Of Werewolves And Humans
Chapter 24 ~ Visions
THEN (for those who skipped the last chapter):
A loud rumble tore the sheriff from her thoughts.
The men outside her office tensed visibly, all their faces snapping towards the entrance of their police-station at once. A split second later, the door burst open and a giant wolf stood in the middle of the room.
Not a wolf Jody Mills would've known …
NOW:
The morning came way too early, with way more snow than there should've been.
When Sam woke, he was alone in their bed, under the comforter. He noticed two more blankets tugged over him to keep him warm. Dean was looking out for him – like he always did. Like he was something precious. And maybe … just maybe he was something precious – at least to his mate.
Sam stretched and groaned comfortably, his toes standing out under the layers as he did so. He pulled them back under the bedding as he felt the chilly air against his skin and drove a shudder up his spine.
He blinked his eyes open, looking around the room. Somehow he had thought Dean would be with him, would be at least somewhere close … but he wasn't.
The beginning of a slight headache behind his forehead made itself noticeable.
Sam was all on his own. He thought for a moment if he should get up … but then again … he felt somehow sore. But not the bad meaning of sore … it was more the good kind of feeling sore – where he felt sore.
The human smiled gingerly at the fact that he actually had done what he had been afraid of.
He rubbed his temples and blinked a couple of times, before he pulled his hands back under the warmth of the comforter.
His smile widened as he thought about last night. His eyes fluttered shut again as he curled up, wrapping his arms around his middle to keep his cooling skin warm.
The temperature had dropped during the night. The upper floor was way cooler than the first one, where the charcoals held on until the early morning.
So Sam tugged the comforter up over his shoulders, so that just the mop of hair was lurking out beneath it, snuggling into the warm pillow and mattress, waiting for Dean to come back.
Because he wouldn't go away – not after last night, would he? They were bound, they were meant to be with each other – right? Except Dean didn't want anymore. Except he had done something wrong last night and Dean had decided that a human wasn't what he wanted to have as a mate.
But then again – Dean didn't have another choice, did he? He didn't want anyone else.
Sam shoved his disturbing thoughts aside. He KNEW Dean wasn't like this. He would have felt it … and still, there was this tiny voice nagging at him in his mind. A voice that still dared to tell him that this wasn't right, that he was a burden, that he didn't deserve any of this.
A voice that was very tiny and barely hearable anymore – but though it was there, and telling him what a spoiled brat he was every time he tried to make his own decisions, when he said what he liked and didn't like.
The door to their room opened carefully and Sam's eyes snapped open, tearing him away form his thoughts, from the voice that fell silent all of a sudden.
Bare feet tabbed over the hard-wood-floor towards the bed, metal was clanking against crockery.
Sam pulled the comforter back – just a little bit and propped himself up on an elbow, looking sleepily at HIS mate.
„Good Morning.", Sam muttered and sniffed, sinking back into the pillow.
Dean smiled – he BEAMED at him, a tray in his hands, already dressed in jeans and a plaid shirt. „Hey, Sweetheart.", he said softly and sat down on the edge of the bed. „Got us some breakfast."
Sam smiled back at him dreamily and scooted back, so he was leaning against the headboard with his back, eying the rich breakfast on the tray.
Dean took his place beside him, slipping under the comforter as he did so and positioned the tray on his lap. He then leaned over to Sam and placed a gentle kiss on his temple. Sam rested his head on Dean's shoulder and made a happy sound.
„When did you get up?", Sam asked, watching his mate as he put whip-cream on the side of the plate with the waffles.
Dean licked the cream from his fingertips and glanced at Sam. „A hour.", he answered and placed the plate in Sam's lap. „You didn't wake up during the night ..."
Sam nodded, while he watched Dean taking a stripe of bacon and pulled it through the ketchup.
They ate in silence. Sam kept leaning against the other male's side as he ripped pieces from the waffles and put them through the cream before he stuffed them into his mouth.
