Hunter of The Shadows
Chapter 28
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The final chapter to Book 1.
Continued from the previous chapter...
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When Sam was fully seated, by virtue of his grandfather gently pushing him down in to a chair, Tobius watched us both very closely, a strange, sad smile on his face.
"What makes you so sure? Dad pursued that bastard all our lives and he never got even close. And, in any case, why show his face now?" I asked quietly, and I felt Sam flinch beside me. Shooting the kid an apologetic look, I realised what I'd said. I hadn't referred to the guy as dad in years. Part of me wondered if Tobius had noticed, and what he thought about my slip up. But a glance at Sire revealed he had bigger concerns.
Tobius chewed on his lower lip for moment.
"I don't think he originally planned to show up when he did," he whispered, mysteriously. "I believe he was forced to when Sam wasn't showing the same special talents as all the others."
"Others?" Sam piped up, sharply. "What others?"
"That's what I'd like to know," I grumbled, getting fed up with all the cryptics. "Tobius, what the hell's going on?"
Sire laid both hands, palm down, on the table, head bowed as though held down by a heavy weight.
"I suppose I should start at the beginning," he raised his head and took a deep breath.
I felt the fine hairs on my arms and the back of my neck start to quiver and rise up. Adrenaline began the sharp, steady thump, my heart thudding painfully.
The big reveal.
Sire was about to knock our socks off, I could feel it.
"The reason I'm so sure," Tobius continued, "is because I knew your mother, before she met John."
Out the corner of my eye I saw Sam's jaw drop, which was about right, 'cause my eyes were practically bulging out of my head.
Knock our socks off?
Try blow a fucking hole in the cabin wall!
"Wh-what?" I stammered, sitting back in my seat in shock. "How?" The shock soon turned to anger, however. "You sure kept that one quiet, huh? Anything else we should know?"
"Yes," Sire replied, calmly. "Mary Winchester, or Campbell when I first met her, was a hunter, from a long line of hunters. It's in your blood."
Sam's mouth shut again with a loud snap, and my eyes were burning.
Apparently, they first met on a hunt for a stray, and after that, ran into each other occasionally whenever a hunt crossed over. Mary's father, Sam Campbell, had known what Tobius was and hadn't been happy about his daughter's association with the non-lunar, but Sire, with his usual charm and blunt honesty, managed to win a certain amount of grudging respect. The rules were simple. Swap Intel when available, whatever it took to protect humans, but that was as far as our human grandfather was prepared to trust him.
Tobius explained that one easily.
Non-lunars weren't always known to protect humans. Once upon a time, long before Tobius, we'd been as vicious, brutal and evil as vampires. Essentially, like the vamps, we evolved to support humans for the sake of our own lives, but the fact remained that we were once an evil race, with no thought or regard for the humans who shared our world.
Guess ol' gramps just wasn't the forgiving type.
My mind was reeling, and knew there was more to come.
"I was called away by an old friend of mine; he was alpha of a large pack up in Canada. They'd been having some serious political troubles and needed an independent advisor." Sire shook his head, "By the time it was all cleared up, and I contacted Mary out of the blue for information, she'd already married John and given birth to you, Dean."
Mom sent Tobius away, claiming she was done with hunting, that she wanted a normal life, with a normal family. Mary was pretty closed mouthed but she did let slip a few important details.
Teary-eyed and desperate, she revealed that her parents were dead, killed by a demon.
A yellow eyed demon.
Tobius begged her to explain, but Mary refused to say much more, ending their conversation with a bizarre and worrying statement.
I won't risk losing John again.
"I suspected some kind of arrangement was made," Sire frowned, "But I was never certain until the night I killed Walker."
"Ok," I nodded slowly, trying to digest the quick succession of bomb shells. "What kind of arrangement? Involving who?"
Tobius' gaze slid to Sam, who virtually gulped when he came under our scrutiny.
"I don't know exactly," Sire murmured softly. "But I'm willing to bet it involved a trade. One soul for another, perhaps."
"Are you saying Mom sold me? Before I was even born?" Sam ground out, voice shaky with emotion.
Tobius smiled sadly.
"I can't say for sure, but that would be my best guess."
