Chapter 4: Metamorphosis
The warehouse they'd chosen for this particular job creaked threateningly in the wind, and the ceiling had more holes than a slice of Swiss cheese, but it was good enough for their purposes. The demon trap they had painted on the floor was at no real risk from anything - it was a beautifully clear night, no clouds in the sky, and so the chances of rain were infinitesimally small. Sam stood directly opposite the demon they were holding captive. He'd refused to say anything useful so far; instead, he'd spent the whole time giving snide remarks.
"Where's Lilith?"
"Kiss my ass."
"I'd watch myself if I were you."
"Why? Huh? Because you're Sam Winchester, Mr. Big Hero? And yet here you are, slutting around with some demon. Real hero."
"Shut your mouth."
"Tell me about those months without your brother. About all the things you and this demon bitch do in the dark."
At that remark, he'd jerked his head in the direction of Ruby, and Sam felt anger bubble up inside him.
"Huh? Tell me, hero."
Unable to hold back any longer, he reached a hand out and concentrated, pulling the demon from the host and sending it plummeting back down to hell. As the last vestiges of the black smoke seeped through the dirt he took a breath, shaking a little.
Ruby smiled softly at him, and he couldn't help but smile back.
They were so caught up in each other that neither of them noticed the figures watching them through the cracked window in the opposite wall.
Outside, Dean's fists were twitching as Jophiel held him back, a hand twisted in the back of his shirt.
"I'm gonna kill him. He promised me-"
"Shut up, moron." He glared down, but the petite angel shot him a far fiercer look back. "He needs you to not be a jerk right now, okay? Seriously. I know you're pissed, and you have a right to be, but storming in there and flipping your lid is not gonna make anything better."
He took a couple of deep breaths, feeling the rage subside a little.
"We can't just go in there and play all nicey-nicey like what he's doing is normal."
"We aren't doing anything. You're going to go in there and talk to him. Find out how he's rationalizing this in his head, because there has to be something. Some kind of thought process that makes him comfortable with doing this."
"Wait, you're not coming in?"
She shook her head, and in the light of the dusty bulb above he saw a faint star-burst scar across the left side of her forehead. "It's not a good idea. If the demons have caught on to this, the fact he's with one of their own might keep them at bay for a while. But adding an angel into the mix will probably bring them all flooding in, and we can't handle that kind of carnage right now. I'm sorry, Dean. But you have to sort this out on your own for now."
He nodded, took another deep breath, and moved towards the door. She watched him go, guilt twisting in her stomach.
There was no way she could tell him the truth - that what Sam was doing to achieve this power set off every instinct she had. That every thread of her grace was telling her to destroy him.
Nervous, Sam moved to untie the man, putting his fingers to his neck to check for a pulse. His smile brightened a little at the sensation of the man's blood thrumming strongly under his fingers, and Ruby matched his expression.
"How'd it feel?"
"Good. No more headaches."
"None? That's good."
A soft groan alerted them to the fact their hostage was regaining consciousness, and they moved to help him to his feet.
"Hey, hey. I got you. It's all right. I'm gonna get you some medical help, okay?"
They made it as far as the edge of the demon trap before the door swung open, revealing a visibly pissed Dean.
"So... Anything you wanna tell me, Sam?"
He passed the man off to Ruby as his older brother stormed closer.
"Dean, hold on, okay? Just let me-"
"You gonna say, "let me explain"? You're gonna explain this? How about this? Why don't you start with who she is, and what the hell is she doing here?" It had taken him a few moments to recall the brunette's face when they had been standing outside, but now he was confident. Sam was standing with the same girl that he had very casually brushed off in the motel when they had been reunited. Her presence here - and Jophiel's comment about demons - had put an idea in his mind, but he wanted to be absolutely sure before he ganked the bitch.
Ruby set the man down on the floor, and smiled at Dean as she straightened up.
"It's good to see you again, Dean."
"Ruby?" He shot a look at Sam. "Is that Ruby?"
Her smile started to fade as he lunged, grabbing her knife and pinning her against the wall. Before he could sink the blade into her chest, Sam grabbed him by the wrist.
"Don't!"
The struggle for the knife ended in Sam taking it, Dean throwing Sam against the wall, and Ruby pulling Dean away to pin him down with a hand on his throat. Sam tugged at her arm.
"Ruby! Stop it!"
She held the chokehold for a few moments longer before letting go, still fuming. Dean stretched his neck and looked between them, ice in his stare.
"Well, aren't you an obedient little bitch?"
She tensed, and Sam put himself between them.
"Ruby. Ruby, he's hurt. Go."
Shooting a last glare at Dean, she moved to help the man to his feet again and led him towards the door.
"Where the hell do you think you're going?"
She pulled a face at him. "The ER... unless you want to go another round first." And left, leaving the two of them alone.
Sam sighed. "Dean."
But his brother simply stormed out of the room.
"Dean!"
Sam was the first to arrive back at the motel, and he got himself comfortable at the table with a book, assuming that after a few hours' drive, Dean would have calmed down enough for them to have a rational discussion. How very wrong he was. Dean walked into the room without a word and grabbed his bag, packing silently as Sam got to his feet.
"Dean, what are you doing?" Nothing. "What, are you, are you leaving?"
He scoffed. "You don't need me. You and Ruby go fight demons."
