#waywardfreckled01

     Sam joined Dean, the other Winchester brother lanky and tall as both crowded around Peter, taking in the newly formed scales on his face with confusion.

     «What is it?» Dean growled.

     Sam shrugged, «I think it’s like he said, a chimera.»

      «The fuck is a chimera?»

      «I read about them in Greek Mythology. A Chimera is a monster that has parts of at least two different creatures. Or something like that.»

     Dean scoffed, digging in his pockets, «And you say a weredigo couldn’t be a thing.»

     He withdrew an old-fashioned and well-used flip phone with the phone number taped to the back of it. Something a granddad would keep on him. Three for speed dial.

      «Crowley. Dean. Yeah, I know, long time no talk. Listen, we’ve got your boyfriend or whatever. No, we didn’t hurt him. I mean. Okay. Sam shot him. Uh-» he shook his head, visibly trying to calm himself under pressure, «Something’s up. He’s turning all scaly. We’re not caught up to speed on Chimeras, so we’re gonna do our best till you get here. Yeah, got it.»

     The flip phone closed with an audible ‘click’, as Dean looked back down to Peter.

      «Crowley’s on his way. Don’t say I never did anything nice for you.»

     And Dean would never admit to a soft heart, not if anyone asked. Least of all a monster. But he understood loss, and hardship and grief, and he’d be damned, too, if he’d found happiness- that anyone would ever take it away.

The hunters got him, surrounded him, talked about him and what he currently was, and it pissed him off making him growl loudly, eyes shining unnaturally blue as his werewolf genes pushed to their limits to show over the lizard ones. He couldn't hold this up for long and stopped growling sooner than what he would've liked.

This was painful but he was no stranger to pain so he kept fighting his own modified body for control until he couldn't do it anymore and relaxed to let his body do whatever it wanted which, granted, it was even more painful and made him tense up all over again. The scales were spreading, one eye looked yellow, and he felt himself starting to lose this battle. His body couldn't keep up, he was more tired, and his organs were slowing down. He was dying.

The name picks his attention and he tries looking up but he's shaking. Crowley. Did he really called Crowley? Why? He had so many questions right now. Peter was the enemy, why were they helping?

He froze and screamed in agony as one of his organs just shut down. He forced his eyes closed but his hands stayed firmly in place over the tome refusing to surrender, he rather die than surrendering now.

Crowley was called, he'll be okay soon.

Dean did not have to do much convincing to get Crowley to drop everything and run. He was very much aware of the condition his lover was in and he knew the consequences should they fail in their endeavor to cure him. Knowing that Crowley for once was helpless wasn't a good feeling. He'd given his heart away and now he found out it could be crushed to pieces at any second, because Peter wasn't as sturdy as he made out to be. It was terrifying.

He left Hell almost instantly and conveniently popped in right behind Dean. A growl on the demon's lips, but other than a few hushed curses, Crowley was headed straight for the wolf on the ground. Nobody or nothing could stop him in the way to Peter's side, he dropped to a knee beside him, hands roaming his body to assess the situation.

"You stupid, stupid mutt." Crowley pulled the wolf against him, the change didn't matter, the scales didn't bother him, because Peter was perfect to him no matter his shape or form. Although he did prefer the pretty one. "I warned you, time and time again. All these fools are capable of is hurt. We could've found another way." He held him close, maybe a little too close, but he knew pain could trigger the healing. He had to heal. Now.

Turning his head now, away from his lover and towards those who had attacked him, "He came for a bloody healing spell and you shoot him?" Hissing through gritted teeth, Crowley was trying to keep his voice down, but failed nonetheless. He only noticed the tome then, clutched in-between his wolf's fingers, holding onto it like a man dying of thirst would to a bottle of water. "We can fix you, love. You'll be good as new."

     Dean’s gotten close enough to Crowley that he’s aware that his bark is worse than his bite, normally. It’s true enough, he can agree with Peter that Crowley does, indeed, have a heart. But, that’s not the problem. It’s the lack of a soul that is.

     «He’s not innocent either.»

     Of course he’s not. He can’t be. The King of Hell has a reputation to uphold.

     «I think I’ll hold onto this,» Dean says, running his fingers over the dusty tome of healing magic, «Until our old buddy Crowley can pay us a visit himself. Feel free to tag along.»

     He wonders if Peter’s privvy to his past with Crowley- the unlikely friendship they’d shared. Dean can see the good in most people, Crowley included, but he’s been conditioned from the age of five years old that good intentions rarely indicate a goddamned thing.

     He hears Sam rushing to his aid, size 13 shoes pounding against the marble of the upper floor,  rushing to the nearest escalator.

     Dean doesn’t think Peter’s a threat. He lets moments, precious seconds idle. He’s not given much thought into how a hunter is born. Even he was not born in blood. It became him, with loss.

     «Even if what you said is true, that there’s been centuries of misunderstandings…» he trails on, bright green eyes fixated on the werewolf, «It doesn’t change a thing.»

     It can’t. They’re too far gone into the war between the supernatural, and their brothers, humanity, they both know that.

     Standing here at an impasse, the only thing keeping Peter or Dean from an elaborate waltz of pain to the death is Crowley. But it won’t spare Peter from Sam’s wrath, should the younger hunter reach them.