"But why?" Sam looked wounded and angry all at once. "Why would she do that to me? Why did she hate me so much? Is that why John hated me?" His voice grew in volume with each question.
"Whoa, Sammy, take it easy, ok?" I grasped the back of his neck and gave a comforting squeeze. "Just calm down and we'll figure this out."
And let me tell you, Mom loved you like crazy, kiddo.
"What's to figure out?" Sam retorted bitterly, ignoring my thoughts, and shrugging off my hand. "My own mother somehow sold me to a demon. So what the hell does that mean? Is he coming for me?" He turned to Tobius. "Well? Is he? Is that what this is about? Payment of a debt?"
Tobius leaned forward.
"No. The demon said we ruined his plans; that he would make us all suffer. Whatever contract Mary agreed to, I think it negated," Sire's intense gaze met mine, "when Dean turned you. And that's made our friendly neighbourhood demon rather... er... miffed."
Huh. Now there's a curveball. Seems I saved Sam in more ways than one all those years ago.
But Tobius had more to say.
"Your mother died on the ceiling of Sam's room, slashed and burning." One eyebrow rose slowly. "I don't know what lead up to it, but my guess is the demon turned up to collect that night. Mary just got in the way."
"Blood," I whispered suddenly. "He put something in Sam's blood. Right?"
Tobius looked pensive, but Sam was becoming more and more agitated.
"Dean? What the hell are you talking about?"
I grabbed Sire's arm.
"You told me once; I did something that had never been done before when I turned Sam, that is was unheard of for a werewolf to turn a sibling." I searched Sire's face, for any sign of agreement. "That's what you think this is, huh? The demon did something to Sam's blood when he was a baby, which allowed me to turn him into a non-lunar when he reached his teens."
"As an unknown side effect, yes," Tobius nodded. "It's the most likely explanation."
"But you mentioned 'others'," said Sam, looking pale and ill. "What did you mean by that? And special talents?"
Kid had a point. As if the ability to grow fur and change into a wolf at will wasn't special enough.
Sire blew out a breath. "You boys aren't the only children to lose their mother under such circumstances. There have been... others. And those children have all begun to show evidence of psychic ability." He turned back to me. "The blood theory does seem to explain a lot. Something happened to all of them the night their mother's were killed. And just like Sam, they were all six months old."
This wasn't Sire's own research.
Apparently, Pastor Jim had been the one to dig up the info on the other kids. It had to have been slow going. The yellow eyed demon didn't give them much to go on, but with a lot of time, effort and patience, not to mention some seriously heavy duty search engines, Pastor Jim uncovered a whole string of families across the country who had suffered a similar tragedy. Young mothers burned to death in house fires, fathers making some pretty bizarre claims about shadowy figures, their wives pinned to the ceiling, and in some cases the kids were taken into care.
The priest even managed to track down a few of these children from sealed records in Child Protection Services. And that tells you a little more about our friendly cleric, 'cause to get into sealed files takes some doing, and the guy surely has friends in high places.
Pastor Jim tracked, cross-referenced, extrapolated, you name it, whatever those fancy terms people use during a life-long research project, and Jim Murphy had made it his business ever since a distraught John Winchester had sought his guidance one blustery winter's night, not long after Mary's death.
John had been bound and determined to find Mom's killer, and searched relentlessly for clues, signs, and advice. One contact had lead to another and, eventually, a young psychic by the name of Missouri Moseley had sent him on his way to Blue Earth, and Jim Murphy's parish.
Don't remember much beyond the fact the two became firm friends. Sam and I were often left in Pastor Jim's care when John took off on the longer and more dangerous hunts, sometimes absent for weeks at a time. I liked the pastor right from the get go, and even a crying Sammy would quieten down at the sound of the guy singing hymns softly over his crib.
I suppose I should mention, at this point, it was through Jim Murphy we met Bobby Singer, fellow hunter, and owner of Singer Salvage Yard. Bobby, on top of his many other talents, is a self-taught demonologist. Anything you want to know about demons, talk to Bobby. Even university professors and theologists seek his advice on the lesser known grimoires and tomes, and many a hunter has benefited from his protection symbols and spells. Basically, Bobby is only one step away from being a full on Sorcerer, though it's a term he dislikes with a passion. In his view, absolute magic corrupts, and one only has to remember Jo Harvelle to understand Bobby's standpoint.
