I spun in circles around the camp, searching frantically for wherever Calliope had gone. She had disappeared wordlessly, without all the anger of Cassandra's wild form. The crowd dissipated just as quickly as it had formed, leaving me quite alone in the middle of camp.
Your first challenge, a voice rang out in my mind. I turned to face the white wolf, standing tall at the edge of the clearing, towering over the skinwalkers that passed by him, completely oblivious to his presence. I believe congratulations are in order.
That was no challenge, and certainly nothing worth congratulating, I growled back, and I swear I saw the wolf quirk a brow. Did you see where Calliope went?
No congratulations? the wolf said with a breathy laugh. He stalked forward until he was standing beside my shoulder and tipped his head so that his muzzle was beside my ear. The mark of an alpha is being able to control your subordinates. To end a fight without even shifting... I would say that is worth some pride.
I angled my own head to glare up at the wolf, a glint in his ruby eyes that I couldn't quite identify. I don't need to control them. I don't want them to fear me.
Of course not, he agreed with a dip of his massive head. But a good leader has power that no one else has. They have an unavoidable authority, one that few others want to trifle with.
Is that what you've been wanting me to learn? To have authority?
The white wolf hummed and turned to face the camp, ears pricked with interest as he watched the roving monsters, disappointed by the outcome of the fight. You are wasting your potential. I want you to learn to harness what you are.
I scowled at that and watched the camp with him. Many ducked to avoid my gaze, bruises still littering their skin from the abuse they had endured under their previous alpha. Class systems, abuse and a lust for power were not at all what I wanted to be known as. The wolf chuckled at that, nodding at my thoughts in acknowledgement.
Fear is a tool, not a weapon. With fear comes respect. His tail swished wildly once, twice, and he licked his white lips. They do not respect you beyond your title. Perhaps your handling of this fight will be your first step to winning them over. Once more, he turned his head to meet my gaze, a wry grin twisting on his lips. So, I believe congratulations are in order.
Sure, whatever. Congratulate me after I figure out what the fuck is going, I grumbled and stalked off towards the camp. Towards the edge of the rows of tents, closest to the town, was a small half-circle of tents that housed my closest companions, the original members of my once meager pack.
Scenting the air while still in my human form felt odd, nose tipped up to the air in the hopes of catching the scent of a crisp mountain winter, fir trees and snow decorating my imagination. It was a crystal clear image that screamed of Calliope and the warm clothes she sported even in hot weather, her welcoming personality and icy eyes. I traced the scent, ignoring the nervous glances I received from skinwalkers I passed.
I nodded at those I did pass, wishing the nervous ones didn't look quite so afraid, and that the curious ones didn't look as guarded. I supposed one could only hope for so much progress in just a week - I had given them no reason to trust me yet, aside from the few I had spent time with on my search for Sam and Dean. Even then, many of them didn't agree with my attachments to the humans. We had a long way to go before this pack felt whole.
The closely arranged tents of my friends finally came into view and I quickened my pace, the whole area smelling of them. My ears pricked at the sound of rustling inside one of the tents that smelled only a bit more like Calliope than any of the others. She clearly didn't spend much time there, just as I spent very little time in my own new home. It was too new and confusing, and we instead plunged ourselves into work instead of what emotions we were avoiding.
I reached out to her over our bond as I approached the tent, a motion that felt so easy now despite the months I had spent trying to learn it. I could practically feel the white wolf's pleased purr at how quickly I had picked it up.
A quiet croak was heard from inside the tent as soon as I reached out to her, and then all movement from within stilled. I called out her name and put my hand on the tent flap, waiting for her reply. Hearing none, I scowled and brushed the entrance aside, pausing to wait for her objection. Several silent seconds passed before I dipped into the tent, crouching through the doorway.
To my surprise I found Gator sitting beside Calliope on her cot, an arm slung over her shoulder. She looked out of place beside her companion in basketball shorts and a baggy tank top, tattoos fully exposed, while Calliope was bundled in a hoodie two sizes too large. She jerked her head up to meet my gaze, blue eyes glazed over with concern, a subdued emotion that I had never seen on the wildcard of a woman.
My own eyes widened with surprise at the suitcase at Calliope's feet, the same one she always kept packed, even at our old home in Alabama. Now it was open and items had been carelessly thrown into it. I turned my eyes back on the young woman, whose face was buried in her hands and her shoulders shook with quiet sobs.
"You're leaving?"
At this she wheezed, and Gator drew her closer into her side. "Don't have much choice right now," the tattooed woman responded sincerely. "Can't exactly stay here - too much goin' on at once."
