Hunter of the Shadows book 2:

Hunter Rising.

Chapter 7

Now…

"I guess I was giving Andy and Sam a pretty hard time," Dean says. He's sitting beside the bed, and appears to be changing the bandages on Sam's chest. His hands are quick, gentle and methodical, like they've done this many, many times before. "Gotta say, I was feeling pretty pissed back then. First priority is my boy's safety, and I didn't know if I trusted Andy's word enough. For all I knew, he was screwing Sammy over," he lifts away the final piece of gauze and bites his bottom lip, as though worried about what he's seeing.

"That's infected, dammit!" Dean mutters urgently, and reaches over, grabbing something sitting next to the camera. As his hand draws away, it becomes clear that he's holding an ornate glass jar filled with some kind of glowing green gel. Flipping open the brass lid, he pours a little onto Sam's chest and ever so gently rubs it in.

"It's a little something Sire whipped up, just in case," Dean explains and wrinkles his nose in mild disgust. "Apparently it's some kind of powerful antiseptic made from crushed glow worms, among other things," he shudders. "Don't tell anyone, for God sake! Last thing we need right now is trouble from some environmental group with a taste for revenge against worm-killing werewolves!"

A few minutes later, Dean replaces the jar on the nightstand next to the camera.

"Anyway, as I was saying. I didn't trust Andy at that point," fresh gauze is applied to Sam's chest, then Dean gently pulls the boy up off the bed until his chin is resting on Dean's shoulder, and they are chest to chest. Sam's arms hang limply downwards, as Dean carefully begins to wind a clean bandage round Sam's body. "And Sire wasn't exactly a fan of the kid either. But I guess you could say we were in for surprise…"

Then…

Sam?

I can feel him out there, near the river. He's getting closer…

The man's good, gotta give him that. I mused, worriedly. Can't hear or smell a damn thing, but I sure can sense him…now… guy's powerful.

It felt like a large magnet was pulling on me, subtle but getting stronger the closer Jake got, and by now he must have been pretty close.

Really? Sam sounded surprised. You can feel that, huh?

What? Why wouldn't I?

Sam shrugged, grabbing Andy's other arm, keeping the smaller guy between us for his own safety. I guess I thought only other psychics and special kids would be able to sense him. Unless you're also…

Aw c'mon, Sam. I ain't no psychic!

I'm just sayin'…

No, Dean's quite right, Sire's voice broke in. Because I can sense him too. Now boys, I need you to do me a favour. When I say run, you run like hell and don't look back. The car's out on the road about two hundred yards from where you are now, and I left the engine running. Understood?

Yep.

Loud and clear.

We continued on in silence, Sam and I because we were keeping an eye out for Jake, Andy because… well, I think I scared the living shit out of the poor guy.

As we approached the road, I felt Jake's presence barrelling down on us just as Sire roared out

RUN!!!!!

Picking up Andy between us, his feet dangling helplessly off the ground, we went from a standing start to top speed in under a second. I risked a glance behind us and sure as hell wished I hadn't.

Jake wasn't particularly a big guy, no taller than me, in fact, but his eyes… God!

They were like two giant black holes of malice and hate. His whole demeanour was hunched and tense, as he pounded the earth. When he was around fifteen feet away, he sprang, leaping high, latching onto our backs and bringing us down in a tangled heap.

I immediately kicked out, managing to get enough power behind it to push him off, and he snarled, teeth a stark white against his dark skin.

"Winchesters…" he growled. "I've been waiting for you…"

"Great. We're here." I grinned and somersaulted to my feet, making sure Sam and Andy stayed behind me. "Let's get this over with already. I'm getting bored!"

Jake's grin matched mine, just before he leapt at me once again.

Sammy, get to the car.

M'not leaving you!

Sam…

His first blow damn near knocked the brains right out of my head, but the second was far worse. The taste of my own blood exploded on my tongue, and ran down the back of my throat, almost choking me. I managed to duck the next blow, circling round, only to find that, somehow, Jake was standing in front of Sam.

A loud gunshot echoed round and bounced off the trees, but the bullet halted in mid-air, just inches from Jake's forehead and dropped to the ground. It should've have been the perfect shot, dead centre, one any sniper would have been proud of.

Sam, my brave son, held Andy behind him, the smaller guy trembling with fear, but Sam met Jake's gaze defiantly, nose morphing into a snout, sharp, razor-like fangs lengthening.

