The moon was low in the sky, stars dappling the infinite darkness and proving to be the only source of light in the middle of the vast wilderness. Booth panted by my side, not built for the extreme speeds that Calliope and I could handle. It surprised me how fast she could travel, even with all that fur weighing her down.
The sun was barely rising, peeking over the tops of the trees, and lighting the sky until the stars faded into the blue backdrop. I would miss them, though I found solace in the fact that they would rise again the next night. If I had it my way, it would be the sun that spent most of its days hidden, and the moon that lit the earth. I always missed the moon when it receded over the horizon, missed its pull and tug at every fiber of my being. Despite how much I disliked its hold over me, I always missed it when it was gone. Life was lonely without it.
It was early in the morning, perhaps only just after five. The packs on our backs felt heavier than ever before, weighing on my shoulders as though they were full of bricks. To be fair, I was carrying a number of weapons that a wolf's shoulders were not meant to carry. It must have been an odd sight, a wolf with a backpack nestled between its shoulder blades.
Calliope and Booth hadn't bothered to pack much when they had learned of my predicament. They each had a small bag, filled with spare clothes and nothing more. They hadn't even bothered to pack any weapons. Although the thought of them lacking any sort of specialized protection left me with a bitter taste in my mouth, I had no doubt they could defend themselves. Without any sort of man-made weapon, I felt almost naked. I had become far too attached to guns and knives for my liking.
The road gradually began to smooth, an indicator that we were growing closer to a town. The potholes that littered the side of the road were filled, and it looked as though the highway had been repaved in the last few years. I cast a glance to Calliope, who trudged beside me, shoulder to shoulder. Her heavily furred ears were pointed forward, eyes narrowed in exhaustion and yet still filled with determination.
I hoped there would be a motel in this town. We had been running throughout the night, and I had no doubt that my friends were just as exhausted as I. Every muscle in my body was sore, and the pads of my paws were screaming for a break, roughed up by the harsh forest floor and rough roads. Booth was surely having an easier time with the coarse terrain, considering his thicker callouses and stockier frame; but Calliope... I worried about both of them. We all needed a break.
A growl caught my attention and my ears swiveled forward to meet the harsh sound. To my surprise, it wasn't the sound of some shrouded predator that I couldn't see quite yet; rather, it came from my own stomach. I winced and cast a sheepish glance over my shoulder at my companions.
Perhaps we could find something for breakfast while we rested.
The trees began to thin, revealing the flashing of streetlights and dim storefronts cast in the milky glow of early morning. Like many small towns early in the morning, the traffic lights were flashing yellow, rather than alternating between their usual colors. Often, they would resume their usual pattern just after six in the morning.
The highway passed all the way through the small town, with Main Street being the offshoot of the highway. It was quaint and quiet, something I longed for. We had passed around Lincoln on our way through Nebraska, adding to our rather extended journey.
I came to a halt on the edge of a sidewalk that ran along the edge of the highway, claws curling into the edge of the concrete. Calliope stopped beside me, thick fur brushing against my own dark, wiry coat. With a shrug of my shoulders, I shifted, feeling my bones crack and reorganize beneath my skin. The sounds of snapping ensured that my companions were following, their soft, bipedal footsteps chasing me across the crosswalk. The paint was faded, and the road was littered with spiraling cracks. Clearly, this small town cared little for repaving, so long as the road wasn't in true disarray.
"What's the plan here?" Booth questioned, his obviously tired frame standing close to mine. He looked exhausted, and his age was beginning to show through his solid facade. I admired that he was willing to cross the country at a moment's notice, risking his health and safety, just to help me. I smiled softly and buried my hands in the pockets of my worn jeans - he reminded me so much of Dennis, with his rather fatherly demeanor.
"I figured we could stop for a few hours," I offered and turned onto Main Street. It was rare to see such a classic-looking street, lined with numerous storefronts and family-owned businesses. This certainly didn't seem like the kind of small town to have a Walmart. "Maybe get a couple hours of sleep and some food."
