in the market for another theory.
I had been destined to become Tobius' son. Not by chance, or luck, but already decided.
My head was starting to ache.
"I think I've said enough for one evening." Tobius suddenly downed the rest of his own drink, then got to his feet. "I'll leave you to your thoughts," he whispered softly, gave my shoulder a quick squeeze, and crept off to the sleeping area.
Leaving me in a cold sweat, gut churning.
Not just a metaphor... nor an accident
He hadn't told me anymore than I already knew, but I couldn't help feeling Tobius had more to say on the subject. Sire had given me some answers, but in doing so created more questions.
My thoughts travelled back to a dark, dank street, what seemed like a life time ago.
I knew you would survive... counted on it, in fact.
Tobius had somehow known, even as he turned me, that he was meant to be my alpha.
Why me? I'd once asked him.
Good question. Damn shame I never got much of an answer.
Because.
It was only the first month, but I had to see Sammy.
I had to go talk to my son.
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Sam sure was security conscious, that much was evident by the tightly sealed windows and deadlocked doors. Tobius had leased the apartment for the foreseeable future, and fixed some heavy duty alarm systems, CCTV, and as an added extra, he'd taken the time to meticulously fashion a devil's trap on the ceiling above Sam's bed using invisible ink, the kind that glows under a black light.
I guess he thought there was a chance Gordon would send a demon Sam's way. Anything was possible.
I knew all the security codes and passwords, so getting in was no problem.
Once through the kitchen door, I stopped and stared. Even in the darkness of two am, the almost anally retentive neatness of the place stood out like a traffic light. The stainless steel sink and draining board looked like someone, namely Sam, had taken the trouble to polish it. Everywhere I looked, in fact, bore the evidence of obsessive cleaning and tidying.
From the spotless cooker, to the carefully organised pine notice board.
I put down the food parcel, my so-called excuse for the untimely visit, and continued exploring. The cupboards were full, and all contents appeared arranged in alphabetical order.
Even the dishcloths were folded into perfect squares and stacked neatly.
The contents of the fridge were just as organised at the rest of the room, but the smell…
"Ugh!" I just managed to stifle the noise, but the scent of rotten meat was overpowering. Feeling sick, I slammed it shut, and headed at high speed for the bedroom, wishing like hell I hadn't left Sire asleep at the motel.
Sammy?
I could feel his pain, but it wasn't physical. It was highly emotional, in fact. Kid was pining badly and I had no idea how we could get round this.
The bedroom door was ajar, and I hurriedly pushed it all the way open and stepped inside.
"Sam!"
The room smelled of unwashed flesh, sickness and sweat.
The large lump under the bed covers barely moved when I gave it a harsh shake.
"Sammy, wake up!"
I was rewarded with a deep groan. Pushing back the blanket revealed Sam's too thin face, dark shadows under his eyes standing out against worryingly pale skin.
"D'n." His voice was weak and breathless.
"Sammy, what's goin' on?" I ran my hands over his shoulders and nearly gasped in fear. Sharp bones jutted through his tee shirt, and I was harshly reminded of the last time I found him malnourished.
"Jesus! When was the last time you ate?"
"M'sorry." Sam murmured, weakly. "Tried… couldn't…"
"C'mon, sit up," I muttered angrily, and helped him into a sitting position. It was unfair of me, and I knew that at the time, but worry and fear was just about sending me over the edge, and I needed something to cling on to. Anger was the only option available.
Clicking on the bedside lamp, I watched as he winced and blinked in the sudden light, and slumped into my arms. I grabbed his chin and thoroughly examined his eyes. The pupils were a little sluggish but at least the eye colour was normal, even if the banding around the irises were too thin. At least he hadn't been poisoned with silver.
No. Not silver. Sam's illness wasn't brought on by anything from the outside. It was something eating him up from within.
Yeah, a non lunar that doesn't undergo regular changes will go bat shit insane, but not this quickly. It usually takes several weeks before the paranoia and obsessions take hold. But judging by the unnaturally clean state of the apartment, Sam had been suffering a long time.
