hasperkynipples | In which Dean runs into a very strange situation.

[Cowritten with

smart_alec494.]

X5-494 crouched comfortably on a large tree limb in the south-east corner of the St, James cemetery in central-'Nowhere' Wyoming. He watched his prey curiously. Because he, for the life of him, couldn't figure out what the man was doing.

Well that wasn't quite true. What he was doing was filling in a grave after having dug it up and setting the body on fire. The X5 appreciated a good fire, but still, the behavior was a little odd.

That wasn't what had stopped him from whacking the dude upside the head and hauling him in though. What stopped him was the shotgun the man had within easy reach and the familiarity with which the man had handled it. An X5 could dodge a bullet if they knew it was coming. But scatter from a shotgun was a whole different story.

Dean took a breath as he wiped his brow after filling the grave in. Aside from all the obvious reasons he hated being alone, having to do all the work while you were hunting alone sucked just as much. But he still managed to get the job done, laying old lady Helenmore down to rest before she managed to take her hatred out on any more of her potential 'daughters-in-law.' He was also relatively certain that one of those potential victims might be feeling particularly grateful, and hey -- Dean was more than willing to take what he could get for a job well done.

He didn't get paid, but that really didn't mean that he couldn't reap the benefits.

Patting down the rest of the dirt, he hauled the shovel up over his shoulder and reached for the rest of his gear, before starting to head back towards his car. A quick trip to the motel to get the smell of burning flesh off his skin and out of his hair, before heading over to see a pretty blond named Melissa with legs that went from here to heaven to make sure that she was okay and in one piece, as well as to let her know that her house was officially ghost free. After that, well -- he'd see how things went.

The X5 jumped from his perch flowing from one form to another before he hit the ground with a nearly silent thump of heavy padded feet. It was easier to move silently on four feet and in fur than it was in a human body. The stray thoughts that didn't revolve around the prey he was staking were pushed to the back. Being in fur always made him more single minded. The wolf scent on the human was stronger now as well. A wolf with out a pack in site. Easy prey.

Dean knew when he was being followed, even if he couldn't see them. He started to slow slightly but didn't stop, whistling to himself as he opened the trunk of his car and started to put his stuff away.

Whistling? Did anyone fall for that? The leopard slunk along behind at a safe distance, behind the cover provided by headstones, trees and fence. He’d have a small window after the man put down the shot gun and the shovel. It was dangerous in it's own way, giving the man a longer reach.

The whistling soon degraded to singing -- "Ramble On," as it was probably going to be what came on when he turned on the car -- and he stashed both the shovel and the shotgun in his car, keeping his eyes out for whatever the hell it was that was watching him. He didn't close the trunk right away, though, just shuffled through a few things, almost as though he was looking for something.

Looking for something or wanting a weapon within reach. The ploy wasn't going to work. The leopard maybe running on mostly animal instinct but there was a very human intelligence running the mind. A genius human intelligence at that. He was impressed though. The wolf-human clearly knew he was being watched. Being hunted.

Get trained your whole life, and you learn to pick up on a few things. He tucked his favorite gun into the side pocket of his jacket, before pushing away and going to close the trunk, heading towards the driver's seat.

That was fine. If he came in low from behind and hit the man on the gun side he'd have a hard time pulling it free before 494 made contact. And that's exactly what he did. He came out from behind the fence as soon as his prey had his back partially turned. Mere feet from the man he pushed up in what might be a leap but instead he flowed out of the fur and back into human form. Fists worked better when you wanted to capture not kill.

Dean caught a flash of something moving and as oppose to turning away from whatever it was, he turned right into it, going for his gun. When he saw it looked mostly human, though, his arm came up to block, ready to shove him off and gain better ground.

The move was unexpected and he had too much momentum to stop the advance. All he could do was get his other hand up enough to try and deflect the hand that would have the gun. He snarled, angry.

Dean released his grip on the gun once he'd gotten a good look at the guy, because yeah -- he was carrying the wrong kind of bullets. He leaned back against the Impala, using the car to help him take the weight of the advance and try not to knock the wind out of him, before shifting his stance and shoving him back with a heavy glare. "Why does everyone have to take my friggin' face." Fucking skinwalkers. He swung for the guy's jaw, hoping the blow would startle him enough that he could go for the silver knife stuck in his boot.