Jake tilted his head in consideration. "Nice doggy. Don't bite me, now. Wouldn't want to take your head clean off… like Talia, huh Andy?"

Andy whimpered on hearing his dead girlfriend's name.

"You murdering sonofabitch!" Sam growled, and backed away, still shielding his friend.

Another shot rang out, but this time from another direction. Jake froze and stared down at his chest, watching the red stain spread across his jacket. He glanced up and grinned again. "That tickled." He sought eye contact with me. "Your Daddy's a good shot, by the way. And fast too. Never known an assassin to change position so fast."

Before I could answer with a snarky come back, Sam threw himself into a powerful round house kick, his boot connecting with the side of Jake's head. Jake crumpled to the ground, groaning softly, but that didn't stop him either.

He got up, no longer smiling, and launched his body at Sam with frightening speed, attacking him with a sharp and powerful upper cut to the jaw, nearly sending the kid's eyes rolling like a slot machine. Sam staggered back, but Jake kept on coming with another fist to the solar plexus that sent Sam to his knees, mouth gaping open and unable to draw a breath.

All this happened in a matter of seconds.

I... just saw red when Sam went down, and in that same moment my clothes tore at the seams, the change instant and painful. With a long, angry howl I landed on Jake's back, sinking my claws in deep.

I didn't dare bite him. Imagine this creep as a werewolf...

Jake roared in pain as I pulled on his spinal cord, trying to rip it out, but he staggered onwards, towering over Sam, the kid staring back up at him, still unable to breathe.

It was like my worst nightmare times a hundred. Jake was unstoppable and just kept on coming.

Andy appeared out of nowhere and, brave little guy that he apparently was, ploughed his fist into Jake's nose. It was like water off a duck's back. Jake merely side swiped him and Andy's head connected with a stout tree, rendering him unconscious instantly.

Dean! Get off him, I can't get a clean shot!

Sire, just shoot. It's not silver, and it'll go straight through me into Jake.

D-Dean, no! Sam pleaded with me, just as Jake wrapped a hand round his throat and squeezed. It'll h-hurt y-you…

Dean just get off him! Sire insisted. While it won't kill you, we can't afford to have you off your feet for the next few days, now do as you are told, boy!

I snarled and leapt off, growling loudly.

Tobius fired again, several times in fact, but Jake did little more than flinch in his quest to crush Sammy's throat. But that wasn't all he was attempting to do. His other hand formed a powerful fist, and I suddenly knew exactly what he intended.

Sire, for God sake, kill him already, he's about to rip out Sam's heart!

But no one got the chance to try anything.

I caught sight of Sam's suddenly intense glowing blue-green eyes, the black irises thickening, just before the upward swing of Jake's fist began.

A tremendous crack! from above had us all glancing up.

Jake's jaw dropped as the large tree descended and crashed over him. After the noise died and the dust settled, it seemed that the tree was Jake's very own Achilles' heel.

But Sam had gone too quiet for my happiness.

Sammy?! There was no sign of him under the branches, and I feared he'd been badly injured.

I-I'm ok… the trunk m-missed me… g-got Jake though… c-can someone h-help me out here? I'm a little t-tangled up… and uh… still c-can't b-breathe…

Sure thing, kiddo. I changed immediately, and started grabbing at tree branches, pulling them aside, wrenching some away from the trunk until a very pale Sammy was revealed beneath. Blood was running down his face and, judging by the wheezing, his solar plexus was still suffering, but the awkward angle of his legs told me they were badly broken.

I winced. Ouch. Sorry kid. That's gonna be painful.

Yeah, Sam nodded and rubbed at his raw throat. I think he damaged my vocal cords too. Bastard damn near broke my neck!

I patted him on the shoulder. At least your heart is still intact, Sam. That's what counts. The rest will heal.

Wrapping an arm round his shoulders and sliding the other under his knees, I lifted the poor kid out from the tree branches and carried him clear.

Andy was still out cold, but Tobius appeared in the gloom some feet away. Now that sure was worrying. Sire was almost on top of Jake, and yet his bullets had barely made a dent.

Your duffle bags are in the car, I checked us out of the motel when you boys were tracking Andy, Tobius swung his rifle up behind him on its strap, then bent down and checked Andy's pulse. Satisfied the kid was alive, if still unconscious, Sire carefully picked him up. Sam? You ok, pup?

