"At this point, you might as well just move in. Half your shits already here," I teased. Elbow propped on my knee with my chin resting in my palm and a cold beer in the other hand, I watched Dean line up the corner of two boards, forming the edge of what would eventually be a kitchen cabinet (not that I had much to fill it with.) He chuckled around a nail trapped between his lips.
"Right, and make everyone even more suspicious," he mumbled around the metal piece, a hint of a smile rising on his lips. He outstretched one hand expectantly. Rifling through the objects that littered the ground at my feet, I found the mallet he was looking for and dropped it into his hand. He gave it a brief inspection and nodded in approval.
"I think Sam at least suspects already. Hell, if he hasn't guessed by now, I'd be shocked," I let out an airy laugh as I leaned back on my elbows, reclining in the soft grass. Summer was in full swing now and the entire camp was feeling the effects. Everyone was more lively, and productivity had skyrocketed. Smaller groups were now working cohesively within the pack to build their own homes – temporary structures that would hopefully become more temporary. As for the abandoned town, it was no longer abandoned. It was as liveable as it could possibly be, with working electricity powered by generators and plenty of space for storage and homes. Andrew and a few others had even taken one of the buildings for their own, turning it into a sort of rugged kitchen-butcher shop combination.
"He suspects, alright. Few weeks ago he asked me about my thoughts on you. Felt a little bit like an interrogation," he answered, glancing over his shoulder at me from where he kneeled beside my bent knees. Once again, he outstretched his hand, covered in bits of sawdust and the same dirt that stained his jeans.
My brows knitted together as I glanced between him and my beer. "Get your own!" I joked, pulling the cold glass away from him and taking another swig.
Dean's hand dropped limply at his side and a playful smirk tugged at his lips. "Do you want to build your own cabinets?"
"I can build a cabinet just fine," I answered with a shrug. He just shook his head with a chuckle.
"The last one you built wasn't even square."
"I didn't have the square tool!"
"Bullshit, I could've made a square cabinet in my sleep without a square," he said as a laugh tore from his throat. Butterflies bubbled up in my stomach and I bit my lip, watching his carefree smile. I was broken from my thoughts by his once again extended hand.
I narrowed my eyes playfully, still holding the beer from him. "You have to at least make it worth my while."
"Worth your- you're joking," he scoffed with an exasperated tilt of his head. I shook my head, struggling to suppress a grin. With a shake of his head he sat in the grass beside me. I yelped as he moved suddenly, one hand finding the back of my head. His lips fell softly to mind and I breathed out a soft sigh, one hand gripping the front of his black t-shirt, a color far too dark for a warm summer day, not that he seemed to care.
I puffed out a hot breath as his teeth gently pulled on my bottom lip. I parted my own, eagerly meeting him, only for him to pull back as quickly as he had descended. His rough hand wrapped around mine that still held the beer bottle and I let go easily. "That's not fair," I exhaled, cheeks flaming.
He took a long sip of the beer before passing it back to me. "You know I don't like to play fair, sweetheart."
"Should've learned my lesson by now," I groaned and fell backwards into the grass, a long strand tickling my cheek. "Shouldn't expect anything less from you." He laughed and twisted to lean over me, palm finding my cheek. I tilted my head to see him stretch out, the half-finished cabinet long forgotten. Dean leaned down once again to press a kiss to my lips, one I happily reciprocated with fingertips raking through his hair.
A bolt of terror swept down my spine and I jumped backwards with a loud gasp, heart hammering. Dean sat up, alarmed, as he watched my clammer to my feet with one hand running to the base of my neck where heat flared. "What is it, what's wrong?" he demanded, rising to his own feet, his hands grasping my shoulders tightly.
My body shook as I raced through the options. Marcus, Caeden and Hidalgo were all out on hunts, and one of the three or the several skinwalkers they had with them could be in danger. But this terror, it felt different than just the usual sudden and brief panic occasionally felt on a hunt. I held back a tremor as I turned my head towards the front of the house, where the camp lay at the base of the hill.
A tingle flared at the base of my neck and a warm sensation filled me. The now familiar voice of the eldest Helms brother, Robert, filled my mind. Got a scuffle down here, boss, his gruff tone spoke, warbling and weak in my mind, but the connection was still there. He was learning, just as I had. Trying to get it broke up.
"Fight," I wheezed out, not realizing that I had a death grip on the edge of Dean's shirt. I quickly released it and took off at a run around the house, across the front yard and down the hill. Dean shouted after me, his footsteps not far behind as I skidded down the dirt path leading up to my home and into the camp.
The shouts were loud as I neared, but seemed to fall silent as I passed clusters of skinwalkers, growing closer to the source. A fight raged towards the center of camp, monsters bristling the loser I got, boisterous arguments center stage.
