seattle; tuesday ft

[necroslacker]

James had found Douglas a cabin. It paled in comparison to the mansion he'd lived in before but going back there wasn't an option as of yet. Douglas had to take what he had and live with it. Soon, though. Soon. He was watching James unpack various supplies.

"Usually you discuss changing tactics before you implement new plans,” Douglas said idly, seemingly unconcerned with that. There was something about the way James was acting that was gnawing at him, though. He'd been unable to let it go and he had the distinct feeling he'd missed something. He hated that.

"You left it to my discretion," James told him, still working. "I know you want things to move quicker but you keep me around to anticipate your wishes. That is what I'm doing. It's what your other assistants lack."

James glared at the third party in the room before going back to his work. "Need I remind you of Michael?"

Douglas huffed out a quiet laugh. "It's just that I can't remember you disobeying an order before, James."

James scowled and went to work organizing a cabinet.

"Fine, you didn’t like how I carried out your errand. But it certainly didn’t warrant your bringing in a replacement.” He waved his hand at their company, currently slouched next to Douglas.

Douglas patted the head of his new underling sitting at the table. Not his best work, but reliable, and that went a long way. "Oh, come now. We both know he won’t replace you, and you’re being silly to even look at it like that. Remember, right now you technically belong to Sam, and so your ability to answer my beck and call is a bit hampered. After I resurface and claim what is rightfully mine, then of course there will be no need. But until then…"

"Are you sure Minion won't draw undue attention?" James asked.

Minion looked at James, a wooden expression on his face as he contemplated what James had just called him. "My name is—”

"Your name is Minion while you’re here, and you’ll bloody well like it,” James spat.

Minion nodded. "I understand.” He turned, his expression still that unreadable blankness. "Master, he makes a good point. People like to take my picture. And won’t I be missed?”

Douglas rolled his eyes. "Have a little faith. I’m not going to take Minion anywhere he’s going to be seen. As for being missed, I told his people that he was going on some mystical retreat to get in touch with himself or some such nonsense.”

James didn't like it and he showed it by continued to storm around the kitchen. Douglas was amused. "Seriously, what did you wrong with him? The muscles in his face look frozen! How does he even get work like that?"

Minion frowned. Slowly. "That's not fair. I do plenty of good work."

"Please,” James said, "the last good thing you did was My Own Private Idaho. You’re just a guilty pleasure now. An institution of ridiculousness.”

"Now, now, children, let’s not fight.” He glanced at James pointedly.

James crossed his arms, trying not to be petulant. "What’s your next move, then?”

Douglas grabbed a fake apple out of Minion’s hand and put it back in the bowl, twisting it so the bite mark was hidden. "Those are wax, Minion.”

The creature looked confused. "It’s not an apple?”

"No.” He watched in disgust as Minion spit the wax out onto the floor. "How exactly do you function in Hollywood?”

James calmly advanced on Minion before he could answer and smacked him on the nose with a rolled-up newspaper. "Bad Minion! We don’t spit on the floor. Now clean it up.”

The creature hung its head. "Yes, sir. Sorry,” he added shamefully.

"I’m beginning to understand why you always say it,” James said with a scowl as he oversaw Minion’s work.

"Say what?”

"That good help is hard to find.”

Douglas nodded. "It is a rather limited commodity, isn’t it?”

**

After the Council meeting, Ramon and Sam had spent hours on the half pipe, just skating and laughing and trying to get the bad feelings out of the air. It was a distracting activity, one that had Sam sweating and grinning. It was nice to hang out with his friend.

Afterward, he'd climbed into bed and fallen asleep. He wasn't sure how long he'd been asleep when his phone went off. All he knew was that this was becoming a habit, people waking him up. He didn't sleep well in the first place and this wasn't helping.

He picked up the phone and garbled a 'hello'.

"Sam?" His name sounded like a sob and it took Sam a moment to place the voice.

"Brid?" he asked. "What's wrong?"

