Andrew has previously been described to members of the general public (who've spotted him when he's been stuck in wolf form) as a South African Hippohound, a rare giant breed use to hunt hippos, hence their size. When this happens, he must perform a number of obedience tricks, and give the impression that he is just a big happy dog (which isn't far off the reality). The most difficult aspect of this charade is that Ronnie has to think up excuses when people ask to be put in touch with a breeder, or on the waiting list for a puppy.
Chapter Twelve
Dean was one of the few Hunters who had encountered an adult male Old North werewolf, and lived to tell the tale. What these monsters could do was almost unbelievable.
They moved faster than they should be able to, even on long muscular legs. They could flip medium sized sedans. They could deliver a blow that was the equivalent of a werewolf bitch-slap and break a human's neck, if they didn't just punch through the sternum to pull out the victim's still-beating heart. They could tear the head clean off a vampire (he'd seen it done). They could pull the arms off a wendigo. Unless you had silver, and managed to shoot or stab them with a killing hit (wounding one would just annoy it) they were nigh on impossible to kill.
It was no wonder that humans had, for centuries, tried to exterminate them; they were ruthlessly efficient and effective killing machines, vulnerable to little short of an angel, a powerful demon, or a tactical nuke (and even then, they could dig like excavators on speed, and could probably improvise a shelter, then they'd pop up after the fireball had dispersed, and you'd have to deal with an angry werewolf plus the smell of singed dog hair. But at least they'd be easier to spot if they glowed in the dark afterwards).
Theoretically, standing more than seven feet upright, weighing in at over three hundred pounds of muscle, a fine alpha material male specimen of Oldnorthus werewolfus frigginghugeii in his prime needed to fear nothing that walked God's green Earth, except perhaps for another male werewolf.
Theoretically.
In Hunting, though, Dean had found that theory often suffered from the same flaw as the most carefully considered battle plan: it didn't survive first contact with the enemy.
Or, in this case, an angry female Oldnorthus werewolfus friggingpissedii.
Ronnie glared at the males in the back yard, and let out a growl like an irritated chainsaw. "I'm sure there's a perfectly reasonable explanation for this," she went on more quietly, "I have no doubt that, given a chance, you will give me a rational explanation for the fact that you are out here, cavorting, when we are supposed to be leaving to go to dinner in about fifteen minutes." She crossed her arms, and glared. "And I am just dying to hear it."
There was a moment of quiet broken only by the whining of three canoids – Andrew, Sam and Jimi – as their ears drooped and their heads dropped submissively.
"Come on, then," prompted Ronnie with a dangerous smile, "I'm all ears." After a moment, she let her ears transform briefly into the wolf's long, pointed pinnae, just to make the point. "My, Ronnie, what long ears you have – all the better to detect your complete and utter bullshit, my dears…"
The two male wolves looked at each other. Sam and Jimi dropped to their haunches, and offered head-explodingly awwwww-inducing versions of the Big Brown Puppy Dog Eyes. Andrew harrumphed, and offered what could only be interpreted as an ingratiating grin.
It didn't work.
"Dean, what the fuck are Scooby and Scrappy playing at?" she demanded.
"What's the matter, Spock, not logical enough?" ventured Dean. She just growled, and let her ears retract. "Well," he began, until he heard Sam whine, and saw his brother give him the sort of expression of betrayal usually only seen on canine faces when a dog is told 'Walkies!' then ends up going to the vet. "It's, uh," he scratched his head. "Sorry. Dicks before chicks. You know how it is."
"Fine," she gave them all that dangerous smile again. "Well, you can explain it to me yourselves, as soon as you're human again." She glared at Andrew, and Dean wondered if he could actually smell fur starting to smoulder.
With a pained sigh, the older werewolf pulled himself upright, and concentrated.
Then conspicuously failed to shapeshift back to human.
Ronnie cocked an eyebrow. "I see," she nodded, "And what about you, pup? You figured out how to flick the switch – can you flick it back?"