I will be, Sam answered, sounding tired and in pain.

Remembering what happened to his body just after I turned him some years before, I sure didn't envy him. When his natural werewolf healing kicked in, it wouldn't be pretty, and Sam would be in horrendous pain from it. My heart clenched at the thought.

What about, I jerked my chin in the direction of the fallen tree, him?

Tobius' eyes glowed fiercely when the tree limbs suddenly began to rustle and shake.

We're in no fit state to go another round with him. We leave right now!

But… I wanted to finish Jake off, could still feel the anger throbbing through my veins from when the guy made to tear out Sam's heart.

No arguments, Dean! We cannot afford to waste anymore time…

He's right, Dean. We don't stand a chance against him, Sam pointed out, his eyes slipping shut when pain and exhaustion overwhelmed him.

Even as he said it, the tree began to rise up.

Sire backed away. Get to the car, now!

We both turned and bolted as fast as we could, carrying the wounded away, before the tree crash landed a mere two feet behind us.

Tearing up the road towards the Impala, I thanked our lucky stars the engine was still running. Dumping a now unconscious Sam on the back seat, I slid behind the wheel, just as Sire did the same with Andy. The moment the front passenger door slammed shut, and Tobius yelled "Go, Go, Go!" Jake was there, standing directly in front of the car, some thirty feet away.

Without a moment's hesitation, I threw the car into reverse and jammed my foot on the throttle, launching the car backwards. One quick glance out the windshield terrified the living shit out of me; Jake started running.

And boy was he fast!

There was no way in hell we were going to outrun him like this, so I took a chance, spun the wheel, braked, and shifted into forward gear. The car performed like a star, carried out a perfect one eighty spin, and I slammed my foot back down on the throttle. We took off just as Jake made his final leap, missing us by a hand's breadth.

Leaving him behind, I could still see his retreating form in the rear view mirror, but that scowl… those eyes… they'd stay with me for a long time to come.

No one spoke. Or at least, two of us didn't speak, and the other two were still out of it long after we left the state line behind us and pulled into another motel.

Tobius booked two twin rooms and, with a nod, tossed me a key card. The message was loud and clear. Whilst he would take care of Andy's injuries, I would look after Sam's.

His legs were very badly broken, in several places by the looks of things, and in spite of the tree trunk missing him by inches, a branch must've caught him on the side of the head. Thick, dried blood clots clung to his hair, but the bruises on his neck were the worst.

I sensed when the moment had arrived. I was bathing the dried blood from his face when he stirred, eyes fluttering open.

We stared at each other for a few seconds.

Sammy? How'd ya feel, buddy?

Sam's body tensed up like a coiled spring, his mouth fell open, and a terrible, strangled scream emerged.

D-Dean! God! H-hurts!

Easy, kiddo. It'll be over soon.

I couldn't give him any pain meds, not like last time when he was younger. That had been an exception to the rules anyhow; he'd been sick from a silver bullet wound, malnourished, newly turned and needed the break. The gaseous pain meds Tobius had given him via an oxygen mask wouldn't have made much difference to his metabolism at that point, and in any case, it would've been downright cruel to let him suffer any further.

But now… he was older, an experienced werewolf, and he couldn't afford the alterations to his metabolism. It would slow his healing from future injuries until the drugs were out of his system, and make his changes too slow and painful.

Poor kid was in a world of pain already from the slow dilation of a constricted throat and healing vocal cords, the decompression of his solar plexus, and the head injury that suddenly spewed out wooden chips and splinters. Sam's screams were getting louder, despite his best efforts to hold them in. I worried the neighbours might call in the night manager, or worse, the cops.

Grabbing a pillow and pulling off the case, I sought eye contact with Sam, and held out the material.

You can scream all you want with this in your mouth, kiddo.

Sam closed his eyes and nodded.

Happy he'd given me permission, I rolled up the pillow case, jammed it between his teeth and firmly tied the ends round the back of his head. Sam finally felt free to let it all out, and fully screamed into the makeshift gag. I held him down when he writhed and bucked, his back arching when a particularly large and vicious looking splinter of wood was pushed out of his right shoulder. Damn thing had gone almost all the way through. That was one I hadn't even noticed. Perhaps the splinter had plugged the wound so efficiently there had been little blood... until now.

Sorry buddy.