"My dad," she cried and, in the background, Sam could hear crying and howling. He didn't need to hear anything else.

"I'll be right there."

**

James was driving with Sam in the passenger seat. Behind them, Ramon and Sean were following on Sean's motorcycle. He didn't know how fast they were going but he wanted it to be faster. They needed to get there faster.

The door to the Den was open when he got out of the car. There was no one inside. Sam started to ask where they were when Sean said, "They're in the woods."

He took off at a run. Sam licked his lips.

"We better get there fast," James said. "I don't think they're going to hold together very long."

Sam nodded. "You go ahead, Ramon." Ramon didn't need to be told twice. He was off almost as fast as Sean.

"You have a plan, Master?" James asked.

"Don't call me that," he retorted. "And no. Do you have a plan? Pretty please with sugar on top?"

James frowned but came to stand in front of Sam. "Look."

"For what?" Sam asked.

"Something big enough to carry your weight," he answered. His eyes flashed silver.

Sam concentrated. The Blackthorn land was large and was the resting place for many dead animals. Sam searched and just when he was about to give up, he found something. He shook away from James's grip and started drawing a circle to begin the process of raising the animal.

He needed a knife and without a word, James thrust a knife towards him. As Sam looked at it, he flinched. It looked so much like Douglas's knife that he didn't want to take it. James seemed to sense that and made a noise of disgust before putting the knife in Sam's hands.

"It's mine. Part of a matching set."

Sam nodded. He cut the circle into the earth and as he stood up, James took the knife back and cut his own arm.

"You'll need your strength," James told him and nodded. Sam nodded back.

With the blood, Sam closed the circle and gave a call. Farther off in the field, about three feet underground, he got an answer. And with James’s blood paving the way, Sam let loose my gift. His power reached out, pulling aside dirt and stone, parting it like the Red Sea. Up came the bones, white bleached things that had been there awhile. They didn’t stay white long. Flesh slid over them, muscles, sinew, skin. Hair grew, and in less time than it takes to order pizza, Sam had a full-grown bull elk galloping my way.

When it stopped in front of Sam, he reached out and stroked his nose. "Hey, Stanley."

"You named it?" James asked from behind him.

"Not an it. A he," Sam corrected. "And yeah, I did."

James said nothing else. Sam mounted the elk, petting him and soothing him. And then, they were off. The elk was fast and when Sam looked behind him, he saw James trailing in his small dragon form. They were getting closer and closer and Sam held on tightly.

As they approached the werewolves, Sam paled. They were building a pyre of some kind and the howling was almost painful. He swallowed thickly and climbed off Stanley.

Bran was throwing logs onto the pyre and though he wasn't making a sound, Sam could see tears streaking down his cheeks. Sean was offering comfort to Brid and the siblings spotted Sam as he came closer. Sayer and Roarke, Brid's other brothers, stood behind them all.

Bran reached out and hugged Sam, sounding hollow as he said, "Thank you for coming."

"Of course," Sam said, returning the hug. "Of course."

Sayer, Roarke and Sean both gave Sam hugs too. Sam had never seen the wolves so vulnerable. And Brid...Brid tried to speak to him, she tried really hard but she ended up just giving him a crushing hug as well. He held her for a very long time.

She pulled away and sniffed. "Sam.” She choked on my name and had to start over. Pulling herself up straight, she looked me in the eye. Any trace of her crying was gone. "Samhain Corvus LaCroix: Brannoc, my father and former taoiseach of the Blackthorn pack, has granted you the status of friend. You have performed bravely for us and eaten many times at our table. We hope that this status will continue and only grow in strength.”

When she said former, Sam's heart lurched. His stomach clenched and his eyes felt hot. Brannoc was gone. His friend was gone and it hurt. Badly. He wanted to join the wolves in their crying now.

"Of course,” Sam said. "Whatever you need.”

[NFB, NFI. Part 1 of 2. Cut and slashed from Necromancing the Stone. Warning for: post length, death and Minion. He's creepy.]