Once in a blue moon, someone unworthy of a powerful title will take charge. It happened in China, during the rise of communism, after Mao Zedong stepped down from his near tyrannical throne and his successor took his place. Or in the Middle Ages when William II, son of William the Conqueror took the throne. However, all aforementioned rulers were never given the proper chance to rule well. They had to live their lives cast in the mighty shadow of their predecessor.
But, in the case of Tom Chikaltio, he was just awful in every way imaginable. He lived in no one's shadow, and instead was a brutal leader, who demanded everything and more from his pack, even those few things they couldn't give. He was power hungry and animalistic, only caring for his status and defending his title. Why none of his pack members had left him, I would never truly understand – perhaps they were afraid of what he would do if he ever found the deserters.
Chikaltio was a fearsome opponent. He'd won a number of difficult fights and ruled his meager pack with an iron fist. His dominion was the equivalent of barbed wire slowly squeezing around an animal's torso until it pierced the skin and blood burst forth in the form of revolution.
I had only seen him once in my short life, and it was an experience I never wanted to relive.
It was a midsummer afternoon, only a few months after my uncle's final hunt. The kitchen was unearthly quiet. Uncle Dennis' little dachshund, an orange fluff ball by the name of Peony, would often waddle around the kitchen, her uncut toenails clicking against the linoleum tile. Sadly, the little comfort dog would often follow her owner on a hunt, only to stay in the car as Dennis kicked ass.
The kitchen was quiet, the lights dim in the bright afternoon sun. I had been nursing a beer with my feet propped up on the coffee table and a book in my lap – frankly, I had never been a big fan of alcohol, but it helped to take my mind off my grief. There wasn't much to do other than enjoy the quiet. Although, there was little to enjoy, as I was so used to Dennis's booming voice and constant motion. He rarely rested, and the house felt so empty without his lively presence.
A sharp screech was heard from the road, the sound of a car turning into the driveway. Despite the months of solitude, I half expected it to be one of Dennis's many old trucks turning into the drive. I realized quickly that couldn't be the case, as he was never returning home. I stood languidly and stretched, attempting to hold back the flood of negative thoughts, threatening to break through the damn I had built around them, and made my way to the door.
I frowned, leaning against the doorway with my beer still in hand and glared at the approaching silver Toyota Camry. It was an older model, at least ten years old, and the paint was chipped in places. I took another unimpressed sip of my beer and narrowed my eyes at the man who stepped out of the car.
The first thing I noticed was his scent; it hit me like a semi, the smell of car oil and fir tree. The fir was one of the most shocking first impressions I had ever had, as it was a rare smell in rural Alabama.
He was tall and stocky, a coat of thick, wiry hair covering his arms and legs. A thin layer of dirt covered his skin and his short cropped brown hair stuck out at odd angles. He had fearsome, icy blue eyes trained over my relaxed form, and a heavy palm hovering over a pistol on his belt.
The encounter went smoothly, fear lodging itself into both parties. I feared for my life, knowing if I stepped out of line this man would surely try to kill me. Whether he would succeed was unknown to both of us, and that was what scared him. He feared for his position, knowing a third-generation purebred could easily knock him from his throne.
---
I shifted back, knowing full well that starting this fight in my wolf form left me at a disadvantage. The only purpose my fur served for now was to spread my scent and alert his pack to my presence. I shivered with worry, disregarding the thick Alabaman heat. The small lot was empty, save for the two cars, one a beaten-up pickup and the other a totaled Camry, both covered by blue tarps and surrounded by wood scraps.
Bones littered the lot, teeth marks evident along the many ridges. The front of the gas station had open windows, some with the glass blown out and others covered in a dirty film. A few shadows could be seen milling within the building.
I squared my shoulders, steeled myself and set one foot back. This was my home, and I was tired of being pushed around. I just wanted to be left alone. It was wishful thinking, but I hoped that maybe my bold display would send Chikaltio away from my home without a fight.
I whistled and all movement from within the station stopped.