Sam sat up straight, gave her his best Good Dog Carl resolute whuff, closed his eyes, let out a slow breath…
And nothing happened.
"So," Ronnie went on, "Not only have you inherited your sire's capacity for hijinks at inappropriate times, you've also got his 'get stuck' trait."
"We did do beer," Dean helpfully held aloft the evidence with a winning smile.
"Great. Just great." She waved her arms. "In other families, people say, 'Oh, what a shame he got his father's hair, or his father's nose', you idiots would be enough to keep a whole facultyful of geneticists and molecular biologists occupied or tearing out their hair for years…"
As she spoke, she shucked out of her clothes, then began to stomp towards the males, shapeshifting as she went. The chattering, scolding noises didn't stop once she was lupine. The males offered greeting-sniffs, and she cuffed both of them on the ears with a huffing sound that was redolent with exasperation.
Taking hold of Andrew's paws in her own, she whuffed more calmly, apparently coaching him, while Sam watched intently. There was a strange effect, like a holographic toy where two images swap back and forth as the image is tilted, but suddenly Andrew snapped back into his human form.
He looked down at himself. "Ta-dah!" he announced cheerfully.
Ronnie rolled her eyes and turned to Sam. Now you, pup, her rumble said clearly.
Sam looked every inch the attentive student as Ronnie took his paws, and began to prompt him. He concentrated hard…
And nothing happened.
Whining with frustration – Sam had never been happy about not being able to pick up something quickly – he tried again, as Ronnie and Andrew offered encouragement.
It didn't work.
Ronnie shifted back to human. "Well," she sighed, as Sam sagged with the shame of failure, "I suppose we'll just have to wait until…"
With incredible speed, she was suddenly the wolf again, turning and bellowing a savage snarl at Sam.
With a yelp, he jumped, and fell backwards.
By the time his ass hit the ground, he was human again.
Andrew reached down and offered him a hand, pulling him to his feet. "Was it really necessary to scare the pup like that?" he asked.
"Yes," Ronnie snapped. "It worked. Now, I really am dying to know why you pair of bozos were mucking around out here." She glared at Dean. "And why you let them?"
"Why I…. what?" Dean gawped. "Hey, they were the ones who were so keen on doin' the hand thing, then they changed! What was I supposed to do, squirt them with a squirt bottle? Whack 'em with a rolled-up newspaper?" He looked around and fidgeted. "Uh, look, before this goes any further, do you think you people could go in and put some clothes on?"
Andrew shrugged. "Well, you know how it is," he told Ronnie, "He was just lookin' at his hands, and wondering what sort of a wolf he'd look like, so…"
She turned to Sam. "So you decided to experiment," she concluded sourly. "A little bit of werewolf puberty self-exploration, perhaps?"
Sam flushed. "I thought I had control of it," he defended himself, "I could… I could feel what to do, and I did my arms, and, and, well, you know…"
"Because standin' out here," Dean went on, "With you people, uh, you know, it's kinda weird…"
"Let me guess," Ronnie held up a hand, "You were playing with it, and it felt so good, you just had to see how it ended, is that it?"
"Uh, yeah," Sam shifted uncomfortably at the choice of metaphor.
"And you let him do that?" she turned back to Andrew. "You encouraged it?"
"…And while I'm all in favour of letting it all hang out, so to speak, I'm not really in favour of letting it all hang out, well, not in front of me, anyway…"
"He was gonna try it sooner or later," Andrew answered, "He's Sam. Better he does it here, with one of us to help."
"And a great help you turned out to be," muttered Ronnie. "What if somebody had seen you?"
"We bought this place because nobody can," he reminded her. "Ronnie, there's no harm done."
"…And you gotta be gettin' cold without the fur coats, so if you could just see your way clear to putting on some human clothes, on your human bodies…"
"He got stuck!" she was adamant, "What if he'd stayed stuck? And what if he hadn't been cognate to start with?"