They ate in slow and in silence. Dean sneaking pieces of waffles from Sam's plate, and Sam stealing bacon from Dean's.
When they had emptied their coffees and had eaten their breakfast, Dean put the plates and the tray aside and laid an arm around Sam's shoulder, tugging him close. Sam snuggled into him, wrapping an arm around his mate's middle and closed his eyes again.
„I'd like to stay like this.", Sam whispered huskily. „All day … all night …"
Dean chuckled and closed his eyes for a moment, letting Sam's words sink in. „Me too.", he answered after a while. „I'd love to keep you naked all day and all night … for a whole week."
„That's not what I meant." Sam blinked up at him with a shy smile.
„I know." His mate looked him in the eyes. „I said it … but … you know, it's not like I meant it to come out."
They stayed like this for a long while.
Dean cleared his throat, his look growing sad and somehow concerned.
„Sam ...", he started then, deciding that it was about time to tell him, filling him in on what was going on, what happened during the last night while they had slept …
Sam looked up, the sound of how Dean had said his name making him feel uneasy.
„Sheriff Mills is here …", he said then, locking his gaze with Sam's.
His mate sat up and frowned at him worriedly. „What happened?" He instantly KNEW that something had happened. Not just because the sheriff was here, also because he FELT Dean's concern, the worry radiating from him in waves that seemed to make the air thick and heavy.
„She got away … when they raided the police station in town." Dean sighed heavily. „Most of her deputies are dead or got bitten. - Those who weren't at the station got attacked at home …"
Sam attempted to draw back from him, but his mate wouldn't let him. He held him tight. Dean didn't have to tell his mate what they wanted. Sam knew. This had been just a warning …
„They want me." The human's eyes went dull and empty.
Dean shook his head. „They want the both of us ..."
As Sam made an attempt to speak up, Dean hushed him. „But they won't get either one of us. - Me and the others … we'll head out – we'll take care of them before they can do any more damage, Sam." His words sounded so reassuring, as if there was no doubt that they'd do just that – like taking a walk or something …
Sam closed his eyes, a long drawn shuddering breath leaving his mouth. „It's dangerous, isn't it? - Maybe we can trade? Maybe they'll be satisfied if they get just me? If there's no trap, no anything? - Maybe they'll go away, huh?"
„No way, Sam." He pulled Sam's head towards his chest, holding him there. „We won't trade. We won't cooperate with them. We've decided. - Everyone of us is in." He cleared his throat. „Besides they want the both of us. They left no doubt in that."
Tears started to fill Sam's eyes and he closed them. He didn't want to cry, didn't want to look like a girl. Didn't want Dean to see …
„I'll be back, you know that, right?", Dean asked, trying to hold his own emotions down. „They've no chance against us. - And when I'm back .. .we'll do THIS." He looked around and petted on the bed beside him. „We'll stay in here for a whole week streight. Just leaving for gettin' food and to the bathroom. - We'll do whatever you want us to do then." He smiled.
Sam sniffed and nodded. „When are you heading out?"
„In a couple of hours. - Ellen's gonna stay with you.", he explained calmly as if it was no big deal to blow up another pack from whom they didn't even know how many there were … „I want you to stay IN the house until we're back. Neither of you is going out there – no matter what you might see, or hear." Dean's features were serious – too serious.
Sam nodded again, understanding WHY Dean needed to be sure that Sam was okay, that he was safe and wouldn't do something stupid.
„Promise.", he whispered, laying his hand beside his head against Dean's chest.
Though Sam couldn't shake off the feeling that something wasn't right about it – something didn't fit and it made him feel uneasy. Maybe it wasn't as easy as Dean wanted him to believe …
An hour later, Sam was dressed and in the kitchen with John. The human was silent and pensive …
His headache had increased ever since he had gotten up. Not even a hot shower had helped any with it.
„It's going to be okay, Sam.", John said casually, switching on the coffee-machine.