"Because of Cassandra?" I questioned softly, careful not to raise my voice too high. Calliope's whole figure shuddered at the name and Gator gave her shoulder a comforting squeeze. Gator leaned over to whisper something to the sobbing woman, earning a small nod from Calliope.
Cal lifted her head, blue eyes shining with tears. Her lips twitched in a sudden anger, buried beneath her panicked reaction, eyes narrowing until more tears threatened to spill over.
"She bit me," she snapped and then drew her bottom lip between her teeth, the tears suddenly overflowing as she began crying again in earnest. The shock of saying it aloud rocked her so harshly that she couldn't contain the tide of emotions any longer.
My own eyes widened in shock at the realization of just what she meant. Calliope had never said anything about how she was turned, beyond that it happened when she was very young. I remember the few times she told me about bouncing from foster home to foster home, never staying in one place for very long. Even when she lived on her own in the western wilderness, she was never in one place for long.
"She bit you? As in..?" I trailed off as the woman buried her face in her arms and drew her knees to her chest. "Cassandra turned you?" I uttered softly, shocked.
"And her 'daughters,'" Gator added with a snarl, drawing back thin lips. Her eyes met mine with a harsh anger that had been boiling beneath the surface for weeks. She pulled Calliope closer to her, drawing the woman against her chest as she spoke. "Bitch chased us all the way back to the old haunt. Chased Cal for far longer."
"Longer?"
Gator cast a look at the woman buried against her chest who gave another nod as she dug her fingertips into her companion's shirt. "Years. Since foster care. Cassandra's obsessed with family, makin' one, havin' one. Can' stand Cal not wantin' that."
"So she's... what, harassing you to join her fucking family?" I snapped, earning a subtle flinch from Calliope. I clenched my jaw and reached out to her over the bond, hoping a gentle, reassuring presence might help her relax. Her shoulders loosened, although maybe that was Gator's comforting, tattooed fingers running through her hair.
My hands tightened into fists at my side and I turned my head to face the tent flap. My blood warmed as anger rolled over me in waves. There had to be something I could do, some action to take-
"You can't force her to leave," Calliope barked out suddenly, jerking me from my half-formed thoughts. "Even if you try, she won't - and there are still plenty of others that would follow her. They know her."
I bit the inside of my cheek firmly and turned to look at her with narrowed eyes, mind racing as I struggled for a solution.
"You can't stay?" I pressed. "We would keep you safe, keep her away from you."
Calliope shook her head and gripped at Gator's shirt tighter. "I'll come back - I promise you that. But I can't stay here right now. It's too much. At least now I know where she is." I scowled at that and picked at the skin on my fingertips in thought. To my dismay, she seemed set -- but maybe it was what she needed. She had been on edge for weeks before I won the tervuren's pack. Maybe a break, a chance to return to her roots, was exactly what she needed.
"OK," I finally answered softly and both women seemed to perk up, sharing a slight sigh of relief between them. "OK. But keep in contact," I turned to Calliope, pointing an accusing finger. "I want to hear from you regularly, know where you are, all that."
"I'm goin' too," Gator suddenly exclaimed, tightening her grasp on Calliope's shoulder. "We'll stick together, stay safe. Whatever you want from us, boss."
"I want you to be happy, and to feel safe. If you can't have that here, then I have no issue with you... leaving." I trailed off on the last bit, dropping my gaze for a split second. Calliope and Gator had become two of my closest friends in a very short time. I relied on them for more than just running the pack. But if they needed space, who was I to stop them?
After a pause I threw my arms wide, inviting the pair in. Gator stood abruptly, knocking Calliope from her lap. The taller woman stumbled to her feet as her partner grabbed her hand and dragged her into the messy group hug with a yelp.
I held the pair tightly, arms wrapped and their shoulders. Gator's single arm looped around my waist crushed me against Calliope, who had to bend down to reciprocate the hug. A choked sob burst from her throat, mixed with a wet laugh. We embraced for several long seconds, enjoying each other's presence for the last time in what would unfortunately be quite a while.
"I'm going to miss you both," I mumbled against Gator's shock of pink hair, feeling her warm breath against my collar bone. "Don't do anything stupid without me there."
"You mean don' have fun without you? Wouldn't dream of it," Gator said with a gap-toothed grin. I shoved her playfully with my shoulder and she reciprocated, knocking me into Calliope, who laughed.
"Things will be better," I said seriously, my smile dropping. "I promise."