"Scratch that last question, Sammy." I softened my voice and stroked his matted, greasy hair whilst he rested heavily against me. "When was the last time you changed?"
Sam just shook his head slightly, as though lacking the strength to give a verbal reply.
He needed food. He needed milk. He needed to change.
And on taking an involuntary sniff, I quickly surmised the damn kid needed a bath!
But, first things first.
Remembering the food parcel, I gently laid the kid back on the bed and re-covered him with the blanket.
"Don't go!" Sam's hand suddenly snaked out and grasped my wrist. "P-please, d-d…"
"Ssshhh," I whispered and palmed his face. "I'll be right back, kiddo. Won't be long, I promise."
Sam nodded slowly, eyes hooded against the soft light.
I made the journey as quickly as possible, only stopping briefly by the super-neat bathroom to start running a hot bath.
A small twitch of the nostril was all it took, and I whirled round to find a grim-faced Tobius closing the front door to the apartment. Guess I should have known he'd follow me here. If I was expecting a stern, even angry glare, I was to be thankfully disappointed. Nothing but pure concern showed on his face, in his movements and body language.
"How did you know?"
The raised eyebrow was his only sign of humour, but it was enough.
"You forget. You're my son. I can tell when you're up to something." Tobius finally smirked a little, and I couldn't help the soft chuckle that escaped in spite of the circumstances.
In other words, he can feel everything I feel, and vice versa. We'd just never really put it to the test before now. Or would it be fair to say, I hadn't paid enough attention to it in the past?
Huh. Guess that told me!
Maybe things were starting to make a little sense, after all.
"How is he?" Tobius got us back on the important subject with his usual efficiency.
I scrubbed a hand over my face, feeling tired beyond belief.
"Not good. He's not been eating, and I'm pretty sure he hasn't changed in over a week." I glanced worriedly at the bedroom door. "Sam's always been the King of Emo, but this? This just ain't him. How can it get this bad so quick?"
"That's what I'd like to know," Tobius muttered, darkly.
Suddenly remembering the bath, I darted away and turned off the taps.
"He stinks pretty bad," I explained at Sire's curious glance.
Tobius nodded his understanding, and the two of us entered Sam's bedroom.
Hey Sammy, look who's here.
Sam opened his eyes a fraction, and the corners of his mouth curled a little in a feeble smile.
T-Tobius…
Tobius sat on the edge of the bed and studied his grandson closely, while I unpacked the food parcel, silently thanking my common sense for including milk.
Sam. Tobius reached out and gently took one of Sam's hands into his. We need to talk, young pup.
Sam blinked and nodded slowly.
But first, I want you to drink some of this. Tobius took the milk carton when I offered it, and I gathered the kid into my arms, holding his head up and mouth open.
God! Sam looked so sick, so tired and heartbroken, like he'd given up. Even though we were right there, in the room with him, I could still feel the waves of pain and despair rolling through him.
Sammy, dude, we're here now. C'mon, kiddo…
But he just shuddered and whimpered, the milk spilling over his chin and soaking his blanket.
What the hell was causing this? Why weren't we getting through to him?
Sire…
I know. Tobius tried again to feed Sam the milk, with little success.
Neither of us dared say it out loud. Didn't have to.
If Sam didn't feed soon, the effects would become irreversible, and he'd never be able to change.
And a non-lunar stuck in human form means trouble with a capital T.
For a start, he'd still be stronger than your average person.
But Sam would also go completely insane.
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Authors notes:
I based a lot of this 'pining' on when I left for university, but mostly when I first moved to the Channel Islands 8 years ago. I was incredibly lonely, missing my home, family and friends, so I made sure never to go back for a visit for almost an entire year. Given the bond between Sam and Dean, I didn't think it fair to stretch it out that long! LOL!
I worried that perhaps this was a little too much Limp Sam, and way too soon after the last pummelling I gave him.
But I only worried a little and not for long.
What can I say? It's the thought that counts.
Cheers for all your reviews guys. Keep 'em coming, and maybe I'll let Tobius and Dean figure out what's happened to their baby wolf.
Kind regards,
ST xxx