Who killed Tabaqui (3/?)
Title: Who killed Tabaqui
Author:marlowe78
Rating: PG 13
Characters: Dean, Sam
Word count: a lot
Beta: soncnica
Spoilers: for s6, the basics
Warnings: Language, some blood is spilled.
Summary: Do not mess with Mowgli's brother. You can be pretty sure his teeth are sharp
a/n: I'm really sorry this took so long. I had to iron out some stuff that my friend shoofus pointed out to me. I hope it pays off.
EDIT: I got my very first art-present, whoohoo!
caluk got her creative shoes on and made me this awesome manip of Dean/Wolf! Go over, look at it and let her know how you like it!
Also, if you're interested in what Dean looks like as a wolf, I've found a pretty damn good picture of the perfect wolf for my story.
Chapter 2
Something woke him. There was a steady hum, muffled, and a noise that sounded familiar, safe. Brother, Sam, pack, family his twitching nose told him and the wolf huffed in contentment and let his head drop back on the soft surface. The Sam was there, making the sound of sleeping snoring deeply.
But the wolf was hungry. He tried to find a better position, tried to sleep some more. His pack brother was still asleep so there wasn’t anything better to do.
It didn’t work. He was so hungry. Smacking his lips, the wolf stood up and shook out his fur. There was this clothing, t-shirt, boxer-shorts stuff on him again, and he cautiously don’t wake pack, family, brother ripped it away. One small jump and he was down from the bed soft place he’d been sleeping on. The wolf smacked his lips again. Hungry, yes, but thirsty too. He sniffed. There was water around, he could smell it.
Cautiously, he explored the den he’d woken in. It was different than the other, from the night before, but his pack was sleeping in it and therefore, it was home. The den smelled stale, moldy, unhealthily like smoke, mixed with something sharp and biting. He sneezed and concentrated on the rest of the smells. Some mice’d been here, not long ago, and the wolf followed their trail along the walls for a bit until he found the hole they’d come from. He lay in front of it, nose pressed tight and took in the delicious smells that wafted from there. Mouse, corn, sugar, decay, old cheese he smelled, but when he tried to dig them out, the walls proved to be too strong. The wolf whined a bit but stopped when brother, pack Sam shifted on his bed.
Don’t wake him, he needs sleep his mind said, and the wolf didn’t question it. Another noise let him perk up. Behind the wall, something was moving, something big.
Voices.
A man, a woman. He could smell them, the female smelled weird, like a dead flower, and the man’s voice was deep and loud. The wolf couldn’t understand them well, but he growled in warning, hackles raised. Stalking, he checked the wall again.
Strong, sturdy. Nothing would get through it.
He his pack was safe here, and the wolf relaxed, resumed exploring.
In this den, there was no metal puddle water-bowl like in the last. But he was thirsty, and he could smell water. He let his nose guide him, through an opening door into another den with cold, slippery ground. Not ice, he checked. Cautiously, the wolf crept into the small room, following the scent of water.
There was a spring inside some weird, light-colored rock porcelain. He could smell it, but it was hidden, something lid was on top of the water. The wolf scratched at the thing. It was cold and smooth, didn’t give when he scratched some more. He used his nose again. Ah, there. A small gap let the smell of the water out, and he pressed his nose against it.
The gap opened and squeezed his nose.
With a yelp, he jumped back and the gap closed, clanked loudly in the small room. Scrabbling and scratching on the not ice floor, the wolf tried to run, to hide, but the floor was slippery and he couldn’t get purchase right away. He growled so the thing lid would not dare chase him and he finally managed to run into the bigger room.
After a moment of sheer terror with a pounding heart, the wolf crept out from under the bed sleeping-place. When nothing moved and the Sam slept on, he dared sneak back.
Cautiously, he peeked around the corner, back into the bathroom room. Nothing moved. He was still thirsty. Slowly, step by cautious step, he made his way back into the room, sniffed again.
From behind the wall, a loud moan could be heard, then a shriek and some fast slap-slap-slap, which he knew stemmed from skin slapping against skin. The wolf cocked his head. He was hungry, and there was something to eat behind the wall. But there was also the thirst, and there was the Sam on the bed. He couldn’t leave the Sam alone, something might come. His pack, family, Sam brother wasn’t as strong as the wolf, had no hair and no claws and his teeth were ridiculously short and insufficient. He couldn’t leave Sam alone, anything could kill Sam.
Also, he was thirsty.
Growling, he went back to the toilet spring. He tried again to sniff through the gap, and like before, the gap opened and pressed on his nose. This time, though, the wolf waited.