Finished, he headed for the door, but Sam blocked his path.
"Hold on. Dean, come on, man."
Full force, Dean threw a punch that landed right across Sam's cheek with an awful thud and sent him staggering backwards. He righted himself, holding his face.
"You satisfied?"
Dean simply went for another punch before tossing his bag down and pacing across the room. Sam raised a hand to his lip and felt wetness there, and tasted blood on his tongue.
"I guess not."
"Do you even know how far off the reservation you've gone? How far from normal? From human?"
"I'm just exorcising demons."
"With your mind!" He roared back. Remembering Jophiel's words, he took a breath, and spoke more calmly. "What else can you do?"
"I can send them back to hell. It only works with demons, and that's it."
"What else can you do?!"
"I told you!"
He laughed in disbelief. "And I have every reason in the world to believe that."
"Look, I should have said something. I get that, I do." Dean stopped, his back to him. "I'm sorry, Dean. I am. But try to see the other side here."
Dean turned to face him again, incredulity creasing his features.
"The other side?"
"I'm pulling demons out of innocent people."
"Use the knife!"
"The knife kills the victim! What I do, most of them survive! Look, I've saved more people in the last five months than we save in a year."
"That what Ruby want you to think? Huh? Kind of like the way she tricked you into using your powers?" He shook his head. "Slippery slope, brother. Just wait and see. Because it's gonna get darker and darker, and God knows where it ends."
Sam shrugged. "Well, I'm not gonna let it go too far."
Taking a swipe at the lamp on the side table, Dean groaned in frustration - and Sam was surprised to see tears building in his eyes.
"It's already gone too far, Sam. If I didn't you know... I would wanna hunt you."
Those five words almost stopped his heart.
"And so would other hunters."
He struggled for words for a moment. "You were gone. I was here. I had to keep on fighting without you. And what I'm doing... It works."
"Well, tell me. If it's so terrific... then why'd you lie about it to me? Why did angels tell me to stop you?"
Sam frowned, shocked. "What?"
"Cas said that if I don't stop you, he will. And Jophiel stood outside that room with me and watched, and I could see fear in her eyes, Sam. Fear."
"Wait, she was there? Why didn't she come in…"
"Oh think about it, will you? What you're doing is bad enough to scare one angel and make another threaten you. See what that means, Sam? That means that God doesn't want you doing this. So, are you just gonna stand there and tell me everything is all good?"
Silence fell, both brothers teary eyed as they each processed Dean's words.
And then a phone rang. The two of them jumped, and Sam fumbled in his pockets to dig out his cell.
"Hello?"
He pinched the bridge of his nose and took a few breaths, desperately trying to collect himself.
"Hey, Travis. Yeah, hey. Uh, It's good to hear your voice, too, yeah. Um, look, it's not a really good time right now. It's-"
He listened for a moment. "Yeah, okay. Uh, well, just give me the details, and, uh.. Carthage, Missouri."
Grabbing a takeout menu from the table, he scribbled a few details down on the back.
"Looking for Jack Montgomery. Okay."
Ending the phone call, he looked over at Dean where he leant against the wall. Neither of them needed to speak in order for them to know what they were going to do next.
Propped up on the hill overlooking the Montgomery residence, Travis watched the couple eat their dinner. Jack's focus was locked onto the plate as he shoveled the food into his mouth, chewing and swallowing over and over again. Michelle, his wife, watched on - a frown creasing her forehead. He couldn't hear what they were saying, but the binoculars magnified things just enough that he could mostly lip-read the conversation.
"Jack, are you stoned?"
He answered through a mouthful of mashed potato. "What? It's good, I'm starving. Is there- is there dessert?"
She smiled fondly at him. "It just so happens."
She got up, and he reached for the bowl of mashed potato and spooned the remaining contents onto his plate, before setting eyes on the meat that was left on her plate.
"Hey, babe?"
She stuck her head around the door frame. "Yeah?"
"Are you gonna finish your steak?"
"You're kidding, right? You've had two already."
"I don't know, I'm just... hungry." Without waiting for a proper answer, he dug his knife into the middle of the steak and pulled it over to his own plate.
"Or you have tapeworm."
"Please. I never felt better."
He went back to eating, and Travis smiled to himself. He knew he was right about this one.
Still feeling a little hungry, now that he thought about it, Jack Montgomery stood in the bathroom in his boxers and dressing gown, brushing his teeth. As he moved to spit the toothpaste out, his knees buckled and he grunted, clinging to the edge of the sink as pain rippled through his bones like a tidal wave. He heard a disgusting crunching sound and the pain tripled, sending him to his knees on the floor. A horrific sensation ran up and down his spine, as though every vertebra beneath his skin was straining to break free, pulling away from its neighboring bones and rending muscles and flesh apart. He groaned, sweat pouring down his face, as the pain soared in crescendo until every fibre of him felt like it was on fire. And then it stopped. As suddenly as it had struck, the feeling vanished. He got to his feet, trembling, and looked at himself in the mirror. Aside from the sweat beading on his forehead, there was nothing to indicate that anything had just happened to him. He moved to feel his back: it felt as smooth as it ever had done. No deformities, no broken skin, nothing.
It was like nothing had happened at all.