"I am Alpha," Andrew said with quiet authority, "And I would have made him submit."
"Yeah?" she wasn't mollified. "Did you look at him? You must've. He's Alpha material himself. What if he'd decided to have a go at asserting himself, a bit of teenage rebellion?"
"…Because standin' here, the only one with clothes on, it's, uh, it's kind of weird…"
"I'd have put him in his place," Andrew went on with that quiet surety. "And it didn't happen."
"What if it had?" Ronnie hissed at her mate. "What if it had? What if he'd turned on his brother?"
"He didn't," Andrew rumbled. "Ronnie, let it go. Everything's cool." He gave her a small smile. "Pups leave the den."
"… Like I'm in Star Trek, and our shuttle has crashed on the Planet Of The Birthday Suits, which wouldn't be such a bad thing if there were just hot alien women…"
"Ronnie, I'm sorry," Sam began, "I didn't think it would be…"
"No, you didn't think," she snapped. "Men. You're all idiots!"
Sam tried to explain. "I didn't mean to wolf out, I just wondered…"
It wasn't cutting any ice with Ronnie. "Oh, and we know what good intentions pave the way to, don't we?"
"…And frankly, it's bad enough havin' to look at my brother's junk when he's a, uh, werewolf…"
"Never trust something that can't even pair up its chromosomes properly!" scowled Ronnie, turning to head back towards the house.
"Well, that went better than expected," observed Andrew cheerily.
Sam stared after her. "She's not really angry, is she?" he said, "She doesn't smell angry. She smells… scared."
Andrew smiled. "Her own first experiences with the shapeshift weren't good," he reminded them, "She's… worried for you. She'll get over it. Never picked her as the helicopter mom type. Never picked her as the mom type, full stop; kids were never part of the plan, really."
"…So will you please go in and put some clothes on and STOP PARADIN' AROUND NAKED!"
Sam and Andrew turned to Dean, whose voice had risen to s squawk.
"We're not 'parading around naked'," Sam replied, "We're just standing here."
"And anyway, we're not 'naked'," Andrew added, "We just don't have any clothes on."
Dean stared at them. "Ronnie's right!" he snapped, "You are impossible!" He stomped off towards the house, with Jimi following him.
Sam blinked. "Uh, I think he might actually be angry," he mused.
Andrew put a hand on his shoulder. "Youngster, I think you'll find that once they've worked their ways through a Texan Table steak, their demeanours will be much improved," he assured the younger man.
Sam smiled. "I think she'd make a wonderful mom," he confided. "And you'd make a great dad."
The back door banged open. "Get your sorry arses in here and get ready!" yelled Ronnie.
"The alpha female summons us," intoned Andrew.
The door banged open again. "And for fuck's sake put some damned pants on!" yelled Dean.
"And so does the asshole male," sighed Sam.
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Andrew was right; just being at the steakhouse improved Dean and Ronnie's outlook on… well, everything. Dean beamed like a kid being shown the counter of a new candy store.
"Look at this!" he chirped happily at the Texan Table Challenge, a 72-ounce steak plus trimmings, "Tonight, I eat for free!"
"Well, you can," Andrew confirmed, "After we did it the first couple of times, we thought it might be polite to pay."
"We like this place," Ronnie confirmed, "We don't want to put it out of business. Besides, it's nice just to take your time, and enjoy a meal."
Sam glanced up at the 'honour board', where the names 'A. Jaeger' and 'V. Shepherd' were at the top of the list. "So, you're the only two to break the eight minute mark," he commented.
"So far," Ronnie grinned, as a waitress with a lovely smile and an even more lovely rack drifted over, "Hiya Karen."
"Hi Ronnie and Andrew!" the young lady greeted them, "You got visitors?"
"This is Dean, and Sam," Andrew introduced the Winchesters, "And they're here to take the Challenge."
"Well, I hope you've got a big appetite!" Karen the waitress smiled.