Nothing happened, the pressure stayed the same. He shoved his snout deeper into the spring and the gap opened wider.
Aha!
With more force this time, the wolf pushed his whole head into the gap. The thing lid clanged against the wall and he jumped back, but he stayed in the room this time.
Nothing happened, but the spring was now open.
The wolf was thirsty and he put his head into the deep rock porcelain-bowl and sniffed. The water smelled funny, and even though he couldn’t see a lot of color, he was pretty sure that the water was unusually dark.
It tasted funny, too, but he was too thirsty to think much about it.
He drank, drank, drank and drank some more, licking his lips afterwards and sneezed. Disgusting. But better than being thirsty.
Now, though, he was still hungry. Maybe there would be something to eat here?
***
Someone was watching him. Sam had known that feeling far too long in his life to mistake it for anything else, so he didn’t react to it. Breathing stayed the same, no moves, he was as lax as he’d been before. Very, very carefully, he opened his lids a tiny bit and peeked under his lashes.
Nothing he could spot.
There was a weird smell in the air, something he knew but couldn’t place right then. Something… something… A smacking sound reached him and breathing, fast breathing. Panting?
Oh. Right. Wolf. His brother was a wolf.
Wait!
With a gasp, he sat upright, rapidly checking the room. There was the wolf on the second bed, watching him with those strange yellow-green-brown eyes. How the fuck the thing - no, Dean, not a thing - could’ve changed without him noticing he had no clue, but he at once spotted the bloody teeth and the dirty muzzle, smeared with some sticky, reddish stuff. Sam knew it was blood, and now he knew what that smell was.
Nononononononopleasenononono his brain fired at him and he jumped from the bed ignoring the wolf who joined him at once and was wagging his tail in anticipation.
Sam didn’t have time for this, he needed to know, needed to check. This was a motel, there were people around, lots of people. He should’ve woken up, or he should’ve set an alarm-clock, anything. He’d been too tired, relief and the fading adrenaline had taken its toll on him. He should’ve been more aware, but he’d just fallen asleep, had taken Dean’s friendly behavior towards him a sign of Dean’s overall peacefulness, had assumed that he’d behave like a wolf based solely on the fact that he looked like one. But now… if the werewolf - his brother - had gotten out, if he’d changed and somehow gotten out, killed somebody, he’d have to… he’d have to. Because Dean would make him, or he’d do it himself if he found out, and Sam couldn’t very well hide it, could he?
Right now, Sam couldn’t focus on his own guilt in getting a person killed. He’d have time for that later, or maybe he’d take Dean’s advise and shove it down and drown it in scotch.
“Stop whining, you stupid beast!” he snarled at the wolf, who stood in front of the door, pawing the wood.
The closed door.
Next to the closed window. In a completely closed room.
Relief rushed through his blood like fire, flushing him hot and cold and he needed to sit for a second. That was when he spotted the opened mini-fridge with the torn-up insulation bag and the bloody marks on the carpet. Oh. Right.
“Sorry, buddy. I was so sure I’d notice you change. Good thing you didn’t gnaw on me, so I’m not mad about the food.” He stood up from the bed and stepped into something wet. Fearing the worst, he looked at his naked feet. There was a damp, nearly wet spot on the light carpet, but it wasn’t yellow, or blood-red, like he’d feared. It was blue. What the Hell?
The wolf whined again and he looked so pitiful that Sam had to smile. “C’m here, buddy” he called him over, reaching out to stroke his rough fur. The wolf came, but just for a quick pet, then he was at the door again, whining and scratching.
Why did he want to go out?
Oh.
“Oh, whoops. Sorry, let me just … you know what? I don’t care. I’ll just get my boots and we’ll take a short stroll around the block.”
He found his boots - gnarled leather, chewed-up laces and all.
“Oh, great. Dean, you… why don’t you destroy your own stuff?” He looked at the bed, where another pair of boxers and one more t-shirt lay torn in stripes. “Right.”
Sam put on his sneakers and a hoodie against the cold and opened the door. The wolf whined in relief and sprinted to the next vertical thing he could find - the Impala, and Sam would so mock his brother tomorrow - and peed in a long, long, long spurt. Much less tense, the animal panted at Sam, cocked his ears and looked around.
Weirdly enough, Sam didn’t have any problem figuring out that Dean wanted to do more than just urinate against the car.
“Right. We could go for… Pizza? Or coffee? Something, I guess. Hey, maybe we’ll find some squirrels for ya?” The wolf sneezed and Sam grinned.”Let me get some pants on, though” A short walk sounded pretty awesome right now.
