Don't Go Eating My Heart

Not All Hounds Go To Heaven

This chapter takes place during Season 6 Episode 8. I am not responsible for spoilers in the comments.

Skinwalkers are pretentious jerks.

She had found them pretty easily— even in their dog form, they had a weirdly human smell. So she found one of them, and with some convincing (hell-style of course) he had agreed to arrange a meeting for her. Which is how she ended up standing in a warehouse, looking out the window as a black SUV brigade drove up like it was driving a celebrity. Everyone that hopped out was wearing a leather jacket, jeans, and boots. Marley couldn't stop the amused smirk from reaching her face. Did they realize how ridiculous they looked in their coordinating outfits? Was that a requirement to be in their pack? She was incredibly grateful that she had refused to change before, leaving her in just a T-shirt and joggers.

Her eyes scanned over each face as they came in, not moving from where she leaned backwards onto one of the large shipping containers in the warehouse. She fastened her gaze on a shorter bald man, he was the only one wearing a dress shirt, so she figured he was the leader. Regardless, the way Mr. Macho tall guy in the dark brown leather jacket was walking slightly in front of him, she figured he was going to be the one facilitating the conversation. Which only served to piss her off more that this leader was so pretentious he wouldn't even talk directly with her.

Macho stepped up to her, the boss staying a few feet back. "Titus tells us you think there's hunters after us."

"I know there is, and so would you if you weren't so busy coordinating matching outfits with your pack." The man glared at her, but she ignored him, continuing before he had a chance to open his mouth. "Look we don't have much time before they find you idiots, so we need to get out of town. This has been happening all over the country, and I've been helping the best I can because I was promised some face-time with the alpha. So I will get you guys out of here in one piece, and in turn, you," She fixed her gaze on the bald man. "Will take me to your alpha."

Macho squinted his eyes at her in disbelief. "Who are you to be giving us orders? For all we know, you're making this up. You don't even smell like one of us."

Marley rose her eyebrows. "Seriously? You want proof that I'm one of you? Fine."

In seconds, she had shifted, some of the men around her taking a step back in shock at the wolf in front of them. Marley kept her gaze on the boss, watching as his face changed to one of slight approval. Mission accomplished. She was about to shift back when she froze, a scent catching her attention, and a few seconds later, Macho man's nose twitched.

"What is that?"

He turned around, seeing if he could locate the scent better. But Sam wasn't hiding. He walked into the room, firing a bullet directly into the pack leader's head. More gunshots quickly followed, some coming from the back of the warehouse and Marley came to the dreaded realization, that Dean was there too. She crouched down behind the cover of a crate, waiting for a break in the bullets to head for the exit. If Sam and Dean were here, then the skinwalkers had no shot at getting out of this alive. So her mission was over, time to head back to Crowley.

When the bullets stopped she quickly ran across the gap in the boxes. Bodies littered the ground around her, but the gunshots were few and far between. They were hunting now, making sure they got every last one of the monsters. If she focused, she could hear Sam's boots thudding quietly against the floor. He was getting closer to her and she was running out of time. She was gonna have to run for it.

So she took off, her muscles pumping her legs towards the exit. The exit was still yards away when she let out a yelp, tumbling to the ground, pain lighting up her shoulder. It wasn't that she had forgotten she had a shoulder injury that made it incredibly difficult to run on four legs, it was that getting back to Crowley took precedence over her well-being. The footsteps were thundering, no longer bothering to be quiet. She scrambled to her feet, but she kept her left paw off the ground, unable to put any weight on it. She could feel the wound reopening, one of the anchors of the stitch having come undone resulting in the whole thing slowly opening wider the more she moved. Dean came around the corner first, and her lips peeled back in a growl, her hackles raised. Crowley hadn't told her to do this, but he had said to try the escape route idea for as long as possible.