---
I don't suppose you know anything about rigging a generator? I chirped as I pulled myself upright from where I was folded in half over the box in my overgrown backyard. The white wolf behind me scrutinized my actions, a hint of curiosity in his crimson eyes.
No. I'm afraid I'm more... traditional, he replied, narrowing his eyes at the box as I stood to my full height, bending from left to right to stretch my tense muscles. For the first time in two and a half weeks, the action didn't pain me. My wounds were healing faster than I had expected -- Andrew claimed it was his wonderful cooking and all the hearts I had been eating. My skin was regrowing over the wounds, and my depleted muscles were filling in again. For the first time in a while, I didn't look half-starved.
Not surprising, I replied through my mind with a hearty chuckle. Are you just here to watch me work, or did you want something?
Did you not mean to invite me into your mind? the wolf questioned, sitting back on his haunches. I quirked a brow, dropping my gaze for a moment, running through my thoughts. Had I?
I suppose I was thinking about what questions I want to ask you, I replied with a shrug and bent over the box once more.
Ask away.
At that I lifted my head and cast a suspicious squint at the wolf from over my shoulder. He looked unphased, taking in the rather small back porch in comparison to the wrap-around front porch that took up half the house. I pursed my lips in thought and returned to my task - if I did this right, it was possible my house could be heated within the month.
Why did I have to prove myself to you? I asked and twisted to face the wolf, despite the tug at the sore flesh along my side. The wolf's tail flicked with hidden emotion, but his eyes remained focused on my new home.
Things are changing - you saw that much with that demon, he grumbled, baring his fangs at the thought of... Azazel. I fear the demons are preparing for something that can only be described as war. Preparation is key if we want to survive.
And how do you know the demons will want to involve monsters? I demanded and spun to sit atop the generator, propping my heels up on the side as I stared up at the towering beast. The sky was cloudy and only grew darker as the day droned on, casting dappled shadows on his normally brilliant fur. The colors looked almost dulled, despite his lack of a true physical presence.
Demons have no regard for life, you of all beasts should understand that, the wolf said with a snort, turning his red eyes on me with a harsh glare. My skin crawled at the sight. Unfortunately, I have no faith in any entity beyond our own species. We were nearly wiped out once. I do not wish to see it happen again.
I cocked my head at that, narrowing my eyes in curiosity. You know about that?
The wolf scoffed, as if offended. I would be shocked if there is a skinwalker well-acquainted with our species that does not know. I find it hard to believe. He lowered his head slightly and averted his gaze. It was devastating, the force with which the humans you seem to love so dearly destroyed us.
You say that like you were there, I said, crossing my arms over my chest. The wolf huffed out a facetious laugh.
I am flattered that you would think of me as young enough to have not lived it. I lifted my brows in surprise at that. Was it not the better part of a century ago that the assumed last skinwalker was killed?
The wolf seemed to laugh as the thought drifted into my mind, his crimson eyes dragging from the ground to my gaze. I am old, my friend. Very old. Before I could press the matter, the wolf lashed his tail and pulled himself to his feet. His massive form towered over me, glaring down with a scrutinizing gaze.
As for your earlier question, you are not the first that has sought to prove themself. Our mutual friend happens to be one of many failures. I didn't think my brows could raise any higher, but at the mention of Braxton, they shot up once more.
And the successes?
You may meet them, in due time, the wolf answered with a wry grin, flashing fangs as blinding as his fur. The grin dropped as quickly as it had arrived and his ears pivoted in an uncertain display. My hope... is to create a united, strengthened front against those who would seek to send us into extinction. The demons, perhaps. Hunters, maybe, now that they know of our return.
I scowled at that as his steady gaze met mine. He held no blame, and I believed a part of him understood that the situation had been out of my hands. Perhaps if I had killed all the vampires on the hunt that I had first revealed myself to John, word may not have gotten out.
They would have learned one way or another, the wolf crooned with a sigh. Secrets are always revealed eventually. His expression was unreadable as he held my gaze steadily.
I watched the wolf with a curious gaze for what felt like an eternity. It wasn't until an icy drop of rain crashed into the tip of my nose and rolled onto my lip that I jolted out of my thoughts, hurriedly wiping my face. Pellets of frigid water came crashing down around me and I swore, tugging at my t-shirt in an attempt to protect from the chill.
Have you ever heard the story of the first skinwalker? the white wolf asked, casting his eyes upwards as droplets passed through him, the only indication that his presence was all in my head. I froze in my fidgeting, the cold rain forgotten and replaced with wide-eyed shock.
