Not What He Seems

Epilogue

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Sam asks quietly. "It's not too late to back out."

"I know," Riot says. "But they've been ruining too many lives for far too long. It's about time someone took care of them."

"It doesn't have to be you, though," Sam says. "It doesn't have to be us. We know other hunters —"

"Sam, the guy said it's fine," Dean says, annoyed. "Come on. Let's wipe it out."

Sam sighs. "You're right." He looks over to Riot. "Good luck."

Riot nods once before shifting into his canine form. His clothes land in a pile on the ground, and he wiggles his way out of them. It makes more sense, looking around at this level. He's used to seeing things from a dog's perspective. Even after two years, he can't imagine walking these halls at his full height.

He'd told them he was coming. He gave them plenty of warning. He didn't mention the friends backing him up, but when he chose life on the road over this, they had to have realized he hated this operation enough that he would never willingly come back to it. He's just here to take it out.

"Snuggles."

Riot turns around at the sound of that voice. He'd recognize it anywhere. It was the first thing his canine ears ever heard. That's something that's hard to forget, even after two years of running.

It's the pack leader.

He shifts into human form and pushes himself to his feet. "It's Riot now, actually."

"Ooh, fancy," his leader, Brutus, says mockingly. "But, personally, I think Snuggles suits you much better. It's what you do, isn't it?"

Riot fights the urge to roll his eyes. As much as he loved that first family that adopted him, he's still a little pissed that a five-year-old's shitty naming choices condemned him to a life of torment.

"What are you doing here, Snuggles?" Brutus asks. "I'm assuming you're not here to rejoin the pack."

"No, actually, I was just looking for you," Riot says.

"And why would that be?"

"Well, you see, I found a new family," he says. "And I told them all about you, and they really wanted to meet you."

"Well, color me shocked," Brutus says. "And where, pray tell, is this new family? Are they invisible? Ghosts, maybe?"

"No, actually, they're right over there."

Brutus follows Riot's gaze to see Dean on a neighboring building's roof, sniper pointed right at him. He fires through the window, hitting Brutus square in the chest but missing the heart. Brutus falls to the ground with a groan.

"You're gonna regret that," he snarls.

Riot saw it coming a mile away. He had to tell the pack he was coming back if he didn't want to be torn apart on sight, but that obviously meant they'd set a trap for him, and this is that trap. Skinwalkers jump out of seemingly nowhere, ready to pounce. Riot shifts back into dog form, crawling between legs and jumping over hands.

He's already done his part by luring Brutus out. He's even found half the pack for the Winchesters to take out. But he doesn't have a weapon — carrying anything with silver right now would be a death wish — so he can't fight. He just needs to get out of here and leave it to Dean with his sniper and Sam with his blade.

But then someone kicks him in the ribs, knocking him back. Riot whimpers as he hits the ground. He's been kicked around and bruised more times than he can count over the last few months, but never with all the force and the rage of a skinwalker that just witnessed an assassination attempt. He would usually walk it off, knowing he'd get better soon, but he's in the middle of a war zone and he's print target number one. He's not going to get better. He's going to get destroyed.