Lupo Mutaret (13)
Dean was the last one down to breakfast the next morning, and the air around him was thick with an air that he couldn’t define. John’s face was tense and drawn, his eyes glaring down at the gun that he was cleaning; Sam was pushing cereal around in his bowl, head ducked as he watched Pastor Jim carefully.
The older man was seated on the other side of the small table, a phone clutched in one hand and his face troubled. Dean’s good mood dropped, and he sunk into the chair next to his brother, leaning close.
“What’s going on?” He whispered, casually leaning over to steal a few still-dry Lucky Charms from his younger brother’s bowl.
Sam slapped his hand away more out of habit than anything else, ducking closer to Dean and almost whispering, as if scared to break the silence in the room.
“One of Pastor Jim’s congregation was killed on a camping trip last night,” He answered. Dean frowned a little, understanding that the news was probably upsetting to the Pastor, but not really understanding why their father was wearing a face that suggested he wanted to kill something. Sam seemed to sense his confusion, shooting a sympathetic glance at the Pastor before explaining further. “By the sounds of things, it was a shapeshifter, Dean. He was only a few towns over.”
Dean swore under his breath.
“Who was it?” He asked. “Anyone we know?”
Over the years, their numerous stays with their ‘Uncle Jim’ meant that they’d become fairly well acquainted with some of the long-staying members of the congregation, and Dean felt his heart sink at his brother’s nod.
“Jackson Teens.”
Sam’s hangdog expression suddenly made a hell of a lot of sense.
Jackson was only a year older than his brother, and Sam had considered him a friend for years. Whenever he was in town he made a point of meeting up with the older boy, even if it was just to kick around in the woods for a while. Whilst Dean hadn’t been too fond of the younger boy at first, he had to admit that Jackson had grown on him over time.
He certainly hadn’t deserved to die so young, or it such a horrific way.
“Canine shapeshifter?” He asked, just to double check.
Sam nodded. “Prints fit. The police think it’s some kind of wild dog or rogue wolf.”
Jim chose that moment to hang up the phone, rubbing a hand over his face wearily. He suddenly looked far older than Dean had ever see him before, the years of hunting clearly having worn on him more than he usually let on.
“Funeral’s next Thursday.” Jim sighed. “That gives us nearly a week to track the thing down and kill it, John.”
Across the room, John nodded, sliding the gun's clip back into place and rising to his feet. His face was hard, and every movement was measured and tight - Dean thought that their father had never looked more like a hunter than he did in that moment.
"Wait." Sam interrupted, startling all three of the room's occupants. "You two aren't going alone. I'm coming with you."
Dean winced internally, realizing that he probably should have expected that kind of reaction from his headstrong brother, but still caught somewhat off guard.
"Sam," He replied carefully. "I'm not sure that's a good idea. This is your first hunt back, and starting off with a shapeshifter? I don't know, it seems like a bad plan, bro. We still don't know what you're capable of."
Sam's expression didn't change.
"Jackson was my friend," He said carefully. "Which means that this is personal. Shapeshifter or not, I'm coming."
Dean couldn't really argue with that.
Despite Dean's reluctance, he was finished packing before even their father.
Honestly, that probably had more to do with his packing style (which was stuffing everything in his duffel with no sense of organisation whatsoever) than anything else. Sam, on the other hand, was more than a little OCD - even with his insistence that they head out as soon as possible to maximize their time, he still neatly folded and rolled everything before neatly placing it in his bag. Which left Dean with plenty of time to try and talk him out of what, he was pretty sure, was a colossal mistake.
"You know that Dad and Pastor Jim can take care of this without us, right?" He asked carefully. "I mean, they managed cases twice as hard as this when we were just kids, and they're still kicking."
Sam rolled his eyes. "You're not going to change my mind about this, Dean."
"Seriously?" The older hunter snapped, trying to keep his voice as quiet as possible. "The last shapeshifter we ran into got into your fucking head, Sam. Or have you forgotten that?"
"Like I could." Sam snorted bitterly, folding the last of his clothes and tucking them neatly into place.
Dean sighed in utter exasperation. "You're being a moron. What if this one can get in your head, too? It could make you do anything, Sam! Do you not understand how serious this could be?"
"Yes!" Sam growled, zipping his bag harshly. "I understand how dangerous this can be, okay? Do you understand that I have maybe three friends on the whole goddamn planet, and one of them was torn to shreds by this son of a bitch? I handled the last one. I can handle this one, too."
Dean opened his mouth to reply, but found himself cut off by their father's voice.
"Boys?" The man asked, appearing in the doorway. "Are you ready to go?"
Sam swung his duffel up onto his shoulder, glaring across at his brother.
"Yeah, Dad." He replied pointedly. "We're coming."
He brushed past Dean without another word, leaving the two older Winchester's staring out into the hallway behind him. Their father was the first to break the silence, turning to his eldest son with a raised eyebrow.
"I get the feeling that I missed something there." He admitted, only somewhat awkwardly. "Something going on?"
The young hunter sighed, dropping his head into his hands.
"I've just got a feeling that this is a really, really bad idea, Dad." He confessed. "The idea of Sam taking on another shapeshifter is freaking me the hell out."
John frowned, crossing the room to sit on Sam's vacated bed, leaning forwards.
"Honestly? It kind of freaks me out, too." The older man admitted. "But Sam's right, too. This thing killed his friend, and, well... I understand what it feels like to have a score to settle. The worst thing that we can do right now is make him feel like this is something that he can't do. The more that we try to change his mind, the more determined he's gonna get. If we don't back off, I'm worried that he's gonna try and take this son of a bitch down by himself."
Dean rubbed his head harder, groaning. "Fuck. I hate that everything you just said makes sense."
"He takes after your mother," John grinned.
Dean finally lifted his head from his hands.
"Okay," He breathed. "Okay. I'll back off. But Dad... we gotta watch him on this, okay?"
The Winchester patriarch clapped his eldest on the shoulder, squeezing it reassuringly.
"I promise, son." He replied evenly. "We've got this."