I didn't realize there was one, I answered, voice tremulous even in my own head. In fact, I had never heard many stories about my own species. Ironically, it had been a hunter that told me about our near extinction, rather than one of my own kind.
The wolf chuckled at that and kept his nose turned skyward, basking in the rain that, try as it might, couldn't penetrate his thick coat. Where did you think we began?
I haven't given it much thought, honestly, I answered, lifting my fingers to scratch at the back of my neck, flushed with subtle embarrassment. My fingers twitched with discomfort, stiff from a broken hand that was rapidly healing. I know skinw- we come from the Navajo. Don't know much more than that.
The wolf hummed in acknowledgment and sat back down, raindrops tumbling through his enormous figure as if he was nothing. The first of our kind was nothing more than an ambitious healer, the wolf began, a soft smile twisting on his thin lips. A man of great talent, and a deep lust for power. His methods were often unconventional, and frowned upon by his peers.
He was never satisfied in his craft, demanding in his quest for knowledge. Eventually... he was cast from his home by those he had once considered family. The wolf scowled, red eyes narrowing as he turned his gaze skyward once more. He found a new home amongst nature. Animals. He watched them for many moons, learning from them, catching a taste of their magic.
The wolf paused in his story and I watched with interest as he shifted, fidgeting... was he nervous? He waited several long moments before he began again. The man learned that simply watching the animals would never settle his craving for knowledge. He would never be one of them, and he could never return home. Not after the tribulations he had put his companions through. He had no place in the mortal realm.
What did he do? I questioned, drawing the white wolf out of his racing thoughts. He tipped his head forward and met my sights squarely, a fierce look upon his features.
He crawled inside their skin, he answered simply, lips twisting up into a smile. In his mind, if he could not truly be either beast or man, he would become one with both. He skinned his animal companions that he had spent moons nurturing trust with, and he wore their pelts as if they were his own.
Once again, his harsh grin dropped all too abruptly. Unfortunately, magic is far too wild for a man to wield without a catalyst of sorts. The souls of his once companions chased his own out, and their furs melded to his skin. Despite how hard he tried, he could never shake them. His greed... the wolf bared his fangs and tipped his ears back. His greed had lost him any chance of mortality. In place of his lust for knowledge was a lust for blood, for death.
In his hunger, he returned to his village. Those he once considered family no longer recognized him, instead only seeing a rabid beast. The wolf paused, crimson eyes never leaving mine. When he started again, his voice had dropped to a scraping baritone, impossibly low and filled with a steady current of sorrow.
The first skinwalker fed until he could not breathe. The village was in ruins - those that were not slaughtered shared his curse. Their hunger spread like a plague, claiming the lives of many, and destroying those that lived to tell the story.
The white wolf fell silent as he stared me down, chest rising and falling steadily from the breaths he took potentially hundreds of miles away. I furrowed my brows, fingers trembling and lips quivering at the horror of the short, near detailless story. Why are you telling me this? I finally demanded, the cold finally digging its way into my skin, rainwater soaking my clothing. How much time had passed?
The wolf pulled his lips back and revealed pearlescent fangs in a soft, wolf-ish grin. Every creature deserves to understand its legacy. Now you know. He fell still as a statue as he watched with interest, curious as to what questions I might muster next.
My mind reeled at the information. Part of me doubted its truth, until I thought of my own harsh bloodlust - tumultuous emotions from my first kill, the feeling of flesh between my fangs from a man that had dared to harm my lover and his brother, and a sharp, nagging hunger that persisted over the days I ran from my demented pursuer.
I believe the white wolf was expecting me to blanche, to react in horror to the bloody tale. Curiosity took over in place of the horror that had momentarily sat deep in the pit of my stomach. I only had one question on my mind.
What was the first skinwalker's name?
The white wolf's grin faltered, dripping with surprise, for just a moment before it stretched impossibly wider, contorting the beast's features into something so alien it looked almost... human.
Mai-coh, the wolf responded simply, red eyes gleaming. His name was Mai-coh.
---
I paced up and down my house, biting at my nails until the flesh around it protested. The house was nearly spotless, or as spotless as it could be when it looked as if it had been uninhabited for thirty years. I had spent hours cleaning dust, clearing out dirt and grime, organizing what little furniture I had into a simple layout.
What more was there to clean?
It had been four days since Calliope and Gator left. The pair had contacted me as regularly as they could -- as far as I knew, they were headed back south, to territory that Gator was familiar with. Calliope seemed lighter when I spoke to her, but that only made me feel marginally better.
