Lupo Mutaret (14)
The drive to the small town that Jackson had been camping in at the time of the attack was a short one, barely lasting an hour, and Sam spent the entire journey practically radiating determination. Recalling his promise to his father, Dean didn’t mention the way that the kid’s hands were white-knuckled on the seat, or the way that his jaw was tightly clenched. Instead, he knocked the volume up on the Metallica tape - once more skipping past Sanitarium before the beginning notes were even given a chance to echo through the Impala’s speakers - and tried not to focus too hard on the churning nervousness in the pit of his stomach.
He’d done his best to talk Sam out of the whole crazy plan; now, the only thing he could do was go along with it and hope for the best.
They booked into a motel first, gathering around the small (and somewhat unsteady) rickety table to discuss what little they already knew. It didn’t give them a lot to go on.
Sam’s brief Goggle search before they’d left had turned up five other similar attacks in the woods, but given that the woods surrounded the small town on three sides, that in itself didn’t exactly narrow things down.
Two of them, including the attack that had ended in Jackson’s death and the hospitalisation of his two friends (and thank god that they weren’t dealing with a werewolf, because that would have been messy), had taken place on well-used camping sites. Two of them had been on one of the main walking trails, another on a lesser-used one, and the last one in the middle of nowhere.
If there was a pattern there, all of them were missing it.
Even the case files (and Dean really didn’t want to know how his seventeen-year-old brother had learnt to hack) weren't really helping. The cause of death in all six cases had been wounds from an ‘unidentified canine’, and the police had only briefly entertained the idea that the animal’s actions may have been motivated by human intervention.
They’d sent out search teams to try and find the animal in question, but hadn’t found so much as a trail (which was their first indication that the shapeshifter, however murderous, wasn’t entirely stupid).
In fact, the only thing they were really sure of was that it was a canine-form shapeshifter; the moon phase ruled out it being a werewolf, the woods were too small to be home to a black dog, and the lack of sulphur meant that it wasn’t a hellhound.
Shapeshifter was the only viable option, and Dean was relieved that they at least had a solid plan on how to kill the son of a bitch.
If they could find it, that was.
Dean sighed in exasperation, sinking back into his seat and running a hand through his hair, as yet another of his theories was shot down by his father.
“Are we even sure that this is just one person?” He asked the room at large, voicing a theory that had been niggling at him since they’d first noticed the lack of pattern. “I mean, look at the last shapeshifters we faced off against - they were working as a pack. What’s to say that’s not what we’re dealing with here?”
He was looking at his father, expecting his answer to come from there, but it was Sam who leant forwards with a head shake.
“Nah, we’re dealing with one here.” He said, sounding so certain that briefly found himself wondering whether Sam was sitting on another neat little psychic-thing that he wasn’t sharing about. Thankfully, the kid carried on, before Dean had an aneurysm wondering about just what was going on in the kid’s head. “Doesn’t make sense for a pack to be here. The killings have only been going on for a month, and the town’s too small that a group of new people turning up wouldn’t raise a few eyebrows.”
Jim nodded thoughtfully. “Good thinking, Sam. It makes sense. In a town as small as this, people would have started pointing fingers at newcomers as soon as things went pear-shaped. So we’re looking for one person, new to the area.”
Sam nodded decisively, and Dean didn’t miss the brief look of pride that washed over their father’s face.
“Okay,” The eldest Winchester said thoughtfully. “So, plan of action. Jim and I will head over to the police station and see if we can find anything out that way. You two head into town, take a look around and see if you can spot somewhere our shifter’s hiding out. Maybe talk to the locals about anyone new in town.”
Dean nodded, but Sam didn’t seem as pleased, shaking his head slowly.
“Actually,” He said cautiously. “I have another idea that might be a bit quicker.”
Their father raised his eyebrow, indicating that his youngest son should continue. The look on Sam’s face told Dean that he probably wasn’t going to like what his brother had to say on the matter.
“Well, we should be able to get onto all of the crime scenes pretty easily, except maybe the latest one. We’ve still got all of the stuff from the pet shop in the car, and if I shift and we play at dog-and-owner, I might be able to pick up the shifter’s scent. It’d be quicker than trying to track him any other way... I’m pretty sure that if I can scent him as a wolf to start up with, I’ll be able to recognise it as a human.”
“No way.” Dean said tersely, outraged when their father nodded thoughtfully. “Jesus, Dad, you’re the one who didn’t want him to shift at all! Am I the only one not forgetting that we’re here hunting a shapeshifter? A canine shapeshifter? People here are gonna be on guard around all dogs!”
Sam rolled his eyes. “They’re looking for Cujo, Dean. They’re not looking for a young guy going for a walk with his pet dog. This could work.”
Dean shook his head furiously, but when their father shot him an apologetic look and slowly nodded, he knew he’d already lost the argument.