Singer Salvage was the scene of Sammy's first steps, and some years later, our first game of hide 'n' seek together amongst the rusted and burnt out car wrecks. Sometimes, Bobby would join in the fun, whilst John sat in the study, head buried in dusty journals and ancient texts, hence the grizzled Salvage Yard owner became 'Uncle Bobby'. It was a title he'd taken on without a word of complaint, and always carried proudly.
Though nothing was ever said in front of us kids, I got the feeling he didn't approve of the way John dragged us around the country, from place to place, never really putting down roots. It was the way he glared at John from under the peak of his ball cap whenever it was time to leave, pointedly shoving packets of freshly made chicken salad sandwiches into our hands just before John slammed the rear passenger doors shut. Sometimes, Uncle Bobby would slip me a fifty dollar bill when Dad wasn't looking.
"Be sure you share with ya brother now, ya hear?"
"'Course I will. Thanks Uncle Bobby!"
Without his occasional financial input, Sammy and I wouldn't have survived back then. John had no qualms about taking off at a moment's notice, leaving us kids to fend for ourselves. At the time, I thought I understood. But now...
I often wondered why he didn't have kids of his own; Bobby would have made a fine Dad, if the way he treated Sammy and me was anything to go by. But later I found out why. Like John, Bobby was indoctrinated into the world of hunting after his wife's death years ago. He'd never spoken of her, and I don't know exactly what went down, but I'm willing to bet a demon was involved. From what little John told me, her death broke Bobby's heart and he never recovered, and he never remarried. These days I wonder if John ever looked at Bobby and saw himself reflected back...
"So... uh..." Sam's nervous voice broke me out of my musings. "You think all these kids have special abilities... all accept me?"
Tobius' sharp gaze lit on Sam. "Is there something you're not telling us, pup?"
"Uh... well..." Sam swallowed hard, and I could sense his anxiety.
"Sam? What is it?" My hand curled round his wrist in comfort; his pulse was racing, sweat breaking out underneath my fingertips.
"I'm not sure you wanna hear this..." he began, voice hesitant.
Tobius leaned forward, eyes boring earnestly into his grandson's.
"I don't think we have a choice here, Sam," he replied gently. "Whatever it is, we need to know."
The kid closed his eyes for a second. But when he opened them again, the utter defeat and despair in his gaze filled me with dread.
"Jess died because of me..."
I was already shaking my head and about to interrupt, but he stopped me with a hand on my shoulder.
"It's true, Dean. I knew it was coming."
This time I was determined to put a stop to it.
"Sammy, gut feelings are just that." I stared at him, willing him to listen and believe me. "Gut feelings. And we don't always pay attention to them when we should. You can't seriously think..."
"Let him finish," Tobius broke in, voice sharp. He nodded at Sam. "Go on..."
I got the feeling Sire's earlier attack of the cryptics was about to be unveiled.
Sam sniffed and took a deep breath.
"It wasn't just a gut instinct," he whispered, sending a prickle of fear down my spine. "I saw it. In my dreams... for days before it happened." The boy's hands began to tremble. "I saw how they did it... the incendiary device... the light switch... I-I even saw her f-face just before it h-happened... she didn't know what hit her..." Sam's face scrunched up, presumably with the effort of trying to control himself. "Never saw the guy's face... but I saw everything else..."
As his voice trailed off, I stared at my son in shock. It took me a minute to realise Sire was speaking.
"I think it's safe to suggest that when the deal was annulled, the abilities stayed with Sam," Tobius mused. "No wonder the demon's angry. Not only did one of his special children earn a 'get out of jail free card', but he also passed go and collected the cash. Sam was effectively stolen from him."
Sam abruptly pushed out of his chair and struggled into a standing position.
"I-I g-gotta get some f-fresh air," he mumbled brokenly, and staggered from the room.
I was still speechless, which probably didn't help matters, but what could I say?
Great?
A psychic werewolf?
Now that's not something you see every day?
How 'bout we head to Vegas?
I got the feeling there was nothing I could say right then. At least nothing that would help.
Sam was probably reeling in shock, and in desperate need of some space to think. So I let the kid go.
For now.
