Hunter of The Shadows
Chapter 27
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The camera is still rolling, if such a term can be applied to digital technology. That's a quandary Sam might ponder over, but Dean doesn't give a damn.
'Cause right now, Dean's staring at the door, face pale and shoulders tense.
Sam doesn't look much better, swaying on his feet, and pain lines bracketing his mouth since his injured leg bore the brunt of clambering off the couch.
The youngster's eyes swivel between the door and Dean, trying to gage Dean's reaction. He obviously wants to open the door, but is held back by Dean's hesitation. Sam won't budge, however, not until his fatherbrother gives the word. Sam takes his lead from the older werewolf, because until that door opens, until the identity of the visitor is confirmed, Dean is still alpha.
Dean suddenly cocks his head, as though listening, and Sam copies, wide eyes filled with fear.
But it soon becomes apparent their fear isn't the kind that has the boys reaching for a shotgun.
It's fear of hope.
Hope long since buried when Dean carried an injured Sam off the battle field, before the fighting began.
Without another backwards glance, as though driven by a silent command, Dean strides to the door and yanks it open.
"I knew it!" he exclaims, softly, voice almost a whisper. "I knew you weren't dead. I could feel it!"
The visitor gives a small bow before replying.
"Good to know you've been listening to your instincts, my son."
Tobius grins widely, like a cat that's just realised it has opposable thumbs, and that the unopened carton of cream sitting on the kitchen work top doesn't seem quite so daunting after all.
It's a Tobius grin.
A smug grin.
A wolfish grin.
It obviously tells Dean and Sam everything they need to know.
In a standoff, they regard each other with a whole spectrum of emotions flooding their expressions.
Love...
Fear...
Adoration...
In what appears as a blur to the digital audience, clothes are suddenly flying, and boots fall to the floor with a thump.
Three handsome wolves, one black, one red, and one black and tan, begin rough housing on the carpet. Soft growls and happy barks fill the room as the family, and indeed it is a family in every possible way, is reunited at last.
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The camera wobbles, gives an interesting shot of the ceiling, then the carpet, and finally, before the audience yawns and wanders off in search of popcorn, Dean's grinning face appears.
And he really is grinning, more than ever. His beautiful green eyes are glowing with happiness and health, and one gets a sense of contentment just from observing him. However, Dean being Dean, there's more than a hint of mischief to the air.
When he speaks, it's a cautious whisper.
"Watch this…"
He picks up the camera, and the room comes into view. Curled up by the fireplace, the black and tan wolf is sleeping, occasionally snuffling and twitching.
Perhaps someone should have told Dean that poking a wolf with a sharp stick - especially a very large wolf - isn't the wisest move.
But that's what the idiot tries to do.
As soon as the stick appears, before it even gets within three feet of Dean's victim, the wolf's awake.
Wide awake.
The wolf pounces with a snarl, and the lens is suddenly plunged into the darkness of black fur.
Then, as if by magic, the room reappears.
The camera makes some interesting movements and the watcher gets the sensation of flying, until the device lands with a clatter on the floor by the sofa. The camera is on its side, but gives a clear view of what's happening to our erstwhile young prankster, and it's a recording that Sam will no doubt take great pleasure in watching.
Time and time again.
Dean is on his stomach, pinned down by the great wolf, face mashed into the shag pile.
"Arrgghhh!" Dean groans out. "Get off me you damn great hairy…"
The wolf lowers his muzzle to the stricken hunter's ear, and growls deeply.
"Ok… ok… truce." Dean's hands are splayed out in submission. Whatever the big wolf threatened him with, it clearly isn't pleasant, because Dean is virtually grovelling; something the watcher rarely gets to see.
The wolf and Dean glance up at the sound of claws clicking on tiles. The red wolf limps round the kitchen door, and Dean's jaw drops in dismay.
"Sammy, no!" he shakes his head frantically and fruitlessly attempts to heave the black and tan wolf off his back. The red wolf, meanwhile, trots closer, tongue out, saliva pooling against his fangs. "Sammy, don't you dare! Judas! Don't you fu…"
The red wolf lowers his head, jaws open, and ever so slowly, with a satisfyingly wet slurping noise, swipes his tongue up Dean's face.
"EEEEWWWWWWW!"
The black and tan wolf howls with mirth, and joins in the fun.
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Dean's back in front of the camera, wiping his face down with a towel.
"You'd think three hot showers would be enough," he mutters to himself, clearly still disgusted. "Don't think I'll ever get the drool out of my hair. Damn near drowned in the stuff!"
With a final huff, he ditches the towel. The glare is scorching, silently warning the audience to keep their opinions to themselves. However, in spite of the heat, its obvious Dean isn't really that angry.
"So," he studies the lens with his head tilted to one side. "I guess you guys wanna know what happened…"
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I couldn't believe he was here, after all this time.
I know that, in the years to come, I'll replay that moment from time to time, taking full advantage of the camera. But the footage in my head, that's the real McCoy.
It felt like slow motion.
Stepping forward, grasping the door handle, waiting to see if we were right, or if this was some cruel joke of Gordon's.
