Dawn of Vengeance

Chapter 2 -- Wolfhounds

"Hey Lance Father Matthew's ready to go," Jake announced as he barged into his friend's room.

It was a very, very messy room, Lance never liked to keep anything clean for long yet somehow among his mess he always knew exactly where things were. Jake walked over the mess avoiding a plate of half eaten pizza until he was standing beside the bed where Lance still lay sound asleep. Jake raised a brow and thought about shaking the other boy awake, but that'd do little more than make Lance roll over. So instead he grabbed a cup of water that sat on Lance's drawer and walked back over to his friend.

"Wake up Lance!" Jake shouted as Lance shot straight up his hair stood straight up--a typical response for a werewolf to bristle up when they're feeling intense emotions. Lance looked right at Jake as he threw the water on him. "Good your awake."

"What. The hell. Was that for?" Lance said shooting a glare at Jake through his dripping hair.

"Oh my bad," Jake said innocently as he put the glass of water down on the drawer. "I thought you were still asleep."

Lance shot another glare at Jake before he climbed down from his bed and took off his wet shirt. Jake rolled his eyes as he turned away from his shirtless friend before treading over to the door and left Lance to finish changing. He exited the room and began to walk down the hallway to Father Matthew's study. On the way there he started to wonder if he should bring a few things with him such as a spare Slayer, never know when these Beings might freak out and go on a killing spree. Deciding he probably wouldn't need anything like that Jake kept walking down the hallway until he reached the set of double doors. Not bothering to knock Jake entered the room and saw Father Matthew sitting at his desk looking inside a box.

The older Saint looked up at him and closed the box before Jake could see what was inside it. Figuring it was something that Father Matthew held dear to him Jake didn't press the matter of seeing what was inside the box, if he was suppose to see it that Father Matthew wouldn've told him. So while they waited Jake sat on one of the couched and began twirling one of his daggers around his fingers. He did this for about ten seconds before Father Matthew cleared his throat indicating that he didn't care for Jake playing with his weapon, and Jake being the good little boy that he was put the dagger away.

"So you know the leader of the Los Lobos?" Jake asked making Father Matthew look up at him. "I thought they stayed in Colorado?"

"I knew the leader," Father Matthew corrected folding his hands together in front of his face. "Werewolf packs have leaders who lead until they eventually lose a fight to a younger wolf, and you know that the loser is usually killed. And yes, they ordinarily only stay in Colorado and I have no idea why they'd want to come this far."

Jake stood up and stretched. "They're a brutal species aren't they?"

"Are we so different?" Father Matthew countered.

"Of course we are," Jake said with a cocky grin on his face. "We don't kill aimlessly, we only do it when it's absolutely necessary."

"And who gave us a right to judge other living creatures for being and doing what they were born to do?" Father Matthew asked which made Jake tilt his head to the side as he thought about that. "And to say we don't kill aimlessly is a lie Jacob. If you truly believe that than you need only to look up two words in the dictionary."

"What might they be?" Jake asked not really taking this conversation too seriously.

"War, and Colonization," was all the older Saint said as he stood up and as if on cue Lance entered the room. I really want to know how he does that, Jake thought as he stretched one more time. "Are you two ready?"