494 was startled. Outright shocked. He hadn't seen the man's face. He had no way of knowing they looked so alike. Unfortunately for Dean that didn't slow his reflexes any. He bent over backwards so the punch whistled through empty air. He kept going until his hand hit the ground and the motion turned into a back flip. He was hoping he could catch the other guy with a booted foot on the way by.

Dean's reflexes were pretty good himself, but they weren't that good. The boot caught the side of his face enough to throw him off balance and back into the car again, moving the hand that was going for his knife was scrambling backwards for purchase against the Impala as he tried to regain his balance. A skinwalker with better-than-combat training. Well, if this day hadn't gone from bad to suck.

494's feet hit the ground and he looked at Dean with shocked eyes. This was so not in any of the scenarios he'd played out in his head. He slid smoothly into a steady combat stance. He sniffed, but all he picked up was grave dirt, smoke from the fire and wolf. "Why do you look like me." It was a demand not a question.

Dean met the stance and snorted slightly, taking the beat in the fighting to get a better look at him. He was a bit younger than Dean, so that was putting big questions of doubt in his mind, but he was ignoring them for the time being. They guy still looked like he was serious about kicking his ass. And he was better than Dean was. Not that Dean would say that out loud, because he's not stupid, but it was there. "I think that question goes both ways bucko. And given that I'm older? I was here first, so you're the one looking like me."

494 gave a feral grin. "I asked first." He didn't move though. The feline part of him liked it when the opponent made the first move.

Dean laughed slightly. He wasn't going to make the first move, not if he could help it. Not against something he knew was better than him. "Well, I haven't a fucking clue. I was born this way. The normal way. With a mother and a father and all that fun stuff. So your turn. Why do you look like me?"

The grin didn't falter. "I was born this way." Which was true. He said nothing about parents.

"Well, great. That's just helpful. But I'm thinking you're not exactly normal given the ninja skills you got going there, so if anyone here has questions to answer, it's definitely not me." Because one thing in Dean's gut was certain. This guy definitely wasn't human.

"You're just pissed that I'm better than you. And I don't buy your bull about normalcy. Normal people don't set corpses on fire. And I can smell the wolf on you."

Dean tensed only slightly when he mentioned the wolf. Sam. He was looking for Sam, and thought Dean was the wolf. "See, that right there? That really says you're not normal. Normal people wouldn't be able to pick up on a scent like that. And as for why I smell like wolf -- I hunt them. They start killing people, I go in and put 'em down. I hunt a lot of things that you have to put down in weird ways -- that doesn't make me any less human. I never said I was apple pie normal. And you're not just better. The way you move -- you're something else."

"I never said I was ordinary. And that's no why you smell like wolf." Because it wasn't right. If he killed them he'd smell like their fur and fear and anger. He didn't. It was a part of him, comfortable. Easy.

"Well, I dunno what to tell you, dude. But I'm no werewolf. You're barking up the wrong tree." And yeah, that pun was totally intended.

"Hilarious." The guy was patient. Not making any moves. It was annoying as hell. 494 shifted to the side a bit hoping for an opening.

Dean watched him move, and slowly moved to counter him, but not going on the attack any. He didn't mind just standing there and talking. If this guy wanted something from him, he was going to have to make the move and take it. He held his hands out with a bit of a grin. "I'm here all week."

"Not if I have my way, you aren't." His grin matched, not that he really knew that. "Nice car by the way." Maybe the Colonel would let him keep it.

He glanced back at her for all of a second before nodding, his grin widening to one of pure love. Because, let's face it, Dean would always choose his car over everyone else. "She's an original. Still runs like the day she was made."

"I'll keep that in mind." And he would, too. He had some honor.

Dean watched him carefully for a moment before his eyes narrowed. "And you'll have to kill me before you take my car anywhere."

"Then I guess the car can sit right here, because I don't intend to kill you." It would be a shame though, abandoning her.

"Planning on taking me somewhere?" Dean raised an eyebrow. "Why, because you think I'm a wolf? I can prove it to you if you don't believe me."

"Nah. That's okay. It's your job to try and get me to back off." He didn't need proof. At least no more than his nose gave him. And there were few things he trusted as much.

"You sure?" he smirked, moving slowly down to reach for his boot. "See, werewolves are allergic to silver. I happen to have a silver knife. I cut myself with it, and don't start writhing in pain, you'll know I'm telling the truth. Because your nose? It's lying to you."

