I snarled, drawing back pink gums to show pearly white teeth. Whatever the hell these two were planning, it couldn't be good.
The blonde canine snarled right back, throwing its head forward and rolling its shoulders. Seeing it up close, it looked like a mix - a wolf hybrid. It was smaller than I was, its paws only about half the size of mine.
First-generation? I asked myself. My father had told me a long time ago that the further skinwalkers strayed from their human roots, the more animalistic they got. The larger, stronger, and more wolfish they became. Despite my father telling me this, I had never seen another purebred, aside from him.
Another light flicked on in the house, catching my attention. I heard a scuffle from the second floor and my ears suddenly went high, eyes widening.
The other one had disappeared.
Shit!
The flaxen wolf snarled at me, taking a step forward. It was littered with small scars, clearly showing fighting experience. My eyes whipped between the door and the wolf, my mind racing. Noticing my panic, he lunged forward and nearly bowled me over with his heavy front paws. The other animal's paws collided with my shoulder, shoving me to the side and it in the opposite direction. Before it could whirl around and snap at me, I was already running through the front door.
I could feel it practically snapping at my heels as I ran through the house, winding my way through the kitchen and dining room before I finally found stairs to the second floor. I took the steps three at a time, how I managed in such a not-stair-friendly form, I will never know.
I heard a shot from one of the few rooms on the second floor. With a snarl, I raced towards the second room on the right, the door swung open and its hinges broke. There, I stopped, my eyes not believing the scene before me.
And an old man was beating my fellow skinwalker over the head with a dusty old lamp, the lampshade laying off to the side. I yipped at the old man and he turned, his eyes full of hatred and anger.
He threw the lamp.
He threw a fucking lamp at me.
I dodged, ducking out of the doorway and back into the hall, only to see the lamp hit my golden pursuer directing in the face, its green eyes widening. It yipped in shock and fright before falling head over tail.
I cautiously poked my dark nose around the door frame, hoping to avoid any other projectiles. Instead, I heard a scuffle and many colorful swear words. Leaping through the doorway yet again, I saw the skinwalker attacking the old man, who, to my surprise, was fighting back quite well. A snarl escaped my lips as my paws pounding across the creaking wooden floors, and lept onto the back of my fellow monster, digging my teeth into his shoulder. My size nearly encased his body and pushed him over backward. I shook my head ferociously, tearing at the tendons and muscle in his broad shoulder. He screamed, and I tasted blood in my mouth.
With one final tug and a rake of my claws I lept off his back and back onto the floor, fangs bared and ready to pounce again. I jumped suddenly and yelped, feeling harsh needles digging into my tail. I whipped around to see the blond wolf burying its teeth into my tail. With another rage-filled snarl, I smacked a heavy, clawed paw down on its face, raking down its forehead and knocking it down. It refused to let go and kept gnawing on my tail.
Bastard.
I snapped my jaws at him and spun until my teeth were sunk into the back of its neck, grabbing the scruff and yanking. It let go of my tail with a hiss, only to fly across the room into a rickety old bed. The man was nowhere to be seen now, but I could hear his feet thundering down the stairs.
I heard a growl from my left and turned to see the man I had sunk my teeth into was now once again a dog, a chocolatey colored, wiry mutt. He ran forward, completely dodging me, and out the door. I howled and gave chase, the pale wolf running right after me, almost neck and neck.
I knew I wouldn't be able to beat him down the stairs. If I tried, I'd fall and that old man would be as good as dead. The top of the stairs was in sight, and I had a wild idea. I lept onto the other wolf's back, using him as a springboard, and fell to the floor below, a howl escaping my lips. I rolled to the side as I hit the floor and popped up, my shoulder a bit sore from the landing, but surprisingly uninjured.
I heard an explosion and immediately ducked. The old man had a shotgun now that he was firing all over the place, pellets raining down. A shot hit near my foot, shrapnel digging into my paw. I yelped as it burned through my fur and skin, feeling like hot iron being pressed into my skin.
Silver.
I looked at the old man, whose face was filled with rage, his throat raw as he screamed for blood. My eyes widened as a revelation hit me.
He's a hunter.
I shifted back at once and ducked as he trained his gun on me. I held up my hands in protest. "Wait wait!" I screamed, begging him to stop and give me enough time to speak to him. "I'm not with them! I'm here to stop them!"
The man lowered his gun for half a second to stare at me quizzically before hoisting it high once more and swinging it towards his left. From the corner of my eye, I could see a brown blur launching toward him. The old man fired and the chocolate mutt fell in a heap on the floor.
"Caeden!" I heard a man scream from behind me. I whipped around to see a man not much older than me racing towards the fallen mutt, his shaggy blond hair a tousled mess and green eyes blazing. The man, who I could only assume was the blond wolf from before, fell to his knees beside the brown dog.
