Hunter of the Shadows Book 2:
Hunter Rising.
Chapter 18
Now…
Dean appears to be sulking. Eyes narrowed, shoulders a little hunched, his mouth all but pouting. He's watching Sam, whose sitting on the river bank some distance away, face turned to the sky, feet dangling in the water.
"He's changed in the last few days. Told me to stop hovering, that I was making him nervous," Dean sounds grumpy, like a petulant child. "Was only trying to help, make sure he stays safe but, oh no! He has to go all Miss Prissy Independent on me. I think he heard my 'clingy' comment during the intro of that last journal entry."
A large hand grips Dean's shoulder for a moment, and then Tobius drops down beside him in the grass.
"He knows you mean well, Dean, but he's right," his sire advises, kindly. "Just give him a little space. Sam needs to feel useful, that he can help himself without someone shadowing him all the time."
Dean huffs and relaxes slightly. "Yeah, I know. I just…" he shakes his head, a little defeated. "Never mind."
Tobius watches him through half closed eyes. "I understand how hard this is for you, but a sense of self-worth and independence might well be what Sam needs to initiate a full change," he shrugs lightly. "Just a theory, but it holds some merit."
Dean hasn't taken his eyes off Sam, watching him constantly for any hint that he needs help. The very moment he does look away, however, is the one time Sam does actually need him.
Dean turns to his Sire. "You're right. I get it. I should learn to be supportive in a non-crowding capacity."
Meanwhile, Sam gets to his feet slowly and carefully, but unfortunately loses balance, wobbling alarmingly on his feet…
Tobius grins. "You've been reading that book I gave you: 'Blind faith: emotional healing for the blind'? I'm impressed. First time I've seen you read a book without pictures."
Dean scowls good naturedly, just as they both hear Sam cry out, shortly before a loud splash, and Tobius and Dean are on their feet, running towards the river bank.
Both dive off the edge and minutes later, after some shouting and splashing, they reappear dripping wet and carrying an equally wet Sam between them. Both senior werewolves are sporting black eyes and split lips, but the youngster is quiet and solemn, not acknowledging his family's gentle whispers and encouragement in any way shape or form. His sun shades are still somehow fixed firmly on his nose and his mouth is turned down with sadness. One gets the sense that Sam panicked in the water and went postal.
"I'll build the fire up again," Tobius drops his arm from Sam's shoulders and steps out of shot, presumably to carry out his self-appointed task.
Dean merely nods and lowers himself to the grass, taking Sam with him.
"Sam…"
"You don't have to say it, ok?" Sam barks out sharply. "I know!"
"Know what?" asks Dean, and runs a hand gently through the kid's sopping hair. "Know that as smart and capable as you are, you're gonna make mistakes? That you're still getting used to all this?" He nods. "Yeah, that about sums it up."
Sam sags in Dean's arms and sniffs loudly. "I'm sorry," he whispers. "I didn't mean to snap at you. Or... h-hit you..."
Dean shakes his head and pulls him closer. "I know you didn't, kid. No need to apologize."
"God! I'm such a mess!" Sam answers that in a heartbroken voice.
"No you ain't!" it's Dean's turn to get snappy. "Now cut that out, you hear me? No more of it! You're doing just fine."
Sam falls silent for a moment before asking "How can you say that after what just happened?"
"Sammy, listen to me," Dean turns to fully face Sam then grasps the youngster's tear and river stained face between gentle hands. "You over balanced and fell head first into the river. The water disoriented you, of course you were going to panic. You think I would've been any different if I was blind, and fell? Dude, I wouldn't have known up from down!"
"Indeed," Tobius, sounding amused, backs Dean up from his place out of shot. "I believe under those circumstances he might well have soiled himself."
"Hey!" Dean protests indignantly, face turning a little red.
Sam snorts and a weak, but genuine smile emerges.
"C'mere," Dean grins back and presses Sam's head to his shoulder. "I got the next journal entry to make so get some sleep, whilst someone" he glares pointedly off camera "can go get dinner."