Sam's jaw was practically on the floor of the Impala as they zoomed through the darkening sunset, mind spinning in a thousand directions. Dean had just finished recounting his experience in 1973, and every little detail had made a million questions take form in his brain.
"I can't believe it. Mom, a hunter?"
Dean shrugged. "I wouldn't have believed it either if I hadn't seen it myself. That woman could kick some ass. I mean, she almost took me down."
"How'd she look? I mean... was she happy?"
"Yeah, she was awesome. Funny and smart. So hopeful."
"Dad, too. Until of course…"
He trailed off, and Sam sighed.
"What?"
"Nothing." He was quiet for a moment, then huffed. "It's just, our parents. And now we find out… our grandparents too? Our whole family murdered and for what? So Yellow Eyes could get in my nursery and bleed in my mouth?"
Dean opened his mouth to answer, and then closed it again. Big alarm bells were ringing in the back of his mind, and for a moment he couldn't quite work out why. Then it hit him - he hadn't mentioned that bit of information. He'd spared that one little detail, thinking it would upset Sam too much to hear. But clearly he'd already been aware of it.
"Sam, I never said anything about demon blood. You knew about that?"
Avoiding his gaze, Sam nodded.
"Yeah, for about a year."
"A whole year?" Dean fought to keep his eyes on the road as a multitude of emotions swamped him.
"I should have told you. I'm sorry."
"You've been saying that a lot lately, Sam. But whatever. You don't want to tell me, you don't have to. It's fine."
"Dean." Sam looked over, but his brother was dead set on watching the horizon. "Whatever."
When they finally got back to doing what they were best at - hunting the things that go bump in the night - the tension between them settled. But only a little. There were still things that needed talking about, of course, but they could put it on the back burner for now, seeing as they had something to keep them occupied. They lurked in the shadows cast by the verdant hedges surrounding the house, and listened closely as they watched through the open window.
Jack trotted into the kitchen, looking thoughtful.
"Hey, babe. When's dinner?"
"45 minutes."
He ducked to rifle through the fridge. "I'm starving!"
"Jack, a delicious, unmicrowaved, non-takeout, homemade meal is coming."
He grabbed a beer and popped it open against the countertop.
Muscles cramping from crouching for so long, Dean nudged Sam.
"Are you sure that's him?"
Sam shrugged. "Only Jack Montgomery in town."
"And we're looking for…"
"Travis said to keep an eye out for anything weird."
"Weird?"
"Yeah."
"Alright, well, yeah, I've seen big weird, little weird, weird with crazy on top. But this guy? I mean, come on, this guy's boring."
"I don't know, Dean. Travis seemed pretty sure."
They watched as he leant against the centre island, taking a few swigs of his beer and looking thoughtful. He opened the fridge again and grabbed a leftover chicken, taking small bites at first before eating with more gusto, soon ramming handfuls of meat into his mouth. And when the carcass was down to the bones, he tossed it aside and took a tray of raw ground meat instead, the red flesh dripping through the gaps in his fingers as he rammed the meat down his throat. Every few moments he glanced back over his shoulder, wary of his wife walking in.
Watching from their little hideaway, the boys had matching looks of disgust on their faces. Sam nodded, unable to take his eyes off the scene.
"Yeah, I'd say that qualifies as weird."
Upon returning to the motel, the brothers found that they had company. A man nearer their father's age sat at the little table in the corner, a beer in hand. Sam grinned at the sight, glad to have someone to talk to that wasn't Dean.
"Travis. Hey man."
Dean nudged him as he moved to throw his stuff onto his bed. "See, Sam. Told you we should have hid the beer."
Rolling his eyes, Travis got to his feet and pulled Dean into a hug.
"Smartass. Get over here. Ahh, it's good to see you."
"You too."
Then he moved to hug Sam. "Good to see you."
"You too, Travis."
"Man, you got tall, kid. How long has it been?"
"Ah, gotta be 10 years."
There was a thoughtful, slightly shit eating grin on Travis' face.
"You still a.. oh, what was it... a mathlete?"
Sam elected to ignore Dean's snorts of laughter.
"No."
"Yep, sure is."
"Been too long, boys. I mean, look at you. Grown men. John would have been damn proud of you. Sticking together like this."
They eyed each other, and Dean shrugged. "Yeah. Yeah, we're as thick as thieves. Nothing more important than family."
"Sorry I'm late for the dance. Thanks for helping out an old man. I'm a little, uh, shorthanded." He gestured to the cast covering his right arm with a laugh. "So, you track down Montgomery?"
Sam nodded. "Yeah, we found him at his home."
"And?"
Dean pulled a face. "Well, he had a hell of a case of the munchies, topped off with a burger he forgot to cook."
"That's him alright."
"What's him?"
"Boys, we got a rougarou on our hands."
"A rougarou?" He frowned at Sam, who looked just as clueless as he felt. "Is that made up? That sounds made up."
Travis shook his head.
"They're mean, nasty little suckers. Rotted teeth, wormy skin, the works."
"Well, that ain't this guy. I mean, he was wearing a cellphone on his belt."
"He'll turn ugly soon enough. They start out human, for all intents and purposes."
Sam frowned. "So, what? They go through some kind of metamorphosis?"
"Yep, like a maggot turning into a bull fly. But most of all, they're hungry."
"Hungry for what?"
"At first, for everything, but then... for long pig."