Calliope's stomach growled loudly in response and she grinned sheepishly by my side. "Can't argue with that," she spoke quietly, voice hoarse from lack of sleep. She lifted her hand to her face, stifling a yawn that only succeeded in drawing one from my own lips. "Honestly, I think my stomach has forgotten what good, greasy pancakes taste like. Andrew is just too... healthy," she teased and shut her eyes, reveling in the image of a hearty stack of pancakes.
I laughed and nudged her in the arm teasingly. "I'll see if I can find something. How 'bout you two go find a motel - we can meet back here in an hour?" I offered, gesturing to where Main met Second Street. The pair glanced up at the street sign and nodded. It wasn't long before they disappeared around the corner, Calliope as bouncy as ever. If I didn't know them, I would have guessed they were related. Booth had such a paternal presence about him, guarded and strict, and his ashen skin certainly complimented hers. Perhaps in his youth, he was tanner, but now everything about him was paling with age.
I frowned in thought as I watched their retreating figures. Booth wasn't much older than John - only about five years older, in fact - but hunters rarely made it to his age. I wanted to keep him, and the rest of my family, as far from hunting as possible. I couldn't lose them. With one last huff, I spun on my heels and turned away from the pair in the hopes of finding something for breakfast.
The air was chilly, but not unbearable. I was certain that once the sun was high in the sky, the temperatures would be far more comfortable than they would have been back home. Here, you could see everything - the vast blue sky, the rolling hills of the Rockies that eventually faded into the grassy plains, and the many roaming herds of animals. I was thankful that we had the cover of darkness on our way here; without it, we surely would have been spotted. I had half a mind to wait until nightfall for us to move again, but I knew that wouldn't be practical. If we wanted to make it home by the end of the week, we would need to maximize our travel time.
The gentle glow of a welcome sign caught my attention and I lifted my head to meet the old diner. It was firmly embedded in a brick building and looked as though it had been there for a long time. With one last nervous glance around the street, I ducked into the small diner, wincing as the bell just above the door rattled.
Without Booth and Cal, I felt like an easy target. It struck me just how much I hated being alone, a feeling I used to relish. Now, I never wanted to be without one of my pack members - human or not. Whether it was an instinctive reaction or not, I didn't care. I just wanted to return to them as quickly as possible.
Just as I had expected, the diner was nearly empty. Behind the bar stood one very tired-looking waitress, an impeccably clean apron wrapped around her wide hips and a warm cup of coffee between her calloused hands. She struck me as the type to spend much of her time outdoors when she wasn't working. At the end of the long counter sat a man, hunched over his cold plate of eggs and bacon with a leather-bound book by his side and a pen in hand. He seemed so engrossed in his writing that he hardly noticed the door opening.
"What can I do for you, sugar?" the waitress asked, her voice hoarse as though she had woken up not too long beforehand. I glanced up at a clock hanging over the bar, the menu written on chalkboards on either side of it. It wasn't that long after six in the morning, and I still had about forty minutes before I needed to meet Cal and Booth.
"Nothing, yet," I replied with a smile. She nodded slowly and motioned for me to sit at the counter. I obliged and slid onto the thin bar stool, matching the standard look of a 50s diner. It was a cozy and welcoming place, despite the cool colors of the room and the chilly morning air. "I'm just waiting for a few friends."
She chuckled and wiped the rim of her coffee mug. "Well, the grease is only just warming up, so they may want to wait on that." She blinked wearily and took a sip before setting it on the counter beside her. "I can get you a coffee while you wait if you'd like? You look like you need it."
I nodded and cast her a soft smile. Maybe coffee was what I needed to keep me going until I needed to meet up with my companions.
A rustling to my left caught my attention and I turned my eyes to the man only a few seats down from me. He was younger than Booth, certainly, though older than Sasha. I guessed that he was in his early forties and was so engrossed in his writing that I was sure he wasn't even aware I had wandered into the diner. Everything about his mannerisms screamed 'paranoid', from the way he wrote like he could be dead at any second.
I knew that paranoia. I had witnessed it countless times now, having spent so much time with hunters. I frowned and struggled to catch a glimpse of what he was writing. His leather-bound journal was decorated with messy pages and scrawling handwriting that even he surely had a hard time understanding.