A soft laugh from nearby deepens into a low growl, and a flash of black and tan fur across the camera lens suggests that Tobius is on the hunt.
Dean watches Sire bound away, a fond smirk on his face.
"So," the smile fades. "On with the show…"
Then…
By the time dawn hit and the skies were awash with early morning sunlight, Sam was awake and pacing slowly up and down outside the cabin. His footsteps told me he was in human form, and I would have bet money I knew what was on his mind.
Sighing heavily, I got out of bed and took a hot shower, using the time to figure out what I was going to say to him.
This wasn't a conversation I was looking forward to and, if not handled carefully, I suspected it wouldn't end well. How right I was...
Andy, Josey, Gerald and the baby weren't yet up, which was a sign of how tired out they must have been, Andy especially after his ordeal with Azazel.
Werebears are early risers as a general rule, mainly because they love to fish during the early hours, when the ambient temperature is at an all time low. The colder the better, in fact. They don't get on with the heat so well, not surprisingly given all that fur.
Werewolves on the other hand can deal with either. Our cooling mechanisms are better evolved, but then we travel a lot whereas werebears tend to settle in one place. Preferably at the top of the coldest mountain!
Dressing quickly in my usual Led Zeppelin tee-shirt, jeans and boots, I moved silently through the cabin. Outside the window, I could just make out Sam's silhouette against the morning sky, moving back and forth. His shoulders appeared painfully tense and I winced in sympathy.
He must have sensed me because he halted abruptly. I couldn't see his face for the shadows, except for the glowing blue-green eyes, but it didn't take a genius to figure out he wasn't smiling.
Hey, Sammy.
He didn't answer me right away, just shifted from foot to foot, until I opened the door and joined him outside on the veranda.
Hey. Sam sounded nervous, like he knew what was coming and didn't like it any more than I did.
Time to cut to the chase.
I know what you're thinking, Sam. And there's no way I'm gonna let you.
He huffed, shifted again and then leaned against the cabin wall.
It'll protect me from the silver. His eyes flared brightly for an instant.
Yeah? I stepped closer until I could finally see the mutinous expression on his face. And what else will it do to you, Sam? Huh? Azazel has an agenda, and somehow getting you back is a part of that. But what's also a part of that, is turning you darkside.
Sam shook his head. It's just something to stop the allergic reaction, like mystical anti-histamine.
Not mystical, Sam, try demonic, I retorted, feeling a stir of anger. This shouldn't have surprised me, that Sam was still seriously considering the demon's offer of help but somehow it did. Trusting them is one thing – they already betrayed us when he sent Lilly after Andy. But this? You're talking about drinking their blood, Sam!
Sam sighed. They won't hurt me. They need me to take care of Jake.
Oh sure, yeah, it'll give you the power to kill the bastard, but that stuff could poison you! I was damn near screeching at him in our heads by now. Make you one of them!
He pushed away from the wall and rounded on me.
Then what do you suggest, huh? I can't beat Jake any other way! He'll tear me to pieces right before he starts on the rest of you! And I-I can't let that happen, Dean, I just can't! Sam's voice broke and I could see the tears glistening within the blue green glow of his eyes. I'm scared shitless of losing you and Tobius.
I had to stiffen my resolve and not let those damn puppy dog eyes rule the outcome.
I'm telling you now, Sam. Drop this idea or I swear to God I will hogtie you and leave you chained up in the cabin!
Sam's scowl was epic.
If the only way of beating Jake and keeping my family safe is to take the demon blood, then I'll do it like a shot! His nostrils flared with each panted breath, eyebrows drawn down and lips stretched thin. And don't tell me that if the roles were reversed you wouldn't do the same!
Damn kid had me there but no way was I going to admit it. Sam's life was on the line and I wasn't going to let him win this argument.
Unfortunately, it was time for some cheap shots. Little did I know how much I would hate myself for doing this…
Sam, I put everything into this family. Give you everything you need, all the support I can. So let me tell you that I did not go through all that parenting crap just so you can throw your life away!
For all my careful thought, it still came out totally wrong, and I cursed my big mouth for running away with me.