And it was pretty cool. After his own visit to the bathroom - where he understood the nature of the blue puddle and feeling deeply ashamed for forgetting to put out a water-bowl - he took an old lunchbox from the car and filled it with water from the tab, which Dean drank up greedily. Sam felt worse now, and a bit worried about any health-problems the blue toilet-cleaner-stuff might cause. He had to look into the eating-habits of wolves, he thought, since there they went out. Dean did his other business and Sam decided to play dumb rather than picking up his brother’s poop with a baggy.
Last night, Sam had been too terrified to take in his brother’s alternate form, to really look at it as anything else but ‘a wolf’. Now though, following the large animal along through the dark streets of the town, he couldn’t do anything else.
His brother always had this predatory walk down to pat. When he was a kid, Sam had in equal measures wanted to walk like that and made fun of it - much to the amusement of his dad, who one day found him practicing Dean’s swagger in front to the glass-doors of the cabin they’d lived in then. He never mentioned it to Dean, which Sam was really grateful for, but he’d taken him to the side, ruffled his hair and told him that he shouldn’t want that gait yet, that he’d get it when the time came without trying.
Of course, Sam hadn’t understood then, but now he did. Even though he still didn’t have the same confident swagger that Dean had, he now moved like a hunter himself. A predator. A killer. Dean with his bow-legs walked much more badass than Sam, used it sometimes to project confidence when there wasn’t any, not deep down. The swagger was as much a wall to hide behind as the snark and insults he threw at their adversaries, already so ingrained in him that you couldn’t tell real Dean apart from fake Dean, not when you didn’t know him for as long as Sam did. As a wolf, though, there was no projection, no lie behind his movements. Dean was sleek power incarnate. His body was lean and maybe a bit skinny even, his legs were long and his paws pretty big, which made Sam think his wolf-brother had more arctic wolf in him than prairie-wolf. His canine appearance hadn’t much in common with the wolves from Kansas. Maybe that was due to who had bitten him? Maybe it had been a Canadian werewolf, or Alaskan? After all, what did they really know about the furry kind of werewolves, apart from appearance and the traits Dean showed?
He’d fallen asleep with a werewolf in the room, and he hadn’t even thought about the fact that Dean’s second turning might be different and would have a complete different outcome. Hell, what if the animal had panicked? After all, he’d been in a closed room, a strange room, different from the one of the night before.
Shit. Where was the trust based on that the wolf expressed, where did it come from other than maybe Dean recognizing him as family? And on the other hand, where had Sam’s trust had come from that he’d been able to fall asleep with first a supernatural wolf and next night with a supernatural person next to him?
The wolf was attentive to Sam, much like the human form of his brother. He seemed to know when Sam stopped or slowed and tuned his own speed to his but not once checking back. He either knew where Sam was or he didn’t care much about it, certain Sam would follow.
And there was this… this slink to his walk. The wolf trotted, didn’t seem to use any energy at all, but there was such power behind each step and so much hidden strength that Sam found himself wondering if this wasn’t the true form, and the human version was the were.
Much as he liked watching the animal and smiling over the eagerness and apparent joy it took from peeing against stuff, Sam wanted the real Dean back. He missed the constant chatter and he missed the silly jokes. He also worried a lot about the wolf just deciding to run and kill and maim, even though he seemed quite peaceful at the moment.
“Dean, wait” he called. The wolf stopped and slinked back to him looking at Sam and then checking where Sam’s gaze was pointed. A 24-hour Pizza-parlor. They were lucky to have stopped in a town that wasn’t just a gas-station and two farms, but one that actually had some kind of infrastructure.”How ‘bout some pizza?”
The wolf gave a twitch of his ears and fell in step - and soon out of it - with Sam, crossing the street and walking to the brightly-lit glass-door.
Behind the counter stood a young girl and Sam had the urge to send her home because even if this wasn’t Chicago or anyplace else with more crimes than inhabitants, it was still half past one at night and the girl looked all of eighteen. There was no sign on the door that said dogs weren’t allowed, but he still leaned in and asked.
“Yes, sure. Take him inside, I don’t mind.”
“Thanks, he’ll uh… appreciate it.”
Dean looked cautiously inside and then went in as if he owned the place, head held high, tail relaxed and ears pricked towards Amy, the pizza-girl.
“Oh God, he’s amazing! What… is that a husky? He looks so … wolf-like”
“Uh… yes. No. Uh… half. Husky. Half-breed” Nobody who had knowledge of dogs would believe Dean to be a Husky. His fur was too rough and the color was wrong. And yes, Sam did know a lot about dogs, because he’d spent half his childhood dreaming of his own dog which would be his friend and would always be there instead of his parent abandoning them and which wouldn’t mock him all the time and would simply listen.
