"I think I've died and gone to hell," I murmured miserably to Sam, my hand on his arm as he flashed an invitation to the man waiting at the door. I shifted uncomfortably in my dress, a flowing gown that surprisingly fit me quite well. I nervously adjusted the deep cowl neckline that showed off far more than I was comfortable with. The open back left a chill down my spine and I subconsciously worried over the prominent scars that cross-crossed my skin.
Sam chuckled at my side, hazel eyes carefully scanning the crowd. "Just schmooze for a few hours and keep an eye out for the hand. Then you can dress however you want."
"Sam, I didn't even graduate high school. How the hell do I schmooze with these pricks?"
His lips split into a soft smile as we stepped into the museum, the sound of laughter and clinking champagne glasses rattling in my ears. Blood rushed to my head at the sound of racing heartbeats, faster than normal as alcohol flowed and excitement roared. Nervously, I fidgeted with my hair that covered my mangled ear.
"Do you think Dean's going to be here soon?" I panted, lungs constricting. The overwhelming number of scents, the constant sounds, God just the sheer number of heartbeats and pulses was enough to make me dizzy. I hadn't been packed into a small room with this many humans in ages.
"Soon, probably. I'm sure Bela's keeping him busy," he said with an eye roll. I held back bile as it rose in my throat. "Shit-" Sam suddenly said, dragging me backwards as he did a sudden backpedal towards the door. I halted and unlaced my arm from his, opening my mouth to speak before a flash of gray suddenly descended upon him.
"Samuel, I was beginning to think you wouldn't show," the old woman purred, practically gluing herself to Sam despite how much he leaned away from her. Gert, Bela's contact. I grimaced as she placed a hand on his chest and looked at him with what was meant to be a seductive gaze.
"We're on business, Gert," Sam offered, glancing at me from the corner of his eye with a pleading look.
"But sometimes business can be pleasure," she said, sliding a bony hand under the front of his tuxedo jacket. I gagged as I wandered away from the pair, only glancing back to see her lead him into the throng of dancing couples. Sam could handle himself just fine, and the date of an infatuated cougar wasn't the worst cover.
I navigated the crowd shakily, jumping every time someone brushed against me or I received an odd look. My heart pounded in my chest as I moved between the crowds of heavily perfumed, well-dressed individuals, a choked 'excuse me' leaving my throat as soon as I bumped into someone. If I could just find a secluded vantage point, perhaps I could search for this hand of glory without becoming so overwhelmed.
I didn't notice Dean enter the massive room, too busy tucking myself into a tight alcove between two bookshelves. I folded my arms around myself, a palm covering the dappled scars that decorated the skin of my throat.
—
Dean's eyes scanned the room as Bela clung to his arm, sharp nails pressing into the fabric of his tuxedo. The second she showed her invitation to the man at the door, her hand dropped from him, instead busying itself in her purse. A sense of relief briefly washed over him before he saw Sam marching towards them.
"How long do you expect me to entertain my date?" Sam demanded quietly, not missing the smirk that rose on Bela's lips. "You know there are limits to what I'll do, right?"
"Look, there's security all over this place, all right. This is an uncrashable party without Gert's invitation, so..." he began and trailed off, a spark of amusement in his green eyes.
"We can crash just about anything, Dean."
"But this is a lot easier and way more entertaining," Dean said with a muffled laugh. Reaching out a hand, he patted his brother on the back before giving him a playful shove back into the crowd. "Quit playing hard to get, Sammy." With one last glance over his shoulder at Bela, he followed Sam into the crowd, eyes searching the horde for a familiar face.
"Have you seen Y/N?" he asked as he sidled up to his younger brother, falling easily into step with him. Sam shook his head as he held back a smile.
"Not since we came in." Sam bit his lip as he thought about his next question, wondering if it was really worth asking. With a subtle shrug, he finally spoke. "Are you ever going to tell her how you feel?"
Dean halted suddenly, earning some scoffs and glares from dancers he had blocked. "What?" he asked, voice tight and eyebrows knit together. Sam rolled his eyes and reached out for his brother's tuxedo sleeve, urging him to continue walking.
"Come on man, I think we can all see it. You look at her like... I don't know, like she's the most amazing thing you've ever seen!" Sam shrugged, as if there was no better way to describe it.
"She can turn into a giant dog, Sam. I'd say that's pretty incredible."
"You know what I mean."
Dean bit the inside of his cheek as he thought. He felt awful, hiding something like that from Sam - why did he have to hide it? He understood why they hid it from the pack. They weren't exactly human friendly yet. But Sam was his brother.
His brother that was no doubt hoping a relationship would be the turning point in Dean deciding not to go through with his deal. He huffed and ran a hand through his hair, spiking it up. Sam, who would push more if he found out there was something else rooting Dean to the living world. Sam, who for all his support, would just be pushy. Almost too encouraging. And with two people who hadn't been in a real relationship for years, and maybe weren't in one now, it was just too much.