Sam's muffled sobs as the pain passed, and he calmed down, broke my heart.

Because it hadn't even got started on his legs yet.

It was eleven am before either of us got any sleep. As predicted, his legs nearly sent Sam crazy with the pain. At the first snap, his eyes had rolled back in his head, foam gathered at the sides of his mouth round the gag, and the kid nearly stopped breathing from shock.

The slow grind of bone on bone had Sam clutching at the bed sheets, knuckles so white I could swear I heard them creaking in protest.

Easy now…

Another snap and Sam's body jerked violently.

I'd hastily removed the gag by this point. Sam wasn't screaming anymore, having passed through that stage and into the black void of despair.

I felt guilty as hell. Having told him it would all be over soon, the healing seemed to be making a liar out of me, 'cos it was taking forever.

I was beginning to wonder about that.

Eventually, the healing process complete, he slumped on the bed, thankfully unconscious once again.

How's he getting along? Came Tobius' worried thoughts. Presumably he'd been listening in on the other side of the wall from his own room, but kept quiet, not wanting to interrupt.

Slow. Painful. Poor kid's gonna be exhausted when this is over.

Not surprisingly. Sire concluded, dryly. He had a tree land on him. A heavy oak, probably around three hundred years old, unless I'm very much mistaken.

Perhaps he missed his calling. I grinned.

What?

Yeah, maybe he should have been a timber wolf… get it? Timber?

There came about a heavy silence, before Sire cleared his throat and announced.

I see. You want me to hurt you. Don't you?

I chuckled. Just trying to lighten the mood a little.

Try harder, was the sharp comeback, but I could hear a grin in there somewhere.

How's Andy?

Bad concussion. Bruised all down his back. Still unconscious. Seeing as Tobius sounded as tired as I felt, I guessed he'd probably been up all night same as me.

He'll be ok?

Oh yes. I'm sure of it.

Another silence.

Where we gonna put him? I asked tentatively. I mean, we can't keep him with us, though Sam will try to insist.

Sire let loose a heavy sigh. Hmm. I was thinking about Gerald and Josey.

I sat up, a little shocked. Won't that put them in danger?

That depends…

On what?

A small pause preceded Sire's shocking idea.

It depends on whether or not we can persuade Andy to let them turn him.

My eyes, having slid closed, just to rest them, snapped wide open.

Gerald and Jose were a sweet couple that lived a few miles from our cabin, and family home. Happily married, and having recently entered the realm of parenthood for the first time, there was something just a little bit special about them. We'd first met Gerald during one of Sam's first training sessions with Little Ted, the sadly mutilated teddy bear. Sam had attacked Gerald, and for a moment there I really didn't think it was going to end well, seeing as Gerald was actually a werebear (see previous journal entries). But Sire showed up and put the record straight, and we went on to become firm friends with Gerald and, eventually, his beautiful wife, Josey. Tobius even played midwife during the birth of their daughter.

But, still...

You can't be serious!

Why not? Tobius harrumphed softly, as though trying not to laugh. I think it would rather suit the youngster… matches his personality, and I believe he would get on tremendously with the werebears.

I thought that through. I suppose…

It would certainly help keep him safe, and Jake would have a hard time coming after him. Sire was trying hard to convince me that this was a good move, so he'd obviously already decided. He'd have the strength to defend himself against most other threats, in fact.

In that case, why don't we turn him? I asked, though I had already guessed the answer.

Not a likely match. Tobius answered. Andy doesn't have the personality type for being a non-lunar. He wouldn't be happy, and he just wouldn't survive for long. And, like the werebears, he's not a hunter. Josey and Gerald prefer to forage and fish.

That was probably pretty accurate. All Gerald and Josey tended to eat were berries, nuts and fresh salmon. That was more in keeping with Andy's nature, rather than hunting deer and rabbit. The same could have been said about Sam once upon a time, but the difference was Sam did have the personality type; he was a hunter and a damn fine one at that. He just didn't have the confidence back then, which wasn't that surprising given all the shit our Dad, John Winchester, had put him through.

Just one question. This had been bothering me from the moment we ran from Jake.

I think I know what you're going to say, Sire answered, but continue anyway.

I stared at my sleeping son, and brushed a hand through his soft hair.

The memory of Jake's hand reaching back, aiming for Sam's heart...