The older man raised his gun again and aimed at the man.
"Wait!" I screamed, running towards him and knocking the gun to the side. The gun went off, putting a silver-filled hole in his wall.
"They tried to kill me!" he screamed back. He struggled to face the gun towards me, anguish and hatred filling his worn, brown eyes. "You'll try to kill me too!"
"I won't!" I shouted back, shaking my head. "I'm a hunter too! I'm here to help!"
"You're a monster!"
I snarled at this and pushed the barrel of the shotgun up so hard that it hit him in the jaw. With the man dazed, I elbowed him in the face, in the hopes that he would stop fighting. Bloodshot from his nose, which I likely broke, and he collapsed to the ground.
I turned sharply and marched toward the two fallen skinwalkers. Kneeling beside the injured, I shot the blond a heavy glare. He snarled and pulled his friend closer to him.
"Christ..." I whispered, seeing the bloody mess the silver had made in his friend's shirt. The blond had somehow coaxed him to shift back, and now I could clearly see the damage the silver had wrought. The man's shirt was in tatters and stained with blood and peeking through I could see the mess of his stomach, the skin flayed, burning, and raw.
"He's still breathing..." I muttered, pulling off my own thin coat and draping it across the injured mutt's stomach. "Keep pressure on it, ' I ordered. He growled in response and I snapped back with a nasty snarl.
I stood and looked around the room for anything that could help. Nothing but some old rope, which I took. It was fraying on the ends, but that didn't matter, it was fairly sturdy. I huffed and walked out onto the front porch, scanning the old man's cluttered yard, full of unfinished projects and old, rusted pieces of machinery. My eyes settled on a rickety old cart filled with wood.
That could work, I thought as I jogged over to it and began pulling logs and two by fours off the small pile. Finally, when the cart was empty, I drug it towards the front porch.
"Hey!" I called, cupping my hands around my mouth. A straw-colored head poked out from around the door. "Get him in here, we can drag him back to my place and fix him up." He snarled and didn't move. I growled lowly and marched towards the front porch, peaking my head through the door. "I'm trying to help you, jackass. You just about killed a man, least you can do is prevent the death of another." He looked up with wary eyes and huffed.
"Help me get him up," he hissed, voice smooth as butter. I hissed back and went to grab his friend's legs. He snapped at me nearly every time I made a move, criticizing everything I did until we had the injured mutt in the cart.
I'm about to kill this bitch.
I took up one end of the rope, the other tightly wound to the front of the cart. He glared warily as I began to wrap it around my waist. I paused and glared right back. "Do you want to drag him?" I dropped his gaze, a sour expression on his face. I huffed in triumph. It was the little victories.
I shifted for what felt like the umpteenth time that evening, my rough paws hitting the soft ground. I shook my fur out and inhaled deeply, taking in the cool night air.
Vanilla.
The strong, sickly sweet smell of vanilla hit my nose. I looked from the corner of my eye to my newfound companion, his own nose raised in the air and green eyes closed softly. He glanced my way, green eyes crisp with suspicion and anger. I opened my mouth slightly, prepared to say something, only to remember my flaccid tongue wasn't capable of speech.
Communicating with other skinwalkers was not my forte.
He snorted and stalked away from me. I growled and trotted past him, in the direction of home.
—
I could practically smell them now, my pack. I nearly yipped with joy - it felt like so long, although it had only been a few days. My pace quickened, nearly running at this point and the blond stayed by my side, still scowling, but looking rather relieved that it seemed we were nearing our destination.
His friend still hadn't awoken. Granted, it was less than an hour's run, but I was beginning to worry.
We broke through the tree line and I was now running at a dead sprint towards my home. I howled as I ran and heard a distinct howl back. The front door slammed open and Booth raced out, Sasha just behind him. Booth halted for half a second, seeing a strange wolf and myself pulling a rather old cart. The moment passed and he sprinted towards me, skidding to a halt beside me.
I shifted back, my bones crunching rather loudly as they rearranged, my fur receding and leaving a prickly sensation behind.
"Sasha, go back in the house. Find all the medical equipment you can - I should have a medical kit in the linen closet near the laundry room." She nodded hastily and ran back the way she had come. I turned to Booth, his blue eyes seething as they landed on the blond beside me.
"Who the fuck is he?"
"That's not important, Booth," I snapped back. I had wondered that myself, but now was not the time. "Help me get this guy in the house." His eyes shifted between the two of us, seething, another question clearly on the tip of his tongue. He dropped his gaze and made his way to the injured man in the cart, delicately grabbing the man's upper body under his arms. I reached for his legs and looked at the strange man. To my surprise, he looked frightened. "Keep the coat on his stomach. I don't want anything sliding out when we move him." Both men visibly paled.