"-Were human too!" someone shouted. "You were one of them, and now you want to murder them!?"
"'S not murder, it's hunting! We're not built to survive off animals!" another countered, her voice rough with frustration and anger. I bristled as the crowd broke, parting to let me through. In the center of the ring of bystanders stood several skinwalkers, hackles raised and teeth bared. Three were already in their fur, snapping at each other.
"How do you expect to feed all of us on humans? You want to raise them like cattle!?" another shouted back, gesturing wildly to the group.
"Might as well!" the first woman countered. "We've got plenty of space, don't see why we can't keep some! Your alpha sure likes to keep hers around!"
"Our alpha," the elder Helms brother boomed, his voice low and authoritative. Half the crowd sunk a bit lower, eyes turning to where he stood at one edge of the ring.
"I don't care who the hell she is, she can go suck-" another man began but was silenced by a sharp chorus of threatening snarls.
"Did you lose all empathy when you were bit? Or did you just not have any to begin with?" the first man shouted at the opposing crowd. At that the woman who originally spoke out lunged forward, ripping into her anatolian shepherd form. She tore across the ground in just a few leaps and collided with the man, whose fur was beginning to protrude as she slammed him into the ground, fangs aimed for his teeth.
I sprinted towards the pair in the seconds it took for her to burst into her form and tackle him to the ground. My hands found her scruff and I yanked her backwards, her teeth gnashing as she fought to reach the man's now furred throat. A whine left her as I slammed her backwards onto the ground, looming over her.
"Enough!" I shouted, releasing my hand from its place on the furred monster's heaving chest, a snarl pulling on its lips. "We don't fight each other! I thought that was made clear!" I scolded, brows furrowing as some skinwalkers in the crowd flinched, averting their gazes.
"He was just defending ya, nothin' more-" Robert Helms spoke, reaching a broad hand out towards my shoulder. I jerked away from him with a scowl and turned my gaze on the man who aimed to defend me.
"I don't need anyone defending me," I snapped, the harsh tone behind my words sending him sinking in on himself. I wheeled on the skinwalker on the ground, hobbling to her feet. "And I sure as hell don't need any fights. If there's an issue, you come settle it with me. Don't care if it's civil, or if it's an issue with me."
"And how are we supposed to do that!?" someone from the crowd shouted and I jerked my head towards the voice. "If you're here, you're focused on anything else! Otherwise you're off with your human pets-" a chorus of snarls ripped from the other edge of the crowd, "- killing others like us!"
"Killing monsters!" someone else defended and I turned to face the voice. "Killing monsters that would kill us- kill people!"
"People are food now!" another person shouted.
"People have never been food!" I chastised. "What happened to your humanity? Most of you were human not too long ago! Has your hunger really overtaken your morals?"
"Not everyone has the control you have," someone spoke quietly. I looked up, meeting crystal clear blue eyes. The same shade as Calliope's constant color, a reminder of how long spent in her fur. One of Cassandra's daughters. "Not all of us want to have that control."
"And I have made it clear that if this lifestyle isn't for you, you're free to leave," I argued, placing my hands on my hips and lifting my head higher in defiance. "I have no intention of keeping any of you here if you aren't happy."
"Who's to say your friends don't put silver in us the second we walk off camp?" yet another voice hollered from a fair distance away. "What's protecting us if we go? Not God- if he cared, three quarters of us wouldn't be what we are!" a wave of murmured agreements followed.
"You killed my best friend!" another voice roared. I froze in place, blazing golden eyes turning to a woman at the edge of the crowd, tears in her eyes and mouth twisted up in a watery grimace. "You killed so many, and now you're demanding trust! Putting us in harm's way by forcing us to live with hunters! How does that seem fair to you?"
"Braxton killed or turned dozens more!" the first man retaliated, his voice wavering with emotion. "I was one of them- you were one of them! Here, we're protected even with hunters here!"
"Y'all heard the stories, didn't ya?" Robert Helms' voice boomed. "'Bout the Black Dog? What's safer than a monstrous wolf with a reputation for strength? Who kills monsters, real monsters, and defends the ones that need it?"
"I'm not some mythical figure," I snapped, twisting to glare at the elder Helms brother, who dropped his gaze promptly. "I believe in protecting the people who need it, human or monster."
"You can't protect both!" someone cried over the top of the crowd.
"I already have! I won't compromise the people I care about, and the people who need help! If I did, I would fail those people as much as I'm failing some of you." I sucked in a shaky breath and spun in a slow circle, staring at the wide ring of skinwalkers, all watching my intently. My heart hammered in my chest and my hands flexed at my sides. I could feel the blood pounding in my veins, rushing in my ears until I could hear my own pulse pounding. "I can't make everyone happy, that much is clear. But I can do my best to keep everyone safe and content, and we can fill in the gaps from there."