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A few days passed by in a blur. Sam was still limping, his hip bruised and sore, but he was gradually gaining more mobility. On night time hunts we tried to keep the pace slow for the kid, not wanting to push him too far. But the young wolf was having none of it. During the day, Sam was sad, quiet even, but at night he came alive, hunting with a ferocity and enthusiasm that was shocking.
Don't get me wrong. I was glad the kid found an outlet. We were back hunting with Sire which made it all the more exciting, and gave us both a tremendous sense of family. But I worried Sam was burning up on the inside, letting his grief and anger get the better of him.
Somehow, it reassured me that Sam still refused to take part in the actual kill, indicating he was still our compassionate and empathic Sammy in spite of all he'd been through. But the fact remained; kid was running himself into the ground.
Slow it down, kiddo. Take it easy for a bit.
I'm fine, Dean…
You're not fine. You need to rest…
When the kid stumbled and slithered down a steep incline, nearly impaling himself on an old broken tree branch, it was time to take charge.
Right, that's it! Stop!
Sam looked as though he was about to disobey. His nose was twitching furiously, tail down and quivering. He glared at me, mutinous and angry, eyes glowing in the dark of the forest.
Padding forward, I stopped right in front of him, and stared him down. It took a full five minutes before Sam finally dipped his head and whined softly.
Dean… help me, please? I-I don't know what to do…
My boy was begging me to take away his pain, and that was the one thing I just couldn't do. This was his cross to bear, and it would shape him in the years to come, make him stronger and tougher than ever. Such things always came with a price, and Jess was Sam's payment, unfair though it seemed. He'd suffered so much in his short life, from John Winchester's physical and mental abuse, Gordon's cruel and humiliating torture with the silver collar and manacles, Caleb's betrayal and retractable grappling hook, Jo Harvelle's hex bags, and now pretty much the entire hunting community was hardwired against us.
But the ultimate final straw, to find out our mom had sold him down the river before he was even born, to a fucking demon of all things. Yeah, consider that donkey's back well and truly broken. Mary Campbell Winchester sure found her soul mate in John, 'cause as it turned out, they were as bad as each other.
Even now, with the deal annulled, the poor kid still wasn't free. With a powerful and angry demon on his tail and the possibility that his psychic abilities were only just getting started, Sam's future looked bleak. More to the point, our future.
So yeah, if Sam took something away from all this, it was going to be strength and endurance. His family would make sure of that.
I sighed heavily, moved closer, and gently licked at one of his ears, noting a lone tear dampening the fur under his right eye.
I can't promise you'll ever stop hurting, Sammy. But it will hurt less with time. Just keep on going, and never give up, Sam. Never surrender.
Sam sniffed and let me curl around him, accepting the only comfort I could offer.
Frankly, I was amazed the kid had anything left to give. But I knew he would do as I asked, and keep on going, toughing it out and facing each challenge with that essential stubborn Sammyness that once made him my wonderful and geeky little brother, and now my strong, intelligent and beautiful son.
Green eyes flared briefly in the darkness ahead. Tobius winked, and slunk back into the shadows.
The hunt abandoned for the night, and with the promise of Tobius' famous Venison lasagne for our main meal, Sam and I slowly trotted back through the forest, pausing every now and then to sniff the air, and to admire our surroundings. Tobius once told me he felt at home in the mountains and forests, and I could see where he was coming from. Even Sam seemed more relaxed out here, as though the freedom were a soothing balm to his aching heart.
And my God am I turning into a girl?
Soothing balm to his aching heart? What the hell's wrong with me?
Hey Dean?
Yeah!
What's that smell? It's pretty faint, but… Sam's snout twitched.
I lifted my muzzle and took a good long sniff.
Sire? Humans! There's humans coming!
A tiny rustling in the bushes to our left, and Tobius appeared, shaking out his thick fur.
Panic not, youngsters. I've been expecting them.
The low rumble of a powerful engine reached our ears, and I guessed they were at least another fifteen miles out. Even with that distance, the smell of burning fuel failed to hide the scent of Bobby Singer and Pastor Jim Murphy. If I hadn't been entirely convinced of their loyalty from the battle field, this sure clinched it. The two human hunters hadn't even tried to cover their scent, and that was a strong sign of an allegiance to the pack.