„Dean said the same thing …", he gave back, sounding unconvinced. Sam's lips formed into a tight line. „I'm just … I don't know … Something's not right ..."
John looked up, cocking an eyebrow at his son's mate. „What do you mean?"
„It doesn't FEEL right ...", Sam corrected himself. „It's like ..." He rubbed his right temple. „Something's off about it ..."
John frowned now and turned around, watching Sam closely. Something on the older Winchester's features changed slightly. As if Sam's words – what he had just said – had more weight than he admitted to himself.
John leaned against the counter and crossed his arms before his chest, his eyebrows furrowing. „You alright?"
Sam nodded. „Just a headache ..."
John eyed Sam for another moment before he turned back around, getting a mug from the cupboard.
„We got this. - It'll be over before anyone's able to snatch a glance."
„Yeah – sure ..." Sam smiled faintly.
John Winchester joined the rest of the pack and the sheriff in the living-room, while he left Sam behind in the kitchen. Now that Sam seemed to be a bit out of it … and the things that he had said … that it FELT off … John couldn't put his finger on it yet and though he sensed that something was lingering in the air – something that was not good at all …
There was a paper with a sketch of the farm on Bobby's table, showing the surroundings and the buildings themself.
Everyone was staring at it – no one was talking.
John cleared his throat and caught Dean's gaze over the table, then he looked at the map and brushed over his mouth, blowing out a tense breath.
Maybe something WAS wrong about this.
Sam stood on the porch beside Ellen. He wrapped his arms around his mate, holding him tight.
„Love you.", he whispered into Dean's ear, „Come back in one piece."
Dean chuckled and hugged him back. „Love you too, Sweetheart.", he whispered, closing his eyes for a brief second, sucking in a deep breath of Sam's scent. „And don't leave the house.", he added a bit louder.
Sam gave him a short nod as their gazes met. Dean laid his hand on Sam's cool cheek and smiled up at him gingerly before he placed a feather-light lingering kiss on his lips.
Not a kiss of good-bye. More of a kiss like i'll-be-back-in-no-time.
Sam watched his pack taking their seats on the bed of the truck. Watched Dean watching him as the vehicle drove off roaring.
He stood there for another while before he got back inside the house with Ellen, vanishing in the living-room where he took his stand on the couch, rubbing once again his aching temples.
He wished he would've been able to go with them. But Sam knew that there was no use of him on a battlefield. That this was a fight between packs and that a human would just get in the way.
Time went by slowly.
Ellen had brought Sam coke and coffee. She sat in the recliner – at least as tense as Sam was – and was waiting for their pack's return.
They didn't talk.
Sam stared out of the window ever since, his head resting on the backrest of the couch, cool winter-light caught in his hazel-green circles, turning them into something gleaming and sparkling.
He soon drifted off to sleep after two Tylenol, hoping that the meds would help with his throbbing pain roaring through his skull.
It was already dark outside. No snow was falling anymore. Sam had slept for hours on the couch. A restless sleep, filled with a never-ending nightmare. One dream Sam'd never forget …
First everything was dark and so close. He couldn't see anything. He just FELT. Felt the darkness, the lingering moist air filled with death and despair and panic. Rotten meat and wood. Sam wasn't able to turn on either side of his wooden grave. Then there were flashes of pictures. Blood and screams and pained yelps. His pack and the others. Humans with silvery gleaming knifes. The sheriff.
He was in a kind of barn. Hay and litter splattered all over the floor. Hay and litter stained with blood.
One moment he was bound on his ankles and wrists, lying on the dirty floor. Then shots rang out. The next second he was on all fours, kneeling in blood. Red and sticky and clinging to his dirty palms as he crawled over the loosen ground. He felt the pain of a thousand deaths as his gaze swept around.
There was Dean. - Laying motionless on the floor. His eyes wide open, staring into nothingness. One of his arms resting beside him, and the other one slung around his middle – limply.