Dean didn't want to tell him yet.
It was with that thought that Dean turned in just the right way to spot her in the corner of the room, sandwiched between two bookshelves under an old oil painting of a revolutionary war era ship. He paused once more, green eyes glued to her figure. The dress that dipped just low enough to show fading claw marks, the shape of teeth embedded in her throat. Skin previously smooth, now marred with damage that just made her look more alluring. He never understood why she was self-conscious of it.
"I don't know man," he finally said, stopping Sam in his tracks. The younger brother followed Dean's gaze, glancing between his brother and the object of his affections. "She's just too good for me."
Sam placed his hand on his brother's shoulder, rousing Dean from his trance. "Yeah, and I bet she'd say the same about you." With that, Sam departed into the sea of bodies, leaving Dean alone once again.
After taking a moment to collect himself, Dean cleared his throat and straightened his bowtie. He took a few steps into the crowd before pausing beside a waiter to grab two of the many champagne glasses he carried. He stared at the beverage for a moment, taking in the color that, in all honesty, was too close to her golden eyes for comfort. With a dry swallow he turned back into the crowd and made his way slowly towards the woman boxed into the corner.
"You look like you could use a drink," he called over the chattering crowd as he approached. She looked up, turning wide eyes on him that held just a hint of that familiar gold around the inside edge. She was anxious - her eyes held a certain glassiness, and her cheeks were dusted with pink as her heart raced and her breathing elevated. Her shoulders seemed to relax the moment she saw him, one hand dropping loosely to her side.
"I was beginning to think you'd never show," she said, daintily taking the glass from him before downing the whole drink in one go. He chuckled and followed suit, eyes not leaving her figure as she tipped her head back. How could a simple black dress look so good?
"You know I like to make an entrance," he said and she chuckled morbidly, staring into the crowd with semi-narrowed eyes. "That's not Bela's dress, is it?"
"This?" she asked, glancing down at herself. "God no. If that woman has a single thing in her closet that fits me, it's probably not something I'm comfortable wearing. I'm hardly comfortable with this." He watched as she stretched her arm out to place the champagne glass on one of the bookshelves, faded scars from the daeva attack creeping up her shoulder. "She said it belonged to a client or something. Dunno why she still has it."
"Looks good on you," Dean said as he swirled his glass in hand, eyes focused on the swarming crowd. He tipped his head towards her as she chuckled, a musical sound that, he was embarrassed to admit, had his heart fluttering.
"You don't clean up so bad yourself."
He leaned towards her, mouth open, ready to let out a clever retort. Instead, he froze in place, green eyes narrowing as he spotted a rather stiff looking man standing towards the edge of the room, surveying the crowd, just as they were.
"Take a look at that," he said with a gesture of his hand holding the champagne glass. "What do you think? Private security?"
"I doubt it," same a chipper voice and the sound of heels clicking towards the pair. Dean spared his lover a glance as a deep growl rumbled in her throat as Bela approached, just loud enough for Dean to hear. "They look like professionals. Police, maybe, or state troopers. Posted at every door, too."
A huff at his side drew Dean's attention back to the skinwalker, her arms once more tightly folded around her torso. Her back was straighter now as she inched ever so closer to Dean. "That'll make it harder to get upstairs," she said, pointing towards a stairway at the end of the hallway next to the trio. "Can't just waltz upstairs with those goons."
"So what would you suggest?" Bela said with furrowed brows, tapping her heel impatiently against the floor.
"I'll try to get their attention so you can make it upstairs," Y/N stated, not bothering to conceal the grouchiness in her tone. She paused to think for a moment before saying, "can I borrow that ring for a moment?" Bela seemed taken aback before glancing down at her hand and slipping the piece of jewelry off her boney finger. The skinwalker snatched it from her and slipped it onto her left ring finger. With a brush of her arm against Dean's, she strutted into the crowd, head held eye and narrowed eyes never leaving Bela as if saying 'don't try anything.'
Dean watched her disappear into the crowd with unease. He rubbed the back of his neck before facing Bela. "Any ideas?" her chipper voice came, glancing at the security detail posted around the room. A sudden commotion drew their attention to the center of the crowd - it seemed the guards were also drawn to the ruckus, lunging from their posts against the wall into the throng.
"I'm thinking," Dean snapped, glancing down the hall to see one guard still stationed at the base of the stairs.
"Think faster. This is our only window."
"You got any bright ideas?" he snapped. "I'm all ears."
A wide, mischievous grin split on Bela's lips and Dean immediately regretted his words. Lightning quick, she reached out for his arm and twisted herself, collapsing backwards into his waiting hold. Had she just... pretended to faint?
"You're joking," Dean snapped beside her ear.
"Not in the slightest."
—
I marched through the crowd, using my irritation with Bela as fuel for a now slowly cooking fire. She had shot Sam, stolen the Impala, jeopardized a case for a quick buck, and now she was inserting herself into every aspect of the hunt. I hated it.