Sam paled, and Dean shook his head.
"Long pig?"
"He means human flesh."
"And that is my word of the day."
Travis continued. "Hunger grows in till they can't fight it. Till they got to take themselves a big, juicy chomp, and then it happens."
"What happens?"
"They transform completely and fast. One bite's all it takes. Eyes, teeth, skin; all turns. No going back either. They feed once, they're a monster forever. And our man Jack's headed there on a bullet train."
Dean felt sorry for the guy - if he had no idea what was happening to him, it must have been terrifying to live through. "Well, how'd you find this guy if he's still a walking, talking human?"
"Let's just say it runs in his family."
"You mean, uh…"
"Killed his daddy back in '78. Son of a bitch mangled 8 bodies before I put him down. Guy used to be a dentist. Cadillac, trophy wife... Little did I know, pregnant trophy wife. She put the boy up for adoption. By the time I found out, he was long gone, lost in the system."
Sam raised an eyebrow. "You mean to tell me you couldn't find someone? You?"
Travis sighed, running his unbroken hand over his face.
"I'm not sure I wanted to. The idea of hunting down some poor kid... I don't think I'd have the heart. No. I wanted to wait, make damn sure I had the right man. Apparently, I do."
As morning came and Sam went out to grab some food, Dean and Travis hunched over the little table in the motel room, making adjustments to the little gas canisters they had acquired. Dean grimaced.
"So fire, huh?"
"The only way I found to kill these bastards; deep-fry 'em."
"Well, that's gonna be... horrible. Is that what you did to Jack's dad?"
"Uh-huh." Travis got up, dusted his hands off, and stretched his arms. "Think I've got another one of these in the truck. The bigger our arsenal, the better our chances. Keep going with that one." And he strolled out of the room. Dean sat there, quietly tinkering with the metal for a few moments before a slight cough made him look up, startled. Jophiel was sitting cross-legged on the windowsill, poking at the gas canisters with an uncomfortable look on her face.
"This seems pretty harsh."
He took a moment to regain his breath. "What, are you guys allergic to saying hello, or something?"
She wrinkled her nose. "It's not my fault if you don't use your eyes."
He sighed. "Why are you here?"
"Checking in. Making sure you're all okay."
"And you couldn't do that when the others were here?"
You know I can't." She slid to her feet, threadbare jeans creating a soft sound as they moved past the wallpaper. "As much as I want to. Somehow I think your friend Travis is a bit too old school to be comfortable seeing me as anything other than some creature to hunt. And… it's not that I don't trust Sam, I just-" She stopped, eyes darting to the door, and Dean realised that he could hear footsteps.
The door swung open, and Sam and Travis came in, clearly mid debate. Seeing the look on his face, Sam frowned.
"You okay, Dean?"
"Yeah, we-" He turned back to face the angel again, but the space where she had been standing was empty. Of course it was. "I'm fine, Sammy. What's going on with you two anyway?"
Travis huffed. "No time to waste. The guy hulks out, we won't be finding bodies, just remains."
Sam laid the papers he'd been holding on the table and fanned them out.
"What if he doesn't hulk out? I did a little homework. Uh, I've been checking out the lore on rougarous."
"What? My 30 years of experience not good enough for you?"
He paled a little. "What? No. No, I-I- I just wanted to be prepared. I mean, not that you didn't…"
Dean rolled his eyes and jumped to his little brother's rescue. "Sam loves research. He does. He keeps it under his mattress right next to his KY. It's a sickness. It is. I've tried to stage an intervention before, but no luck.
Relieved (and also mildly infuriated by his brother's choice of words), Sam continued.
"Look, everything you said checked out, of course, but uh. I found a couple of interesting stories about people who have this rougarou gene or whatever. See, they start to turn, but they never take the final step."
"Really?"
"See, if they never eat human flesh, they don't fully transform."
"So what? Go vegan, stay human?"
"Basically. Or in this case, eat a lot of raw meat, just not…"
"Long pig."
"Right."
Dean grinned, proud of himself for remembering the interesting phrasing. Travis looked between them and sighed.
"Good on you for the due diligence, Sam. But those are fairy tales." He got to his feet again and moved to pour himself another cup of coffee. "Fact is, every rougarou I ever saw or heard of... took that bite."
Sam shrugged. "Okay, well, that doesn't mean that Jack will."
"So what do we do? Sit and hope and wait for a body count?"
"No, we talk to him. Explain what's happening. That way he can fight it."
"Fight it?" He scoffed. Are you kidding me? You ever been really hungry? I mean, haven't-eaten-in-days hungry?"
Dean thought for a second. "Yeah."
"Yeah. Right then. So somebody slaps a big, juicy sirloin in front of you, you walking away?"
It didn't take him long to come to an answer. He shook his head, shooting a slightly apologetic look at Sam as he did so.
Travis smiled smugly. "That's what we are to him now, meat on legs. I'm sorry. I'm sure he's a stand-up guy, but it's pure, base instinct. Everything in nature's gotta eat. You think he can stop himself 'cause he's nice?"
Sam took a moment to think.
"I don't know. But we're not gonna kill him unless he does something to get killed for."
Seeing the look on Dean's face - and the way Travis looked between them - he decided that he wasn't willing to have that conversation now. So he took a few deep breaths and walked out of the room, lingering just outside the doorway to see what they said.