"I don't see any gaps being filled," the first woman spoke as her fur receded, the sound of bones cracking and rearranging filling the silence.
"Then what would you suggest?" I snapped, holding my arms wide open, waiting for a suggestion. "I'm doing the best I can without causing upset. I'm trying to build a community we can be proud of without being a tyrant. I'm trying to keep us safe and fed while still protecting others who have a right to live. What else should I do? What do you suggest?"
"Someone new," a rough voice spoke up. I whipped to face a thin figure, thick hair mixed with tight braids and dreadlocks, and a sallow face that boasted sunken, aged features. Cassandra. "Someone new who can get the job done, in the way it needs to be done."
She's been speaking ill of ya for months, Robert's voice spoke in the back of my mind. I brushed over the bond, sending a confirming 'I know' his way.
"What way does it need to be done?" I snapped, narrowing golden eyes at her. "With force, like Braxton used? Or with manipulation, like you seem to be so fond of?" Her thin lips quirked up in a smirk and she shrugged nonchalantly.
"I say we need someone who puts us first," she spoke, raising her voice so the whole crowd could hear. "Someone who won't think about prey over her family."
"Someone like you?" I asked. She shrugged once more, her arms folded over her chest. I scoffed and turned back towards the bulk of the crowd. "I'm not a tyrant. I refuse to rule this pack. I want to lead in a way that everyone is heard and respected." Murmurs flowed through the crowd and my ears pricked, trying to single out voices. "But I can't make sure you're heard if you don't talk to me. None of us are perfect," I sucked in a shaky breath and lifted my head higher. "So for as long as I'm alpha, for however long that might be, I need you all to talk to me. If I'm failing to hear you, then make me hear you."
Thoughtful whispers ran through the crowd and my brow creased as I listened intently to the murmurs. Booth? I called through my mind.
Port side, his gravelly tone returned. I turned to my left to see him standing at the edge of the crowd, Gina's daughter Aniyah at his side.
Double construction efforts, I spoke over the bond. I think... they don't have enough camaraderie. It's all tension right now, not community.
Give them something to fight for?
Right, I answered. Don't let anyone work alone. Get the ones you trust to lead it, make sure everyone who's able is involved. Give them all a piece in it.
I can do that. 'Talk with Jeremiah, and Caeden too when he's back. Jeremiah knows the people, Caeden knows how to get them moving. Booth sighed deeply over the bond, his hand moving to Aniyah's shoulder. He turned her and marched into the crowd, the bodies swallowing the pair quickly. Just make sure they see you too – see what you're doing for them, that you're not all bark and no bite.
I hummed thoughtfully as I traipsed through the crowd that was beginning to steadily thin. What about the fight rings we used to have? Burn off some tension, maybe show them I'm not as bloodthirsty as they think?
Not a bad idea. I'll get it started.
I uttered a quiet thank you and severed the connection. My mind spiraled as I thought of all the ways I could appease my pack. Did they need more structure? Maybe they needed some place they knew was safe from conflict, like the main hall-
That was smart, a familiar voice spoke, falling in step beside me. Mitigating the tension without so much as a drop of spilt blood. I must say, I was not expecting it. Shockingly, it seems they might even respect you more.
I scoffed. Shocking that when I treat them like people, they respect me? I'm not Braxton, I'm not going to compromise them for my whims.
Braxton compromised everything for a taste at Godhood, the white wolf grumbled. Not many would follow that route. In my experience, even fewer would take the path you have chosen.
What can I say, I like to take the road less traveled, I answered and jogged ahead, back towards the base of the hill that led up to my house. My eyes met Dean, who stood at the top of the hill with Sam at his side.
"Figured we'd stay out of your way," he said as I climbed the hill, a weary smile on his lips. "Pack problems?"
"Nothing that can't be fixed with some communication," I grumbled. "I'd say you two should stay with me tonight. Plenty of people here that aren't going to like my verdict – don't want them to form some sort of mob."
Dean chuckled dryly. "Fine by me. I'm not looking to become dog food just yet," he spoke morbidly, earning a glare from Sam.
"Anything you need from us?" the younger Winchester asked with a sincere smile. I thought for a moment before shaking my head.
"We'll see how things fall after this. I'm thinking tomorrow Booth and I'll get started on a better town layout – enough with the willy-nilly, who builds what, where bullshit. Give everyone something they want with placement, y'know?"
Sam nodded along with my words until I fell into silence. He glanced between Dean and I with a curious look before speaking. "So... where are we going to sleep? I mean, you don't even have a real bed yet."