With a familiar fire building in my veins I twisted the new ring on my finger until I spotted a familiar tall figure across the room. With a deep breath I forced all of my frustration into the distraction, taking to storming through the throng, forcing my way between dancing couples and chatting benefactors. Before, I had been sheepish in my apologies to those I passed. Now, my lips were glued tightly shut as I forced my way past them.
"Samuel!" I shouted over the din of the crowd. Sam's head jerked up suddenly, jarring poor Gert who had her head against his chest, swaying slowly to the music. His hazel eyes widened in fright and he took a sudden step backwards, dragging Gert with him, who opened her gray eyes in surprise.
"Y/N-?" he started, but I squared my shoulders and lifted an accusing finger as I pounded towards him, silencing him immediately.
"I leave you alone for an hour and you find some- some hussy to entertain you!?" I shouted, drawing the attention of those around me. Gert suddenly backed away, eyes wild with surprise as I shoved my way between the pair. I placed my palm firmly against Sam's chest and pushed him backwards, sending him stumbling backwards a few steps. "You know I was trying to close a business deal! That I would be back soon! What the hell is this!?"
"Uh- I was just-"
"You were just? Just what, huh? Looking to get laid with some cougar!?" I snapped, throwing my arm out towards Gert. Lunging with such speed that Sam jumped in fright, I snatched his left hand from his side and held it up. "You're not even wearing your ring!" I shouted, holding up my own left hand that now sported Bela's borrowed ring. "What's next, you just go around telling people you're an eligible bachelor!?"
"Well-" Sam's eyes shifted around the room nervously as he took in the shocked stares, curious and alert guards, and Dean and Bela in the corner, peering down a dark hallway with a set of stairs at the end. I let out a breath of relief as everything seemed to click in his mind, and his brows tightened and lips curled into a sneer. "Well, maybe I want to be a bachelor again!"
A gasp rang out in the crowd at his words and I feigned a shocked step backwards. My hands balled into fists and I sprung forward with one hand held high. A sudden crushing weight against my abdomen drew me backwards into a solid figure. I picked my feet up, flailing and digging my nails into a suit clad arm.
"You need to calm down-" the security guard ordered, his voice muffled over the excited chatter of the crowd. I snapped and elbowed and kicked out as I was dragged from the room, Sam not far behind with an escort of his own, although with only a hand on his shoulder as a guide.
When we reached the entrance to the museum, I was unceremoniously dumped onto the well maintained lawn. I hardly had time to spin and face the security with venom on my tongue before Sam was cast out and the door was shut promptly behind us.
"What the hell was that?" Sam asked with an airy chuckle, running his hands through his mussed hair. His shoulders seemed to sag with relief at finally being out of that hell hole and away from Gert, whose hands had a tendency to wander.
"That-" I began as I stood upright and dusted off my now rumbled dress, "-was a distraction." I pointed upwards to a window on the second floor, a silhouetted figure staring down at us. I waved sheepishly at Dean, who flashed a quick thumbs-up before disappearing back into the shadows.
I sat on the lawn with my head in my hands staring towards the now closed museum entrance, listening to the raucous chatter inside. It had been several minutes since we had been cast out, and Sam paced up and down the lawn as he waited for Dean to make his entrance.
I bolted upright as the door swung open and light poured onto the lawn. Dean stood in the doorway with Bela and Gert not far behind. "Did you get it?" I asked, watching with narrowed eyes as Gert and Bela strolled past, in the direction of Bela's car. Gert sent me a glare, likely for ruining her fun - she knew the purpose of the case and certainly knew that Sam and I were not married.
Dean reached into his pockets, withdrawing the keys to the Impala from one, and a small, wrapped item in the other. He held the wrapped item up triumphantly, his shoes thudding dully on the cobblestone as he marched down the drive past us, towards the car. Sam followed quickly behind while I wobbled after, ears still ringing from the various heartbeats in the building and legs jelly-like from masquerading in heels for what felt like an hour.
The moment I slid into the backseat of the Impala, Dean began unwrapping the remains of our ghost. I peered over the seats with interest, curious as to what a hundred and fifty year old severed hand might look like-
A flash of glass caught my eye and I leaned in closer as Dean pulled the last of the paper off the object. He held it up to the light, green eyes wide with surprise and then suddenly narrowed in hatred and disgust. It wasn't a hand of glory - it was just a ship in a bottle.
"I'm going to kill her," he growled as he slammed the car into gear and took off down the road. Bela's car was long gone I realized as I dropped back into the seat, nails digging into the upholstery and a golden color filling my irises. She had been able to cross us again.
I was out of the car before it was even fully in park, storming into the rundown house that we were squatting in. Squatting. Bela had made off with the hand, had maybe even sold it to her buyer by now for God knows how much money, and we were stuck squatting.