I jumped when the door slammed open, a small mob exiting the crumbling building. Growls issued from the mouths of mutts and people alike. My E/C eyes widened slightly, seeing the array of dogs rushing me, snapping their jowls aggressively. Few of them looked truly dangerous, and most were just sitting back, watching the display with interest.
I lifted my head with pride, masking the nerves that had my heart fluttering. It had been so long since I had fought something other than a predatory animal. I didn't know what to expect from Chikaltio, but I did know I wouldn't let him continue ruining my life, or the lives of the nearby humans. I would send him on his way, or I would die trying.
Or so I believed until Chikaltio stepped from the shadows of the abandoned building, a gun clutched loosely in his large palms and a cocky smirk on his whiskered face.
Fuck.
"Finally decided to take up my offer?" he asked, his yellow, sharp canines flashing with triumph.
"You mean the one where you said 'join or die'?" I answered with malice, clenching my hands into tight fists. My eyes flickered between his eyes and the gun in his hand, his finger tapping against the trigger. While I was capable of using a gun, I doubted I'd be able to reach my own before he shot me.
"Not quite, though I do like the analogy. I never took you for a patriot," he continued, crossing his burly arms over his chest and holding his pistol on full display, light bouncing off the barrel. I grimaced.
"I never took you for a historian," I spat. "I'm surprised you're able to store any useful information in that tiny grapefruit."
His smile only grew. "What are you here for, purebred?"
"I want to talk, mutt," I countered hastily, heart pounding. He seemed so unfazed by my antics, and, truthfully, it was setting me on edge. "I'm tired of being terrorized. And sending two brainless hunters after me was a low blow. I expected something better from an alpha." I spit out his rank like it was poison. I had little regard for the ways of most skinwalkers – I hadn't been raised the way they had, nor was I bitten and forced to conform.
His shoulders tensed slightly, and his eyes fell to a dog beside him. The animal looked like a mixed breed, with russet, wiry fur, and long drooping ears. Its eyes glowed a metallic yellow.
"I was not the one that told Chapez to send them after you. But-" he looked up, meeting my eyes with his own blue ones that seemed to be glowing more now than they had before, "I don't regret how he handled the hunters. It was clever. More clever than I expected him to ever be."
"You don't give him enough credit. He may have the brain of a gerbil, but even gerbils know how to find scraps."
Chikaltio chuckled at this, crossing his arms over his chest. "Did you just come to insult my pack, or did you want something, L/N?"
I swallowed slowly and clenched my jaw in determination. This ended now – I would finally have my life back and would never again attract the attention of hunters. "Tom Chikaltio, I challenge you for the position of alpha of this pack."
Chikaltio hissed, fangs protruding from his lips in both shock and disgust. "That wasn't part of the offer, darling."
I swallowed, preparing myself for the fight ahead. I paused to think before spitting out, "Well here's my offer, shitbag. Give up your pack now and run back to wherever your pine tree smelling ass came from, or lay down and die like the inbred mutt you are." I hissed with malice and the intent to kill if necessary, E/C eyes filling with a molten gold color and hoping my message was clear. A few dogs howled at the challenge, some wagging their tails in amusement, eager for a fight.
"You little bitch," Chikaltio snarled, "I'll fucking kill you."
"Tough words for such a small dog," I responded with a shit eating grin, crying from fear on the inside. The wolf in me was ready to lunge itself at him and tear his throat out for challenging her, a naturally higher ranking skinwalker. But she held back, acknowledging that she had to keep the ball rolling for this plan to work.
The scent of sweet dough, cherries and beer filled my nose and I had to restrain herself from looking towards the alluring scent. It was an oddly comforting scent, one I had grown to enjoy over the last twenty-four hours. I couldn't give them away - but if I could smell them, certainly Chikaltio could too.
I pulled my hair back, tying up as much of it into a ponytail as I could. It had grown wilder than I liked in the year that Dennis had been gone – after a while, I lost most regard for the smaller details of life, like cutting my hair. It was a nightmare to keep at the length I preferred anyway. It grew rapidly, sometimes faster than I could manage. I widened my stance, throwing my hands up in fists, the now yellow bruise and thin scab from where I had been shot showing clearly.