My eyes trailed from the worn pages to his hand, calloused and twitchy with apparent nervousness. His knuckles were bruised and out of place, as though he had broken them a number of times. My brows furrowed in thought and I glanced at my own knuckles, just as gnarled and bruised as his.
When I glanced towards his book again, his hand had stopped its erratic movements, and instead, the pen rested in his tightly curled fist, the point digging into and dripping ink onto the page. My eyes traced the curve of his arm until they came to a rest on his face.
He was facing me now, eyes narrowed in suspicion and upper lip trembling. His eyes were a deep brown and bloodshot from apparent lack of sleep, contrasting starkly with his tan skin. His hair was cropped short with a thin scar dipping into his hairline. The look he cast me was full of danger and paranoia and had my skin crawling.
"Here you go, honey," the waitress spoke cheerily as she padded back into the room with a cup of steaming coffee. My eyes met her frame, dropping the tired man's gaze. "Fresh outta the pot!" She set the cup down and I hesitantly drew it towards me with a quiet thank you.
The woman's eyes flickered between me and the man's hunched form, his eyes back on his notebook, although his pen remained still. She pursed her lips in thought and leaned against the counter, pulling her own mug into her hands.
"Don't mind Mr. Clarence now, sweetheart," she spoke and took a slow sip of her now cooled beverage. "He may look scary, but he wouldn't hurt a fly." She spoke quietly, just loud enough for me to hear, as if she didn't want the man to hear her. "He won't give you no trouble, so don't worry."
"I'm not worried," I said and took a sip of my own coffee, ignoring the sting of heat on the tip of my tongue. "Just curious."
"He's a bit old for you, dont'cha think?" she teased. I sputtered and set my hot drink down, ignoring the sudden chill on my palms.
"Not like that," I chastised and placed my hands in my lap. "Just his journal. There's someone else anyway." The waitress cocked a brow and set her mug on the counter, her face falling into a rather serious expression.
"'This someone else give you those bruises?" she questioned, gesturing vaguely towards my face that no doubt still had yellow bruises decorating the expanse of it. I lifted my fingertips to meet my soft flesh, where I knew the largest of my bruises sat.
"No!" I exclaimed, a bit louder than intended, and glanced nervously at the man. He was yet again engrossed in his writing, pen flying across the page. "No, he would never. He's not like that..." I trailed off in thought, an image of vibrant green eyes forcing their way into my mind. I shouldn't have said anything, and certainly not to a stranger. "And he's... just a friend, really," I clarified nervously.
The waitress hummed, clearly not believing my story. "Your secret's safe with me, honey. Promise I won't tell nobody," she jested with a wink. I frowned, cheeks flushed with embarrassment. He really was just a friend and would never be anything more - the lifestyle didn't allow for relationships, nor did Dean or I want to engage in one, no matter who it was with.
I really shouldn't have said anything.
"As for Mr. Clarence," she continued and slid her mug back into her wide hands. "Like I said, he's harmless. Always working in that damn book of his. He's a regular here, shows up for breakfast most days."
"And what about the other days?" I questioned. She turned a suspicious eye on me, lips pursed in thought. "I'm just curious, really. He reminds me of someone is all," I added nervously and held her firm gaze. She nodded slowly and turned her tired gaze back on her customer.
"Don't know about the other days, but he always comes back bruised. Don't know why, but I'm sure he's not involved in no nasty business -- man doesn't have a mean bone in his body." I nodded along with her words. With one last sip of my still-hot coffee, I pushed the near-empty mug towards her and glanced up at the clock. It was nearly time to meet with Booth and Cal.
"Thank you for the drink," I spoke with what I hoped was a pleasant smile. "What do I owe you?"
"On the house, sugar," she replied with her own wide smile, showing off a perfect smile aside from one leading incisor that stuck out just a bit. "So long as you bring your friends back, at least." I nodded and assured her I would before slipping away from the counter and out the glass door. I readjusted my pack on my shoulders and took a deep breath of fresh morning air.
The sun was peeking up over the tops of the rolling hills, the sky gradually lightening a grayish-blue. I was sure it was a beautiful color mixed with the golden fronds of tall grasses, although the view was obscured by the many buildings lining the town. I rolled my shoulders and reveled in the growing warmth. It wasn't too warm or too cold for early morning and would no doubt make for a pleasant evening.