I froze for a moment, my mind taking a moment to catch up. When it hit me, my face burst into a vibrant pink. I had just assumed the Dean would stay with me, and Sam would take the couch, but... well, that wasn't really possible at the moment.
"I'll take the floor," Dean offered with a haphazard shrug. "Just toss me a pillow and I'll sleep just about anywhere."
"Your back is going to be a wreck in the morning," Sam joked, prodding his brother in the side. Dean leapt backwards with a scowl.
"I'm not even thirty, I think I can handle sleeping on the floor!" he argued, earning a disbelieving chuckle from Sam. I hid my smile with my hand, suppressing a chuckle. Dean turned his playful scowl and lifted an accusing finger. "Come on, I'm not that old."
I whined teasingly in the back of my throat. "I mean, you're getting up there-"
"You're two years younger than me!"
"And much better looking. Some of us just age better than others."
—
"Pack's divided," Michael Helms spoke as he reclined in his seat, feet propped on the round wooden table. His brother sat beside him, a beer in one hand while his other ran thick fingers through his beard thoughtfully. "Never seen this much movement from them. 'S like the ones that still have their guard up want to be as far from everyone else as possible."
"Not surprising," Jeremiah added from the table nearest to the Helms brothers, Marcus and Caeden at his side. "They don't feel comfortable as part of the group, but can't bring themselves to leave."
"Why not?" Andrew piped up from beside the Helms brothers. "I mean, it's not like you're keeping them here," he said with a gesture towards me. I leaned forward from my perch atop the bar in the main hall, elbows propped on my thighs as my legs hung over the side.
"Where else would they go?" Jeremiah argued. "From what I'm hearing, everyone's picking sides now, not just us. Packs are growing, and most aren't welcoming of newcomers. They've got two options – stick it out, or survive on their own. Do you think you would've picked living on your own when you were still recently turned?"
Andrew fell silent.
"Then what do we do about it?" I spoke from my perch, surveying the three filled tables before me. Sasha, Hidalgo and Booth directly before me, quietly observing the conversation. The boisterous Helms' and Andrew to my right, who teased their younger friend regularly and often dominated the room. Jeremiah, Caeden and Marcus, thoughtful scowls on each of their tired faces.
"They're not cooperative," Booth spoke up, his gruff tone silencing the room. "Clearly. I've seen it in the sparring matches – teams don't work well, they argue about victors. Fighting just for the sake of fighting."
"So what do we do to bring them together? We've had everyone chipping in as much as they can. Hell, we got the generators up and running in record time," Hidalgo replied, waving his free hand in exasperation while his other clutched Sasha's tightly. "Frankly, we're running out of work."
"There's always work to be done," Robert interjected, his voice suddenly low as opposed to the usual boisterous laughter he regularly sported. "What sort of defense do we have? Y'all spend so much time out hunting, getting your names out there, ya don't think about what you could be bringin' home. Like that wraith," he spoke, tossing his hand widely in Caeden's direction. He leaned back in his seat, confident in his speech. "'S not just about building homes – you want them to feel safe, make them safe."
"So what do you suggest?" I asked with narrowed eyes, viewing him with scrutiny.
"Brothers in arms!" he cheered, grabbing his younger brother roughly by the shoulder and dragging him into a crushing hug. "Mike and I, we didn't get on too well until we turned. It's what brought us together – having to survive, work together. So give them something to work together over!"
"Isn't that what we've been doing?" Jeremiah grumbled, a few nods following his words.
"Ah, but yer not doing it the right way!" Robert laughed as he leaned back in his seat once more. "Not everyone's a builder, or an electrician. Hell, I hated the only hunt I ever went on!"
"He's a big lad, but killin's not his thing," his brother Michael teased, playfully shoving his brother in the shoulder.
"I'm sayin' you gotta give them options. Let them pick what they like. We've got gardeners that hate holding a hammer, hunters that hate being in the gardens, builders that hate both. Play into it!"
"You think they could bond over what they're good at? Instead of just the work?" I coaxed thoughtfully. Both brothers nodded vigorously. "Could work. Give them a common, more specific goal. Make it something they enjoy, not just something they're told to do."
"Gotta say, I hated it when you told me to garden with Sasha, back at the old place," Booth chimed in. "Did it cause I was told to, but didn't take any joy in it. Might actually work."
"Right, so... we've got cooks, obviously," I stated, gesturing towards Andrew who gave an excited nod. "And we've got logistics and building," I pointed to Sasha and Hidalgo respectively. "What other factions?"
"Hunting," Marcus cheered, placing his hand on Caeden's shoulder. "I think we've done well enough so far on 'getting our names out there,'" he quoted Robert, who let out a loud chuckle. "I know we've got plenty that don't want to hang around camp and wait for something to do."