There was so much blood and dirt … Sam wasn't able to make out if it was his mate's blood or someone else's.
He was just an arm reach away from him. From Dean. But he felt it – he knew it …
The younger Winchester's face was pale – too pale. His eyes were empty. His skin cold to the touch.
Sam's vision blurred, as he felt the weakness crawl up his limbs and towards his neck.
There was so much blood. So much blood.
Sam sank down onto the dirty ground beside his mate, laying his hand on Dean's cheek ever so gently. He swallowed down a sob, as he stared into blank emerald-green eyes. His heart tore apart, shattered and broke into pieces. His soul felt like it got ripped apart.
Dean wasn't breathing. Dark strands marked the veins beneath his tender skin, showing where it had pumped the dangerous poison through his body.
Sam knew it … he just knew it …
Dean was dead.
Sam jack-knifed into a sitting position, panting, a thin sheen of sweat covering his forehead. He looked around. Stared at his open palms, into his lap and then he looked around once more. As if to make sure that it had just been a dream – a very vivid dream.
He swallowed hard, trying to calm himself down. Trying to free himself from the fine tendrils of his disturbing nightmare.
Somewhere in the woods, close to the farm two packs of wolves were fighting in the darkness. They have been waiting for Dean and the others.
It had been a trap. It had been a trap.
Caleb was dead. Thomas nowhere to be found. The rest fought for dear life right there. Bloodied and with bruised egos.
Dean knew they NEEDED to get back to the Salvage.
It had been a trap …
Sam sat on the couch. The coffee was cold, the coke warm. He hadn't touched anything. Not even the offered sandwiches Ellen had prepared for him.
So he sat there and waited. Until dusk broke over the land. Until it was too dark to see anything on the yard anymore.
Though he waited for a pair of headlights, the familiar roar of the old pick-up-truck.
Ellen was in the bathroom when it happened and was about done with whatever she had been doing in there.
Heavy footfalls on the porch, a creak from one of the loosen floorboards, the familiar squeak of the door-handle.
Sam was on his feet in an instant, rushing into the hall.
The front door to Bobby's house opened slowly. And a – in dirt and blood covered – Dean Winchester appeared, panting and utterly terribly looking.
A bright smile lit up on Sam's face, but faded very fast again, as no one else would come through the door. As he realized Dean's state … as he saw the blood, the dirt …
Big green emerald-eyes caught his. - And something was off about those eyes …
Anyways … Sam rushed forward and closed his mate into a tight embrace. Dean returned the hug, blowing a relieved breath out, burying his face in the curve of Sam's neck.
That was when Ellen appeared on the stairs, her eyes widening as she saw Sam and the messed up figure in his arms.
„Sam.", she said in a kind of warning tone, a spike of panic riding its edges.
The human looked up.
So did the man in his arms.
But instead of a friendly smile, or a relieved expression on his face … he wore something more wicked, more dangerous … more WRONG. Just not what he should've looked like. The male glared at her triumphantly. A spark of contempt crossing his face.
Ellen drew in a long breath through her nose, her eyes narrowing, her hand slipping behind her back, reaching for the knife's hilt she wore on her at every time.
Sam instantly sensed a shift in the air. Sensed that the man in his arms was different. That this man … that he wasn't Dean, was he?
But the realization hit him too late. - Before he knew it, the man turned the both of them around, shoving Sam aside and a shot rang out. A pained female cry was heard behind Sam.
It was the moment as he tried to break free of the other male's hold on his wrist, where he held him tight now. The moment as he felt a pinch in his back and everything blurred. Within seconds his knees became jello, his mind fuzzy, his body disobedient.
That was when his legs gave out and he hit the floor – hard. When he saw a face hovering over him. Emerald-green eyes that seemed to shift into white silver ones for a moment before everything went dark around him.
…... to be continued
wohahahahahaaaaaaaaaaaa :P