Sam changed in the bathroom, leaving the door just open enough that when he was done, he could nudge it back open with his nose. The change was a few seconds quicker than it had been previously, and he waited patiently for Dean to put his collar and harness on before they headed out.
Dean had to admit that seeing his brother wearing such an obvious declaration of ownership made him feel somewhat uncomfortable, but Sam didn’t seem to mind. He’d happily curled up on the blanket that Dean had lain out for him on the Impala’s passenger seat, tail wagging in an absent fashion that had Dean wondering if the kid even realised that he was doing it.
Their father and Jim had headed for the Sheriff’s department in the hope that they could entice some less official information out of the local constabulary, and Dean almost wished that one of them had switched places with him. Going into another shapeshifter’s territory with Sam in wolf form was making him more than a little nervous.
By the time that they were pulling into a small car park on the edge of the woods, he had half a mind to turn back. Unfortunately, there was no way that Sam would let him get away with that, so he checked his gun (loaded with silver bullets) one more time before slipping it into the back of his jeans and climb out of the car, leaving the door open for Sam.
The younger boy hopped out lightly, waiting patiently by the car whilst Dean headed over to fish his leash out of the car. Whilst he had no intention to actually attach his brother to the damn thing, he figured it was probably best to have it for appearances sake at least.
“Aaaaw! He’s so cute!”
Dean flinched at the high pitched squeal, narrowly avoiding smacking his head off the top of the Impala's trunk, and jerked around just in time to see his brother gathered into a tight hug by a middle-aged woman wearing far too much make-up, a Dalmatian being tugged reluctantly behind her. Sam’s ears were back, his tail tucked firmly between his legs, and Dean felt the protective older brother in him rise quickly to the surface.
“Excuse me,” He interrupted with forced patience as he approached the stranger with stiff strides. “He doesn’t like being manhandled.”
The woman glanced up at him, but didn’t release Sam right away, ruffling his ears and dropping a sloppy kiss on top of his head first.
“I’m sorry,” She laughed, wide grin revealing a smudge of harlot red lipstick across her teeth. “He’s just so adorable that I couldn’t resist.”
Behind her, the Dalmatian plopped its butt into the dirt and hung its head, as if resigned to the fact that he was stuck there thanks to the leash. Dean couldn’t bring himself to smile.
The second that she released Sam, the young shapeshifter ducked behind his brother’s legs, and the woman frowned, reaching forwards to pet him again. Dean calmly stepped sideways and blocked her hand, watching without emotion as her face visibly fell into something a lot less happy. She rose swiftly to her feet, dusting her hands off, and made an annoyed noise.
“There’s no need to be rude, young man.” She said snidely. “Politeness is a virtue.”
Dean raised an eyebrow. “You’re quite right. Politeness is a virtue, and I’d consider it polite of you to ask permission before you grab up my dog in a full-body hug.”
The woman scowled, turning and dragging the Dalmatian along behind her as she headed back to her monstrosity of a pink car. Dean waited until she was pulling out of the car park with an angry squeal of tyres before he turned to Sam.
“Well,” He sighed. “That wasn’t a great start. You sure that you don’t wanna head back now?”
Sam narrowed his eyes and shook his head decisively.
“Okay,” Dean sighed, slinging the red lead over his shoulder. “Then lead the way, mutt.”
Sam turned and flounced towards the woods, making a point of staying just a few steps in front of his brother, and Dean rolled his eyes at his brother's somewhat sarcastic body language. He seriously did not understand how the kid could pull off being that much of a bitch, even as a dog. It just shouldn't be possible.
The walk to the site of the second most recent attack - chosen on the basis that the scent should still be pretty fresh, and because it was the closest one to the car park - was passed mostly in silence. They passed two other dog walkers, with Sam making a show of darting through the underbrush like a normal dog both times, and Dean was pleased to discover that there were no police officers guarding the sight (which would have been both unexpected and Winchester luck).
Sam wasted no time in darting forwards, nose to the ground, and Dean was left standing awkwardly at the edge of the clearing. Despite knowing that there wasn't likely to be any police around, and that their rouse was pretty well thought-out, all things considered, he couldn't help the sick curl of worry in his gut.
It was one thing surveying a scene with his brother and father, all three of them armed to the teeth with silver blades and bullets, but it was another thing entirely to go in as the only armed hunter there. Shapeshifter hunts were dangerous at the best of times, and whilst he trusted his brother to watch his back, he couldn't help but worry that aside from his teeth and claws Sam had very little in the way of defenses. Dean was watching his back as best as possible, but the thought of missing something was more than a little daunting.
His eyes flitted around the clearing's perimeter, trying to take into every little thing, just waiting for a shapeshifter to launch itself out of the bushes and go straight for his brother's throat. His hand rested unconsciously on the butt of his gun, still tucked out of view down the back of his pants.
Their saving grace was that Sam found the scent quickly, before Dean had a chance to work himself enough to go all trigger happy on an innocent civilian.