I grabbed my duffle bag and locked myself into a connected room of the main living area we were staying in. The sound of ripping met my ears as I dragged the zipper of my gown down, tearing fabric with it. The black dress pooled at my feet as I kicked my heels off and pulled on the first shirt I grabbed. I froze as the scent of cherries and subtle sulfur that had lingered on him since his deal hit my nose, and I glanced down to see one of Dean's black t-shirts hanging on my torso. "Fuck it," I grumbled, pulling on a pair of jeans and tucking the excess fabric into the waistband of the jeans.
Both brother's jumped as I slammed the door open and stalked into the room, duffle bag in one hand and shoes and dress in the other. I dropped the bag onto the dirty mattress before chucking the dress at the ground and kicking it several feet away.
The boys watched with wide eyes as I moved towards them, their own suits discarded and laid neatly on the backs of the dining table chairs. "Any idea where she could have gone? Who the buyer is?"
Sam cleared his throat and averted his gaze from the sight of my yellow eyes. "She didn't go back to Gert's place–that would be too predictable." Dean scoffed at that and leaned back in his chair, eyes glued to the ship bottle placed on the center of the table. "My guess is the buyer is somewhere in the city, but..."
"But we have no clue who or where," Dean finished grouchily, venom slipping into his words.
"So we have jackshit, and people are going to keep dying," I snapped. My hand dropped to the back of Dean's chair with a thud, drawing his eyes upward. His gaze halted at the sight of his shirt.
"We do have something," Sa interjected, drawing dean's attention back to him. I gave Dean a quizzical look, taking in the pink flushed tips of his ears. "I think I found a connection between the victims. Gert said something about her niece getting into a car crash when she was younger - her cousin was killed."
"What about the brothers?" I chimed in, tipping my head slightly in curiosity. "You think maybe they offed their dad to get the inheritance early?"
"That's exactly what I think. Look, the captain of the ship that our ghost died on was his brother - he's the one who decided to hang our ghost."
"So the ghost is going after people who got their family killed?" Dean questioned, lifting a brow. Sam gave a shrug as if to say 'there's nothing else that makes sense.' "Great, so we have motive. But how the hell as we supposed to kill the bastard-"
A knock at the door interrupted his spiteful words and all eyes turned to the source of the noise. Dean launched from his chair, padding to the door on bare feet as Bela's muffled voice spoke through the barrier. "Could you open up? Just let me explain."
Dean gave us a glance, expression stern, as he twisted the doorknob and popped it open just wide enough for Bela to slip inside. She froze in place as the door closed behind her, wincing as Dean leaned against the door, blocking her exit.
"I sold it. I had a buyer lined up as soon as I knew it existed." A chorus of groans filled the room but Bela lifted her head high and made her way to the table in the center of the room. My lips curled in a grimace as she pulled a chair out and sat.
"If you sold it, just go buy it back," Sam snapped, pointing towards the door.
Bela turned to him with a haughty glare. "It's halfway across the ocean. I can't get it back in time."
"In time for what?" Dean demanded, pushing off the door and stocking ever closer. I leaned forward on the back of his former chair, narrowing my eyes. She glanced nervously between the three of us slowly closing in on her.
"I- I saw it," she stammered, hanging her head slightly, palms folded in her lap as her hands shook. I straightened at that shock filling my eyes. If our theory was correct, then that would mean she had...
Dean laughed morbidly, raking his hands through his hair as a way to subdue his rage. His body tensed as he turned to glower at her. "Wow, you know, I- I knew you were an immoral, thieving, con-artist bitch, but just when I thought my opinion of you couldn't get any lower-"
"What are you talking about?"
"The ghost is going after people who killed their own blood, Bela," I snapped, slapping my palms down on the table. She jumped at the sound, leaning back in her chair until the front two legs raised off the ground. "The ghost's brother was the captain - the one who sentenced him to die. He's picking targets that do the same."
"Sheila got her cousin killed in a car accident. The Warren brothers murdered their own father for their inheritance," Dean sneered, towering over her as she folded in on herself. "And now you. So who was it, Bela? Your daddy? Little sis?"
"It's none of your business," she answered coldly, turning away from him. Her eyes remained trained directly ahead. I could hear her heart pounding in her chest, her elevated breathing, and despite the obscene amount of perfume I could smell and underlying sense of dread. Waves of worry rolled off of her.
"No? Have a nice life then," Dean said, clapping her on the back as he made his way to the foot of the mattress. He bent to collect his belongings and tossed my own small duffel bag my way. "Or, y'know, whatever's left of it. Let's head out."
Bela whipped in her chair as Sam caught the duffel bag that was sent sailing across the room his way. "You can't just leave me here!" she said, voice drawn tight with shock. I scoffed and slung my bag over my shoulder, walking side by side with Dean towards the door. "Please," she said, staring up at Sam, who paused by her side. "I need your help."
"What'd you do, Bela?" Sam stared down at her with a stern expression and a creased brow. She scowled and turned forward in her seat, folding her arms indignantly.
"You wouldn't understand. No one did." She waved her hand dramatically, gesturing for us to leave. "Never mind. I'll just do what I've always done, I'll deal with it myself."