He never got one, except that old Golden Retriever, for the short time he’d been on his own in Flagstaff, but that didn’t mean he’d forget all those books he read about dogs.
The wolf-who-was-his-brother was indeed very much a wolf. His long face, though, diverted from the timber-wolves a bit. It was broader between the ears which made the whole head wider. Other than that, he could’ve been a real wolf. Or maybe some Nordic dog if it weren’t for the color. Huskies and their relatives were quite often grey, black or wolf-colored, though they usually had markings of some kind. Dean, in contrast, was a deep, dark grey. So dark that he quite often looked black. There were no lighter markings on him, none at all. The black wolves from Canada looked a lot like him, though those were mostly dark brown, not dark grey.
How his brother, whose hair was the lightest of the Winchesters, had turned out to be such a dark wolf was a mystery, but Sam shoved this particular mystery away for now. There were much more pressing issues.
Amy stepped from out behind her counter and came over and before Sam had an idea what she was up to, she went to her knees in front of Dean. “Awwww, you’re a cutie, aren’tcha? What’s ya name, honey? Huh? Such a good dog, yes you are” she cooed, and Sam nearly panicked.
Dean was anything but comfortable, based on the look of utter terror and confusion. He blinked and backed away from her, lifting his lips minutely and glancing at Sam and pleading at him to remove her. Which Sam did, once more grateful that his brother seemed to be more animal than evil entity. He could’ve just as easily attacked but chose to let his brother handle it.
“Ah, Amy, he doesn’t really like people touching him. Uh…Bad experiences”
Her face fell but she stood, smile a bit strained. “Sorry. Didn’t wanna scare him. How old’s he? And what’s his name?”
“Ah, uh, Dean. His name’s Dean. He’s” Sam tried his best to remember a good age of a full-grown wolf but in the end he just had to take a guess “four. He’s ah, about four“
“Dean? That’s an unusual name for a dog. But then again, he’s quite unusual himself” she rubbed her hands together and looked up at Sam, back at her place behind the counter, turning back to professional. “What can I getcha?”
Sam ordered a big pizza with lots of meat - chicken, since he wasn’t sure if Dean could eat spicy stuff - and sat down to wait while Dean relaxed against his leg. The chatter from the background told Sam that Amy wasn’t as alone as he’d thought initially. There seemed to be a cook somewhere. The wolf’s ears twitched back and forth, tuning in to the kitchen-sounds as well as anything else in the area. His nose was moving and every once in a while, Dean lifted his head and sniffed in the direction of the walls, which made Sam very uncomfortable and check for little squeaky animals. He didn’t see any, but that didn’t automatically mean there were none.
He remembered the rats and Dean’s reaction to them. There had to be better stuff to feed a wolf with, and he needed to pick up some new meat. Hopefully this time, he wouldn’t have to break into a butcher’s shop.
Suddenly, his wolf-brother perked up, tension building in his whole body. His eyes were glued to the door, ears pricked forward and a very low rumble was more felt than heard. It didn’t take long and the door opened, bringing a cheerful dingeling and some cold air into the place. A young man stepped in, wearing a pizza-delivery uniform. He didn’t wait long, didn’t even acknowledge Sam and the wolf and stepped behind the counter. He started chatting with Amy immediately, and she didn’t seem to mind.
Dean’s attention was still on the guy, the grumble turning more into a growl with every one of the over-enthusiastic moves the youth made.
“Sssh, I got it” he whispered to Dean and noted the ears pricking a bit back to show him the words, if maybe not the meaning, had been heard. Sam shifted a bit backward, relaxing his posture against the chair and surprisingly enough, Dean took the cue and relaxed a bit and lay down. He still kept the guy in his vision, though, as did Sam.
Two minutes later, the man went out again, carrying three big boxes of delicious smells. Dean followed him with his eyes but even more so with his nose, getting longer and longer and trying not to leave his position at the same time as he was inhaling all the scent. A low whine escaped him when the door closed behind the boy.
Sam chuckled. “You really are my brother, aren’t ya?” Dean whined again.
“Hey, pizza’s ready. Eat here or take-out?” the girl asked from the kitchen.
“Uhm… here, if that’s ok?” He was still tired and he also didn’t know how to transport a pizza back to the motel without Dean stealing it. The same problem, by the way, as he had with Dean in human form as well.