"What's up with your brother?"
"Don't get me started."
Jack stood in the doorway to the kitchen, watching Michelle as she made herself a drink. Her middle finger on her right hand was thickly bandaged, and the memory of the accident the night before lanced through his brain in vivid clarity. Her pained gasp as the knife slipped. The clatter of the knife dropping to the floor. The trails of sweet, rich, crimson blood that worked their way down her arm. He'd made a run for it, an unpleasant feeling taking over his body. Fear at the sight of blood - but also, horrifically, mixed with hunger pangs. The sight had made him ravenous. His shoes squeaked a little on the kitchen floor, and she turned to look at him, startled.
"God. You scared me."
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to sneak up on you. How are you feeling?"
She set the mug down and folded her arms across her chest.
"I'm feeling pissed, Jack. I had to drive myself to the hospital last night. I was there until 2."
"I'm so sorry."
"What happened?"
He shrugged, running a hand across his face. "I don't know. I saw your blood and I-I... got dizzy, and I just had to get out."
Her face softened a little, but she was clearly still upset. "Well, you could have called. I left you a dozen messages."
"I know. My phone died. I couldn't find a payphone. I... it was a mess. But I am... sorry. And I promise it won't ever happen again. Certainly. Not to a wife as stunning as you." He wrapped his arms around her and kissed the side of her head, feeling the remaining tension in her muscles slip away as she nuzzled into him.
"Better not. I swear, you know. One little cut. Blood's never bothered you before."
"Well... I've changed."
He kissed her properly, and she raised an eyebrow when she pulled away.
"This doesn't get you off the hook, you know. No, no. Think, think diamonds. Think Kobe-sized."
He grinned, walking her backwards until her hips met the kitchen counter, and lifted her to sit on the cool surface. She giggled, clinging to his shoulders.
"What has gotten into you?"
"I don't know."
He moved his lips to her neck, nipping at the soft skin every so often. At first, she sighed with delight at his movements, but as he started to use a little more force she felt a pit forming in her stomach.
"Hey, Jack. Just slow down."
He didn't answer, tangling a hand in her hair.
"Jack. Jack, I mean it. Stop."
His free hand moved to her thigh, pushing at the edge of her thin nightgown, and she pushed him firmly away.
"Jack - Ow! Jack! Stop! Stop it!"
He finally paused, and she jumped down from the counter, putting a few feet of distance between them. She was shaking, and he stood there looking at his hands in shock.
"You son of a bitch."
"I'm sorry. Oh, God, I'm so-"
"What the hell is wrong with you?"
"I don't know. I don't know."
"All right, so we're gonna go have a little chat with this guy, which, you know... I'm down. But I just want to make sure, if push comes, you're gonna shove."
Sam frowned, turning to watch Dean as he kept his eyes on the road. He had a feeling he knew why his brother had saved this conversation for when Travis had gone off on his own.
"Meaning?"
"Well, odds are we're gonna have to burn this guy alive."
"This guy has a name and a wife."
"Yeah, who we're probably gonna make a widow, okay? I mean, you heard Travis. He's gonna turn. They always turn."
"Well, maybe he won't. Maybe he can fight it off."
"And maybe he can't, that's all I'm saying."
"All right, we'll just have to see then, okay?"
"This is what I mean, Sam. You sure your emotions aren't getting in the way here?"
"What are you talking about?"
"You know, nice dude, but he's got something evil inside. Something in his blood. Maybe you can relate."
Sam felt something snap inside him. "Stop the car."
"What?"
"Stop the car or I will!"
Dean pulled over, but the car was still rolling forward a little as Sam clambered out, fuming. Dean followed him out of the car, barely closing the door before Sam exploded.
"You want to know why I've been lying to you, Dean? Because of crap like this!"
"Like what?"
"The way you talk to me, the way you look at me like I'm a freak!"
"I do not."
"You know, or even worse, like I'm an idiot! Like I don't know the difference between right and wrong!"
Dean scoffed, visibly struggling to get the words out.
"What?"
"Do you know the difference, Sam? I mean, you've been kind of strolling a dark road lately."
He shook his head, jabbing a finger in his direction. "You have no idea what I'm going through. None."
"Then enlighten me!"
"I've got demon blood in me, Dean! This disease pumping through my veins, and I can't ever rip it out or scrub it clean! I'm a whole new level of freak! And I'm just trying to take this - this curse... and make something good out of it. Because I have to."
His outburst lef them both in silence for a moment, breathing heavily. As Sam stared down at the dust covering his boots, Dean managed to keep his tone calm.
"Let's just go talk to the guy. Jack. Okay?"
He managed the smallest of nods, and they got back into the car.
By the time they reached Jack's house, the tension had faded enough that they were able to present a united front, but was still very much lingering in the background. They crossed the garden and came to him where he stood watering the plants, but he didn't seem to be entirely aware of their presence.
"Jack Montgomery?"
Sam's words made him look around, blinking a little in confusion.
"I'm Sam Winchester. This is my brother; Dean. We need to talk."
Jack frowned. "About?"
"About you. About how you're changing."
"Excuse me?"
Dean shot the man a sympathetic look that Sam almost believed - until his brother opened his mouth. "You're probably feeling your bones move under your skin. And your appetite's reaching, you know, "hungry hungry hippo" levels. How am I doing so far?"