Dean rolled his eyes and slipped his free hand to my lower back, guiding us towards the door. I watched her from over my shoulder, waiting for Sam to follow. The moment Dean's hand touched the doorknob, he paused and turned back to the pair, Bela's back turned to him. "You do realize you just sold the one thing that could save your life?"
"I'm aware," she answered coldly, holding back a quiet sniffle.
"Maybe... there's something else," Sam offered, dropping his duffel bag from his shoulder to his hand. My back straightened in surprise, watching him intently. "Look, I don't think it'll work but... if we can summon the brother, we might be able to-"
"We could take them both out," Dean said, his brows lifting in surprise. "He's angry at his brother, right? So if we summon the captain, they end things themselves."
"Could that work?" I asked, staring up at Dean in surprise.
"Probably not, but it might be worth a shot. It'll sure as hell stop other people from dying," he said with a pointed glare towards Bela. "We'd just have to, what, go to the cemetery and do some summoning mumbo jumbo?" he asked. Sam nodded. "Alright, then let's get to it."
—
The wind picked up as I placed the final candle on the fifth corner of the pentagram. Sam nodded his thanks as I straightened and adjusted the shotgun on my shoulder. "Sounds like it's getting close," he murmured, glancing at the darkening sky. I hummed in agreement.
Thunder crashed and I jumped as rain began pouring down in heavy sheets, soaking into my clothes after just a few seconds. Scowling, I gave Sam a nod as I sloshed through mud towards Dean and Bela, who shouted at each other over the sudden torrential downpour. Behind me, Sam began muttering in latin, reading from a soon to be soaked book.
As suddenly as the rain had begun, the ghost appeared behind Dean. I shouted at him, pointing wildly to the ghost. Bela's eyes widened as she shouted a warning to Dean, just as the ghost ripped him backwards, tossing him across the cemetery as if he were nothing.
I slung the shotgun from my shoulder, pressing the end into my shoulder as the ghost reached for Bela. It's ethereal palm met her skin and water began pouring from her mouth. She gagged on coughed up a flood of water as I level the barrel and a shot rang out. Rocksalt blasted through the air, knocking the ghosts form into pieces. My grip on the rifle dropped as I sprinted to Bela's side just as Dean pulled himself to his feet. The pair of us knelt beside her, watching fearfully as Sam read faster.
The rain slackened.
I looked to my right to see the ghost of the captain, standing over his own grave. Before him was his brother, water-logged and angry. "You," the vengeful spirit snapped, lifting his one good hand to point accusingly at his brother. "You hanged me! Your own brother!" The captain's apology was swallowed by the crashing tide of his brother, the two spirit's colliding in angry fashion. Water careened to the ground, forming a wide puddle.
Beside us, Bela coughed, wiping her mouth of any water. I pulled her to a sitting position, allowing her to hang her head as she regained her breath. I winced at the sound of her racing heart, hands curling into fists at the rapid sound.
"Where's my-," she wheezed, nails digging into my arm that was keeping her upright. "I- my purse. Where's my purse?"
"You're kidding, right?" I snapped. She shook her head, and I motioned towards the cars with a sigh. Dean stood and returned shortly after with her purse. Immediately she clutched it tightly, rifling through its contents until she found something she was content with.
"Here," she said, withdrawing the largest stack of money I had ever seen. She slowly pulled herself to her feet as she passed the stack to Dean. "It's ten thousand – that should cover it. I don't like being in anyone's debt." She stood shakily and drew her coat tighter around herself, shivering slightly in her drenched clothes. "I'll see you around." With that, she turned and made her way back to the road and wobbly legs.
"A 'thank you' would've been fine too, but I'm not complaining," Dean said as he thumbed the bills. I laughed as he extended the wad of cash to Sam, who's eyes widened. He had likely never seen so much money in one place in his entire life.
"Dude, we have no idea where that money's been," he said, leaning away from it slightly. "Who the hell knows what illegal pocket it's been in."
"Don't know, don't care. But I sure as hell know where it's going!" Dean pumped his fists excitedly into the air. "Atlantic City, baby! Play some roulette- always bet on black! You in, sweetheart?"
"Not this time," I said, although excitement still had a smile rising on my lips. "Never been the betting type, and-"
"Right, you've got, like, seventy mouths to feed," Dean said with a clear pout. "Well hey, we'll get you a little something as a souvenir, yeah?" he winked at that and I chuckled.
"You better. For all the times I've saved your ass, I better at least get a t-shirt from a gift shop."
—
Despite the extended period we had been gone, Caeden's hunting party still had not returned. Walking through the camp only led to long stares and soft whispers. It seemed colder than usual, a realization I had as I scanned over the crowd, only for everyone I saw to drop their gazes. It was quiet.