“Sure, no prob. Comin’ right up”
Chapter 4
Author:marlowe78
Rating: PG 13
Characters: Dean, Sam
Word count: a lot
Beta: soncnica
Spoilers: for s6, the basics
Warnings: Language, some blood is spilled.
Summary: Do not mess with Mowgli's brother. You can be pretty sure his teeth are sharp
a/n: I'm really sorry this took so long. I had to iron out some stuff that my friend shoofus pointed out to me. I hope it pays off.
EDIT: I got my very first art-present, whoohoo!
caluk got her creative shoes on and made me this awesome manip of Dean/Wolf! Go over, look at it and let her know how you like it!
Also, if you're interested in what Dean looks like as a wolf, I've found a pretty damn good picture of the perfect wolf for my story.
Chapter 2
Something woke him. There was a steady hum, muffled, and a noise that sounded familiar, safe. Brother, Sam, pack, family his twitching nose told him and the wolf huffed in contentment and let his head drop back on the soft surface. The Sam was there, making the sound of sleeping snoring deeply.
But the wolf was hungry. He tried to find a better position, tried to sleep some more. His pack brother was still asleep so there wasn’t anything better to do.
It didn’t work. He was so hungry. Smacking his lips, the wolf stood up and shook out his fur. There was this clothing, t-shirt, boxer-shorts stuff on him again, and he cautiously don’t wake pack, family, brother ripped it away. One small jump and he was down from the bed soft place he’d been sleeping on. The wolf smacked his lips again. Hungry, yes, but thirsty too. He sniffed. There was water around, he could smell it.
Cautiously, he explored the den he’d woken in. It was different than the other, from the night before, but his pack was sleeping in it and therefore, it was home. The den smelled stale, moldy, unhealthily like smoke, mixed with something sharp and biting. He sneezed and concentrated on the rest of the smells. Some mice’d been here, not long ago, and the wolf followed their trail along the walls for a bit until he found the hole they’d come from. He lay in front of it, nose pressed tight and took in the delicious smells that wafted from there. Mouse, corn, sugar, decay, old cheese he smelled, but when he tried to dig them out, the walls proved to be too strong. The wolf whined a bit but stopped when brother, pack Sam shifted on his bed.
Don’t wake him, he needs sleep his mind said, and the wolf didn’t question it. Another noise let him perk up. Behind the wall, something was moving, something big.
Voices.
A man, a woman. He could smell them, the female smelled weird, like a dead flower, and the man’s voice was deep and loud. The wolf couldn’t understand them well, but he growled in warning, hackles raised. Stalking, he checked the wall again.
Strong, sturdy. Nothing would get through it.
He his pack was safe here, and the wolf relaxed, resumed exploring.
In this den, there was no metal puddle water-bowl like in the last. But he was thirsty, and he could smell water. He let his nose guide him, through an opening door into another den with cold, slippery ground. Not ice, he checked. Cautiously, the wolf crept into the small room, following the scent of water.
There was a spring inside some weird, light-colored rock porcelain. He could smell it, but it was hidden, something lid was on top of the water. The wolf scratched at the thing. It was cold and smooth, didn’t give when he scratched some more. He used his nose again. Ah, there. A small gap let the smell of the water out, and he pressed his nose against it.
The gap opened and squeezed his nose.
With a yelp, he jumped back and the gap closed, clanked loudly in the small room. Scrabbling and scratching on the not ice floor, the wolf tried to run, to hide, but the floor was slippery and he couldn’t get purchase right away. He growled so the thing lid would not dare chase him and he finally managed to run into the bigger room.
After a moment of sheer terror with a pounding heart, the wolf crept out from under the bed sleeping-place. When nothing moved and the Sam slept on, he dared sneak back.
Cautiously, he peeked around the corner, back into the bathroom room. Nothing moved. He was still thirsty. Slowly, step by cautious step, he made his way back into the room, sniffed again.
From behind the wall, a loud moan could be heard, then a shriek and some fast slap-slap-slap, which he knew stemmed from skin slapping against skin. The wolf cocked his head. He was hungry, and there was something to eat behind the wall. But there was also the thirst, and there was the Sam on the bed. He couldn’t leave the Sam alone, something might come. His pack, family, Sam brother wasn’t as strong as the wolf, had no hair and no claws and his teeth were ridiculously short and insufficient. He couldn’t leave Sam alone, anything could kill Sam.
Also, he was thirsty.
Growling, he went back to the toilet spring. He tried again to sniff through the gap, and like before, the gap opened and pressed on his nose. This time, though, the wolf waited.
