I M P U L S E | Jackson Whittemore [2]

05: Morrell

SOTC: Time — Mikky Ekko

Sam gasped awake, blinking through the dirt and smeared blood that clouded his vision. All around him was darkness. There were gaping holes at the roof of the root cellar he was trapped in, and they were only source of sunlight. He coughed, feeling the strain against his head from being hit. The last thing he remembered was heading to the woods on a lead about the disappearance of his uncle, and suddenly someone hit him over the head. He knew who had taken him, the same as Chris, and Scott's mom, and the Sheriff...

Jennifer Blake, the seemingly cute and innocent new teacher he had allowed to slip right through his radar, unconcerned.

"You okay over there?"

He snapped his head in the direction of the voice, met with nothing but the ever living darkness around him. He took in his surroundings. Dirt roof, large tree root, stairs to his left, a wall to his right.

He was startled when a woman's voice also spoke out, "Sam?" she paused as Sam's eyes snapped to her in the darkness, faintly making out the familiar image of Scott's mom, Melissa. "It's Sam, right?" Melissa asked again.

Sam nodded, "Yeah..." he continued to look around him, this place was so familiar. He had been here before, he just couldn't place his finger on the time or the reason why.

Chris watched his nephew through the small stripe of light that Sam just happened to be under, his appearance visible to the rest, while Sheriff, Melissa, and Chris were cloaked in the darkness.

"I was wishing you'd have more luck than me, kid..."

Sam shot his eyes up, so worried yet so relieved to hear that voice, "Uncle Chris?" he asked with a smile.

Chris coughed a light laugh, "The one and only."

Sam smiled, "God! I'm so happy to hear you're okay... or, at least, alive," he laughed. "I wonder why she brought us here, of all places," he thought, rubbing loose dirt between his restrained hands.

Sheriff watched the young kid look around the root cellar, like this wasn't the first time he had visited the strange place prior, "Is it just me, or has somebody been here before?"

Sam looked to where Sheriff's voice was, nodding slowly, "Years ago..." Sam turned his attention to wiggling his boot, feeling for the typical knife he kept there for situations like this.

Sheriff sighed, "Hate to disappoint you, but we watched her take your ankle knife."

Sam closed his eyes and started to feel around in his sleeve, before Melissa drawled, "And the knife that's in your sleeve."

"Great..." Sam sighed, reaching towards his other wrist before, again, a voice stopped him.

Chris laughed a little, "And the switchblade in your other sleeve."

Sam groaned and threw his head back against the wooden pole Jennifer had leaned him on. All around the root cellar were scattered wooden poles, upholding the heavy dirt above them. Sam had to search his mind, trying to remember any other tricks he might have up his sleeve. He smiled when he remembered his last weapon, and went to reach into his jacket before the cellar door was ripped open and heels clicked down the wooden steps.

"And the taser in your jacket pocket," Jennifer smiled when she reached the bottom of the cellar, looking at Sam. He rolled his eyes at her as she took a seat on the last step and looked at her prisoners. "Argent... The French word for silver..." she trailed.

Jennifer thought for a minute, then stated hysterically, "Interesting how truth becomes altered by legend... When it's not actually the metal silver that kills werewolves... but the family," she smirked. "What's the Argent code again? 'We hunt those, who hunt us?'" she asked skeptically. "I hope you don't mind if I borrow it for a little while, since I've been hunted myself..."