"And I can take the ones that do want to wait around," Michael volunteered, puffing out his chest. "I was a cop 'fore I got turned – hadn't been on the force for too long, but long enough to know I love it. Civil defense and disputes? I can handle that."
All eyes turned to Robert, awaiting his agreement. The brothers were inseparable, and it wouldn't shock anyone if he chose the same path. "Don't look at me like that!" he said, throwing his hands up in defense. "I was a damn florist, and I'd like to keep it that way. Mike's the real tough guy here. Put me in a garden and I'll be happy."
"Right, so all that's left is-" the sound of my phone buzzing in my pocket cut me off. I scowled at the vibration and wrenched the device from my pocket, flipping the screen open to see a text from Dean. My expression immediately softened.
Looks like a coven of witches. Call when you can.
I pursed my lips in thought. One witch was bad enough, but a whole coven? Sure, Sam and Dean could probably handle it, but that didn't stop my heart from beating any faster. Maybe I should've gone with them- no. I stayed behind for a reason.
A pang of hunger hit my stomach and I scowled as I slipped my phone back into my pocket. I was beginning to think the white wolf was white – the longer I stayed out of my fur, the more my hands shook when I worked around humans for too long. Headaches plagued me in the mornings when I first woke up, before I had a chance to eat.
I didn't want to chance anything, not before I got control of myself. I told myself it was nothing, that I was just stressed, that I needed another fresh heart. I told myself it could be anything.
"All that's left is food and medical. We've got plenty of regular hunting parties, and a few people involved in medicine before they turned. Think it'll be enough?"
Jeremiah shrugged and reclined in his seat, arms folded over his chest. "We can certainly train most people on that, at least the basics of medicine. When they're not active they can fall into other factions." He let out a contemplative sigh and dragged his hand down his face, the exhaustion he felt clear in his eyes. "I say we get everyone on a rotation schedule – spend this day in the kitchens, this day in the crop fields. Find what everyone's strengths and weaknesses are. Let them decide from there."
"Works for me. I'll make the announcement tonight. Sasha, you alright to work out that schedule?" I questioned, turning to the petite woman, whose swollen belly denied her full access to the table. She huffed out a breath and sat up straighter in her chair, one hand pressed to her torso.
"I've got about another month until I'm out for a while. I think I can handle a little scheduling," she teased. Hidalgo gave her hand an affectionate squeeze.
"Great," I announced as I slid off the countertop. "Think that's about it. Let's get to work." A few mumbled agreements filled the room as they stood, murmured words passing between each other. I watched as my nine companions filed out of the room.
We were still two short.
I leaned against the counter, eyes locked on the floor. It had been about a month since I had heard from Calliope and Gator. Last I heard, they were in Canada exploring the wilderness as far from civilization as they could get, with no intention of coming home any time soon.
A sigh left me as I dragged my hand down my face, shaking myself from my thoughts. I stretched my hand before diving into my pocket and withdrawing my phone. I dialed the number in on muscle memory alone – it rang three times before Dean answered.
"Hey, you busy?"
"Not at the moment. How's the case going? You said witches?"
"Four- well, three now. Bunch of black magic nut-jobs," he replied, a morbid chuckle following. "Hate hunting witches – crazy bitches that would rather kill someone than lose the neighborhood bake sale."
"Gotta admire the dedication," I teased. Both Winchester's huffed irritably in response. "So what's the move then? Witches aren't like us monsters – they're still human."
"And still murderers," Sam chimed in, sounding almost... hollow. I furrowed my brows and held the phone closer to my ear, almost as if that would help me hear what was going through his head. "They need to be stopped."
"'Stopped' like stopped?" Dean questioned, a note of shock in his voice.
"Sam, they're still human," I argued, suddenly standing upright. "We don't kill people, we kill rampaging monsters!"
"As far as I'm concerned, murderers and monsters are the same thing," he answered coldly. I flinched at his tone, staring at the phone in awe. Since when was Sam violent? Even with Gordon he had almost taken it a step too far with his brutal kill. Sam had always been the peacemaker, but now he was being anything but.
"Burn witch burn..." Dean mused, his voice trailing off in thought. A sudden pop filled the speaker, and the engine of the Impala sputtered. "What the- shit. Hey, we'll call you back, alright?"
"What? Dean, what the hell-" the line went dead. My phone buzzed in my hand a moment later, a message popping up on screen. It only said one word.
Ruby.
I swore under my breath and dialed Dean's number again. I paused over the call button. I had only heard her name spoken once before, when they explained to me how the Colt suddenly had more bullets. I had yet to meet the mouthy blonde demon, but I knew if she was showing herself now, it either meant fortune or trouble.