Nothing happened, the pressure stayed the same. He shoved his snout deeper into the spring and the gap opened wider.
Aha!
With more force this time, the wolf pushed his whole head into the gap. The thing lid clanged against the wall and he jumped back, but he stayed in the room this time.
Nothing happened, but the spring was now open.
The wolf was thirsty and he put his head into the deep rock porcelain-bowl and sniffed. The water smelled funny, and even though he couldn’t see a lot of color, he was pretty sure that the water was unusually dark.
It tasted funny, too, but he was too thirsty to think much about it.
He drank, drank, drank and drank some more, licking his lips afterwards and sneezed. Disgusting. But better than being thirsty.
Now, though, he was still hungry. Maybe there would be something to eat here?
***
Someone was watching him. Sam had known that feeling far too long in his life to mistake it for anything else, so he didn’t react to it. Breathing stayed the same, no moves, he was as lax as he’d been before. Very, very carefully, he opened his lids a tiny bit and peeked under his lashes.
Nothing he could spot.
There was a weird smell in the air, something he knew but couldn’t place right then. Something… something… A smacking sound reached him and breathing, fast breathing. Panting?
Oh. Right. Wolf. His brother was a wolf.
Wait!
With a gasp, he sat upright, rapidly checking the room. There was the wolf on the second bed, watching him with those strange yellow-green-brown eyes. How the fuck the thing - no, Dean, not a thing - could’ve changed without him noticing he had no clue, but he at once spotted the bloody teeth and the dirty muzzle, smeared with some sticky, reddish stuff. Sam knew it was blood, and now he knew what that smell was.
Nononononononopleasenononono his brain fired at him and he jumped from the bed ignoring the wolf who joined him at once and was wagging his tail in anticipation.
Sam didn’t have time for this, he needed to know, needed to check. This was a motel, there were people around, lots of people. He should’ve woken up, or he should’ve set an alarm-clock, anything. He’d been too tired, relief and the fading adrenaline had taken its toll on him. He should’ve been more aware, but he’d just fallen asleep, had taken Dean’s friendly behavior towards him a sign of Dean’s overall peacefulness, had assumed that he’d behave like a wolf based solely on the fact that he looked like one. But now… if the werewolf - his brother - had gotten out, if he’d changed and somehow gotten out, killed somebody, he’d have to… he’d have to. Because Dean would make him, or he’d do it himself if he found out, and Sam couldn’t very well hide it, could he?
Right now, Sam couldn’t focus on his own guilt in getting a person killed. He’d have time for that later, or maybe he’d take Dean’s advise and shove it down and drown it in scotch.
“Stop whining, you stupid beast!” he snarled at the wolf, who stood in front of the door, pawing the wood.
The closed door.
Next to the closed window. In a completely closed room.
Relief rushed through his blood like fire, flushing him hot and cold and he needed to sit for a second. That was when he spotted the opened mini-fridge with the torn-up insulation bag and the bloody marks on the carpet. Oh. Right.
“Sorry, buddy. I was so sure I’d notice you change. Good thing you didn’t gnaw on me, so I’m not mad about the food.” He stood up from the bed and stepped into something wet. Fearing the worst, he looked at his naked feet. There was a damp, nearly wet spot on the light carpet, but it wasn’t yellow, or blood-red, like he’d feared. It was blue. What the Hell?
The wolf whined again and he looked so pitiful that Sam had to smile. “C’m here, buddy” he called him over, reaching out to stroke his rough fur. The wolf came, but just for a quick pet, then he was at the door again, whining and scratching.
Why did he want to go out?
Oh.
“Oh, whoops. Sorry, let me just … you know what? I don’t care. I’ll just get my boots and we’ll take a short stroll around the block.”
He found his boots - gnarled leather, chewed-up laces and all.
“Oh, great. Dean, you… why don’t you destroy your own stuff?” He looked at the bed, where another pair of boxers and one more t-shirt lay torn in stripes. “Right.”
Sam put on his sneakers and a hoodie against the cold and opened the door. The wolf whined in relief and sprinted to the next vertical thing he could find - the Impala, and Sam would so mock his brother tomorrow - and peed in a long, long, long spurt. Much less tense, the animal panted at Sam, cocked his ears and looked around.
Weirdly enough, Sam didn’t have any problem figuring out that Dean wanted to do more than just urinate against the car.
“Right. We could go for… Pizza? Or coffee? Something, I guess. Hey, maybe we’ll find some squirrels for ya?” The wolf sneezed and Sam grinned.”Let me get some pants on, though” A short walk sounded pretty awesome right now.