I wouldn't have put it passed the bastard to drag Sire's body all the way up here, just to trick or taunt us…
Dean. Open the door. It really is me.
And it really was.
Tobius appeared exhausted, but apart from a few fading scars on his face and neck, he seemed unharmed.
I don't know who initiated it, but in seconds we lost our clothing and changed.
Rolling around on the floor, paws scrabbling on the carpet, gentle bites and snuffling each other's ears, each touch and movement all part of the game. But it's also our way of checking the alpha for serious injury.
Are you ok? Are you hurt?
I'm fine Dean, a little banged up, but I'll live.
God, I thought…
Shush, young Sam. Don't upset yourself… you've also been injured, pup...
I'm getting better, especially with you here... now... finally...
I sensed no holding back, other than the fatigue Sire clearly felt, and no sign of pain. His change had been as swift and smooth as ours, putting much of my fears to rest.
Sounds weird, I know. Tobius is older, wiser, and more experienced than me, but I'm his beta and bodyguard. It's my job to worry about pack members' safety.
The greeting came to an end when Tobius groaned and rolled over, furry legs stretching upwards. Another roll and he was sitting back, one rear paw extending upwards to scratch an ear.
Sam whined softly, bent his head and licked at Sire's snout.
Where were you all this time? We thought you were dead. And…Oh God, Tobius, Jess… she's…
Poor kid still couldn't bring himself to say it.
The ancient wolf regarded his grandson, sadly.
I know about Jess. And I'm so sorry, pup. She should never have been caught in the cross-fire. But with the likes of Gordon Walker, I'm afraid it was inevitable.
That hurt. Big time.
But Sam... he just...
Sam let out a heartbreaking whine that became a howl, echoing mournfully round the cabin. Head raised, eyes narrowed to slits and shining with tears, my boy broke so suddenly, so painfully, right in front of us.
Tobius crept forward, and rested his muzzle under Sam's in support. There was little else we could do for him.
I knew what this was. Tobius had told me of it some time ago.
Sam's cry was known as The Lost.
It spoke of loneliness, misery and heartache. It was the howl of a wolf that had lost his mate, and Tobius had sung it the day he learned of his Lady Anna's death, over four hundred years ago.
The Lost is anything but a pleasure to hear; it pulls at your heart strings, and twists your gut in grief. And it's not something I ever wanted to hear again, especially coming from my son.
Sam was tired and spent when he finished, and slumped down, paws sliding along the carpet until he came to rest on his belly.
I'm sorry, Jess... so damn sorry… I shoulda been there… I knew something was coming… felt... saw the danger you were in, and did nothing to stop it...
I padded forward and dropped into a crouch, gently nibbling at one of his ears. Gradually curling round him, as if I could shield him from the worst of his pain, I settled down and waited it out.
This breakdown had been a long time coming, and Sam needed it. I guess with everything that was going on, constantly on the move, fear that we'd lost Tobius, the bullet wound, and the ever present threat of Walker, Sam hadn't gotten this far along in his grief.
He still had a long way to go, but The Lost was a good sign the kid was on the right path.
We had to be content with that.
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The three of us lounged by the fire in wolf form for hours. Sam had fallen into a fitful sleep, his head resting over my front left shoulder. Every so often, he stirred and whined pitifully, but he soon calmed when I gently snuffled against his ears.
Poor kid.
Tobius opened one eye.
He's been through a lot, certainly. But he's tough, durable. But what troubles me the most… he paused, as if not sure I wanted to hear what he had to say.
Go on. I raised my head, encouraging him to talk faster.
Sam said he felt the danger, that he saw it coming.
And?
He'll want revenge.
Can't say I blame him, I replied with a soft snort.
Dean, green eyes flared in the firelight. Don't be hasty. There's more going on here than you realise.
That got my attention.
What do you mean?
Tobius sighed, got slowly to his paws, and changed. Grabbing his clothes and pulling them on, he jerked his chin in the direction of the kitchen.
"We'll talk as we eat. I'm starving." Casting a sad, kind smile at our sleeping Sammy, Sire reached down and smoothed a hand over the young wolf's fur. "I'll make enough for when he wakes up, but for now, let him rest."
It was on the tip of my tongue to point out that Tobius also needed rest, but when the guy makes up his mind about something, there's no stopping him.
By the time I joined him, fully dressed, he was heating up the heavy cast iron skillet, and pulling thick juicy steaks from the cooler.
"Lenore and her nest rescued me from Gordon," he began without any preamble. "I'm not quite sure how or what the exact order of events were, but once she understood what was going on, that Gordon was recruiting hunters and sending them after us, she contacted Bobby Singer and Pastor Jim Murphy before it was too late, presuming they were next on Gordon's list." He snorted softly. "She got lucky there, that's for sure."
Hunters being hunters, they were distrustful of a vamp, even a passive one. But Lenore's argument must have been pretty compelling, because they agreed to go along with the subterfuge.