Jake wasn't trying to claim Sam, it was suddenly hard to swallow the bile building up in my throat. He was trying to kill him.

Yes. Sire replied, softly. Jake was acting completely off the Azazel Monopoly Board.

There was a small pause before he added, and that could work to our advantage. There now appears to be more than two sides to this game.

Huh?

I could almost feel Sire's slowly growing smile.

Get some rest. We'll talk about this later.

Sleep didn't come easy at first. I spent a bit of time wondering, and worrying about what Father meant by that strange comment.

that could work to our advantage. There now appears to be more than two sides to this game.

Hmm.

I did eventually fall asleep still thinking about it, with Sam safely tucked in my arms.

When I awoke sometime later it was dark outside, and my stomach was growling in hungry protest. The warm body in my arms let out a soft sigh when his own stomach joined the food picket line, and I couldn't help smiling in spite of all my worries.

Glancing down at Sam's sleepy face, just as his eyelids began to flutter, I gently stroked back a few stray locks of hair from his forehead. That mop of his was badly in need of a trim, but somehow I just couldn't bring myself to suggest it – it's Sam, after all, with his long, floppy hair framing those soft eyes, and his family wouldn't have it any other way. Sam would probably present me with the middle finger in any case, 'cos as smart as he is, eloquence escapes him whenever his hair is mentioned. Kid's kinda touchy about it.

Thank God!

I chuckled softly when his nose wrinkled and twitched.

"C'mon, Sam, time to wake up!" My grin widened as indignant blue-green eyes suddenly opened all the way up, and Sam scowled at the awakening. "Food. Now. You especially!"

"Yeah," Sam sat up just as I leapt off the bed and grabbed my wallet from the nightstand. "I guess so."

Kid tried to hide the flinch but nothing much gets by me. I just frowned at him.

"No guessing about it, Sam," I told him, sternly. "Your body needs extra fuel whilst it's healing. It's the best thing to help with the pain."

And that's something I've meaning to talk to you about, Sam!

Sam eyed me warily, like a chastised school kid. What?

Next time you TK a tree into falling on the enemy? Make good and sure you're not in the way, huh? Fucking killed me seeing you like that!

My heart clenched a little… ok, a lot, when I noticed the sudden, fond smile Sam sent my way.

Thanks for staying by my side… I don't think I'd have made it through the last few hours without your help.

Pretty sure my returning smile was just as sappy. Yeah you would. You're tougher than you think, dude. You are my brotherson, after all.

Sam shook his head, still smiling. S'not what I meant.

I was halfway across the room to the door, about to head out to the diner just across the street, when I stopped, turned, and told him quietly "I know, Sammy. I know exactly what you meant."

I returned less than thirty minutes later, laden down with polystyrene containers of hot food, and three large cartons of full cream milk. The milk had taken some work, given that it was usually sold by the glass, not carton, so I'd explained that my brothers and I were in training for the Winter Olympics, and needed plenty of fat to keep us warm. Not entirely sure the pretty young lady behind the counter believed me, but I guess it didn't matter too much in the end. 'Cos after some serious flirting, in which I let my eyes glow ever so slightly, the lady in question slipped me her phone number.

It was with much regret that I paused on my way back to the motel in order to dump said number in the trash. She really was very attractive, scorching hot and sweet, and there was nothing I'd have liked better than to show her a howling good time in the sack.

But there wasn't time; I never like to rush such things, and prefer to leave a lasting and altogether pleasant impression on my temporary playmates. Like several hours worth. I'm a generous and considerate guy, after all, when I put my mind to it.

But we had to be moving on all too soon.

After a rushed but hearty meal, we packed up again and headed on out, Andy and Sam resting on the backseat and covered in a warm blanket, myself behind the wheel and casting one last mournful gaze through the window of the diner. Sire was riding shot gun again, and smothering a grin.

Next time perhaps, my son. He at least tried to sound consoling, and I might have believed the smug bastard, if it weren't for catching sight of his twitching mouth in my peripheral vision.

I just sighed heavily and smirked. Yeah

Author's notes:

This will be the last update for a week or so because we're heading back to the mainland to visit family.

And because I'm so nice to you guys, I haven't left you with a cliffhanger.

If I do get the chance, I'll try to post chapter 8 during that time, but I really can't make any promises.

Cheers everyone. Your reviews have been wonderful and made all my hard work sooo worth it.

Kind regards,

ST xxx