I exhaled shakily. Sam... his behavior was worrying me. But I trusted Dean to do the right thing, and to deal with Ruby however it needed to be done. If that meant leaving a demon alive, then so be it.
I shut off my phone with shaky hands and slipped it back into its place in my pocket.
—
"Robert suggested moving seedlings into the showers," Gina's soft voice spoke from behind me, trailing close behind. "He says the recent cold snap is just going to get worse, and with how much temperatures vary here, we can't afford to only grow in the spring and summer."
"He knows what's best," I answered, side stepping around a pair of skinwalkers that walked side by side, coats drawn tightly around them in the chilly night air. The camp was lively, as it usually was closer to a full moon – one of the few traits we shared with our werewolf cousins. "Though I don't know if the showers will be the best spot. It's humid, but it gets real cold in there at night."
Gina hummed in agreement as she stepped beneath the framing of what would eventually become a small home, boasting a meager three rooms. It was one of several that was under construction in the camp. I smiled at the sight of cheap battery powered lanterns atop flimsy structures, watching as others laughed and joked between building segments. People were beginning to spread out and build their own homes. The camp was becoming more permanent.
"So if not the showers, where else can we grow?" she questioned. She pulled her notepad close to her chest as she ducked past a group of guffawing friends around a fire, drinks sloshing sloppily in their hands.
"Try the kitchens. There's plenty of storage and light. Well heated and access to water," I offered, waving at a pair of children who stopped what they were doing to stare as I meandered by. "I'll talk to Andrew about it, see where he has space."
Gina hummed again, as she often did when she had something to say but wasn't quite sure how to say it. She was methodical with her words, and very well-spoken; a testament to how much she mulled over what she would say before she said it. The direct opposite of Booth.
"I've heard others saying they're not sure we'll make it through the winter," she finally settled on. "We didn't grow enough this summer to last us even a month, and we can't survive on just what we have in storage."
"And animals are going to start migrating soon – we can't chase them, not all of us, and no hunting party will be able to keep up enough to feed us throughout the winter," I answered, my voice softening. "Believe me, I've thought about it. We can't sustain everyone, not yet."
"So what do you think we'll do?" she asked, her voice trembling slightly and barely above a whisper. I wasn't sure if it was because she didn't want others to hear, or because she was afraid of the answer.
"I don't know yet," I answered honestly and she exhaled shakily. "I've talked about it with the others. We could split up, for now at least, take a separate group somewhere warmer and kinder to us. Or, we can stay together and endure. It all comes down to what the pack wants."
Gina chewed on her lip as she quickened her pace to walk side by side with me, taking the space on my left. The camp grew quieter as we approached the edges. Many of the tents were pushed further back by the blossoming structures at the front of the camp, but they were vacated now in favor of the festivities near town. "Most of us were turned together. Despite how divided we might be on... some things-" she said carefully, so as not to rile me. I smiled softly at her consideration. "- we don't want to be separated. We depend on each other."
"That's how a pack should be," I answered reassuringly, and she nodded eagerly in agreement. "But we have to put everyone's safety-"
A sudden shock of alarm raced down my spine as if I had been doused in a bucket of ice water from head to toe. I shivered and stumbled, a hand flying to my abdomen in response. Gina's startled voice was drowned out by the sound of my pulse beating loudly in my ears.
Water- a sudden panicked voice shouted in my mind. The connection was weak, barely managing to scrape out that one word. I inhaled sharply through my nose and sat upright, a tentative recognition flaring with a dim bond at the base of my neck.
Lorie? I questioned the mother. A wave of nervousness matching her impression flowed over me. Lorie, what's wrong?
Sasha- was all she managed to croak out this time. The sudden realization clicked in my mind. Lorie and her family were staying in the same recently constructed home as Sasha and Hidalgo. If something cold was wrong with Sasha...
I took off sprinting in the opposite direction, back towards the main camp. I leapt over crates of belongings that littered the path and dodged around and between groups of skinwalkers that stayed up late enjoying the crisp night air. They watched me with alarm as I dashed past, their conversations momentarily paused in wonder.
I was out of breath by the time I charged up the small hill leading to the main stretch of the camp, the original abandoned buildings that lined a thin road. The sound of a door slamming and the pounding of feet cued me into another, dark shape sprinting in the direction I had come from.
I made eye contact with Hidalgo as he raced by, a panicked look on his face. "Petra!" was all he shouted as he met my gaze. The name of the only former medical professional in the camp who had experience in deliveries. Just as quickly as he had arrived, he was gone.
A breathy swear left my lips as I jumped up the front steps leading to their shared home. The door nearly slammed open under my forceful weight and I stumbled inside to find several pairs of startled eyes upon me.