The triumphant yip that they'd decided on as the signal for 'got it, let's go' snapped Dean's attention back to his brother, and he couldn't help the sigh of relief that escaped him.
"Thank goodness," He breathed, turning to head back the way that they'd come. Sam cocked his head, taking a few steps in the other direction, and Dean could only stare at him for a few moments in complete bewilderment before the puzzle pieces clicked. When Sam had said that he would get the shifter's scent, Dean had assumed that they'd wait for Sam to pick it up and then leave - perhaps wander around town until Sam picked it up again and could ID a perp. At worst, he'd figured that they'd go back for Pastor Jim and their father and head back into the woods armed to the teeth.
Apparently that wasn't what Sam had in mind at all.
"No way!" Dean snapped. "Forget it, Sam. We're not going after him... not until we have back-up."
He turned and stalked away from the clearing, expecting his brother to follow, and scowled when he glanced over his shoulder and discovered that Sam had stubbornly started walking in the other direction.
Damn it, but the kid had always known exactly how to get Dean to do whatever he wanted. The part of Dean that insisted that if he walked long enough Sam would come looking for him was completely overwhelmed by the rest of him - the big brother half that was insisting that he couldn't let Sam go off into the woods by himself.
Swearing under his breath, he made an about face and jogged to catch up with his little brother.
"Don't you dare give me that doggy grin," He groused. "You are in so much shit right now, Sammy."
Sam didn't look particularly bothered, nose pressed to the ground and ears spinning like radar dishes, on guard for something that Dean couldn't even begin to comprehend. The shapeshifter, perhaps, or dog walkers and police officers. It didn't seem important.
Dean's patience with the whole situation was thin at best, and by the time that they'd been walking for just under two hours he was genuinely considering the merits of slinging his wolf-brother over his shoulder and manhandling him back to the car.
"Forget it, Sam," He said impatiently. "This-"
He was cut off by Sam letting out a low, warning growl and his hand instinctively tugged his handgun from the back of his pants. Sam's long-legged pace slowed into a predatory stalk, and it was a few more seconds before Dean could see what had his brother so on edge.
Through the gaps in the trees, a small cabin was just visible. They were so far off the path that Dean wondered absently if the police even knew that the place existed, and there was a tall, broad-shouldered man sat on the porch. He was drinking a beer, sprawled casually across the porch steps, and had a leather-bound journal similar to their father's clutched in one hand.
The raised hackles on Sam's shoulders was enough of an indicator for Dean to understand that this was the man that they were looking for, and he hooked his hand in Sam's collar just before the wolf jerked forwards in a preempted leap. The movement jarred Dean's wrist painfully, but he refused to let go of the red leather.
"We can't," he whispered softly, hoping that the shapeshifter's hearing wasn't supernatural enough that he could hear them. Sam's eyes were locked on the man, his lips raised in a silent snarl, and Dean suddenly found that he couldn't be angry. Sam was staring at someone who had killed his friend - murdered him, and the police reports had left Dean with no illusion that the Jackson had died quickly. "Sammy, please. We have to wait for backup. I will carry you out of here, if I have to."
Sam didn't react other than to jerk forwards again, and Dean narrowly avoided toppling out of his crouched position and sprawling face-first in the fallen leaves that littered the ground.
"Fine." He grimaced. "I'll let you go, okay? But we're going in blind, and if you charge in there then you know I'll be right behind you."
It was underhanded and Dean felt guilty just saying it, playing on something that Sam had confessed to him in the faith that Dean would bury it alongside his own secrets - the admission that he'd protect his family at all costs, that the wolf in him ensured that it could never go any other way.
Sam's head turned sharply, and the look in his eyes made Dean feel sick to the stomach. Betrayal and anger, and something that Dean had never seen before, that he didn't even want to try and name. He wanted to apologize, to beg for forgiveness, but he couldn't. If this was the only way to get them both out of the woods alive, then he was going to use it to his full advantage.
He stood slowly and hesitantly released his grip on his brother's collar. Sam's eyes turned back to the other shifter, still sprawled out like he didn't have a care in the world, and for a second Dean thought that he might bolt anyway.
Instead, his entire body seemed to droop and he turned to head back the way that they'd just come, paw pads moving silently across and head ducked, studiously avoiding eye contact. In all the time since this mess had started, Dean had never seen him look quite like that, and he couldn't help but wonder if his brother would ever forgive him that betrayal of trust.
He sighed, resigning himself to the inevitable storm of anger that would follow Sam's shift back, before squaring his shoulders and picking up the pace back towards his baby.
The sooner they got there, the sooner this whole goddamn thing was over.
The sooner Dean could make amends.
(A/N: As always, apologies for the wait. School finishes Monday, so hopefully they'll come up much quicker after that. In other news, I finished my big bang! I've been paired with a wonderful artist, and I can't wait to post it up here for all of you read... not only is it my first ever big bang, but it's also my first ever foray into the world of J2 fic-writing. I really hope you guys enjoy it!)