"Uh huh. How convenient for you that you happen to know wolf poison and have some with you. Are you listening to yourself?" But 494 let him reach for it. It would throw him off balance for a second.

"Dude, what part of 'I hunt them' went in one ear and out the other? If I didn't know how to kill them, not only would I be a pretty shitty hunter, I'd also be kinda dead. I've been going after things like this since I was a kid." Dean pulled his leg up so that he could get the knife out, using his free hand to lean against the car.

494 shot forward, the heel of his hand heading for Dean's shoulder. He intended to knock him off balance and ride him down.

Dean startled at the feel of the body shooting towards him, but his fingers were already around the handle of the knife and he spun it around in his fingers as quickly as he could, aiming up for the body above him and hoping to at least nick him to see what would happen.

The man was faster than 494 had thought he was. He knew he shouldn't have made the first move. Next time he'd trust his instinct. They went down in a tangle of limbs and he swore that the man had managed to get him with a blow torch rather than a knife. He gasped and then snarled. He punched Dean in the cheek.

Dean took the punch with a groan, it dazing him a bit. It loosened his grip on the knife and collapsed back against the car, scrambling to try and stay on his feet for the moment.

494 pushed away from him and needing the distance now. The knife and the wound it caused burning like no knife wound he'd ever had before. The pain clawed through him but he knew if he pulled the knife out before he was ready to deal with it, he could easily bleed out. And he had to deal with this guy before he could take the time to do that. He hauled himself to his feet.

Dean hit the ground in a sitting position, and took a minute to shake himself out of it, before looking over at him. When he saw the pain he was in, his eyes widened. "You are a shifter." Not that he didn't have an inkling before, but he wasn't sure how it worked. And now he wasn't quite sure he wanted this guy dead yet. He was pushing himself back up to his feet before starting to move closer, hands up to show he didn't mean any harm. "Hey, calm down, alright? I can help you with that. I don't think you can manage to stitch that up on your own."

He took a step back, but it was more of a stumble. This was very, very bad. He'd taken wounds before and he shouldn't be going down this quickly. The blade hadn't hit an artery. It was the wrong place. "Fuck you." Calm down his multi-milion dollar ass. The man had just stabbed him. And maybe he'd deserved it, but he wasn't about to start taking advice from the guy.

"Dude, that thing is going to kill you if you keep it in you any longer," Dean said carefully. "Look, I know that I stabbed you, but I'm not ready to have you die on me yet because you're being stubborn. So do you want the extra hand or not?"

He stumbled back another step, shoulder colliding with the iron fence. His lip curled in a warning. Last think he wanted was someone touching him.

Dean still let his hands keep their distance, before turning and pointing back to his car. "Don't even have to do it here. We'll get in my car, head back to my motel room -- booze, clean stitches, place to sleep -- it's not gonna suck."

Yeah, that wasn't working. His knees gave then and he slid down the wall.

Dean sighed slightly, continuing to move closer slowly. He seemed like he was going to be passing out soon, but Dean didn't think that was such a good thing either. But if he could get him back to the motel and get him cleaned up, it would be a step in the right direction.

494 barred his teeth in a clear animalistic warning. There was nothing human in the growl and the rest of his body followed suit. He had more defenses when he was in his fur. Teeth and claws. But the shift was normally fast and smooth. Taking only a fraction of a second and spreading like adrenaline through his blood stream. This time it was much slower and it hurt. Bones scraping and jarring instead of the normal smooth shifting. The fur felt like sand paper rather than the warm tingle he was used to.

" -- the hell?" Dean stumbled backwards in surprise, but not taking his eyes off Alec for a second. He hadn't been sure what kind of shifter the guy was, but this answered that question in a big way. But he didn't move back too far, not wanting to make it seem like he was backing off, but not wanting to get bitten either.

One massive paw came up, claws flexed in threat, but it fell quickly and he twisted around trying to pull the knife free. Human logic couldn't over ride animal instinct. The knife hurt and he wanted it gone.

"Shit," he muttered under his breath. How do you talk down a leopard? He just tried to keep his distance, hoping that he didn't do more damage to himself than he already had.

He got the knife with his teeth and pulled it free. And that just hurt more. The knife fell as the big cat mewled and curled up around the hurt, panting. The smell of his own blood making him dizzy.