Sam seemed a little skittish, and trotted gracefully up and down, round about and eventually Tobius ordered him to relax.
But... what if they're here to finish what Gordon started? What if one of them is possessed by the demon?
Sire swung his muzzle round, and eyed his grandson wearily.
For a start, both Mr Singer and the Pastor wear Key of Solomon tattoos above their hearts; no demon can get passed those. And secondly, they mean no harm, young pup. These people risked their lives for us.
Tobius sounded a little sharp, and I could understand why but shot him a furious warning glance anyhow. Which was about as effective as going after an elephant with a peashooter.
Yeah, I know… it's just… with everything that's happened… I don't know who to trust! Sam replied, hesitantly.
Tobius' eyes softened with sympathy. He tilted his head to one side, and regarded his nervous grandson. Sam sat back on his haunches, head and shoulders drooped in submission. Sire's snout gently nudged the youngster, until Sam lifted his muzzle to meet Tobius' gaze.
You do know you can trust us to protect you?
Of course! Sam sounded a little hurt that his grandfather felt the need to question him on that score, but I guess turnabout is fair play. Now he understood how Tobius felt when the kid spoke his fears aloud.
Then hear this. Tobius leaned in and placed a gentle paw over one of Sam's. Nothing bad is going to happen to you, no one will ever be allowed to harm you again. Not with us around.
Moving closer, I hemmed my boy in from the other side, and rubbed my snout against his ear. Faint tremors ran through his body, but slowly faded as he began to relax.
Damn straight, kid. You're my son, and no one gets near you without my say so. I'll always be here to protect you.
As promises go, they were highly presumptuous and, something told me, pretty damned impossible to keep.
But, if necessary? We'd die trying.
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We waited outside the cabin, on the veranda, in human form and fully dressed. Sam shifted from foot to foot, but settled down when I stood next to him, a hand firmly squeezing his shoulder. His gaze met mine briefly in a silent 'thanks'. Sometimes we don't have to read each other's thoughts to know what's going on.
Another five minutes passed by before the engine grew louder and powerful beams of light swept across the sky. A large black pickup truck crept over the brow of the hill, then, with a loud, impressive roar of eight cylinders and Christ knew how many horses under the hood, shot up the track and screeched to halt. The suspension rocked as the two front doors flung open, and the occupants jumped out.
But the big surprise came when a rear door opened, and a third member of the group alighted.
Tobius stepped forward and jumped from the veranda, landing in front of the newcomers with barely a sound.
"So," he bowed congenially. "Any news of the others?"
Lenore grimaced. "The two that escaped the battle are still out there. The demon trained them well, it seems."
"You can bet your ass they'll be heading this way, 'cause it won't take 'em long to find this place," Bobby announced with his usual tact and diplomacy. "Probably with that yellow eyed sonovabitch in tow."
Sam stiffened up under my grasp.
Easy Sam.
No. Bring it on. Let's take this bastard out once and for all.
Tobius growled in our heads.
Too hasty, young pup, and not enough info. That kind of ignorance will get you killed.
Almost as if he'd heard our silent exchange, Pastor Jim cleared his throat.
"We have information about this demon, and it's not pretty," he paused and stared hard at Sam. "You aren't off the hook yet, I'm afraid."
Like that was news.
"What kind of information?" Tobius jumped in ahead of me.
Bobby stepped up on to the veranda, and in a lightening move that took us completely by surprise, tugged Sam into a fierce hug. Pretty slick for a human, huh?
Pulling back after a few long minutes, Bobby's eyes were watering, his smile shaky and emotional.
"I'm so sorry, kid. If I'd known what John was doing to you…" the grizzled hunter shook his head in despair. "Bastard deserved everything he got."
He turned to me and I accepted a hug of my own, though it didn't last as long 'cause I was anxious to hear what they'd found out. Bobby seemed to sense my impatience, and nodded, scratching the back of his neck.
"We know who and what he is. We found out exactly what he did to Sam and the other kids." Bobby stared at Sam, eyes narrowed as though what he was about to impart hurt him deeply. "In your nursery, when you were six months old, he bled into your mouth, effectively tainting you with demon blood. Sam, you were his favourite, and he plans on getting you back. He's sent the other children after you."