"Oh thank God," Lorie croaked out as she helped Sasha sit down at their dining table in the center of the room. "Aron, help me move the table," she said, gesturing to the lump of wood. Her husband jumped immediately to it, giving it a great shove that sent it sprawling across the floor, landing on its side. Her dark eyes turned to mine. "Hidalgo's on his way to get Ms. Lewis-"
"I saw him," I answered, stepping into the room. "What do you need?"
"The kids," she said, looking up at her husband for confirmation. "They don't need to be here for this. We don't know-" she gulped and her eyes flicked to Sasha who saw nearly comatose in her chair, shaky hands on her baby bump, hair rumpled and glasses askew. We don't know what could happen, Lorie had meant to say. Our medical supplies were limited – God forbid Sasha needed a c-section.
"I've got it. Gina?" I asked her, and she nodded in confirmation. Her voice rang out in the house as she called her two sons from upstairs, asking them to bring their sister. Her own newborn, now only a few months old.
The brothers descended the stairs quickly, still wearing their clothes from earlier in the day, despite it being close to one in the morning. It seemed they were also enjoying the full moon. I ushered the pair towards me, placing my hand on the youngest's shoulder as I guided them quickly from the house.
"Is she having her baby now?" the youngest, Kody, asked. He was only about nine, bright hazel eyes staring curiously up at me.
"She is. You three are going to stay with Ms. Tamboura for a bit, alright? At least until your mom calls for you." Both boys nodded. The elder brother, barely into his teen years, cooed at his baby sister in his arms.
As we entered the camp Gina wove between the tents, puffing out surprised, labored breaths. When her eyes met mine, they widened, flickering between me and the boys on either side of me. "Can you watch them for a few hours?" I asked with a pleading gaze. Her mind raced to catch up to what my words were suggesting. When it finally clicked she nodded excitedly and waved for the boys to follow her.
I turned sharply on my heels and marched back through the camp, up the small hill and to the front door of their shared home. The door was cracked and I pushed it ajar to find a mess of blankets on the floor, every piece of furniture pushed against the wall, and Sasha seated in the middle of the mess of blankets with Hidalgo and Petra at her side.
"It's going to be a while," was the only thing the aged nurse said, not bothering to take her eyes off her patient. "I would suggest waiting outside, or getting some sleep." I nodded curtly in response and drew the door shut. Four steps across the porch and I dropped to my knees, finding a seat against the wall.
I wasn't sure how long I stayed seated there, eyes staring blankly at the stars that dotted the sky, their numbers slimmer now that the moon outshone them. The noises of the camp didn't die down – if anything, as the night chugged on they got louder. I sat still as a statue until the sound of an all too familiar vehicle jarred me from my thoughts.
I waited in silence. The sound of heavy footsteps across the gravel coated round had me twisting to face a figure in the dark. Even if my vision wasn't as strong as it was in darkness, I would know the shape of him anywhere. Dean.
My stomach panged with hunger.
My smile dropped as he approached, a soft greeting escaping his lips. Hunger nestled deep inside me, clawing at my insides. It had been a month since I had seen him – seen any human. But it hadn't been that long since I had eaten what kept us monsters alive. I winced as a sharp pounding in my temple began, as if dehydration was setting in.
"How long have you been here?" he asked quietly, hardly audible over Sasha's sobs and the whispered words of encouragement from inside the home.
"Since it started," I croaked out. Dean nodded and placed one foot on the steps with the intent to climb and I suddenly jerked backwards, forcing myself further from him. I brought my knees to my chest and buried myself in my jacket. He froze in place, watching with curiosity. "Haven't eaten," I answered, sounding as if I had just run a marathon. My pulse pounded in my ears, making his response difficult to hear. My heart thundered away and I struggled to breath under the anxiety of it. I had never felt like this around Dean.
He simply nodded and took a seat on the steps, his back to me. I licked my lips, barely paying attention as he spoke. I think he talked about the witch case, trying to take my mind off of everything that was going on. I didn't hear a word that was said. I stared mindlessly at the floor beneath me, never moving. I feared that if I moved too much, it would burn.
I was burning. My skin, my blood, it all felt as if it was boiling, the same way it did when I was angry or in danger. I hadn't felt this hungry since my first kill, the catalyst for my parent's return to reclusivity that inevitably sent my mother off the edge. I shook with terror.
I half expected the white wolf to appear and whisper a cocky 'I told you so' into my ear.