I narrowed my eyes as I passed by Cassandra. She had a rumpled shirt in her hands, three of her five 'daughters' standing beside her. They paused as I walked by, one with her hand high in the air reaching for a makeshift clothesline. One of the daughters, Renee, I think, sneered as I passed while the other two resumed their fiddling with the garments. Cassandra's eyes never left me, a piercing, cold blue that seemed to know far more about me than I liked.
I spent the next day in quiet contemplation, the occasional comment leaving my lips, or a grunt as I nailed a new panel to the side of one of the makeshift houses. These were the last touches needed to make these haphazard houses liveable for the few families we had. It was a start, and one that I felt might be the first step needed to bring the pack together.
Dean stood beside me, holding the wooden board to the barren frame of the house as I nailed it into place. With one side tacked, he reached up to grab a nail from between his lips and passed it to me. "You know, I think Atlantic City will be good for Sam. A nice break, yeah? Some fresh air, a bit of fun," he said, his lips quirking up into a satisfied grin.
"Right, because smog and beer is sure to be the highlight of his life," I said with what I hoped was a teasing lilt. Instead, it fell flat, my mind too focused on other things to crack a joke. Would there be enough space in here for the Jameson family's new baby, and Sasha? I hoped it would be warm enough in the winter – heating would be difficult for us, we were going to need to stock up on new blankets, especially for those still in tents-
"Might be the highlight of his week, at least. Besides, the kid could probably use some fun with the ladies-" I shot him a weak glare as he nudged me with his elbow. "Come on, you both need to lighten up a bit. Live a little!"
My shoulders tensed at that as I paused with my hand poised, hammer ready to strike down on the nail held by my other hand. Live a little? Really? I smacked the hammer down harshly enough that Dean jumped, the free end of the board rattling. "I've got a little too much going on right now to be living my best life, Dean."
His grin dropped into a small frown as he ran his hand through his hair, holding up one end of the board lazily. "Everyone deserves a break, sweetheart," he said as I padded around him to the other side of the board, ready to nail it in place.
"Sometimes I wish you'd worry about yourself as much as you worry about me," I grumbled as I placed another nail and struck down on it hard until it embedded within the stud on the other side.
"What's that supposed to mean?" he asked, his voice dropping lower. It no longer held curiosity or affection – it was on edge, ready for a spat. I bristled.
"Exactly what you think it means, Dean," I snapped as I brought the hammer down on another nail. "I wish you'd give a damn about yourself for once!"
"This again," he snapped, slamming his palm down against the wood siding. It rattled under the force of his blow. "Why would I give a damn, when all I care about is seeing you, Sam and Bobby safe!"
I whirled on him with such force that he jumped in surprise, eyes widening for a fraction of a second before they narrowed into a challenging glare. "Because killing yourself to protect us isn't love, Dean!"
"And keeping secrets is!?" he shouted, and I winced at his tone. "You hear fucking voices! You didn't think that was something I should know!?"
"I have it handled! The wolf has never done anything to hurt me- he's looked out for me! Taught me things that have made life easier-!"
"Right, because this is the same monster that gave that stalking bastard everything he needed to kill you-!"
"What does this have to do with your deal!?" I shouted, lips drawing back in a tight snarl, bearing down on Dean. "What does you questioning my choices and who I speak to have to do with you sentencing yourself to death!"
"It has everything to do with it! You're questioning my choices, making me seem like I'm the crazy one-"
"- So now I'm crazy-!?"
"- And now I clearly can't trust you to tell me something as important as you seeing a giant wolf! Why would I want to stay with someone I can't even trust to talk to me!?"
"You can't- you can't trust me!?" I near screamed, shaking with rage as I leaned towards him with my hands balled into fists at my sides. "Dean, I've nearly died for you- I've killed for you, and you say you can't trust me!?" I lifted my hand holding the hammer so quickly that Dean flinched, shoving the head of the tool against his chest with enough malice to have him take a step backward in shock. "You can trust me because you know I love you, and not in any of the self-sacrificing, fake love kind of shit! You can trust me because you're my best friend and the person I want to spend the rest of my life with, and you're doing everything in your power to make sure that doesn't happen!"
Dean fell silent as I shouted the words, eyes blazing golden, shaking with rage. Tears welled up in my eyes in anger as my chest heaved with labored breaths. I snarled, baring teeth so intensely that I felt my jaw might break. In a fit of rage I threw the hammer down at Dean's feet. "Screw you, Winchester," I growled out as I spun on my heel and stormed away.
I heard him call my name as I stomped between the buildings, but I paid him no mind as I wove between the half finished houses. Even after everything we had been through and everything I had told him, he still didn't trust my judgment? I scoffed and wiped my eyes with the back of my hands. I thought he knew me better than that.
I gasped as I barreled into a figure, just a bit taller than me and much more solid. I wrenched myself away from the stoic figure that stood at the end of the alleyway, barely on the main road. Curious blue eyes met mine.
Cassandra.
"Trouble in paradise?" her scratchy voice questioned, one thin brow raised as her cold gaze sought Dean marching down the gap between the buildings. He halted when he saw the pair of us before his gaze narrowed and he resumed his strides.