"Who the hell are you guys?"
"We're people who know a little something about something."
Sam held out a placating hand. "We're people who can help. Please, just hear us out."
The man looked between them for a moment, uneasy, and nodded.
"Okay."
He regretted agreeing to the discussion the moment they started talking, and half an hour later once they'd got everything out in the open he was still shaking his head in disbelief.
"A-a what?"
Dean nodded. "A rougarou. Sounds made-up, I know, but believe me, it's not."
"Alright, I've noticed certain things. I mean, some strange things. But I just, I-I don't know. I'm.. I'm sick or something."
Sam sighed. "Your father was one of these things. Your real father. He passed it on to you."
"No. Are-are you guys listening to yourselves? You s-sound like you're-"
Dean huffed. "Skip the whole "you guys sound crazy", shall we? We've heard it all before and it ain't been true yet. You're hungry, Jack. You're only gonna get hungrier."
"Hungrier for?"
"Long pig. You know, a little manburger helper, may have crossed your mind already."
"No."
Sam nudged his brother in the ribs discreetly, cursing his lack of tact. "It doesn't have to be like this, Jack. You can fight it off."
"No."
"Others have."
Dean begrudgingly tried to stick to the slightly less abrasive approach. "We're not gonna lie to you, though. It's not gonna be easy. You're gonna feel like an alcoholic swimming around in whiskey. But I'm telling you. You gotta say no... or-"
"Or what?"
"You feed once, and it's all over. And then we'll have to stop you."
Jack swallowed. "Stop me? My dad, did uh, somebody stop him?"
"Yes."
His lips twitched into a scowl. "Get off my property right now. I see you guys again, I'm calling the cops."
Sam tried again. "Jack, your wife, everybody you know, they're in danger."
"Now!"
A neighbour was now watching them from his own garden, attention caught by the raised voices, and the brothers accepted that they hadn't won this fight. They headed back to their car, Sam looking glum. Dean patted him on the back.
"Good talk."
Jack watched as they drove off, not feeling truly safe until their car had disappeared from view.
They had stayed close enough to watch and far enough to not be seen as Jack left the house, following him in the growing twilight as he made his way through town. He stopped at a bench and flopped down, staring at his phone for a moment before listening to the voicemail he'd received.
"Jack, I don't know where you are but you're scaring me. Come home. We need to talk. Please?"
He closed his phone and slid it back into a pocket before staring up at the building ahead. On one of the higher floors, where she probably believed she was safe from prying eyes, a young woman was getting changed with the curtains open. He watched, eyes raking over the curves of her body as she bent to look through her drawers. His viewing was interrupted, however, when she pulled the curtains closed. He frowned, got to his feet, and moved towards the building.
Safely tucked in the Impala, the brothers groaned.
"Damn it. Jack. No."
Dean reached into the back seat and retrieved the flamethrowers, handing one to Sam as they made their move.
"Come on."
By the time they reached the main entrance, Jack was up on the fire escape outside another of the windows to her apartment, and they knew they were running out of time. They hurried inside, hoping that they would get upstairs before he could do anything that would mean they had to use their weapons.
Once they had worked out the layout of the building it wasn't hard to find the right apartment, and they kicked the door down, canisters at the ready. The young woman had just been leaving her bedroom, now in cosy pyjamas, and she screamed, darting back into her room and locking the door.
"Wait!"
The two of them stopped in the doorway, baffled. Sam shrugged.
"Whoa, uh, we're here to save you, I guess."
"I'm calling the police!"
"We should go."
Dean nodded. "Yeah."
There was no sign that Travis had ever made it inside the building - which was an incredibly good thing, but also rather embarrassing for them. They hurried out, making the effort to close the door behind them. Not that it made much difference; their kicks had smashed the lock to smithereens.
Jack unlocked the front door and sauntered in, a newfound energy coursing through his body like fire. He was home. He felt good. And he knew what he had to do next.
"Michelle! I'm home!"
The only response he got from the house was the rhythmic ticking of the old clock in the study.
"Hey, babe? Are you here?"
A muffled sound from the living room made him turn, and his heart stopped. Michelle was tied to one of their dining chairs, a thick gag smothering half her face. As he moved to help her, she screamed, shaking her head and staring at something over his shoulder.
"Michelle! It's okay, I'm here, I-"
Without warning, a strong arm snaked around his neck and a piece of foul smelling cloth was clamped over his nose and mouth.
The next thing he knew, he awoke with his arms cuffed to the stair railing. He tugged at his restraints, but there was no give in the metal, and he eventually gave up. Michelle's chair had been moved closer to where he was sitting, and he met her gaze. Tears had soaked the top edge of the fabric that gagged her, and she was shaking violently.
"Michelle?"
And then their attacker appeared. He was a surprisingly small man, considering his grip strength, and one arm was swamped by a white plaster cast. But the look on his face made Jack shudder a little - this man was a predator. He moved to stand between them, blocking his view of his wife. Jack nodded, cringing back a little as he got closer.
"Okay. We're gonna stay calm. We're gonna give this man whatever he wants. Anything. Just take it and go, please."
Travis shook his head, moving towards Michelle.