And it was pretty cool. After his own visit to the bathroom - where he understood the nature of the blue puddle and feeling deeply ashamed for forgetting to put out a water-bowl - he took an old lunchbox from the car and filled it with water from the tab, which Dean drank up greedily. Sam felt worse now, and a bit worried about any health-problems the blue toilet-cleaner-stuff might cause. He had to look into the eating-habits of wolves, he thought, since there they went out. Dean did his other business and Sam decided to play dumb rather than picking up his brother’s poop with a baggy.
Last night, Sam had been too terrified to take in his brother’s alternate form, to really look at it as anything else but ‘a wolf’. Now though, following the large animal along through the dark streets of the town, he couldn’t do anything else.
His brother always had this predatory walk down to pat. When he was a kid, Sam had in equal measures wanted to walk like that and made fun of it - much to the amusement of his dad, who one day found him practicing Dean’s swagger in front to the glass-doors of the cabin they’d lived in then. He never mentioned it to Dean, which Sam was really grateful for, but he’d taken him to the side, ruffled his hair and told him that he shouldn’t want that gait yet, that he’d get it when the time came without trying.
Of course, Sam hadn’t understood then, but now he did. Even though he still didn’t have the same confident swagger that Dean had, he now moved like a hunter himself. A predator. A killer. Dean with his bow-legs walked much more badass than Sam, used it sometimes to project confidence when there wasn’t any, not deep down. The swagger was as much a wall to hide behind as the snark and insults he threw at their adversaries, already so ingrained in him that you couldn’t tell real Dean apart from fake Dean, not when you didn’t know him for as long as Sam did. As a wolf, though, there was no projection, no lie behind his movements. Dean was sleek power incarnate. His body was lean and maybe a bit skinny even, his legs were long and his paws pretty big, which made Sam think his wolf-brother had more arctic wolf in him than prairie-wolf. His canine appearance hadn’t much in common with the wolves from Kansas. Maybe that was due to who had bitten him? Maybe it had been a Canadian werewolf, or Alaskan? After all, what did they really know about the furry kind of werewolves, apart from appearance and the traits Dean showed?
He’d fallen asleep with a werewolf in the room, and he hadn’t even thought about the fact that Dean’s second turning might be different and would have a complete different outcome. Hell, what if the animal had panicked? After all, he’d been in a closed room, a strange room, different from the one of the night before.
Shit. Where was the trust based on that the wolf expressed, where did it come from other than maybe Dean recognizing him as family? And on the other hand, where had Sam’s trust had come from that he’d been able to fall asleep with first a supernatural wolf and next night with a supernatural person next to him?
The wolf was attentive to Sam, much like the human form of his brother. He seemed to know when Sam stopped or slowed and tuned his own speed to his but not once checking back. He either knew where Sam was or he didn’t care much about it, certain Sam would follow.
And there was this… this slink to his walk. The wolf trotted, didn’t seem to use any energy at all, but there was such power behind each step and so much hidden strength that Sam found himself wondering if this wasn’t the true form, and the human version was the were.
Much as he liked watching the animal and smiling over the eagerness and apparent joy it took from peeing against stuff, Sam wanted the real Dean back. He missed the constant chatter and he missed the silly jokes. He also worried a lot about the wolf just deciding to run and kill and maim, even though he seemed quite peaceful at the moment.
“Dean, wait” he called. The wolf stopped and slinked back to him looking at Sam and then checking where Sam’s gaze was pointed. A 24-hour Pizza-parlor. They were lucky to have stopped in a town that wasn’t just a gas-station and two farms, but one that actually had some kind of infrastructure.”How ‘bout some pizza?”
The wolf gave a twitch of his ears and fell in step - and soon out of it - with Sam, crossing the street and walking to the brightly-lit glass-door.
Behind the counter stood a young girl and Sam had the urge to send her home because even if this wasn’t Chicago or anyplace else with more crimes than inhabitants, it was still half past one at night and the girl looked all of eighteen. There was no sign on the door that said dogs weren’t allowed, but he still leaned in and asked.
“Yes, sure. Take him inside, I don’t mind.”
“Thanks, he’ll uh… appreciate it.”
Dean looked cautiously inside and then went in as if he owned the place, head held high, tail relaxed and ears pricked towards Amy, the pizza-girl.
“Oh God, he’s amazing! What… is that a husky? He looks so … wolf-like”
“Uh… yes. No. Uh… half. Husky. Half-breed” Nobody who had knowledge of dogs would believe Dean to be a Husky. His fur was too rough and the color was wrong. And yes, Sam did know a lot about dogs, because he’d spent half his childhood dreaming of his own dog which would be his friend and would always be there instead of his parent abandoning them and which wouldn’t mock him all the time and would simply listen.