Sam's jaw dropped and I heard the faint whoosh as shock stole the air from his lungs. The glow in his eyes dimmed with hurt but I was too scared and too angry to take it back.
With a fierce glare, I turned away and stalked back into the cabin.
It was a low blow and should never have been said. I'd effectively told him he was a burden, that he owed me for his very existence. And whilst that might have been partially true, it's not something that should ever have been uttered out loud, even in jest. Fact is, Sammy's just as responsible for my continued survival, and he's saved my ass hundreds of times. If anything happened to him, I just couldn't go on.
Eventually, I would come to regret like hell that I'd pushed him too far.
A few hours later, Sire returned from his hunt and we were all seated round the kitchen table eating breakfast in an awkward silence. Sam's eyes were downcast the whole time and he barely spoke, just nibbled on his bacon and eggs with little enjoyment. Tobius had sensed something was up the minute he entered the cabin, but just raised his eyebrows at me in question.
I'd shaken my head and he got the message that we'd discuss it later.
Andy, with his usual dislike of silences at the dinner table, glanced around and had presumably decided that he didn't like this silence any better. He began prattling away in our heads about nothing in particular, and I have to say that it came as a comfort after a while. Anything was better than seeing Sam's hurt face out the corner of my eye.
Before the end of the meal, however, Sam abruptly excused himself, and went to empty his half full plate into the trash, before pulling open the cabin door.
Sam? Sire called out before I could. Where are you going, pup?
Sam's reply was sullen and quiet.
For a run. Alone. Back later.
Without another word he headed outside, changed, and galloped off into the forest, leaving a small forlorn looking pile of clothes on the veranda.
Tobius gave me a look.
Care to explain?
I threw down my fork, appetite well and truly vanished, and pushed back my chair.
Let's just say that Sammy said some stupid things. Dumping my plate in the sink, right on top of Sam's I closed my eyes for a second. Then I said something even worse.
My chest felt tight, pulse racing, hands shaking a little.
Things were getting out of hand, what with Azazel's appearance the night before, the offer to help Sam defeat Jake and his He Man sword, and the possibility that Sam might accept said offer… I could feel the panic rising inside, making my gut churn angrily and I just knew what was gonna happen next.
I was out the cabin door, jumping off the veranda and barely making it to the tree line before violently throwing up. It hurt, felt like my gut was trying to climb right up my throat, and with my mouth flooded it had nowhere else to go, so the acidic bile pushed its way up and out through my nostrils with the force of a high pressure water cannon. I couldn't breathe, my vision was blurred by tears of exertion, and someone was trying to talk to me but I couldn't hear, couldn't see and couldn't ask for help.
Black dots danced in front of my eyes and my fingers and toes slowly went numb. This wasn't a change coming on.
Nah. I was too busy passing out for a change right then...
Had no idea where the hell I was when I finally came round, but I was lying back against something soft and warm. It moved slightly and my eyes flew open. Back in the cabin, it appeared that my impromptu recliner was actually Andy in bear form, and we were seated in front of the living room fire place. His snout puffed warm breaths of air down my neck and a large meaty paw was gently stroking my hair.
Dude? Stop that right now! It's making me uncomfortable.
The bear shifted and pushed his large hairy face into mine. He appeared to be grinning.
Hey man! You're awake! You scared us, dude.
I blinked a few times and when I tried to sit up, Sire was there, carefully helping me.
Feeling any better, pup? he murmured, eyes filled with concern.
Uh… yeah. What the hell happened to me?
He reached over and lifted a steaming mug from the coffee table, then determinedly wrapped my fingers around it.
Drink some of this. It'll help steady you. Josey and Gerald decided to take the baby out for the day, give you some time to recover.
In other words, Tobius had asked for some space.
The faint scent of brandy, spices and ginger wafted into my nostrils, already beginning to calm my sore stomach. But it didn't answer my question.
Sire? What was that? I asked again.
He sat back on his heels and eyed me closely. You suffered a severe panic attack, Dean. It's nothing to worry about, just extremely unpleasant.