"I'm sorry about this, Jack. I truly am. It's not the way that I wanted it to go." He loosened her gag, and the sound of her softly exhausted sobs filled the room. Jack suddenly felt a deep fear wash over him - this was no normal robber, he thought.
"Who are you?"
"You already met some friends of mine. Two brothers?"
He felt his jaw drop a little. "They said that if I… Look, I haven't hurt anybody."
"Not yet, but you would've. They always do. I'm doing you a favor, son."
Michelle looked between them, fresh tears wetting her face.
"Jack, what's he talking about?"
He found himself unable to give her an answer, and Travis looked down at him with a look almost akin to pity.
"Tell her, Jack. Tell her the truth. She deserves to know."
"Just let her go. She's not a part of this."
She seemed to have stopped crying now - her confusion was overriding her terror, at least for the moment. "A part of what? Jack?! What's he talking about?"
Travis shook his head. "I really do apologize, but she is a part of it."
"What?"
"Michelle... tell him what you told me when I got here."
A dreadful realisation settled over her face as she recalled the first horrifying moments that had happened when she had found the intruder. Jack saw her face change, and frowned.
"Michelle?"
"I said... "Don't hurt me... because I'm pregnant"." Her voice cracked and she hung her head, silently weeping as Jack turned to beg with the man. He didn't have any other ideas.
"J-just hold on a minute."
"Now you see the mess we're in? I can't make this mistake all over again. I won't be around in 30 years, this has got to end now. I know you don't believe me, but I'd give anything not to have to do this."
"No. No. No.."
He strained against the cuffs once again, pulling at them more forcefully as Travis produced a bottle full of gasoline and a lighter. Michelle saw these weapons too, and started to shriek.
"Oh God! Please don't!"
"You don't have to do this! If you want to kill me, kill me, but not my wife. Okay? I'm begging you."
Travis shrugged. "Ain't got no choice. My condolences." He moved in slow circles around Michelle's chair, pouring the petrol onto the carpet.
This act made something feral and alien snap inside Jack's chest, and he felt hot rage flood to his muscles. In a single movement, he pulled hard enough to snap the chain between the handcuffs and release himself, and lunged at the intruder, slamming him to the floor.
Michelle screamed as the man pinned her husband down, using the plaster-casted arm to throw heavy punches at his face.
"Jack!"
Her cry spurred him on, and he grabbed the cast hard enough to crack it, leaving the man howling in pain. Taking advantage of this, Jack moved to pin him down, a hand on his throat as he relished the feeling of blood pulsing against his grip. Without a second thought, he lunged down and sank his teeth into Travis' neck, groaning in relief as the meat that filled his mouth made his brain tingle with fire. He continued to chew at the man's joint even as his breathing stopped, only caring that he could fill his stomach with as much of the glorious flesh as possible. And then it was quiet.
He sat up, wiping absentmindedly at the blood smearing the lower half of his face before moving to Michelle's chair, not noticing the way she cringed away from him as he worked at her bonds. The moment the last rope fell she leapt to her feet, putting as much distance between them as possible.
"Stay away from me!"
"Michelle-"
But she had already bolted, and he quickly returned his attention to the cooling corpse.
Terrified that her husband - or the thing that he had become - was following, Michelle sprinted to her car, struggling to unlock the door for a few moments before her hands steadied enough to get the keys in the lock. She jumped into the driver's seat, eyes still blurred with tears, and slammed her foot on the gas, tyres screaming against the road as she drove as fast as she could. She had no idea where she was going to go. She just knew that it needed to be as far away as possible from this house of horrors - and the thing that currently resided there.
The boys pulled up in the Impala, registering the presence of the other familiar car near the house as they got out.
"I guess now we know where Travis is."
As Dean passed him the other flamethrower, Sam groaned.
"That stupid son of a bitch."
They reached the porch without much trouble, and the house looked pretty normal - that is, until they noticed that the front door wasn't properly closed. Dean took the lead, pushing the door open and stepping through to the hallway as Sam followed, both of them scanning the area within for any signs of a struggle. And immediately, their hearts sank. In the doorway to the living room, a chair lay on its side, surrounded by circles of rope. They moved towards it, stepped over it, and continued. A huge pool of blood was soaked into the carpet, saturating it enough that their shoes squelched as they toed around it. A thick trail of blood weaved across the floor and disappeared behind the couch, and the boys shared an apprehensive look. Nobody could survive losing that much blood. It just wasn't physically possible.
They walked around the couch, stopping as they saw the lump of meat that lay there. It was shapeless, with no discernible limbs or head, but what was there was easily the size of a human torso. Dean felt bile rise in his throat.
"Oh, God. Think that's Travis?"
Sam sighed. "What's left of him, yeah. Shit. Guess you were right about Jack."
Dena moved to respond - and suddenly went flying. Jack had jumped him from behind, smashing him through the coffee table. He was unconscious before he'd hit the floor.
"Dean!"
As Sam struggled to get his lighter, Jack wrestled the flamethrower from his other hand and slammed it into his head with a sickening thud.
And the world went black.
He had no idea how long he'd been unconscious when he eventually came round, blinking in the dim light that filtered through the slats in the closet door. Struggling to his feet, he tried the door handle, but it wouldn't budge.
"Dean?"
Jack's voice sounded thicker, hoarser than it had done when they'd last spoken.
"Dean can't come to the phone right now."
Sam slammed his hands against the door.