"You want to fight, dipshit? Let's dance."
Chikaltio snarled and lunged, shifting almost immediately; the gun he had been holding dropped from his hand. His brown hair, hinted with red, grew to cover his muscled body and skin loosened around his jaw, dropping into jowls.
My eyes widened at Chikaltio lunged forward, jowls flapping and teeth bared menacingly. He was shifting immediately? Did he have that much confidence in his abilities, or was he going all out because he too wasn't sure what to expect?
I snarled as his massive paws collided with my shoulders, throwing me backwards onto the ground and knocking the air out of my lungs. He snapped at my throat, fangs only inches from the delicate skin. With an angered cry, I lifted my leg to knee him in the ribs, sending him sprawling on the ground at my side.
I lifted myself to my feet, crouched low and prepared for another assault as he pulled himself to his paws. He stumbled to his feet and circled my tensed form, wariness evident in his blue eyes. Realization hit like a tidal wave, slipping over me and bringing a shiver down my spine. Chikaltio had never seen me fight – he had no clue what to expect from me.
I grinned cockily and held my arms wide, welcoming his onslaught. "That all you got, Tom?" The mastiff snarled and whipped his head to the edge of the circle, blue eyes narrowed at a pair of mutts. The dogs stepped into the thin ring, lips drawn back and growls rumbling in their throats.
Shit. Could I really take on three of these mutts at once? I had never tried such a thing – hell, the only other skinwalkers I had fought had been my parents, and that was years ago. These dogs were larger than their mastiff alpha, but certainly not as fearsome. They were littered in scars from previous fights and the two were in rough shape, looking as though they hadn't won many of their encounters. I had faith that if I could separate them from Chikaltio, I could easily take them.
"Three against one, Tom?" I asked coyly, redirecting my attention back to the slobbering mastiff. I had to keep him distracted long enough for the Winchesters to make their move. "Don't you think that's a bit unfair?"
C'mon girl, just like Dennis taught you, I thought as I lifted my arms higher and slipped a foot behind me. Don't give yourself away just yet, I thought. Make them wait for it.
The monsters didn't make me wait for them. The larger of the two mutts growled and lunged forward, taking me to the ground once more. The ground was where I was in my element – with all four limbs on the ground, furred or not, I knew I could win. My molten eyes swelled with color as I delivered a swift kick to its gut. The beast's whimper quickly turned into a snarl as he was thrown off like a limp rag and onto his back, a strong punch coming down onto his jaw.
I howled as claws dug into my back and the smaller of the two mutts bit into my shoulder. Their fangs sunk deep into the soft flesh and struggled to tear through the thick skin. I rolled and gripped the animal's jaw in my hand, pulling back on its gums until it released. I snarled and pushed the side of its face into the concrete, only to have the other quickly on top of me. An inhuman sound escaped my lips as the animal clawed at my stomach, attempting to shred the sensitive skin.
The two animals had me pinned, clawing and biting and tearing at whatever they could reach. I fought back, thrashing under their weight with all my might. I gripped the throat of one of the drooling beasts and lifted, putting pressure on its arteries until it loosened its claw grip from my body. My arms shook under the weight of holding the monster, and yet I locked eyes with Chikaltio. His skin went cold at the look of pure rage I cast at him.
I was so tired of this mongrel trying to control my life when all I wanted was to be left alone. Now, he had the audacity to have others fight his battle for him. My skin burned, the blood beneath burning with rage and hatred for this incompetent mutt.
Time seemed to slow around me as my eyes skipped form Chikaltio's worried eyes to a shadowed figure behind the totaled Camry. In the shadows stood Sam, a horrified look on his features as he watched the bloody display.
I flashed him a reassuring smile, meeting his eyes with warmth, hoping he understood my feelings in that moment. I wasn't going to be bested by Chikaltio, or anyone else.
Lifting a toned arm to the throat of the dog above me, I pushed hard. He fell to the side, blocking Chikaltio's view of the fight. I inhaled deeply and rolled my shoulders, ignoring the feeling of nails and fangs in my skin. Fur burst from my skin and my bones cracked, reorganizing into a canine's skeleton. In a matter of seconds, I was in my skin, fangs bared and flying towards Chikaltio.