My eyes widened and this time I spoke out loud. "That was a panic attack? Jesus! Felt like Mount Vesuvius erupted in my gut!"
Sire smiled faintly. "Yes, a typical werewolf version, and it's a sign that things are getting a little on top of you. You're worrying way too much, youngster, although that's understandable under the circumstances."
And that brought on another burst of anxiety. "How long was I out? Where's Sammy? Is he back yet?" My stomach pulsed a little in protest.
Sire raised an eyebrow. "You were out for just over an hour. Sam's fine. He headed out to meet Pastor Jim and Bobby Singer. He may well be riding with them as we speak, though he's rather worried about you."
"You told him?" I demanded, not happy to hear that.
"Absolutely," Tobius answered straight off. "As I would if the roles were reversed. Sam's fully aware of your condition."
I snorted. "Condition? I ain't pregnant ya know!"
Sire folded his arms. "And thank heavens for that," he muttered, sardonically. "We'd never hear the end of it."
Two hours later, I could smell Bobby, The Pastor and Sam over the scent of the truck and Andy's van, and I stood waiting at the end of the track by the cabin, watching as they came into view and bumped over the rough, rocky ground.
Sam, in wolf form, sat in the passenger seat of the truck, wet nose pressed to the gap in the open window and snuffling at the mountain breeze.
Sam?
His head shot round and blue green eyes fixed on me through the windshield. As the truck pulled to a stop and he jumped out, Sam kept his distance, belly low, and tail well and truly down.
Sammy?
Dean. You… uh… feeling any better?
Those beautiful sad eyes were watching me, and I just didn't know what to say. So I said nothing of any importance, which was just plain dumb.
Yeah. I'm better… thanks.
Bobby had alighted from Andy's van whilst Jim had climbed out from behind the wheel of the truck, and both men were now obviously aware that there was an atmosphere because they just stood there silently, waiting for me to say hi.
"Hey guys," I took a pace forward, feeling my heart break when Sammy skittered back a few steps.
God! I'd really hurt the poor kid.
It hadn't gone unnoticed because Bobby narrowed his eyes whilst pulling me into a hug at the same time. Wisely, he didn't mention it, though I could tell he was dying to ask.
"Dean, ya looking… uh," he peered into my face. "Kinda pale. You ok?"
My eyes lit on Sam's again. "Yeah. Just a little tired is all."
Just then, a very human Andy ran out to us and practically orgasmed over his truck, and I had to keep from laughing. Guy was like me with the Impala
Sam just let out a faint whine and trotted off to the cabin.
The Pastor watched him go with a worried frown, then turned back to greet me. I could tell that, unlike Bobby, he wasn't going to stay quiet.
"You two boys have a lot on your plate," Jim murmured, softly. "And I know things are tough right now, but you can't afford a rift. Whatever it is, fix it Dean. Before it's too late."
I just nodded. The way it stood between Sammy and me right then, it wasn't gonna be quite so easy to 'fix' anything.
There was little point in dwelling on it, so I ushered the men inside the cabin and we all sat round the kitchen table with Tobius at the head. He had Azazel's map in front of him and a deep frown on his face. Sam, now changed and fully clothed, was sitting next to Andy with a mug of what smelled like hot chocolate in front of him. He refused to meet my gaze, and resolutely kept his eyes on the map.
I knew I couldn't let it fester but every time I tried to talk to him over the next few hours, he excused himself from the room to visit the bathroom, or got up to grab some food, or just outright changed the subject. And that should have been my first hint the little shit was planning something.
Without asking, Sam busied himself with making hot chocolate for everyone, which would have struck me as odd if I'd been paying closer attention, but the conversation was moving forward swiftly.
We explained to the men what had happened the night before, with the YED's visit and his offer of demon blood. Sam had visibly tensed up at that part but said nothing. The mention of possessed wiccans had Bobby grunting in disapproval, before he grabbed the map and pulled it close.
"Damn Wiccans don't know what the hell they're getting mixed up in, anyhow! Cycles of nature, my ass," he grumbled softly, ever the old cynic. "Now, let's see what we got here."
