Dreamscape, pt. 5

maximumsuckage:

Table of contents: https://maximumsuckage.tumblr.com/dreamscape

Description: Jack meets Carolina.  The werewolf priest gains footing.
Word Count: 3027
A/n: I lied, werewolf arc still has another chapter after this.  If you keep hanging on, next chapter will have pagans and Gabe. I need to study still.  Lemme know if you want a tag, I weep with happiness everytime I add a name to the tag list.  I am unworthy

The Winchesters had followed the werewolf leader.  Dean had barked a quick order at Jack to stay
with the sheriff.  He was fine with that,
he supposed.  Sam and Dean knew what they
were doing.  But he had a feeling, in the
pit of his stomach, that he was needed elsewhere.  It was an odd feeling.  Very compelling.  Jack didn’t ask the sheriff about it, mostly
because he didn’t know the sheriff at all, and a bit because he didn’t think it
was a human feeling. 

It was definitely the Nephilim part of him, he decided
as he thought about it.  It was a very
strong feeling, like an invisible fishing line had hooked into him, and was
trying to pull him into the forest. 

Somebody needed help. 

Jack didn’t know how he knew that with such certainty,
but he did.  Somebody needed help, and he
needed to be there.

Were an angel around to teach him, they might have
said that he was picking up on a prayer. 

It wasn’t
hard to slip from the sheriff’s watch. 
He was still carrying Dean’s bag, loyal to the end, and that was the
trickiest part, because Dean’s weapons kept clinking against each other, and
when he tried to dart into the trees, it got caught on a thicket of
thorns.  It took him a moment to free it,
and he cut his fingers several times. 
Each nick healed itself within a moment. 

As soon as
he got the bag free of the thicket, he was free as well, to follow the odd,
disembodied pull.  He had thought it
would be difficult to find the source, as it was a feeling rather than
something physical, but it was the opposite; the closer he got, the more vivid
the feeling began, until it was overwhelming. 

And yet,
as he turned a little circle, he couldn’t see anyone here.  He was standing in a tiny clearing of pine
trees, and the ground beneath his feet was carpeted with fallen needles years
thick.  Every footstep was silent as he
turned in another slow circle, squinting into the thickets of branches in case
he missed something. 

Something
cracked- Jack looked up to see a pair of yellow eyes staring at him from the
top of one of the trees.  Were it not for
the angelic clarity of his vision, he would not have been able to see the girl
(although nobody knew that Jack had clearer vision than most, because Jack
didn’t know how other people saw the world). 

“Hello,”
he called up, tilting his head.  He
hesitated, then repeated the line the Winchesters used when people were
scared.  “My name is Jack.  I’m here to help.”  He hoped he could help.

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