I jumped in shock as her hand suddenly lunged and wrapped itself around my arm, drawing me in closer. She lowered her head to mine, thick gray hair mixed with tight dreadlocks falling around her face. A cruel smile curled on thin lips as she paused beside my mangled ear.
"Be careful who you let inside your head. Seems to me that those associated with your wolf are dying like flies."
I snarled as I wrenched my arm from her grip, the force of it knocking her bony hand to the side. Her smile dropped as I turned my back to her and strode down the path, my legs carrying me as quick as I could without drawing attention or pain to myself.
A flash of white from my periphery drew my gaze. I didn't have to look at him to know it was the wolf, his red eyes narrowed in a tempestuous gaze. I wrenched my eyes forward once more, intent on reaching my home where I could lock the door and pretend that my only worries were making sure my pack had enough to eat.
The wolf's massive paws moved silently against the ground, falling in step with mine from several feet away. I shook my head in anger at the sound of Dean's rough steps approaching and the wolf beside me, his gaze lingering on me. With a growl I turned over my shoulder, eyes glued to the gravel ground behind me. "If you don't have anything useful to say, fuck off."
Dean and the wolf halted in their tracks. I shook my head and wiped my eyes once more, unsure of who I had spoken to. Perhaps to both of them. Perhaps to neither. I just wanted quiet.
My head hurt. My stomach panged with hunger. I was frustrated.
I flinched as the rumble of an engine reached my sensitive ears. It was a familiar sound, but the ringing of anger in my ears and the raging headache blocked out any rational thought. It wasn't until a tickle in the back of my mind - like a small electric shock you receive upon touching a light switch - shook me back to my senses.
Caeden was back.
I found myself sprinting towards the edge of camp before my brain had even processed what my legs had already caught on to. Skinwalkers ducked out of my way as I barrelled past, startled and distrustful eyes pausing on me for a split second. I paid no mind to the familiar voice calling my name from the edge of the once abandoned town.
By the time I reached the edge of the settlement, an unfamiliar rumble of a foreign engine filled my ears. With narrowed eyes I lifted my gaze to a smaller, silver car rolling to a stop beside the red pick-up. Four beasts piled out of the pick-up, and it didn't take long to recognize them as those who had gone with Caeden on his rugaru hunt. They seemed content, quieter than normal, with soft smiles and sagging, tired shoulders. It appeared the hunt had gone well.
My gaze only lingered for a few seconds before each door of the silver car opened. My brows rose as Caeden stepped out of the passengers side, a soft yet nervous smile on his face. Strange. The man rarely ever smiled unless good news was involved-
Strangers.
I flinched and took a half step backward as three foreigners piled out of the car, eyes glued to the ground. Strangers on my land, with my pack. A low growl rolled in the back of my throat before I could stop it.
"Caeden?" I simply asked, golden eyes fixating on him. His tongue darted out to wet his lips, throat dry with nerves.
"We met them on the hunt," he began, gesturing to the three. "Said they had heard about you."
"You're the Black Dog?" one piped up. Her hair was gray, short and in loose ringlets that framed her face in a wiry shape. I hesitated for a moment before nodding. Her scoff hit my ears as she crossed her arms and glared. Her back was straight with tension, the confidence a facade. Her hands quaked. "Thought you'd be older."
"How do you know about me?" I questioned lowly. The woman turned to her companions - a stocky man with a thick, carefully groomed mustache, and a willowy, freckled woman with just as many scars as I bore.
"From- from our pa-ack," the man with the mustache stuttered, his voice occasionally catching and a slight lisp evident. "He said- said he saw you once. B-ack before you..." he gestured vaguely to the camp. I quirked a brow.
"Before I... became an alpha?" I questioned, tipping my head slightly in curiosity. The man nodded. Curious. Of the small pack that Chikaltio managed, only three had chosen to follow me. The rest... well it seemed they had found new packs of their own. I scowled - so even without the vampires from so long ago, word still would have gotten out about my present.
Wishful thinking to assume otherwise, a familiar voice crowed from behind me. I angled my head to glare over my shoulder at the white wolf, who sat back on his haunches and watched.
"We found them wandering," Rue, one of the few who had traveled with Caeden, piped up as she dragged a bag from the bed of the pick-up and slung it over her shoulder with a dull clink of weaponry. "Stragglers. Hunters got to their pack."
"Needed somewhere to go," the gray woman chimed in with a nonchalant shrug of her shoulders. "Look, I haven't heard as much as you think - big, scary wolf, gets into people's heads, yada yada. I don't give much of a damn about you or any rumors." She huffed out a haughty breath, placing spindly fingers on her sharp hip bones. "But what I have heard is you give just about anyone a fair shot. And right now, that's all we need to get back on our feet."