He never got one, except that old Golden Retriever, for the short time he’d been on his own in Flagstaff, but that didn’t mean he’d forget all those books he read about dogs.
The wolf-who-was-his-brother was indeed very much a wolf. His long face, though, diverted from the timber-wolves a bit. It was broader between the ears which made the whole head wider. Other than that, he could’ve been a real wolf. Or maybe some Nordic dog if it weren’t for the color. Huskies and their relatives were quite often grey, black or wolf-colored, though they usually had markings of some kind. Dean, in contrast, was a deep, dark grey. So dark that he quite often looked black. There were no lighter markings on him, none at all. The black wolves from Canada looked a lot like him, though those were mostly dark brown, not dark grey.
How his brother, whose hair was the lightest of the Winchesters, had turned out to be such a dark wolf was a mystery, but Sam shoved this particular mystery away for now. There were much more pressing issues.
Amy stepped from out behind her counter and came over and before Sam had an idea what she was up to, she went to her knees in front of Dean. “Awwww, you’re a cutie, aren’tcha? What’s ya name, honey? Huh? Such a good dog, yes you are” she cooed, and Sam nearly panicked.
Dean was anything but comfortable, based on the look of utter terror and confusion. He blinked and backed away from her, lifting his lips minutely and glancing at Sam and pleading at him to remove her. Which Sam did, once more grateful that his brother seemed to be more animal than evil entity. He could’ve just as easily attacked but chose to let his brother handle it.
“Ah, Amy, he doesn’t really like people touching him. Uh…Bad experiences”
Her face fell but she stood, smile a bit strained. “Sorry. Didn’t wanna scare him. How old’s he? And what’s his name?”
“Ah, uh, Dean. His name’s Dean. He’s” Sam tried his best to remember a good age of a full-grown wolf but in the end he just had to take a guess “four. He’s ah, about four“
“Dean? That’s an unusual name for a dog. But then again, he’s quite unusual himself” she rubbed her hands together and looked up at Sam, back at her place behind the counter, turning back to professional. “What can I getcha?”
Sam ordered a big pizza with lots of meat - chicken, since he wasn’t sure if Dean could eat spicy stuff - and sat down to wait while Dean relaxed against his leg. The chatter from the background told Sam that Amy wasn’t as alone as he’d thought initially. There seemed to be a cook somewhere. The wolf’s ears twitched back and forth, tuning in to the kitchen-sounds as well as anything else in the area. His nose was moving and every once in a while, Dean lifted his head and sniffed in the direction of the walls, which made Sam very uncomfortable and check for little squeaky animals. He didn’t see any, but that didn’t automatically mean there were none.
He remembered the rats and Dean’s reaction to them. There had to be better stuff to feed a wolf with, and he needed to pick up some new meat. Hopefully this time, he wouldn’t have to break into a butcher’s shop.
Suddenly, his wolf-brother perked up, tension building in his whole body. His eyes were glued to the door, ears pricked forward and a very low rumble was more felt than heard. It didn’t take long and the door opened, bringing a cheerful dingeling and some cold air into the place. A young man stepped in, wearing a pizza-delivery uniform. He didn’t wait long, didn’t even acknowledge Sam and the wolf and stepped behind the counter. He started chatting with Amy immediately, and she didn’t seem to mind.
Dean’s attention was still on the guy, the grumble turning more into a growl with every one of the over-enthusiastic moves the youth made.
“Sssh, I got it” he whispered to Dean and noted the ears pricking a bit back to show him the words, if maybe not the meaning, had been heard. Sam shifted a bit backward, relaxing his posture against the chair and surprisingly enough, Dean took the cue and relaxed a bit and lay down. He still kept the guy in his vision, though, as did Sam.
Two minutes later, the man went out again, carrying three big boxes of delicious smells. Dean followed him with his eyes but even more so with his nose, getting longer and longer and trying not to leave his position at the same time as he was inhaling all the scent. A low whine escaped him when the door closed behind the boy.
Sam chuckled. “You really are my brother, aren’t ya?” Dean whined again.
“Hey, pizza’s ready. Eat here or take-out?” the girl asked from the kitchen.
“Uhm… here, if that’s ok?” He was still tired and he also didn’t know how to transport a pizza back to the motel without Dean stealing it. The same problem, by the way, as he had with Dean in human form as well.
“Sure, no prob. Comin’ right up”
Chapter 4