With some work, we managed to make it into the house. Sasha and Andrew were frantically racing around the room, grabbing anything remotely useful and depositing it in the kitchen.
"Blondie, go clear the table." He glared and marched over, shoving everything he could off my dining table. I flinched as I heard the pepper shaker hit the floor with a crack. Booth and I carried the injured man to the table and gently placed him down.
"Careful with the coat, his blood could have clotted by now. We don't want to reopen the wound."
"What happened to him?" Sasha demanded, frenzied.
"He got shot. Silver. It was his own fault," I uttered harshly, looking pointedly at his companion. He snarled in response, his eyes glowing a brighter green, his wolf right on the surface. I held his gaze for a few moments before we both looked away, my attention returning to the man now on my table.
Booth gently pulled back the coat, revealing the man's stomach to be littered with small entry holes, the skin flayed and burnt.
It was going to be a long night.
—
It was early morning by the time we finished. We had situated the injured man in my guest room, under my loft. Sasha and Andrew had turned in close to the end of our makeshift surgery, both exhausted from the night's events. Booth had offered to stay with me in the main house, but I refused.
I leaned against the porch railing, my eyes on the stars above. They were so vibrant tonight. I spent my time picking out various constellations, delighted when I finally found one.
My phone buzzed in my back pocket. I reached for it and flipped the screen open.
13 missed messages. 2 missed calls. I chuckled. I almost expected more.
I did have more messages than I expected from Sam. Nine. I had expected Dean to be the overprotective mother hen. I chuckled, seeing his short string of messages.
Did you make it home safe?
Are you there yet?
Are you alright?
Did something happen?
Dean's getting worried.
Call me when you get this.
I smiled and quickly texted back. I hoped the boys would be asleep by now. You never know though - they seemed to be raging insomniacs.
I'm fine. Ran into a little trouble along the way. Nothing I couldn't handle. Everyone's safe.
I checked Dean's messages next and only found four.
Sam's freaking out. Call us when you get home safe. That was the gist of it.
I'll call you in the morning. I replied, yawning slightly. It was late. I didn't want to wake them. I stretched and rolled my shoulders and shut the phone screen.
"Your boyfriend piss you off or something?" I heard a voice from behind me, tight with tension. I looked behind me, startled at first. It was the blond, his hair tousled and eyes squinting, riddled with sleeplessness. His shoulders were tense despite the relaxed posture he tried to convey. One edge. Nervous. Overcompensating.
"It was just a few friends, asking if I'm OK," I answered curtly, turning away from him. I heard the porch creak under his feet as he moved to stand beside me, leaning on the railing. There was silence. I was almost relieved that he chose not to say anything more. This man made my fur stand on end – he seemed almost... arrogant. But perhaps that was just a facade, just like his feigned relaxation and self-confidence.
"Thank you, by the way," he finally said, eyes never leaving the tree line. He gritted his teeth, grinding the words out slowly. I lifted one brow as I waited for him to continue. "My... friend would have died without your help."
I didn't answer for a few moments. I turned to the side, leaning against the railing and staring at him. "What were you doing so close to my territory?" I finally settled on, leveling him with a steady, firm gaze. At this, the facade finally slipped and surprise coated his features. He furrowed his brows in confusion and turned to face me, green eyes radiant.
"This is Chikaltio's territory."
"I killed Chikaltio," I answered bluntly, narrowing my eyes. If this man knew Chikaltio, there was a chance they were allies. Clearly he had no qualms with invading his territory without permission. Allies might not be such a stretch.
Surprise rippled across his features. Our eyes locked and I could practically see the gears turning in his head. I waited patiently for his response, finally inspecting him now that I had the chance. He had somewhat long, pale hair, a bit longer than Sam's was. It was just as messy, if not more so than the youngest Winchester. He had a rather well-defined jaw and piercing green eyes flecked with gold. His nose and cheeks were dotted with freckles that looked like they had appeared more from extended periods in the sun than naturally. He looked like one of those guys that were constantly smirking, one eyebrow raised, almost daring you to hit him.
"You killed Chikaltio? He's dead?"
"Yep," I said, popping the 'p'. The man stared for several moments before his lips spread into a wide grin. A snort escaped him and his hand flew up to cover his mouth, stifling a flood of giggles. "What the hell is so funny?"
"Thank God someone finally took that bastard down a peg – he had it coming. I figured it would be someone from his pack though, not some rando. Someone like that Booth guy."
"You know Booth?"
"I've seen him around. I used to know Chikaltio," he said with a shrug, spinning to pro himself against the porch railing on his elbows. "Not well, but he'd let us pass through every now and again. Not sure how that mongrel managed to stay in control when he had someone like Booth in his pack."