I pivoted sharply, despite the sharp, sudden pain in the back of my shredded thigh that was still filling in. My shaky fingers reached for the list of names Calliope had given me over our bond of new pack members that seemed to be talented hunters. A few seemed quite trustworthy, even eager to be part of a new pack, apparently. I huffed and raked my stubbed nails through my hair, quickly scanning over the paper.
The majority of my new pack members had been turned within the last five years -- Booth estimated a solid three quarters, and a good quarter of that had likely been turned in the last year. They were too wild and new to this life to know where their loyalties lay, and what their talents may be. The only upside to having such a young brood was that perhaps they would be more amenable to joining a new pack. Loyalties were formed quickly amongst new monsters.
I slammed the paper back down on the rickety table in the center of the small room, three chairs settled around it. My heart hammered in my chest, not wanting to focus on what was really bothering me. It was just the pack, and all the stresses that come with it. New people, allocating food, building new homes--
Dean was coming home today.
I spun once more and buried both hands in my hair, bare feet catching on the now clean, sanded wood floors. One month. God, he had been gone one month. My breath hitched, knowing that the clock was ticking. We only had eleven months to end his stupid fucking demon deal, we had already wasted one.
I dropped into a crouch and tangled my fingers in my locks. I hadn't brushed it, hadn't bothered changing clothes, not since realizing he was coming back. We hadn't even spoken about... what we are. He said he loves me -- he loves me -- Dean Winchester loves me, and I hadn't seen him for a month.
Panic krept up on me as a list began forming in my mind of just what I had to discuss with him. We still hadn't discussed the whispers I once heard, replaced now with the white wolf. My cheeks flushed at the memory of his frustrated words over the phone when I mentioned the whispers to him, of his lips on my bare skin, of how exhausted he sounded when we spoke over the phone.
It was too much, too many things to think about, too many problems-
Boss, came Booth's voice, slicing through my swirling thoughts like they were nothing. You've got company.
Oh fuck.
Fuck, fuck, fuck, he's back, oh God I had been wearing the same clothes for lord knows how long, why hadn't I bothered to get anymore after the fire. He could be here any minute and I was in no way prepared -- was that dirt on the table-?
The door opened just a crack and I thought my heart was going to leap out of my chest in terror. Time seemed to slow as it creaked open and light spilled into the joined living room and dining room, a couch now sitting beside the door and my mess of blankets that I called a bed on the floor in front of it, having relocated just days after Dean left. Oh no, what if he didn't like having everything crammed into one room?
And then he poked his head in and his green eyes met mine. Everything came to a screeching halt and it seemed like minutes passed as we just... stared.
As quickly as he had entered, I lunged forward, he dropped his duffel bag and threw his arms wide. He nearly collapsed backwards as I tumbled into him, wrapping my arms around his shoulders in a bone-crushing hug that was really more of a tackle. A chuckle escaped his lips and it was like music to my ears.
"Miss me?" he asked, tone teasing and full of joy. I swear my heart skipped a beat. I swatted at his shoulder and pulled away from him, only to plant my hands on either side of his face and pull him into a rough kiss. It was sloppy and unpracticed, but it felt like absolute heaven.
Everything felt right again.
"Not in the slightest," I said as I pulled away, panting slightly. "Really, I was hoping you'd never come back."
"Yeah? Is that what all those late night phone calls were about then?"
I hummed in agreement and planted a quick kiss on his cheek. "Never wanted to see your handsome face again."
He chuckled and lifted a hand to place it over the one I had against his cheek. His stubble scratched my palm -- it was clear he hadn't shaved in a while. "Handsome, huh?"
I gave another hum and took a half step back. After finally, really meeting his gaze, I froze. He looked exhausted, which wasn't unusual, but his hair was raked up as if he had been combing through it obsessively -- something he often did when he was overthinking -- and the smile that was plastered on his cheeks didn't quite meet the green of his eyes. Even his scent, the usually overwhelming cherries, seemed... dampened.
"What's wrong?" I asked, furrowing my brows. His grin dropped at my tone, one that demanded a firm, no nonsense answer. "Dean-"
"OK, alright," he said, although his words lacked their usual defensive edge. He held his hands up but quickly dropped them back to his sides. "Look, I- it's just been a long few weeks. Some rough cases. Round the clock demon hunts, and- and-"
I scowled and grabbed both of his hands in mind, dragging him forwards. He stumbled along with me, confused at first until I plopped down onto the couch and patted the space beside me. He hesitated for a moment, standing in front of the open seat.
"I'm dirty," he mumbled, a weak excuse. I rolled my eyes.