"Damnit," he muttered, slowly making his way closer. "Alright, kid, I wanna help you, but I'm not a vet. I can't fix it if you're a leopard. Can you shift back? Please?" Because what he really didn't need was a body on his hands. Not tonight. He was already shedding his jacket to try and stop the bleeding, but he couldn't do that if he didn't get close enough.

He fell flat onto his uninjured side, panting and mewling, but this time he didn't make any attempt to threaten Dean.

Dean softened slightly as he got closer, balling up the jacket and placing it firmly but gently against the gash in his side, the other hand rubbing his back lightly. "You gotta change back, man. I can't help you like this."

He tried. Because if he didn't get help he was going to die. It was even slower this time and by the time it was over he was exhausted. He lay on his side unmoving aside from the heaving breathes he was sucking in, a few tears on his face and his fingers clawed into the ground.

Dean slowly removed the coat after a moment, pushing the material out of the way so that he could get a better look at the wound. "Alright, that doesn't look too bad," he said gently. "Didn't hit an artery, so it's probably mostly the silver that's getting you, and you need stitches." He placed the coat back on the wound, before moving Alec's hand so that it was on top of the coat. "Do you think you can hold that in place?"

He blinked at Dean almost confusedly at the question. He was being asked not told. After a minute he managed to do as asked.

Dean moved his hand and then started to pick him up off the ground, shifting his weight to get him back to the car. He couldn't clean the cut out as well as he needed to here. The motel would be better. "Hang on. The motel isn't far from here."

He made a startled noise as he was lifted off the ground. Despite the hurt, and the wolf scent up close and personal, it was. . .remarkably pleasant.

Dean gently hauled him around to the passenger side of the Impala, opening the door and placing him down gently on the seat. After that he made his way around the front of the car again, starting it and, as if on cue, "Ramble On" came on and Dean was too busy throwing the car into gear to turn it off. In fact, he was hoping that the music would help keep him awake.

He settled where he was set and tried not to move to much. The music calmed him a little. It almost always did. He let his head fall back against the seat and tried to ride out the waves of burning pain. He wanted to ask when the man was helping when they had been so willing to hurt each other earlier, but he couldn't spare the concentration.

Dean kept his eyes on the road, pushing the speed limit as much as he could without getting pulled over -- if he did, they'd have to go to a hospital and that would be more lies than he wanted to deal with at the moment -- and soon he was pulling back into the parking lot of the motel. He brought the car to a stop in front of his room, and made his way out of the car. He paused long enough to unlock the door and get it open, before heading over to the kid's side of the car and opening the door to get him out.

He tried to easy himself out and growled a little when he couldn't get his limbs coordinated to do what he want.

"Hey, hey, easy," Dean said softly as he started to pick him up again. "I got you. Get frustrated and you're just going to bleed faster."

"Shouldn't hurt this much." The worlds came out between clenched teeth.

Dean gave him a sympathetic look, before nudging the door open with his foot and placing him down on the extra bed. He was still asking for two beds when he grabbed a room. Force of habit. "Yeah, well -- I did say that silver was poisonous to shifters." Once he was down on the bed, he went right for the first aid kit. "Don't worry, alright? I'll clean it out, get all the traces of silver out of the cut, and stitch you up, you should be as good as new." Granted Dean had no idea if that would actually work, but it sounded good in his head.

"You." He made an unhappy noise as he was settled on the bed. "Said wolves." He went back to trying not writhe. How was he supposed to know that silver was poisonous? It didn't even make sense.

"Yeah, well, it's poisonous for any shifter." Dean took the bottle of vodka he'd left on the dresser and made his way over with the bandages, sitting down gently on the bed next to him, and reaching forward to look at the cut. "But most shifters know that. I'm kind of surprised that you didn't, actually." That was just a survival thing. Stay away from silver. "Then again, I've never run into a wereleopard before, so this is kind of a new experience for both of us."

He wasn't like others. Like the ones outside of Manticore. The natural ones. He didn't think anyone knew silver was poisonous, or he would have been warned. He'd been warned about the other things that could kill him. He watched Dean closely but said nothing.

Dean pushed the material of his shirt out of the way, clear of the cut, before starting to spin off the top on the vodka bottle. "This is gonna suck, but try and stay still, alright?" He placed one hand down on his chest and then poured the alcohol over the wound, hoping to get the silver out of the affected area, as well as disinfect it.