Dean let the Killer Smile slide into place. "Oh, you got no idea," he purred.
"I'm really looking forward to it," Sam nodded.
Karen gave him a smile. "Well, I'm just dying to see you in action," she said, heading back for the kitchen.
"I like her," leered Dean, watching her retreating form. "All of her."
"You are incorrigible," humphed Ronnie.
It took three waitresses to bring out their meals and all the accompaniments, and Karen announced, "So, are you gonna do this inside the hour, or do you think you can knock this guy off top spot?" she jerked a thumb at Andrew with a grin.
Sam gave her a brilliant smile, picked up his knife and fork, and replied, "Karen – start the clock."
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It started off normally enough: Sam was a big guy, so it didn't surprise anybody that he tucked into the giant piece of meat with gusto. What was surprising was the speed with which the steak was disappearing.
"Oh, thish ish sho good," he hummed happily, tearing at a piece with his teeth.
"Dude!" Dean hissed, "Teeth!"
"Huh?" Sam looked at him, taking another bite of steak.
"Your teeth!" Ronnie muttered, "Your canines have popped out! Reel 'em back in!"
"What?" Sam put a hand to his face, and felt the long fangs protruding. "Oh, fuck," he fumbled for his napkin, wiping at his face to hide them, and concentrating hard to retract them. "Sorry," he said, "Got lost in the moment."
"You're only allowed to use human teeth," Andrew told him, "Wolf teeth is cheating." Sam nodded, and turned back to his meal.
It was like, well, it was like watching Jimi eat, Dean thought vaguely as he made his way through his own meal in a rather more leisurely manner. He'd never seen his little brother enjoy a piece of rare meat so much, along with a big serve of fries, and sides.
At the five minute mark, people at other tables started to watch.
At the six minute mark, people at other tables started to cheer him on, and the proprietor came out to watch.
"Seven minutes gone!" announced Karen, as Sam shovelled down another forkful of beans and washed them down with a mouthful of beer, "And closing in on the record!"
At seven minutes thirty, other patrons were chanting "Eat! Eat! Eat!" as he tore up the bread roll to wipe his plate, then crammed the last piece into his mouth, chewed, swallowed, took another mouthful of beer…
Sam threw his hands in air, and burped heartily to a round of applause. Karen handed the stop-watch to her boss.
"Finished in… seven minutes fifty-three seconds!" he announced. "Ladies and gentlemen, we have a new finisher in second place!"
Ronnie yowled in feigned outrage at being displaced from second place on the board as the restaurant cheered.
"Well done!" Karen said, "Would you like another drink while the others finish, since you're done?"
Sam gave her a grin that was pure mischief. "Who says I'm done?" he said cheekily.
Karen's face was a picture of disbelief. "Oh my God, you cannot still be hungry after finishing the Texas Table!"
Still smiling, Sam told her, "I am, and I want you to bring me another."
The crowd went wild.
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It was a great night, Dean decided, the sort of night the Winchesters didn't get often enough. Good food, good company, a chance just to put down the tool box, and enjoy some down time. It would've been even better if he could've gotten Karen's phone number, but hey, he'd probably feel happier keeping an eye on his baby brother anyway…
"So, I thought tomorrow we could…" Dean barged into their room, and found Sam on the phone; his little brother held up a hand to forestall him.
"Yeah, that'd be great. So, uh, see you then. Yeah. Bye."
"Who was that?" asked Dean.
"Karen," Sam replied, "From the steakhouse." He held up a napkin with a phone number on it. "She gave me this. Hey, uh, would it be okay if I borrow the car?"
Dean will be bursting with pride. And questions, no doubt...
Keep feeding Mavgang those wonderful reviews that wiya loves so much, because Reviews are The Delicious Steak Dinners With Waffle Fries* And The Trimmings In The Steakhouse Of Life!
*I've only just been introduced to waffle fries; they are so sinfully delicious, I'm pretty sure that Crowley himself must've invented them.