"Yeah, and grass is green. Sit down," I answered just as softly, once more patting the seat beside me. He swallowed dryly before dropping haphazardly onto the couch beside me. The moment he was seated, I wrapped my arms around his torso and fell backwards, pulling him with me.
It took a moment of rearranging before we lay comfortably, side by side, facing each other. I could hear his heart pattering in his chest, having calmed down since he first entered the house. Mine had not, still racing with anxiety and other mixed emotions. We sat in silence with what was left of my ear pressed to his chest, his hand in my hair.
"You healing up yet?" he asked, tilting his chin down to meet my gaze. I chuckled softly and lifted the hem of my shirt to show my once torn side, now stitched and only bandaged in a few places.
"Back of my leg is the worst. Most everything else is healed," I answered and dropped my head back down. He let out a hum as his hand in my hair trailed down my arm until it reached my once broken hand. He lifted it and intertwined our fingers, raising it for inspection. Once satisfied, he laid our twined hands back at his side.
"Sam's mad at me."
"Isn't he always?" I joked, although it earned no laugh from him. With furrowed brows I asked, "Why's he mad?"
"If I tell you that, you'll be mad too."
"Honestly, I don't think there's any possible way I could be angrier with you," I grumbled. At that Dean tilted his chin down again and lifted a brow. "I promise... I'll be reasonable. How about that?"
Dean huffed out a sigh and dropped his head back down onto the couch. "I told Sam... I don't want to find a way to take back the deal." I lurched upwards, hovering over him with mouth open ready to argue, but he held up a single finger, an urge to be silent for now. "If I undo the deal, Sam drops dead again. I'm not letting that happen."
"We can find a way-"
"And if we don't?" he demanded, keeping his voice level. My breath hitched at that and I sat back, staring down at him. Dean sat up and placed his hands on my arms, a reassuring touch. "Look, sweetheart, I know... I know it doesn't make much sense, but I just want to enjoy my year." He lifted one hand to my cheek. "I've done what I need to do, yeah? That demon bastard is dead, I have you, I have Sam. That's all I want."
"What about what we want? I don't want you to die, not when we might be able to avoid it!"
"And if we can't?"
At that I placed my hands on either side of Dean's face, cupping his jaw. He narrowed his eyes at the action, watching with scrutiny as thoughts raced through my mind. "Then I'll crawl through hell and back," I growled out. "We're finding a way -- doesn't matter if it's before or after."
"You think a demon's going to be willing to make a deal again? They're not going to play pinball with our souls."
"Maybe we don't need a deal," I said and sat back on my heels. "There's all sorts of- of magic out there, there's got to be something other than a deal."
"You're being unrealistic-"
"I'm being optimistic, Dean!" I snapped. "I've gone through enough bullshit lately, at least let me try!" Dean fell silent, his hands flying to my waist at my sudden outburst as mine gripped his jaw. I relaxed the tension in my fingertips, palms barely brushing against his stubble. "What the hell happened to make you think one year is better than a lifetime?"
Dean had always been narrow minded. He never thought much about the effect his actions would have, especially with others. He never considered what could happen to them before he acted, often thinking he was doing what was best for everyone. Sometimes he would admit to himself that it was selfish, but he never did anything differently. But, I think when that question tumbled out of my mouth, he was pulled back into reality; away from his dream of a fun-filled year and into the sinking realization that this was it. Everything he was leaving behind, his friends, me -- He couldn't fit a lifetime into a year. We both knew it.
"Our first demon case, after the gate opened... we met a couple of hunters," Dean began, reclining back on the couch. He propped one arm behind his head, the other hand resting on his chest. My hands slipped from his cheeks and I instead planted them on his stomach, holding myself upright. "Married couple. Pretty damn accomplished -- we figured with their help, the seven deadly sins would be nothing-" at that I lifted my brows in surprise. "- Yeah, they exist. Or, existed, I guess.
"Wasn't as easy as we were hoping. We lost Isaac- wasn't anything we could do to stop it." He shifted uncomfortably and lifted his eyes to the ceiling, the only indication that the encounter still bothered him. "Look, it's just... this job? It nails people all the time. Shit happens." He shrugged.
"Selling your soul is not 'shit happening,'" I growled out. Once more, he shrugged and remained silent. I sighed and dropped against his chest, an 'oomph leaving him at the sudden weight. "You're fucking impossible, you know that? A mule has nothing on your stubbornness."
Dean chuckled, his arm behind his head moving to drape over my waist. "Yeah, you're not so bad yourself sweetheart."
---
"Housing?"