Chikaltio went down, claws latched to his ribs and my fangs sunk into his shoulder, grinding the bone until it shattered between my jaws. Claws raked over my back and sides, though I didn't care. I wanted him gone from my life, even if that meant killing him. Now I realized that, no matter what I did, there would always be someone out there looking to tear me down.
He was an example, something to show all other opposing skinwalkers that I was not to be trifled with.
I was dragged snapping and snarling off Chikaltio's battered form by three dogs, fangs barely reaching my skin through my thick fur. Chikaltio righted himself, blood dripping down his shoulders from several puncture wounds, the skin of his ribs torn and flayed. He pounced, forelegs shaking and jaws aimed for my stomach.
An explosion went off, tossing nearby mutts to the ground. The Camry was splintered, bits of metal raining down over the dogs and persons around it, flames rising high. My sensitive ears were ringing, and through the smoke I saw the Winchesters charging forward and shooting at any dog who dared to come their way. With a victorious howl, I ripped away from the mutts holding me and slammed thick paws down onto the spine of a russet colored hound.
I tore into the skin on his back, damaging the dog's spine before rolling to the side and leaving it to rot. A surprised yelp tore out of my throat as another came flying forward, tackling me from above. It snapped its thick jaws at my face and I snarled, lips pulled back to reveal pink gums and blood stained teeth. With a mighty shove, I dug my nails into its neck, threw it to the ground and sunk my fangs into its throat. Blood spurted across my face as I yanked, hating the feeling of its blood slipping down my jaws.
I glanced over her shoulder, seeing the third animal writhing on the ground, a silver bullet lodged in its chest. I winced and padded towards it, brushing its cheek with the end of my wet nose. The animal whined, the silver preventing it from shifting back. Taking pity on the bloody animal, I took its skull between my jaws and squeezed, ending the poor skinwalker's misery.
I whipped my head around to face a shaking, bleeding Chikaltio, his short tail tucked. He snarled in defiance, blood slicking his shoulders and running through his red fur. Thin bits of metal decorated his back and he kept most of his weight on one leg, favoring his left shoulder.
I took a few slow steps towards the battered mongrel, teeth bared and lips drawn back in a silent snarl. He held his head high, feet planted wide and prepared for more. I stopped my slow pursuit and gazed down at his much smaller form with an intensity in my eyes I had only felt on a few occasions. I bent my neck until I was eye level with the smaller mastiff, hoping my eyes portrayed what I was thinking. I hoped they were telling him that if he would submit and leave my home, I wouldn't need to kill him.
As much as I would have liked to send him on his way, I couldn't leave him alive unless he agreed to go willingly. My simple act of kindness would become my downfall – Chikaltio was not one to let something like this slide. He would come back stronger, and with help.
He growled, snapping and dripping slobber onto the ground. That was enough of an answer for me. I lunged, gripping his neck just under his strong jaw muscles and squeezed. He fought, but eventually succumbed, muscles relaxing until finally he fell limp to the concrete.
---
I nursed my wounds and watched the last of her new pack cart out the dead. There were seven of them left and four of them were injured. The only two I recognized left uninjured were an Irish Setter by the name of Sasha and a blue heeler I didn't know. Sasha was rather kind, assisting the pack in whatever way she could, and even provided me with bandages to patch myself up.
To my surprise, I had come out of the fight with no serious injuries. Sure, I was bruised and bleeding in place, but my shoulders and back were the main source of my pain. The puncture wounds left by the monsters would heal soon enough.
Monster. Nobody fit that title better than I did. I pulled my arms tighter around me, shivering in the nonexistent cold. I understood that fighting was the way of skinwalkers, but I couldn't help but be appalled by what I had done. There should have been another way, one where no one had to die. Perhaps if Chikaltio had shared my philosophy, he would still be alive.
If he had shared my philosophy, there would have never been a problem to begin with.
The Winchesters had done a number with their bullets, although they had eventually run out. There were only so many bullets you could carry in a pistol, and silver bullets weren't exactly easy to make or come by. They had a limited supply.
