Because you're chasing me Down {{open}}

Adjusting the strap on his bag, Curran shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his jeans and headed towards his car, a black Landrover he had bought on Simmi’s prompting so that he could take Elle Mudding and off roading, and now he was quite glad for it. It made carting things round a little easier than on his bike; not that he would ever give up the silver Ducati. He loved that damn thing, and despite being grateful for having the car here now, he longed for the speed. He cared little for outward appearance – god knew the landrover was already covered in scratches; all he cared for was getting from point A to point B in the fastest time possible, and he didn’t care how many horses this damn thing had under the hood, his Ducati was still faster.

Lost in his won world for a moment, a world on anger, frustration and emotion that more often than not was never outwardly expressed, Curran thought little of the figure walking towards him until the two had passed. She was upwind, and it was only once the light breeze brought the scent to him did it pierce his emotion fogged brain and clear the smog of anger that had taken him over. There was something familiar about that smell and the man paused, eyebrows knitting as he frowned and turned on his heel, staring after the blonde haired woman.

Nah. No. Lily was dead. He knew. Elle had wept for days when she found out, so there was no way the blonde figure walking away from him was her. There was no chance. But even as his brain went over and over the reasons why the hunter could not be the one walking away from him, reasons why such things were impossible, a small voice reminded him that he could say nothing for what was impossible or not; not when he could turn into a wolf when he wanted. Curran often forgot that the majority of the world’s population would not class that as ‘normal’. And besides. People came back from the dead all the time. The Winchesters had started a freakin’ craze in the damn thing, the joke of the supernatural world. Humans were so... well. What was dead should stay dead.

But no. As much as his head denied, there was no denying the smell. You could change everything about a person, but you would never get rid of their unique scent – scents so freakin’ strong Curran could pick them up without paws and a tail. Pausing for another second, Curran strode after her, long legs meaning he caught up with her quickly at his jog like pace, reaching a hand to her shoulder at the same time asking ”Lily?”, The question clear in his voice.

Curran blinked when his hand found itself without a shoulder, and instead he found himself faced with the barrel of a gun. Well. That was an interesting turn of events. A slow smile spread on his lips, the boys self assured cockiness kicking in – boosted by the confidence that if this woman was lily she was not about to shoot him, and the small fact that unless it was loaded with silver she would have a hard time killing him. Not that he doubted that Lily could kill him if she wanted too. There were many hunters who could kill him if they wanted too; he just trusted that at this very moment, she didn’t. Besides. He’d go down fighting if that was the case.

”Hello to you too.” He said, the words lifted by the easy smile on his face, dropping his hand to push them both into his pocket. An easy stance that matched the indifference on his features. Perhaps sometimes Curran Pettelli was a little too cocksure – but then wasn’t that the reason he was here now? So sure of himself and what he could do? Perhaps it was a lucky twist of fate that Curran had happened to be in the same place as Lily. ”Okay. No touching. I’ll remember that.” But despite his relaxed stance, the wolf coiled in his breast backed down only once the gun had gone away, the amber hint that threatened his eyes vanished only once the danger had passed.

”A year? Fuck your right... man we thought you were dead.... wait till I tell Elle. She was devastated.” He smiled softly, wondering perhaps why the woman before him had disappeared for so long – why she had allowed people to love her to believe she was dead, but he didn’t question it. She had her reasons, and he knew all about keeping secrets from the people you loved. He had been keeping the secret of his sister’s actuality, of her situation from his parents and the rest of his family for more than two years now. He had no foothold to lecture Lily on her actions. ”Nice to see you’re not dead, by the way.”

”Here?” he glanced once more to her gun, tucked away now but forever there. Lifting one hand from his pocket, he adjusted the strap of the bag on his shoulder. ”I would hazard a guess at the same thing as you.”

”Sastre? Uh... okay. If you say so.” Sastre? Curran was pretty sure that Sastre was the name of that other guy he sometimes saw in the bar, the guy who was always reading beneath the painted devil’s trap on the ceiling. He wasn’t sure if he had ever spoken to the previous Sastre, though he couldn’t help but wonder just what that guy as going by now. Maybe it was something really common. Like Edward? He wasn’t sure.

As normal, Curran’s overactive brain had led the boy on a whole other tangent of thinking, and it took the boy with ADHD a moment to return to the conversation; the task that caused him to drive out here with the hope of finally confronting a sister who had been gone for far too long, of killing the demon that had stolen her from him nearly two years before.

Taking her raised hand as a notion not to ask about the sudden desire to rename herself after a man who spent a lot of time beneath a devils trap, but who was he to question her motives?

Her next words however left the young man floundering in the metaphorical waves. She didn’t want him to tell Elle? What? Elle would be ecstatic lily – no. Sastre was alive. Brennan too surely? For as far as the young wolf knew not even Brennan knew of lilysastre’s (yeah, that worked) current existence as a living, breathing and tanned humanoid. Frowning, Curran took a rare moment to just stare at her, study her face and the small changed to her appearance, double checking that this was indeed the woman he had known. That his girlfriend was so eternally fond of.

”Uh, You don’t want me to tell her? Elle would be ecstatic to know your still alive, but... if you’re sure you don’t want to anyone to know... i guess i can keep your secret. If you keep mine? No one knows i’m here. I’d appreciate it if you could keep it that way.” he didn’t see any reason why the woman wouldn’t keep his secret, especially is he was keeping hers.

”I had a few ideas... but most of them had turned up nothing. I was going to check it out too actually... i have an idea, but i won’t really know until i get there.” Curran reached behind his head and scratched the nape of his neck. In truth, he had planned to go out and have a sniff around, possibly ever trade in his skin for fur. If there was one thing, whatever it was was attacking people, not animals. ”You need a hand?” Even if the woman said no, he’d go anyway. The woods, even woods foreign to him, were still where Curran felt most comfortable. Were the wolves domain.

Curran took what she said with a small, grateful, smile. She may not wish or want to see anyone again, allow them to carry on thinking and believing that she was dead, but there was always that chance that she might run into someone she knew. After all, she had run into him in the middle of nowhere right? So yes, Curran was glad for the promise. It wasn’t that he was ashamed or anything of what he was doing – it was the link with his sister that the loupe was trying to avoid, the questions that would accompany the inevitable should he ever slip up. The boy was still unwilling to let the past go and accept the fact he was not responsible for his sisters possession.

Yeah... sure he answered in reply to the offer of help. Help was always welcome, if not always apparent in the more obvious of places. I mean, i’d really appreciate the help. he smiled a little, and finished scratching the back of his neck, dropping his hand to the strap on his shoulder. uh... do you wanna go in my car... yours... or take both? Curran asked, looking the hummer over with an appraising eye.

Unlike Sastre, Curran had not spent most of his life learning to fight the monsters of the night. If you wanted to get technical, for many hunters, and for many of the ones he had come across in his earlier life, He was classed as one of these monsters. Being hunted was one of the reasons his family had moved to the states in the first place. No. Curran knew very little about hunting, about the correct equipment – perhaps that was part of the reason why the young men chose a compound bow as his weapon of choice, the arrow heads made of different metals, and engraved with spells from a witch he had tricked down. Perhaps this was why, other than single gun and a head full of nonsense that he believed he knew, the young man thought he could easily taken on the creature in the woods.

Curran would soon find out that he was very, very, wrong.