"In progress. We could probably get away with moving a few people in now -- keep them out of the cold until it really starts to warm-up," Booth answered, arms folded over his chest as he leaned against the wall of the 'town hall.'
"Let's get moving on that. The more comfortable they are, the better. What about power?"
"We have a few solar panels," Hidalgo jumped in on this one, gesturing with a thumb between himself, Caeden and Jeremiah. "Picked them up just east of town. That should keep the generators going for a while."
"Heat is still a work in progress, but we went long enough without it before," Jeremiah chimed in from his place at one of the several round tables beside Marcus and Caeden. "A few more weeks won't hurt anyone."
I hummed at that and scanned the group, waiting for anyone else to jump in. From my seat atop the recently washed bar counter top, I stood above the others, surveying the entirety of the room. The chandelier glinted in the morning light that poured through the hole in the side of the building, the tree that had collapsed into it since removed and torn apart for firewood and building materials. The hole itself was slowly being patched.
Nine people sat before me, scattered around the various tables that were closest to the bar. Booth stood to the edge of the room, the only one standing. Marcus, Caeden and Jeremiah shared a table, with Sasha, Hidalgo and Andrew not far away. On his own chair nearest the bar was Sam, while Dean sat at one of the few barstools beside me.
"How about food?"
"That could be an issue," came Andrew's voice, much more solid and confident after the ordeal of the last few months. "There's so many of us that if we're not careful, we'll exhaust our food sources."
"Even if we are careful, I don't think we'll be able to sustain it," Sasha echoed, eyes flicking between Andrew and I. The red-head nodded at her words, his leg bouncing under the table from nerves. "No amount of wildlife can keep a pack of seventy monsters satiated for long."
"So what do we do? We can't just... I don't know, not feed them."
"We could take them hunting," came Marcus' voice. The entire room fell silent, all eyes on him as words tumbled from his mouth. "Well we can't keep everyone here at once, right? Why not take them hunting? I mean, you all saw how much better the wildlife got when we weren't around so much, back in Alabama."
"It's not a terrible idea," Sam offered, the first time he had spoken all morning. He twisted slightly in his chair, his gaze meeting mine. "Get them out of camp, give them something to do. Hell, some of them might actually enjoy it."
"Half of them can't control themselves. You think we should take them hunting? Have them look out for civilians that they can barely be within fifty yards of without tearing them apart?" Booth growled out, shaking his head. "That's bound to get someone killed – or turned."
"How else are they going to learn?" Marcus argued, twisting to glare at Booth. He snapped back in my direction, leaning forward in his seat, palms flat on the table. At least half of them were turned in the last couple of years, right? They haven't even had a chance to learn what they can do!"
"It's worth a shot," Caeden's low rumble joined in with the arguing voices, drowning out the others. "Believe me, I know how the newbies feel – most of them probably hate themselves for what they've become. Hunting might give them a chance to find there's something worth all of this."
"It sure helped me," Andrew piped up. "It was hard enough being around you two-" he gestured vaguely to the Winchesters, "- before I started hunting.It's easier now."
"Are there enough of us here that we can do that, though?" Sasha questioned, wringing her hands under the table. "I mean, just the eight of us have enough trouble running the pack together. Do we have enough people to break into groups like that?"
"We'll start with 'walkers we trust," Caeden offered, leaning forward to plant his elbows on the table, thick brows furrowed in thought. "The ones that want to make this their home. Give the others a chance to see the effect. Train them. We go out in teams – me, Marcus, Booth, Hidalgo, Y/N, we can all lead groups. Send no more than three or four out at a time, maybe in groups of five."
"We could make this work," Marcus jumped in, placing his hand over Caeden's as a show of agreement. "It'll keep us spread out, and let us get a feel for everyone in smaller groups. Build some trust slowly. Let them get to know us, while we get to know them."
I hummed in thought and leaned forward to prop my elbows on my thighs, chin resting on my palms. "And if they don't want to trust us?"
"If they didn't want to try, they wouldn't have stayed," Jeremiah's level tone sounded, drawing all eyes to him. "Believe me, this pack has been through enough. They would have left when you gave them the chance if they didn't think it was worth a try."
I twisted in my chair slightly to face the two human hunters, eyes narrowed in speculation as I mulled over the debate. "What do you two think?"
Sam shrugged. "I think it's a decent plan. Teach them self-control, get them out of camp for a while." He looked to Dean for confirmation.
Dean shrugged, his arms folded tightly as he leaned against the bar countertop. "'S up to you, but it sounds solid to me. And we could always use more hunters." My heart fluttered as he turned his head, green eyes meeting mine. "If you think it'll work, I don't see why you don't give it a shot."