Pastor Jim leaned over his shoulder and made a soft noise of triumph.
"I know that place."
Bobby glanced up at him, sceptically. "Huh? Really?"
"Yep," Jim nodded and sat back in his chair. "It's a graveyard in North Wyoming called Noirmont, or Mont. Noir, quite literally meaning Black Mountain in French." He scratched his chin thoughtfully. "And it's a damn fine name for it."
I swallowed back my shock at hearing a cuss word passing the Pastor's lips.
"Why do you say that?" asked Sam, quietly, almost shy, handing out mugs of steaming chocolately goodness.
Jim smiled grimly. "Because the place is, in fact, damned."
"Even so," Sam murmured. "Strange place to put a church, doncha think?"
"There is no church there. Never has been," Jim answered, and peered at the map again. "This isn't your ordinary run of the mill cemetery."
Got that straight.
Black Mountain was the graveyard of all murderers, rapists, suicides and thieves from a couple of hundred years ago, or so the legend goes. There was no church built to serve these people for they were considered evil, instead they were buried with no rites or ceremony, and some left with only rudimentary grave markers in the form of a rock, sometimes with their name roughly scratched on by some grieving family member who couldn't afford anything decent. Most graves weren't marked at all.
Loosely translated, these were the dregs of society who came from nothing and lived with nothing, treated like shit and pissed on by the rich and well to do. Probably driven by poverty and desperation to crime, they died without ever being given the opportunity to confess their sins and beg forgiveness.
If ever there was a smart place to put a hell door then Black Mountain was probably it. Black and bleak, with wasted dreams and lost hope, from the cradle to the grave, those poor souls had never stood a chance.
Tobius drummed his fingers rather clumsily on the table and blinked slowly.
"Hmm, I suggest humans arm themselves with consecrated iron rounds as well as…" another slow blink. "What was I saying again?"
Funny that. I couldn't remember either. A small belched slipped out of my mouth and I grinned. "S-sorry guys."
Bobby actually giggled. Never heard him do that before. A chuckle, maybe. A guffaw even, but never a giggle.
Andy tipped forward and landed face down on the table, happily snoozing away.
A small snore had us glancing at Pastor Jim. The guy was out cold, leaning back in his chair, mouth slack, and that's when my suspicion grew.
A little late, admittedly, but better late than never huh?
As Tobius and Bobby joined Andy and Jim in the land of Nod, I tried so hard to stare at Sam, making the glare as stern as possible, but he was wavering in and out of my vision, smiling sadly at me.
Sammmm…
Dean. I'm sorry…you got sick because of me…
Wha?
You were right. What you said. But I need to do this... for you. I hope you'll understand someday. Just trust me...
I was fighting desperately against whatever he'd given us, needing to stay awake, somehow knowing that if I didn't succeed then this might well be the last time I'd ever see Sammy alive.
NooooSammmmmyyyyyy… was jus… was… was jus… over… overwhelmed…don't goooo.
He got up and slid something on the table then gently pushed my head down to rest on it. Some kind of soft pillow, by the feel of it.
Love you Dean.
Last thing I felt was Sammy pressing a gentle kiss to my temple, and I knew no more, until Gerald was shaking me awake many hours later, a wide eyed Josey doing the same to Tobius.
Angry and scared, we immediately figured out what he'd spiked our hot chocolate with. The same stuff we'd once used on him; without taste or scent, it was undetectable, though he must've used one hell of a dose.
And that's when the panic really hit, because not only was Sammy gone but so was the map and, we soon discovered, the little shit had stolen Bobby's truck and disabled all remaining vehicles. Including the Impala.
We were stuck there whilst Sam went off to face all kinds of God forsaken danger on his own and with no one to watch his back.
Godammit Sammy!
Authors' notes:
Naughty boy, Sam! I think you'll be in for a smacked bottom before this is over.
Before the smart arses amongst you speak up, yes Mont. Noir, North Wyoming is completely made up, as is the cemetery and its history, and yes my French is terrible.
Ok? Happy? Can we move on now?
Cheers darlings!
Kind regards,
ST xxx