"Jack! If you hurt him, I swear to God!"
"Calm down! Your brother's alive. But he won't stay that way if you don't calm down."
He took a few deep breaths and tried again, keeping his voice steady.
"Alright, Jack. Listen. Open the door. We can figure this out, okay?"
Jack laughed, and the sound sent ice down Sam's spine. "We'll have ourselves a little brainstorming session, huh?"
"Jack. Please."
"I don't think so. After what you did?"
"What? What are you talking about?"
Jack sat with Dean's unconscious form at his feet, red tears trailing down his face as his anger flooded to the surface.
"You sent your friend here. He tried to burn my wife alive."
"What? Why?"
He paused for a second, thinking: if he had to ask, that means that their friend hadn't shared that little tidbit with them. Which meant he could protect her for just a little longer.
"He didn't say. I guess psychopaths don't have to explain themselves."
Inside the closet, Sam had found a wire coat hanger and bent it out of shape, and was currently using it as a makeshift lock pick.
"Listen to me. You gotta believe me. My brother and I, we never would have hurt her, okay?"
Jack wans't really listening any more. He was hyperfixated on the pool of blood that had formed on the floor by Dean's head, a shaking hand dipping against it and coating his fingers in the warm red liquid. He admired the way it shone in the light before sticking his fingers in his mouth, rolling his tongue over the digits and sucking them clean.
"Oh, God. I'm so hungry."
Sam continued to struggle at the lock, heart lea[ing with every click before falling as he realised that it hadn't fully opened.
"Jack, don't do this."
"I can't ever see my family again. You two... your friend. You made me into this!"
"No one's making you kill us. Listen to me. You got this dark pit inside you. I know." He stopped working at the lock for a moment, resting his head against the door and closing his eyes as he fought with the emotions that bubbled at the surface of his mind.
"Believe me, I know. But that doesn't mean you have to fall into it. You don't have to be a monster."
A soft warm weight, like a blanket fresh out of the dryer, settled over his shoulders, and calm washed through his veins. He took a breath, opened his eyes, and returned to the lock, feeling stronger than he had done a moment before.
Had he thought to turn around in the little space, he would have come face to face - well, face to chest, really, given the height difference - with Jophiel for just a fraction of a second. But before he could truly register the presence of another life in that tiny space, she was gone.
Jack was clawing at his arms, drawing blood with every swipe of his nails but not registering the pain.
"Have you seen me lately?"
"It doesn't matter what you are. It only matters what you do. It's your choice."
Pain rippled through his abdomen, and he felt saliva flood his mouth as he examined Dean's skin again. He put a hand on the man's shoulder as he started to stir, enthralled by the feeling of his heart racing under his skin, and felt the world around him fade away as his focus settled on his next meal.
The sound of a door slamming broke the spell, and he looked up to see Sam - with one of the gas canisters in hand.
"Jack!"
He sat there for a moment, dead still. The two men watched each other, waiting for one to make their move so the other could respond in turn. Jack shifted into a crouched position, then lunged, leaping over a now awake Dean and heading for Sam. Dean turned his head to watch, flinching back a little as the lighter in Sam's hand clicked and the DIY flamethrower roared into life, bathing Jack in jets of fire.
He scrambled back as Jack fell to the floor, writhing in pain for a few moments before finally falling still. As the flames began to die down, revealing the charred hunk on the floor that had once been a man, Dean locked eyes with Sam - and the pain in his brother's eyes was immense.
As they roared down the road, Sam stared out of the window as Dean tried - and failed - to gain any response from him. He turned the radio up as loud as he could, but his younger brother continued staring into the darkness as if nothing had changed. Sighing, he turned the volume down again, and went for the more mature option.
"You did the right thing, you know. That guy was a monster, there was no going back." Sam's head dropped a little, and he continued. "Sam, I wanna tell you I'm sorry. I've been kind of hard on you lately."
The look in his eyes when he lifted his head again was haunting, and his voice sounded like it was on the verge of cracking.
"Don't worry about it, Dean."
"It's just that your, uh, your psychic thing, it scares the crap out of me. And it's not just me, ok? Jophiel… she - look, it's not that she's avoiding you. She wanted me to make that very clear. She's worried that if demons hear that an angel's sniffing around you, they'll catch on and try to come after you. So it's for your safety, really."
"Look, if it's all the same... I'd really rather not talk about it."
Dean managed the tiniest of smiles, seeing an opportunity to lighten the mood a little.
"Wait a minute. What? You don't want to talk? You?"
But it fell flat. Sam's face remained neutral, the mood remained tense.
"There's nothing more to say. I can't keep explaining myself to you. I can't make you understand."
"Why don't you try?"
"I can't. Because this thing, this blood, it's not in you the way it's in me. It's just something I got to deal with."
"Not alone."
He didn't get a response for a long time, and had assumed the conversation was over until Sam sighed.
"Anyway, it doesn't matter. These powers... it's playing with fire. I'm done with them. I'm done with everything."
He glanced over at him. "Really?" The hope in Dean's voice sent a knife through his chest. "Well, that's a relief. Thank you."
Sam scoffed.
"Don't thank me. I'm not doing it for you. Or for the angels or for anybody. This is my choice."
And the conversation died once again.
See you soon, and happy reading!
Much love,
Azzie xx