"You need a break," he said, his words finally breaking the surface. I lifted my head to meet his gaze from where I shook uncontrollably. His green eyes were warm, soft, and welcoming. This was Dean, I assured myself, allowing my shoulders to relax and my legs to stretch out. The love of my life. "Sam and I have another case, but I wanted to see you before then. Maybe sleep in our bed, finally," he answered, a beautiful smile gracing his lips. I smiled back weakly. The bed that no longer smelled like him. "We're thinking ghost or cursed object. Something simple. You should come with us."
"On a hunt? Dean, I-"
"You won't be gone long. I promise, I'll have you back within the week," he reassured, his eyes hazy with exhaustion. Something in the back of my mind how easy it would be – he was exhausted, he wouldn't fight back. I bit the inside of my cheek until I tasted blood.
"It'll be good for you," he promised. He wasn't pleading, only offering. He didn't push, not anymore. He knew me too well. I loved him. I kept telling myself that as the itch in the back of my mind grew.
"OK..." I whispered out, and he smiled, seeming almost relieved. We fell into silence again and I turned my gaze back to the stars, looking for anything else to focus on, other than the scent of his favorite beer and cherries that seemed almost suffocating.
"Do you remember the first case I worked with you guys? At your old house?" I asked, voice coming out shaky. He nodded, green eyes meeting mine once again, laced with curiosity. "The psychic, Missouri..." I tipped my head in the direction of the house where Sasha's mewls could be heard from inside. "She told me I'd be in that same situation some day. That I'd be a mother."
Dean remained quiet, watching as I spoke with wide eyes, his lips parted slightly. I chose to ignore him, just focusing on my ramblings. Pleading with whoever would listen to let my thoughts overpower his presence.
It hurt.
"I've never even held a baby, y'know? Never saw myself being a mother. I don't know the first thing," I said quietly. "But when she told me that, I wanted to be. So fucking bad. Didn't know who yet, or when. But I knew I wanted it."
He sat completely still, gaze turned forward now. I watched him closely, waiting for a response. His shoulders rose and fell slowly, evenly, and I could hear his heartbeat in my ears as well as I could hear mine. I licked my lips.
It would be so easy.
"When you were gone, running from him," he began, avoiding the tervuren's name as if it were taboo, "I got caught by a Djinn. I'm still not sure how it happened. Wrong place, wrong time I think. I don't remember much."
I waited for him to continue when he fell quiet. After several long moments I spoke up, knowing exactly how Djinn fed. "What did it show you? In your dream?"
He inhaled slowly and I swallowed dryly and the sound of his lungs filling and then decompressing. Blood from my cheek coated my tongue and I focused on the taste of it. "You," he finally answered. My eyes widened at his admission. "And my mom. Sam, with his old girlfriend. My dad wasn't there, but your uncle..." he trailed off for a moment.
Dean turned to face me, propping one elbow on the stair above him. "He adopted you. Your dad, just like he was meant to be." I smiled at that, thinking of Dennis. My father. I wondered if it would have been better that way.
"What about us?" I asked quietly. He smiled sweetly up at me, tired eyes sparkling.
"Married. Pregnant. Twins, I think," he replied, turning his back to me. I swear my heart skipped a beat, and for the first time since his arrival I wasn't focused on my hunger. "I didn't really think I wanted kids until then. It was always a thought, but that life just isn't for me." He sighed deeply and angled his head over his shoulder to meet my mystified eyes. "But I know it's not possible. Not with how my life is laid out now- I don't know if a monster and a human can even- is it possible?" he questioned. Before I could answer, he turned sharply away from me. "I just know it's not possible now. It's just a dream. Whoever Missouri meant-"
"There's never going to be anyone else, Dean," I answered curtly, and he turned his head slightly towards me.
"I don't want that for you, to be stuck in limbo like that."
"You're not going to die."
Dean sighed and lifted a hand to run it through his hair, spiking it up slightly. I watched the movement, dragging my eyes from his pulse to his fingernails. He had been biting them again. Something about the hunt had made him anxious.
I don't know how much time passed before he stood and dusted off his jeans, barely removing the grime that coated them. "Sam's already hit the sack – I should follow his lead," he spoke with the softest of smiles on his lips. "Don't stay up too late, OK?"
"OK," I whispered back, offering a reassuring smile. He paused for a second before nodding and striding across the gravel back towards my home, likely to take one of the spare bedrooms while Sam took the other. I pulled my knees to my chest, watching him go. A breath of relief left me as he disappeared around the corner, out of sight. The hunger didn't die down.
I stayed until mid morning, jarred awake by the sound of the front door bursting open as Hidalgo rushed forth with a beaming, teary smile. He raced towards the camp, the liveliness of it replaced with a quiet sleepiness, roused by his excited shouts.
"It's a girl!"
A chorus of cheers echoed off the hillsides.
7989 words.
Only a few chapters left until the end of the season. It's a short one y'all.