When Gordon escaped, Tobius went after him and it ended in a vicious and bloody skirmish, werewolf versus vampire. But it wasn't a fair fight. Gordon had help in the form of Ellen Harvelle and her beloved cross bow; the very one she had trained on Sammy and me not so long ago. Steve Wondell and Travis had gone along for the ride, also heavily armed with silver. It was assumed these guys staged Walker's escape.
It seemed the game plan had changed, because Gordon came up with the genius idea of capturing Tobius and using him as bait to lure us out, rather than the other way round. Guess the whole set up at Stanford intimidated the bastard; after all, he lost two of his lieutenants to us.
It nearly worked, except Lenore caught up with him and broke Sire out of his prison, killing anyone who stood guard. With no one to warn Gordon that Tobius was once again on the rampage, Walker felt free to pursue Tobius' pack.
Us.
Tobius and Lenore set their own little plan in motion. Word was sent out that Tobius Le Salle, pack alpha, died during an escape attempt. Unfortunately - and although I can see the sense I'm still not happy about it - it meant Lenore had to outright lie to Sam and me. They couldn't risk anyone else knowing the truth, and with the remaining pack believing their alpha was dead, the lie was that much more convincing.
And seeing the Rolex had me convinced for all of five hours.
Little did we know, Tobius was right with us, following, protecting and tracking our every move, often only a mile or two behind, and successfully covering his scent. It certainly explained why no one attacked us whilst we were on the run. I had found it difficult to believe we'd gotten off so lightly, in spite of the elaborate false trails I left all over the country.
And it also explained why I wasn't convinced of his death.
But what really sucked?
Yeah, Tobius was protecting us from a distance, but he was also using us as bait to bring Gordon and his little army into a full on bitch fight. Needless to say, I wasn't thrilled by that bit of news. He put us at risk, Sam at risk.
But though I tried, I honestly couldn't think of a better plan.
Of course, I felt a little better when Sire explained that we were never alone the night of the kangaroo court. Bobby and Jim, finally convinced we were indeed the good guys, fully picked a side.
The right side.
When Lenore stepped out of the shadows, and stood beside Bobby and Pastor Jim, they were ready for a fight to the death.
Tobius had stayed as far away as he could, without alerting us with his scent. He waited for Bobby and Jim to send Sam and me on our way, knowing full well if we'd laid eyes on him, we would have stayed. Once we were gone, then he came out, and faced down Walker's army.
The battle was epic by all accounts, but then I already got the picture from the soundtrack as we were leaving that night.
Ellen went down first, followed by two of Lenore's nest. Wondell bought it a short while later after facing the business end of Bobby's shotgun. Joshua was taken out by the head Vamp herself, but Gordon… Tobius took care of him.
It was at this point that Sire paused, looking troubled.
"Tobius? You ok, man?"
He nodded stiffly, and added a hefty dose of garlic butter to the skillet.
"I'm fine, but…" his heavy sigh did little to easy my growing anxiety.
"You did kill Walker, right?"
Glowing green eyes fixed on mine.
"Oh I killed him all right," Tobius answered softly, ominously. "But not the thing that came out of his mouth."
I felt my jaw drop.
"He was possessed? By a demon?"
Wow!
Now, that wasn't expected.
Sire nodded again.
"I think that's what they call a double whammy, first becoming a vamp, then used as a vessel for hell spawn."
I shook my head blinking in amazement.
"How long?"
"No idea." Tobius reached for a set of tongs and flipped the steaks over. "He wasn't exactly talkative. Just grinned at me rather unbecomingly, and announced that we would pay for ruining his plans." Sire glanced up at me. "We would all pay, but especially Sam."
I stared at Sire, dread rising slowly in my gut.
"What? What plans? Why Sam?" My voice was rising right along with the dread when he didn't answer right away. "What's this all about?"
Tobius set down the tongs.
"The demon possessing Walker was no ordinary low level demon," Sire explained in a low voice. "His eyes turned yellow, not black."
That wasn't all he had to say.
"Dean, he murdered Mary Winchester."
And he said it with such conviction; I just knew he wasn't telling me everything. The look in his eyes told me there was a whole lot more information coming my way. And none of it pretty.
"What's this got to do with me?" Sam stalked into the kitchen, fists clenched by his sides. The kid watched us with barely concealed anger, body tense and vibrating with energy.
Shit!
Yeah, the kid heard everything.
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Author's Notes:
So there you have it. We're pretty much up to present day. You know what happened to Tobius, and what happened on the battle field. Another good opportunity for a missing scene, perhaps. Hint, hint!
Poor Sam. How much more is he going to be able to take? Can Dean protect him from the worst of Tobius' information? Or will the fallout become too much? Not sure how long I would have lasted in his shoes.
Lady Anna: please refer back to chapter 16, but essentially she was Tobius' mate and partner. She was forced into marriage with another man, then killed in a so called 'accident' shortly after giving birth to Tobius' daughter, who was later put to death for being a werewolf. Nice.
Final chapter up next. Yep, the end of Book 1 is nigh and what a ride it's been!
Cheers for all your support, my darlings.
Kind regards,
ST xxx