My heavy, steel-toed boots clattered against the pavement as I walked down the sidewalk, hands buried deep in my pockets. It was a cloudless morning, and I hoped that would carry well into the day. I missed cloudless and endless blue skies, a sight rarely seen in Alabama. On days that weren't cloudy, the view was often obscured by cypress trees and a mess of Spanish moss.
I yelped in surprise at the sudden feeling of a harsh grip digging into my upper arm and drawing me into the shadows of two buildings. With a snarl, I wrenched my arm away from my attacker, only to have a piece of cold metal pressed to my forehead. Clarence's wild gaze glared down the barrel of the gun at me. My eyes went wide as he slowly pushed forward, backing me up against the brick alley wall.
"Did they send you?" he demanded, voice keening with exhaustion. His hand shook erratically; I couldn't tell if it was from nerves or adrenaline. "Are you one of them!?" he shouted as my eyes nervously flicked between his finger on the trigger and his wild eyes. How had he snuck up on me?
"Who? One of who?" I hollered back, keeping my voice lower than his in a weak attempt to calm him down. If anything, it just enraged him even more. My eyes flitted around the alleyway, looking for some form of escape, anyway that I could get past him and make a run for it. I couldn't attack him - he was human after all, and I couldn't alert him to my inhuman status. Truthfully, I just didn't want to get shot. Despite a normal bullet's inability to kill me, I knew the repercussions would be incredibly painful.
"One of those damn bloodsuckers!" he shouted and pressed the cool metal further into my forehead, sure to leave a red mark. "They're after me like they went after Elkins, aren't they!?" My eyes widened with shock at his statement.
"Elkins?" I questioned and leaned forward slightly, only for him to push the gun forward harder than before. I winced at the feeling of the cold metal against my bare skin, knowing that I was only seconds from disaster. "Don't tell me you mean Daniel Elkins?" I hissed out, not quite believing what I was hearing.
"Don't play dumb with me!" he shouted, drops of spit flying from his lips. I winced and grimaced at the man, clearly at wit's end. "I know your kind-"
"Do I look like a god damn vampire!?" I snarled and gripped the barrel of the small gun in my hand. "I'm a hunter just like you, not some bloodsucker!" I spat and pushed the gun away from my face, a look of shock dawning on his features. "Put that fucking thing away before you get someone killed," I ordered, malice dripping from my voice while I readjusted my backpack that had been squashed against the alley wall.
I sighed in relief and brushed my hair out of my face when the hunter slid his gun into a holster on his hip, hidden by his long button-up. It was far too early in the morning to be held at gunpoint. "Were you a friend of Elkins? A vamp hunter, like him?"
The man hesitated for a moment, his hand twitching nervously. I glanced towards his bruised knuckles, worried that the scabs might crack should he keep fidgeting. I jumped, startled when he finally spoke.
"Yeah, Daniel was... a friend. Taught me everything I knew about vamps," he spoke slowly, and I couldn't help but note his wary tone. "You sure you ain't here to kill me?" he inquired, nervous and not quite believing I was who I said I was.
"You can chop my head off if you'd like to be sure. Wouldn't do you much good though," I suggested with a nonchalant shrug, hoping it hid my nerves. I wondered if having my head removed would kill me. If not, how would I survive? Would I grow another head or would it just... reattach itself? I wasn't looking to find out, not today at least.
He nodded slowly and scratched the scraggly beard on his chin. He looked as though he hadn't shaved in several days, although the rugged look suited him. "Did you know Daniel?" he questioned. I shook my head.
"Never had the pleasure of meeting him. He was a friend of a friend though," I clarified and scratched the back of my neck timidly. How much was I willing to tell him? "I heard about his death. You really think those bastards are coming after you next?"
Clarence scoffed and folded his arms defensively over his chest, wincing as his sore muscles twinged in pain. "I know they are. If they went after Elkins, course they're going to go after his closest friends." He scowled, eyes tracing over the brick wall behind me. "You know anything about what happened?"
I paused momentarily and shook my head. Truthfully, I was curious as to what he knew. How quickly did news travel amongst hunters? It had already been three weeks since the hunt, the perfect amount of time for plenty of rumors to begin circulating.