“Of course it won’t change a thing because while we try our damnedest to break the cycle it will never break unless you accept our efforts of peace. I saw the most kind man in this world turn into a monster, like you, out of pain and fear, I heard and saw human and werewolf children alike scream and burn because of the likes of you, I myself have sought so much just for a moment of peace and freedom and love. Now I have it, I have it all, and I won’t lose it. I refuse to.”

Peter could feel the other Winchester inching closer and closer. He knew his time was running out, he needed to run away but he also refused to do so without the tome. “You say you will hold onto that and yet you know there’s nothing you can do against me,” he stated but he didn’t give time to react, instead, in the blink of an eye he was behind the hunter, had snatched the tome from his hand, grabbed him by the shirt and threw him up the air with the intention of him landing over his brother.

That would buy him time, time he didn’t waste and he ran at full speed in the other direction with intentions to put as much as space between him and the hunters as he could until...

Thump thump Thump thump. Thump thump.

His heart was beating faster, his lungs constricting, pain raising from everywhere, and the scream he wanted to let out died in his throat as he fell on the ground. Peter’s body contorting, lizard scales appearing on his werewolf face, but his hands refused to let go of the tome. Without it...he feared where he would go without it. Probably Purgatory again and he wasn’t sure if he could do that again.

He tried to reach for his phone, to call Crowley, to let him know that he needed the other and that he had the tome required to finally revert Peter back to a full werewolf but he couldn’t and, instead, felt himself passing out. “I...refuse...to die....a chimera.”

     Fury bled into Dean’s features. First in the colour of red, and then of black.

     It could be said that of each of the seven deadly sins, that wrath had rooted itself into his soul, feeding on him, becoming him.

     Dean Winchester had been through absolute hell because of his father. He’d never had a childhood. He’d instead had the upbringing of a toy soldier- every ounce of ‘normal’ that he craved had been beaten and scolded out of him.

     Every childhood memory he held onto from the ‘before’ was a fuzzy blip of a rare and pleasant dream amidst the nightmares.

    «You don’t know shit,» Dean growled, «Not about me, and not about my father.»

     He launched at Peter best he could from the confines of his restraints, digging into his wrists with enough raw force that they’d bruise later, but not release him in the moment.

      «You wanna talk big, but can’t fight like a man. Doesn’t matter what the hell you are. A coward is a fucking coward.»

“You want me to fight you?” Peter asked amused as he pushed Dean forward to speed things up. “Is not cowardice, Dean, is being smart. You want me to fight you and doing so will delay me from my objective but that’s not gonna happen. I’m not one of those dumb monsters you hunt, I am a hunter myself and I act smart first and tough later. Understood? Besides, I may not know batshit about your father but I've experienced a thing or two, it was a wild guess, really, but it seems I was right.”

They were getting close, in fact, they had reached the room with the target but something was off. He sniffed the air and pushed the hunter behind himself. “We’re not alone,” he whispered looking around and closed his eyes to focus his senses better. He opened his eyes and rolled them annoyed and turned to look at Dean. “We got a problem, darling, so I need you to run off to your brother and his...pet angel.” He said pointing at one direction. “Before the vetala kills you.”

The werewolf then pulls a knife off his boot with the P.H. initials, his own initials, a gift from Crowley and it would come in handy right about now given how the knife was made of silver. “Come on sweetheart! Let’s get this fight started!” He shouts playing with the knife but he’s not moving, he’s on guard and watching, listening, smelling. He feels a few swooshes as the creature passes by, trying to intimidate him but he keeps his brain calm and calculating. “Are you angry that I killed your boyfriend? Or was it girlfriend? I can never know with you lot,” he taunted, still not moving. Observing. Aware of were Dean is and attracting the attention to himself reminded how Crowley had told him not to hurt the hunters too much and he guessed getting them kill counted as getting them hurt too much.

Then he felt it, the creature speeding towards him and he barely had time to dodge but he did and vetala hit the wall straight on so Peter couldn’t help but snicker. “If both of you couldn’t kill me, I doubt just you will get the job done,” he taunted again with a grin. She snarled at him and ran again. He didn’t move, just waited, and when she came by again he dodged but she didn’t hit the wall this time and stopped in time. “Learning, I see. About time too.” He says because he can’t keep himself shut. She runs off again and Peter sighs starting to feel annoyed by this cat and mouse game so he holds his ground next time around, holding her neck away with his forearm as she tries to bite him. He keeps away from her mouth but quickly inserts the knife over her heart. When she tries to move away he pushes her against a wall cracking it with the force as he turns the knife slowly. The monster gasps as she dies and he lets go pulling the knife away. 

       If there was something Peter was good at was tracking things down. Being a werewolf and all gave him the necessary extra senses plus he had connections to help him gather the necessary information to the target’s whereabouts. The problem in this particular case was The Winchesters. Crowley had warned him that the hunters might be around the target, they might even get to the target first, but the demon was really cross with this particular being and he was keen on getting this thing for himself instead of letting the hunters kill it as is their usual job. The thing about hunters was that, sometimes, they didn’t care who was behind the whole supernatural being because as long as it wasn’t human they would kill them. Crowley had told him to be careful, he had no idea how the hunters would react to Peter and Peter had no idea either but he was going to complete his job so his favorite demon wouldn’t be forced to make time for this, not like they had a lot of time to begin with if the Winchesters were tracking whatever this thing was.