I nodded slowly and twisted back to face the group. "OK... let's get a first group put together. Who are we thinking?"
"Amirul is eager to help," Marcus spoke up. "He went with us, when we went looking for you two," he pointed between Sam and Dean. "He's a good kid. Smart too."
"Choe is a good fighter. Been in the ring with her a few times now. She's stubborn as a mule, not used to playing with others, but she's gotta learn somehow," Booth crowed, chewing on his bottom lip.
"That the sapsali?" Caeden questioned. Booth nodded and Caeden leaned back in his chair with an affirmative grunt of approval.
"What about Aron Jameson?" Andrew asked, bringing the attention back to him. "I've seen him coming back from hunting parties – he's strong. Fast too."
Sasha shook her head as soon as she heard his name. "Lorie's pregnant, we can't have him leaving her alone."
"She's still three months out," Booth argued.
"So? Pregnancy is stressful enough without being in a new place with two kids and no husband," Sasha snapped. Hidalgo reached for her hand under the table, running his thumb over her palm. She shifted nervously in her seat before giving his hand a squeeze.
"How about Rue then?" Andrew offered instead.
"Torres is good. She's a hard worker, and a fast learner," Jeremiah agreed. "I'd give Kai Burns a shot too. He's young, but he and Rue work well together."
"So that makes four. Who's leading the team?"
Caeden raised one hand in acceptance. "I'll take it. Just find me a case and some supplies, I'll get it done."
"I'll get you both!" Sasha answered cheerfully, and Caeden gave her a nod of acknowledgement.
"Then it's settled. Once you've got a case, get packed up and roll out. You can take one of the pick-ups. Sasha, find one that won't require too much badge-flashing – we don't have the resources for too many fake IDs yet." She nodded at my words. I lifted an accusatory finger, narrowing my eyes at Caeden. "You keep me updated, yeah? Something goes wrong, someone acts up, anything, you get me know. Got it?"
Caeden gave a curt nod, eyes closed and lips drawn into a tight line as if to say 'that was a given.' "Good. Then let's give this a shot." At that the others stood, words flowing quietly from person to person as they trickled out of the building, back to their individual tasks.
I sighed and placed my face in my palms, taking in slow, deep breaths. I jumped at the feeling of a warm palm on my back, only to relax the moment I jerked up to meet Dean's gaze.
"You alright?" he asked. I hummed and leaned my head against his shoulder.
"Just tired," I replied, voice muffled in his leather jacket. "Been a long day."
"Been a long month."
I chuckled. "You have no idea."
Warm breath followed by a soft kiss on the top of my head brought me back to reality. "You're doing good. You're going to work things out."
I sighed and lifted my head to meet his eyes. "I don't know if they're ever going to trust me, Dean. Jeremiah's only told me a bit, but Braxton put them through so much. Hell, most of them probably don't know any different than being ruled with an iron fist."
"They'll work it out eventually," he answered, his thumb and forefinger lifting to hold my chin.
I scowled playfully and placed one hand on his wrist. "This is all your fault, you know."
"My fault? How the hell is this my fault?" he scoffed, a grin spreading on his lips. I leaned up to press a soft kiss to his lips and he only grinned wider, leaning in for more before I pulled away.
"I distinctly remember you breaking into my house and convincing me to a certain tyrannical alpha who was terrorising my neighborhood," I teased, unable to escape the content smile that split my lips. "If you hadn't shown up, I could've had my house and my beer all to myself."
"I can always leave," he joked, a warm palm against my cheek. I bit the inside of my lip to keep my smile subdued. "Pack up, bunk with Sammy again. Let you have all your beer back." I couldn't bite back the giggle that followed his words. Instead I ran my fingers through his hair and brought his lips to mine in a gentle kiss. He hummed in appreciation before pulling away.
"I guess I'll let you stay."
"You'll let me stay?" he laughed, his hands dropping to rest on my knees from where they hung over the edge of the countertop. "I don't think you have much of a choice at this point, sweetheart. You're stuck with me."
"Wouldn't have it any other way."
7737 words.
Another filler chapter, but I kinda liked it :)
'Mai-coh' - Navajo for wolf.
Mentioned characters:
Amirul Jebat - 19 years old, telomian (first mentioned in 'What Did You Do?'')
Gyeong-suk Choe - 25 years old, sapsali
Rue Torres - 33 years old, andalusian hound
Aron Jameson - 38 years old, border collie
Lorie Jameson - 36 years old, english foxhound
Kai Burns - 21 years old, shar pei