I paused for a moment, surveying the trio. The willowy woman stood silently, eyes glued to the ground. There was something... off about her, as if she were too quiet. On top of that, I couldn't grasp a clear scent off of her - or maybe the boney older woman's peppermint scent overwhelmed everything else. I glanced towards Caeden, whose sheepish expression was long gone and replaced with one of certainty and confidence.
I jumped as the graying woman suddenly stood straighter, eyes seeming to glow a vibrant blue. Her lips were drawn back in a snarl, teeth filing to points as her fur threatened to break the surface. Caeden reached her before I did, planting a palm on her shoulder to hold her in place. I spun on my heels to face the camp only to find...
"Dean, not now," I called, a clear warning in my voice. He stood at the edge of camp, hands balled into tight fists. His green eyes were fixated on the newcomers, jaw set in a distrustful glare.
"Hunter," the stuttering man murmured, taking two steps towards his more wild companion. "You keep- keep hunters here? Humans?"
"They mean no harm-" Caeden attempted, only to be cut off by a harsh snarl from the older woman.
"They're hunters, of course they mean harm!" she snapped, turning her fierce gaze on me. "I was led to believe you protected your pack - instead we find- we find-"
"You find my friends," I growled, taking a few steps forward until I stood in front of her. Despite her slightly taller height, she seemed to shrink into herself as I approached. "The hunters we host do not kill without reason - and neither will you." Her blue eyes dropped to the ground for a split second before rising to meet mine in a challenge. "My pack, my rules."
I cast a glance over my shoulder at the growing crowd, a throng piling around Dean at the edge of camp. My heart thundered in my chest, panging with worry. Surrounded by skinwalkers that didn't yet trust me. This wasn't a safe place for him.
Green eyes met mine as I spared him a pleading look, a silent demand for him to back away. A reassurance that we could speak later. His shoulders tensed at the unspoken message, hands flexing at his sides before he disappeared into the crowd.
I turned sharply back to the trio of newcomers with a harsh glare. "I know you have no reason to trust me, but I can assure you that I do everything I can to keep this pack safe. I would never let hunters in here without knowing that my pack's safety is ensured." The woman glared, watching Dean as he disappeared into the crowd, throat bobbing as she swallowed dryly. She was afraid, and hiding it well. "I promise you, for as long as you stay here you will be protected-" I cast a stern glance between the three of them, "- so long as you follow the rules."
"And those are?" the third member of the group finally piped up, lifting her head behind a thick mane of hair. Her eyes were glassy and dark, almost... death-like. When she opened her mouth, the scent of sugar and sweetness filled the air. I scrunched my nose - where had I smelled that before.
"We don't kill humans. We eat animals," I said, staring pointedly at the older woman. "And if you have an issue, you take it up with me, or my betas," I gestured towards Caeden and towards the crowd where Booth no doubt stood. "We settle things civilly, without fights. We're not animals."
"You sound like you're trying to become more like... them," the woman barked, crossing her arms once again. A small smile peaked through my glare, splitting my frown.
"Like humans? When have you ever known humans to be civil?" I joked. The woman coughed out a laugh, as if she had meant to hold it back.
"We would be safe?" the willowy woman spoke. I turned my scrutinizing gaze on her, taking in her pale complexion. Her skin seemed almost... gray. Her scent was too sweet, almost fake and luring. I swear I had smelt it somewhere-
An image of a morgue flashed in my mind, of a body lying on an autopsy table. I struggled to hold back tears as I identified the man to the mortician. His auburn hair plastered with blood and the back of his skull torn open. Brain, missing. If only Dennis had taken me on the hunt with him.
My mouth opened and closed like a fish as the image - one that I never wished to recall - came flooding back. With startled eyes and a slack jaw I turned my eyes to Caeden. "You brought a wraith into my camp?"
As soon as the words left my mouth, the woman lunged forward. Tears filled her eyes as the facade cracked - she no longer looked whole. Her skin was flaking, her eyes were yellow and unfocused. She looked like a corpse. Her boney fingers latched onto my arm. "Please, I swear we'll follow your rules. I can eat animals, I promise I can. I won't hurt your friends, I won't-"
I wrenched my arm away as I felt the bump on her wrist that concealed the needle-like weapons within her body. My heart hammered, my head spun, I felt weak in the knees. Was this panic? How long had it been since I had even thought about the viciousness of a wraith.
I took a deep breath and closed my eyes for barely more than a second, collecting myself. "You'll be safe," I answered her original question softly, tearing my gaze from hers. "We'll find you shelter. Stay as long as you need."
The wraith breathed out a sigh of relief at my words, burying her thin hands in her hair as I turned my back to the trio. Caeden fell in step beside me as we marched towards the crowd. Wide, surprised eyes stared back at us, bodies parting as we neared. I'm not sure when, but eventually Caeden's presence left my side, likely in search of Marcus.
As my mind raced, my heart began to even its beats. My ears rang as my thoughts raged, and my nose burned from the sweet scent seemingly buried inside it.
The sound of the impala roaring to life and pulling away from camp met my ears.
8450 words.