"John Winchester and his boys showed up- first news I've heard of him in months," he spat, drumming his fingers over his clothed arm in irritation. His tense posture hinted at his distaste for John. "Heard he and his sons popped in and took care of the vermin."
I nodded slowly and folded my own arms irritably and opened my mouth to speak. Clarence lifted his hand, promptly silencing me. "You heard anything else about the hunt?" he asked with a mischievous look in his deep brown eyes. He knew more than he was letting on. I shook my head no and frowned at the wide grin that cracked across his face.
"Apparently, skinwalkers are back in the game," he said, reveling in my sudden shock. He nodded, taking in my startled gaze with excitement. "Heard some hunter came across a vamp - bitch started sputtering about some monster, black as can be and eyes red as fire. Called it the 'Black Dog'."
I frowned, struggling to contain my nerves. "Why are you telling me this?" I spat, not sure what else to say. What was he playing at, spreading information like this? Was he just looking to gloat, or did he actually know something? And what did it mean for me and my family, now that hunters knew we were still around? Nothing good, that was for sure.
Clarence shrugged, the grin falling from his face. "You seem new to the game - figured you may want to know what you're getting into. News travels fast in our world, and it's best you hear about it before something sneaks up on you."
He pursed his lips with a twitch of his shabby mustache and reached into the deep pockets of his coat for his leather journal and pen. "Listen, if you need to know anything else, feel free to give me a call. Always looking to help out another hunter." He scrawled his name and what I assumed was his phone number on the corner of a page before tearing the piece off and handing it to me. I glanced at the corner, glaring down at his name. Clarence Clearwater.
"Don't go getting into things too tough for you, alright?" he ordered. "Hunting ain't easy, especially for a newbie like yourself. Don't go messing with things too big for you, especially not vamps - leave that to the more experienced."
I scowled at him and slipped the paper into my coat pocket, relishing in the brief warmth of the deep pockets. "What else do you know about skinwalkers?" I probed, hoping to squeeze a bit more information out of him.
His weak mustache twitched again, and his eyes narrowed in thought. "Didn't I just tell you not to get involved in things too big for you? Skinwalkers aren't something you want to mess with – they're nasty fuckers, worse than werewolves and vamps combined." I frowned at him and pulled my coat tighter around me, taking a defensive stance. He sighed out bitterly, accepting that I would keep pushing no matter what he said. "Last I heard, there've been a few sightings up north. Heard about a few potential cases up in western Montana, but those are just rumors."
"Do you think they're the real deal?" I asked, with a bitter tone. If there were others out there, I wanted to know about it.
"I don't know what to believe anymore," he replied nervously and rubbed his knuckles over his rough chin. "And with this new Black Dog... anything could be out there."
I nodded slowly, lost in thought. If the vampires were letting on about my existence, then who else knew? And to be named after a damn hell hound... if this rumor persisted, things could get messy.
"Don't be afraid to call if you need anything, alright kid?" Clarence spoke. I met his eyes with a steely gaze and nodded slowly. He inhaled deeply, biting back words of wisdom, and instead offered his hand to me, a ring set on one finger. I took his hand and shook, wincing at the sudden burning in my palm. With the warmest smile I could muster, I pushed down the whimpers of pain that were threatening to rise from my throat. Silver.
"I never got your name, kid," he spoke as he took a step back, pulling small sections of my burned flesh with him. Don't react, I thought to myself. You'll get yourself killed. I grinned, hoping it came across as a pleasant smile rather than a bitter grimace.
"It's Y/N." And with that, I spun on my heels and departed from the alley, his eyes boring into the back of my head as I strolled down the sidewalk. The sun was over the tops of the buildings, bathing the street in a warm glow as Calliope and Booth's shadowed forms rose in the distance.
4554 words.
Did I just add more questions to the growing list without clearing up previous ones? Why yes, yes I did. I love seeing my readers confused.
So now we have the whispers, the dreams with the white wolf, the strange connection to Caeden and the growing connection to Booth, and now rumors of other skinwalkers and a new title. Do you guys have any theories on how it all ties together? I'm curious to see what you guys think.
Edited 05/08/22.