I glared at him. The fact that he knew Chikaltio and hadn't done anything to stop him made my blood boil. "Why didn't you do anything? He was killing people."
The blond laughed harder at this. "Caeden and I just want to be left alone – kind of hard to do that when you're on some batshit alpha's bad side." My expression softened at that, knowing just what he meant. "Only way to stop a guy like that from killing people is to take care of him yourself. But that means taking on a pack, and more mouths to feed."
I frowned at his words, turning my gaze from him. "Don't I know it," I finally murmured, musing over the end to Chikaltio's reign. "I never wanted the position either. I only stopped him because I wanted to be left alone."
He scoffed. "Oh yeah. I'm sure you were by yourself a lot," he said with a teasing lilt. I snapped my eyes towards him, lips twitching up in a grimace. He rolled his shoulders under my harsh gaze and faced forward once more. "What makes you care so much about humans? You aren't one, clearly never have been." My eyes widened at this, turning fully to face him. The blond rolled his eyes and waved away my shock as if it were nothing. "Oh please, it's not exactly hard to spot another pureblood. No normal skinwalker looks like that."
"Are you first generation?" I asked tentatively, my voice lowering.
"Course, aren't you? Isn't that, like, the only generation?"
"No," I answered quietly. "I'm third."
I could see his mind trying to grasp what I had just said. His eyes widened and he let out an impressed whistle as it finally hit him. "Well, I guess that would explain why you're so much bigger than me." I narrowed my eyes. Granted, he was taller than me in his human form. Not taller than Dean, but certainly close to, if not just above, six-foot. "How'd you manage to make it past first? Never seen anyone that pure."
"My dad was second generation."
"What about your mom?"
I paused, glancing warily at him. "She was a hunter. Turned on a case."
A heavy silence sat between us for some time. I could tell he was mulling it over in his head, not sure what to say next. "How'd that work out for her?" He finally settled on.
I shrugged and turned to face the lawn, staring off into the tree row. "She met my father at some point. They fell in love, I guess, and he taught her how to avoid eating people. She stayed close to her family, even though she wasn't human anymore."
"You don't seem to care very much about her."
"I do care, it's just..." I turned back to face him. "We were never very close. She died when I was sixteen."
He was quiet again, staring out at the small meadow and into the trees. For the first time during that conversation, genuine emotion filled his gaze. He looked sorrowful as he nibbled on his lip, his grip on the rail tightening subtly. "I'm sorry. I know what that's like."
I surveyed him for a moment, taking in what little I could see of the world he was lost in. He was mourning, and it sounded as though he had been for a long time. "It was her own fault," I finally answered quietly. "She went berserk. Killed a few humans."
"Oh," he answered, sighing. "So a hunter put her down?"
I nodded. "My uncle."
He swore under his breath and shook his head. "Talk about family drama."
"No more nuts than anything anyone else goes through." He chuckled lightly in response. "I hope you understand you're going to have to stay here for a while," I said hastily, changing the subject. I didn't like talking about my parents, and I could tell he didn't want to pry more than necessary. For once, we found common ground. "Your friend, Caeden, he's going to need some time to heal. Granted, he'll heal faster than a human, but the silver really doesn't help his case."
"Trust me, we'll be out of your hair as soon as we can be," he responded with a hint of amusement in his voice. "It'll be a pain while we're here, not having any of the good stuff to eat." I scoffed and he smirked, knowing he had hit a nerve. "Oh come on, you've really never eaten a human heart? So much better than an animal."
I glared at him, the golden eyes of my wolfish form coming forward. His eyes widened and his smirk grew, showing sharp canines.
"Oh my God," he whispered. "You have, haven't you?" He paced towards me and I stood my ground, consciously trying not to waver. "Who was it? Who'd you kill?" I growled lowly at him and he leaned forward, practically leaning over me. "Did it taste good?"
For the first time that evening, I cracked. The man seemed to delight in it, finally knowing that my buttons could be pushed. "Fuck off," I snapped and marched towards my front door. "I want you out of my house as soon as possible." He chuckled at this.
"Hey, alpha," he called. My ears pricked and I stopped in the doorway, refusing to turn and look at him.
"Be careful with those human friends of yours. I could smell them on you as soon as I saw you," his voice lowered, almost like a warning. "I'm sure you don't want them getting hurt."
I whipped around, jaw clenched and ready to tear him to shreds. He leaned against the railing, his back against it and a cool smile resting on his face. His eyes, however, told a different story - his eyes were full of hidden fury and distrust, but... none of the hunger that Chikaltio and his gang retained.
Was he bluffing? I didn't want to find out.
"Good night, alpha," he said quietly before turning from me and stepping off my porch, headed in the direction of the bunkhouse.
4001 words.
Edited 04/25/22.