I sat by myself now atop the beaten pickup surveying the aftermath of the explosion, a sandwich in hand. One leg was hung over the side of the truck and I swung it with little attention. I surveyed my new pack with curiosity, waiting for one to meet my eyes. So far, none had.
I took a thoughtful bite of my sandwich, thinking about the recent fight. My face fell at the thought of Chikaltio's throat between my jaws. It had been so much like hunting a deer, and yet so different. My appetite fled, replaced by feelings of remorse.
I hopped down from the pickup, her worn boots hitting the graveled parking lot now stained with blood and ash. I mulled around the pack, hoping to catch someone's eye and strike up a conversation. Oddly enough, the feeling of having a pack made me giddy.
---
After another few hours of attempted chatter, I was back on the pickup, this time standing on top of the cab. I whistled before I could think to stop myself and all heads turned towards me - furred and not. From within the crowd I caught Dean's eyes, a reassuring smile on his freckled face. I was thankful that he had agreed to help with the aftermath of the fight. Truthfully, I doubted if I could have done it alone.
The dogs immediately seated themselves on the ground around the truck - those who could at least. Some stood, leaning against each other like makeshift crutches. The air was thick with tension as I struggled to find the words I wanted to speak.
"I'm a vegetarian," I began and then sucked in a shaky breath immediately after, face flushing. That was not what she wanted to say. "My point is... we all have very different lives. I never wanted to be an alpha. I wanted the threats against me to end, and I wanted the deaths of the humans to end. I never wanted..." she gestured to the pack, "... this..."
I ran a hand nervously through my hair and turned my gaze away from my newfound pack. A part of me was disappointed that I had chosen to send them away.
"Listen, I'm sorry. I know I... hurt a lot of you. I know I disrupted your life here. And I know that many of you have very different morals than me. That's why..." I paused and took a deep breath. "That's why I've decided to disband the pack." Hushed whispers filtered through the skinwalkers below me, some of relief, some of shock.
"I never wanted to hurt anyone, and I worry that if I stay alpha - something none of us want - then someone else is going to get hurt. This pack would never thrive by the way I've taken it. So... let's cut our losses and go our separate ways," I spoke with a final weak shrug, not entirely sure how to explain this to them. It felt so alien to me, talking to a group of skinwalkers as their apparent leader, even though I was one of them.
"But," I started again, tone firmer this time, "If I hear that any of you have been hurting innocent people again, I'll be sure to track you down and kill you myself. Worse than I did Chikaltio. That's it."
I hurriedly hopped down from the truck, avoiding their gazes, and passed through the few dogs that were, for a short time, my pack. The Winchesters watched me with intent gazes as I marched towards them, head held high.
I stopped in front of Dean, holding his stare for a moment before saying, "Take me home." I had meant to phrase it as more of a question, but it sounded blunt and demanding as my voice shook.
The elder Winchester smiled. "Gladly, princess."
---
I had never been more happy to be home, in my own house, my own bed. I was so excited when I took a shower, washing the dirt and grime and depression from my skin, cleaning the blood from my hair. The tub would be a nightmare to scrub, but at least I was finally clean.
I sighed and rolled onto my back, gazing at the ceiling. Despite my exhaustion, sleep evaded me, always just out of reach. Images of the recent fight floated through my mind; in a way, I was glad, as I was not yet plagued by the nightmares that were sure to come.
I rolled onto my side once more, gazing out the large window of the second story loft. I tried to imagine running in that open glade just outside the thin glass, tall grasses brushing against my fur, the wind parting my thick coat until it trailed its icy fingers down my skin. Instead, all I saw were the broken, bleeding and lifeless faces of those I had killed. The skinwalker with a bullet-ridden chest that I had chosen to put out of its misery. The russet hound his neck I had crushed until blood dripped into its throat, staining my jaws. And finally, Tom Chikaltio, blue eyes lifeless and fur receding back into his skin as he fell to the ground with a dull thump.
I didn't even try to stem the flow of tears that slipped down my cheeks.
4363 words.
Edited 04/25/22.