Ok, that was a little creepy. The thought of specially gifted humans on the hunt for us should have been laughable, but none of us was smiling. I got the feeling there was a punch line on the way, and Bobby proved me right.
"They've all been trained in their powers, can move objects with their minds, one of them can even summon demons," Bobby glanced at Lenore who nodded, and continued in his stead.
"They may be humans, but don't be fooled," the chief vamp was mainly speaking to Tobius, though the occasional glance at Sam and me confirmed she was addressing all of us. "These people are highly dangerous, and will stop at nothing to find Sam and give him back to Azazel."
"Azazel?" Tobius raised an eyebrow.
"That's the demon's name," Lenore confirmed.
"What the hell's this all about?" Sam suddenly roared, and leapt off the veranda, closing in on the head vampire, stance blatantly threatening and challenging. "What does he want with me?"
Before anyone could blink, Tobius and I grabbed him, holding him off. I could feel his arm and shoulder muscles tense and straining in my grip, as the kid tried his hardest to shake us off.
C'mon kid, just cool it, ok? This ain't helping…
Sam wouldn't answer, just tugged pointlessly at his arms and glared at Lenore, silently demanding an answer.
Sam. Tobius voice was sharp and uncompromising in our heads. Either you calm down, or we will march you into the cabin and leave you handcuffed to your bed until you do!
Now, that sure worked, and fast. Sam instantly went still, sagging between us, but the flared nostrils and heaving chest told me this was far from over. My hot headed son was under stress. Much more of it and he was bound to explode.
Tobius nodded apologetically at Lenore, who smiled sadly. She didn't seem in the least bit worried.
"I know it's hard, Sam," she whispered softly. The vamp reached out with a pale hand and cupped Sam's jaw, running her thumb over his chin. "But we will figure this out. Have faith in your pack, but most of all, have faith in yourself."
Sam's chin dropped to his chest with a loud sob.
"I just… what does he want with me?" Sam's harsh whisper was heard by all, and no one seemed able to answer him.
Closing my eyes briefly, I felt a huge weight settle in my gut. The future loomed over us, like a dark storm cloud, heavy with the promise of trouble and heartache. We were way out of our depth, and those promises we made to Sam were coming back to haunt me.
How the hell were we meant to keep him safe? With the forces of hell gathering on one side, and special humans on the other, where was the balance? Where did our chance come in to play?
Azazel handpicked these kids by making deals with their so-called loving parents, then Mickey Finned them with his demon blood, instilling special and frightening powers.
But to what purpose?
It seemed the demon's end game was anybody's guess.
And we were about to embark on one hell of a quest to find the answers.
The End.
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Author's notes:
We'll leave them there for now, and once the first few chapters of Book 2 are under way, I'll start posting.
I warn you now; I'm going to be taking a bit of a break from this 'verse to finish up some other Limp Sam projects I have on the drawing board. In particular, Heat of The Moment is nearly close to completion, where we see an extremely Sick Sam with guilty Dean and John, and I hope to post in a few days.
Many thanks go out to the following people:
Darksupernatural, to whom this fic was dedicated for her birthday, encouraged me to start this fic over a year ago, and what a phenomenal success it's been, darling. So glad I listened to you.
Jen Burch, Phx and Sendintheclowns for the beta and all their support and faith. These guys have put so many hours in to this fic, I guess they own it as much as I do. Any mistakes are mine, since I have a tragic propensity to tinker.
Dancerinthedark101 for the wonderful fanart, and I hope you continue to express your talent with this 'verse.
And to the main influences:
Eric Kripke,
Sam (Jared Padalecki) and Dean (Jensen Ackles) Winchester,
Hugh Jackman (the inspiration for Tobius Le Salle),
Joss Whedon,
and, of course, to the great authors Kelly Armstrong and Terry Pratchett.
And to all other characters portrayed here, good guys and bad guys alike, no offence is meant to the actors who took these roles in the show. Just the opposite, in fact.
Cheers for all your support my darlings. So pleased you've enjoyed this fic.
Kind regards,
ST xxx
PS. If you fancy a bit of light Supernatural entertainment in the form of a good rant from me, you can find a few postings on my homepage.