He didn't move a muscle though he sucked air in like he was trying to not voice home much it hurt and his finger clawed into the blankets, tearing holes through.

Dean tried to work as quickly and gently as possible, finishing cleaning out the wound and then stitching it up. Once he placed a final piece of gauze over the stitches, and then sat back. "Alright. That should do it."

"I think I'm gonna hurl." That was the sum total of this thought prosses at the moment.

Yeah, Dean figured it'd either be "Why?" or that. He quickly reached for one of the garbage cans and held it closer so that he could grab and hurl as needed.

He rolled until his face was over the can and his hand pressed hard over the wound and he lost his lunch.

Dean waited for it to pass patiently, even going so far as to rub his back lightly.

After a minute he spit into the can and rolled back on to his back. "Don't get it." He didn't get a lot of things.

"Give me a sec to get this out of here so the smell doesn't make me yack." Dean grabbed the bag, tossing some of the other medical trash into it, before knotting the bag. "I'll explain whatever you want me to explain when I get back. Just running to the dumpster."

He wasn't going anywhere. The wound still burned in a way that spread through his entire body but now, at least it didn't feel like someone was adding fuel to the fire.

Dean made a quick trip to the dumpster and back, before making his way back into the room. He then headed to the fridge for the six pack he'd left there. "Wanna beer?"

He shook his head. Alcohol dehydrated. Blood loss and dehydration were not a good mix.

Dean paused for a minute, before looking over what he had. "Water?"

"Yeah."

He grabbed one of the bottled water, along with a chair and a beer for himself, dragging it over to the bed and handing him the bottle. "What don't you get?"

"You."

"Well, let's take it from the top," he nodded, shifting to lean back in the chair as he popped open his beer. "Where do you wanna start?"

"Why are you helping me?" He opened the bottle before holding it with one hand while the other settle back over the wound.

"Couple of reasons for that one. One, I'm shit with a spirit board so I can't get answers out of you if you're dead. Two -- " He paused to take a sip of his beer. " -- Stashing a body is such a hassle, and I don't need another stain on my record. Three, I can be a nice guy when I'm not being attacked by a shapeshifting leopard who has my face." He finished that with a bit of a smirk before leaning back in the chair some more. "Should I not have?"

"How should I know?" He was simply out of his depth and felt sick.

"Look," Dean sighed as he kicked his feet up on the edge of the bed. "Generally speaking I try to help people, and I have the bonus ulterior motive of wanting to know why the hell you were coming after me. Made sense to make sure you lived."

"Wolf." It was the truth. Or at least part of it. He didn't actually know the whole truth. He did as he was told.

Dean sighed. "I'm just gonna repeat myself in saying I'm not wolf, but -- why? What do you want with werewolves?"

"Dunno." And that was the truth. Manticore hadn't given him details. "If you aren't why do you smell like one."
Dean hesitated for a moment. He didn't know what Alec was after, so he wasn't about to sell out Sam. But the kid had asked him an honest question, and he didn't know if he should lie to him. "I'm not. My brother is." If he kept names out of it, then he should be fine.

He took that in and sipped the water. He felt terrible, but he hurt less. "He got a pack?" He prayed Dean said yes. Then he could give this all up as a loss.

He nodded. "Yeah. I'm not telling you who or where, though. Not unless you're gonna tell me why."

He shook his head and then swallowed and closed his eyes as it made him dizzy. "Not gonna ask." Lone wolves where the only ones worth going after.

"Okay," Dean nodded, before pushing himself up. "Look, I still smell like burning flesh and you need the sleep. Why don't you catch a couple hours and finish giving me the third degree when you're feeling a little more up to it?"

He knew he shouldn't stay. But the fact that he didn't think he could force his body to let him leave won. "kay."

Dean nodded, placing his beer bottle down on the dresser, before heading towards the bathroom. "I won't be far if you need something."

He didn't. He was already half asleep.

Dean closed the bathroom door behind him, more than ready to hop in the shower and wash off the rest of the day.

494 fell into a heavy sleep, his body fighting the poison and trying to heal the wound.

Dean showered, cleaned himself up, before heading back into the motel and crashing on the other bed, out almost as soon as his head hit the pillow.

In which Dean runs into a very strange situation.

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