"Sam! Sammy!"
Dean ran madly down the trail toward the sound of his brother's cry of pain. Their latest hunt of what they had thought was a solo werewolf but was apparently a whole pack had quickly become a clusterfuck. They had become separated when the group they were chasing had split, and it had taken some serious stamina to overtake and kill the two he had followed. Now attempting to retrace his steps and figure out where Sam was, he heard him cry out again, followed by an unearthly howl and several gunshots. Barreling out of a thicket into a clearing just as the moon emerged from behind the clouds, he halted in shock at the sight in front of him. Sam was sprawled on the ground, gripping his side, clearly hurt but alive. That was not what had him frozen, however…rather it was the man - ghost? - standing guard over him. Another body lay nearby, this one clearly a dead werewolf. Dean blinked, wondering if his eyes were playing tricks on him. Nope, still there. Gathering his wits as the man - or whatever - turned his gun towards him, he quickly lifted his hands to show he was no threat. He glanced around to confirm there was no other immediate danger, then slowly made his way across the meadow.
"Sammy?" he called, unasked questions in his voice.
"I'll live."
Dean was nearly within arms reach of the man at this point, but all he could do was stare. Then the man spoke.
"Hi guys...It's been a while. … Dean." glancing down, "Sam."
Finally Dean found his voice. "Henriksen. We thought you were dead…"
"Reports of my death have been greatly exaggerated." Henriksen drawled. "However, if we don't stop Sam's bleeding, his might not be." That spurred Dean into motion, and both men knelt down to care for Sam. Dean took in the deep, painful looking claw marks on Sam's side and immediately peeled off his flannel and pressed it into the wound to staunch the bleeding. Sam grunted, eyes closing, then opening again to stare into Dean's, both men reflecting the shock of the situation and the third man no crouched next to them. Henriksen smirked, "It's good to see you boys too. Now let's get out of here." Sam nodded, bracing as they lifted him to his feet. He cried out softly as they lifted his arms over their shoulders, trying gamely to walk but stumbling along.
"Where are we going?" Dean asked after a few minutes, glancing around at the endless trees and noticing the lightening of the sky. He sent up a silent thanks that they wouldn't have to worry about the remaining werewolves for now.
"I have a cabin I've been calling home nearby, believe it or not." Henriksen replied. They both felt Sam slump at that point as he lost his battle with consciousness, and they focused on getting him back to the cabin as quickly as possible.
Entering the rustic cabin, Dean eased Sam down onto the single bed that was pushed up against the back wall as Henriksen dug around for his first aid kit. He handed a bottle of liquor to Dean, who promptly took a swig and then poured it over the wounds to try to flush out particles and bacteria. Sam bucked on the bed, but Dean gently pressed him back down, settling him with some murmured words. With Henriksen handing him things as needed, Dean quickly and efficiently sewed up the deepest cuts and bandaged his side. After washing the blood off his hands, he perched on the side of the bed, hip pressed against Sam's leg and hand gently resting on his wrist, feeling the firm beat of his pulse. Too close. He thought, which then brought his thoughts back to the man handing him a beer and dropping wearily into a chair across from him.
"Thank you." he said softly, knowing Henriksen had saved his brother from grave injury, or worse. Not going there!
"Don't mention it." came the reply.
"I'm damn glad to see you alive, Henriksen, I am. But - "
"How?" He smirked back at Dean. "I'd like to know that myself."
"The others - "
"Dead, for real. Unfortunately." Both took a long swig of alcohol, sharing in the sorrow of loss. At that moment Dean felt Sam stir under his hand, and he turned his full focus to his brother. Henriksen watched the brother's shorthand conversation, full of silently expressed emotions. He had observed in previous encounters with the Winchesters just how deep their bond ran, yet he never ceased to be amazed by it.
"Dean?" came the groggy question, layered with unspoken words. Are you hurt? Where are we? Did we get them? What the hell - ?
"Here." I'm ok. You're going to be ok. Focus on that.
"You ok?" Sam said out loud, squinting and trying to look his brother over for injuries.
Dean stilled his restless movement with a gentle hand. "Fine. You?"
"I'm fine." Both Dean and Henriksen snorted at that response, which brought Sam's eyes to bear on their host.
"Yes, I'm really alive. No, I don't know how. Yes, unfortunately I'm the only one who survived. Now you're all caught up." he summarized in response to the questioning look on Sam's face. Sam looked back at Dean, more silent communication passing between them. After what must have been an unspoken argument, Dean sighed and reluctantly helped Sam slowly sit up, back propped on pillows against the wall. A cup of water appeared in front of him, and with help Sam drank it gratefully. Henriksen returned the glass to the sink and stood staring out the window, gripping the counter tightly, his thoughts obviously running rampant.
"Tell us." Sam commanded softly after a regarding the man's tense stance for a moment. Henriksen whirled and paced the small space, not really wanting to revisit those horrible hours, but knowing they needed answers. When it seemed like he wasn't going to answer Sam prodded further. "Henriksen - "
"I know." He sighed and resumed his seat, arms on knees, feeling both boys' eyes resting on him heavily. "It was awful. Lilith - she was… she looked like just a sweet little girl. Walked right into the sheriff's office and asked about you two. Then all of a sudden her eyes turned white, she held a hand out, there was a blinding light, and everything exploded…" He put his hands to his face, muffled slightly as he tried to block out the emotions flooding through him again. "I was tossed across the room, pinned out of sight under some debris. But the screams…Nancy…" he hopped up and resumed pacing. "Lilith took her time with them. I must have passed out again, but when I came to, everything was silent, it was raining, and I was alone." He stopped and dropped back into the chair once more, looking exhausted. "I have no idea why she didn't look for me, why she let me live. I got the hell out of there, ran as far as I could. When I saw the news reports, I decided that being dead had some advantages, so I found a place to hole up, heal, and started learning everything I could possibly learn about hunting. Been doing that ever since." Silence followed as they digested his words and felt again the pain of what had been done because of them.
"Henriksen…" Sam began helplessly.
"Victor. Sam, call me Victor."
"Victor, I am so sorry. This is all my fault…" Dean gave Sam a sharp look of reproof at that, but Victor spoke before he could add a verbal reprimand.
"It really isn't, Sam. The way I see it, is you boys are fighting a tide of evil, and it's not on you that they want you out of the way. I'm grateful for your willingness to get up again and again, fighting against all odds to protect this world from the darkness that threatens to overwhelm it." He paused, holding each of their gazes for a brief minute so they could see the truth in his words. "I'm just sorry I was a barrier and a thorn in your side for so long."
"Well, you're with us now." Dean responded, extending the olive branch once more.
"Indeed."
"So, the werewol -." Sam began, then gasped in pain as he moved the wrong way. Dean was immediately there to settle him and help him breathe through the pain. When he was able to focus again, there were some pills and another glass of water in front of him. He smiled his thanks and swallowed the pain meds gratefully.
"I killed two." Dean said, answering what Sam was trying to ask. "I know Victor got a third…"
"I took down two." Victor interjected, "No clue how many more in the pack though."
"We'll need to go out tonight, make sure there aren't any more." Sam stated, even as his eyes drooped, calling him to rest.
"WE aren't going anywhere." Dean scoffed. "Besides, there are two more nights before we're past this month's lunar cycle. We can afford a night off to rest and recover before resuming the hunt." Sam glared at his brother, but the effect was ruined by a huge yawn. Henriksen laughed at them both before standing up and grabbing his gun.
"I'll take first watch. You both get some rest." He knew Sam well enough already to know he would not settle if Dean went out hunting, and could see how torn Dean was between watching over his little brother and doing his job. He slipped out onto the porch, solving the problem for them. He more than owed them his life, he could do this small thing.
Back in the cabin, Dean stared at the door closing with mixed emotions. He knew he needed to be here for his own peace of mind, but also knew no matter how smart Henriksen was he was still relatively new to the hunting world. Sam's hand on his arm brought his eyes back around to him, asking silently what he needed.
"Dean, rest. I trust Henriksen will warn us if there's danger." Please don't leave me, his eyes added.
Dean regarded him for a moment, then helped him lower back down to be able to sleep. He walked across the cabin, knowing even as sleepy as he was Sam was tracking his every move. Grabbing an old quilt that had been across the back of a ratty couch, he laid it out on the floor and sank down on it. One more glance at Sam, making sure he actually closed his eyes this time, and then he laid out on the wooden floor. Something soft smacked him in the face, and he opened his eyes to find a pillow Sam had lobbed at him. Grinning softly but grumbling as expected, he gratefully laid his head on the pillow. He listened until he heard Sam's breathing even out into real sleep, and then allowed himself to join him in rest.
