The Whistler

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or anything related to it.

Summary: The Winchesters are out on a hunt in the woods. They think they're after a wendigo. Turns out, this thing they're hunting is nothing they've ever seen before. When the two eldest Winchesters are taken out, what will Sam do to save his family?

Chapter 1: We all fall down

Sam is having a bad day. And, in true Winchester fashion, bad days for Sam aren't just bad. They are catastrophic.

So, of course Sam isn't just late for school. He also forgets his schoolbag. Naturally, today is the final day to hand in the enormous history project that he has been working on for three weeks. The one in his schoolbag. At home. Then, he's pulled out of school early by a severely pissed-off Dean (which isn't really Dean's fault, anyone will get angry if they are called away from the date with that hot barista they have been flirting with for the past month) to go on some hunt that is apparently vastly important to the mighty John Winchester. Needless to say, this earns said John Winchester a harsh argument with Sam, and everyone ends up with a foul mood and a great urge to shoot something.

The hunt itself is also a disaster from beginning to end. It's rainy, and windy. The terrain is terrible, and the thickness of the trees and brush really leave no room to manoeuvre. Sam, whose legs are sometimes too long for his body, has a hard time with the excess of roots and uneven ground. To Dean's hilarity, he's tripped too many times to count. The entire day leaves Sam angry, wet, cold and bruised. Add to that the fact that they are looking for a fast, man-eating monster that has so far killed 9 people, and Sam is not a happy guy.

So, yeah. A typical bad day for Sam Winchester. Then of course, comes the kicker. Research pointed to a wendigo. The thing that they think they spotted a while back is definitely not a wendigo. Not just a bad day then, also a bad hunt. Though in Sam's own defence, he called it. He did in fact tell his father that he heard a weird whistling sound through the woods that didn't match the typical signs for a wendigo. He was also completely ignored by his father on that account, and his brother had just muttered a fond comment along the lines of Sam being 'a kid with too much damn imagination'.

Ah, yes. Wonderful to see how seriously he is taken by his family.

A bad day, and it is about to get a whole lot worse. Because, just as the Winchester trio is entering their third hour of walking, the thing they're hunting decides to show. Only.. it's not the thing they're hunting.

As usual, the Winchesters walk in a tight formation, a line of three with the John taking point, and Dean guarding the rear. Sam, as the Benjamin of the family, is delegated to perpetually walk in the middle. It is dark out, a new moon, and through the thick leaves of the forest it is difficult to see further than a few feet ahead. A steady sheen of rain drops through the leaves above them, the pit-pat of the drops making it almost impossible to hear the sounds of the forest. This puts them in a very dissatisfying position. After all, they are basically doing this hunt blind, something that John Winchester abhors. Still, they all know the danger, and the circumstances are certainly keeping them on edge.

Every crack, or scuffle or creak around them is a potential threat. Any movement out in the dark can be their death.

But they still don't see it coming.

One second they're scrambling over the uneven ground, the next Dean is flying through the air, hitting a tree, and sliding down in a boneless heap. Too sets of voices cry out simultaneously. One in fear, the other in anger.

"Get to your brother." John growls at his youngest son, his entire focus on the thing that did this to his son. And he really hopes that Sam is wrong and that the creature, turns out to be a wendigo. Sam doesn't need to be told to check on his brother. He's running for Dean almost before the man hits the ground. Sam's long arm reaches out for his brother's face.

"Dean!" he urges. Dean doesn't listen, doesn't open his eyes. "Damn it, Dean! Wake up."

Dean stays still.

Behind Sam, John Winchester is facing off with the monster that swept away his son. His head snaps to and fro with every crack that rents the forest, eyes scanning for a monster he can't see.

A soft piercing whistle fills the air.

John turns towards the sound, pointing his gun and pressing the trigger at the movement he can see a few feet away. A flare of fire lights up the darkness.

The fire bounces off of what is definitely not a wendigo. In the light of the flames John sees a large, hulking figure, the size of a bear. Its form is eerily human, its eyes blood red. A string of loud expletives and curses flows out of John Winchester's mouth. This is not good. He knows what is going to happen next, before it happens. While he is still scrabbling for his hand gun, the figure reaches out and swipes him to the side as if he weighs nothing. A scream rents the air as John, too, is thrown to the side in a mesmerising arch. Sam, his thoughts started, but they are cut out harshly when he hits a tree.

"Dad!" Sam's yell comes out more like a screech, his deepening voice skipping over a few octaves. His head snaps towards where his father has fallen, willing him to get up and kill the dark shape that is moving towards him through the sheen of rain.

Dad stays still.

He looks over one more time at his brother, hoping for once that Dean will get up and be his annoyingly protective self.

Dean stays still.

Right. Okay. That leaves Sam as the protector. Last one standing, last line of defence, last chance to kill the monster before it kills them. Fine. Sam can do that. He can kill a monster. He can protect his family.

The loud whistle seems to reach its pitch as Sam takes a cautious step forward, raising up the flare gun he has somehow managed to salvage through the panic of his family's downfall. The dark shadow stalks closer, large and menacing. Sam steadies his hand, the fire might not have done much when his father let it loose on the creature, but it feels reassuring none the less.

Suddenly the shape lurches to the side, changing direction so quickly that Sam nearly misses it. The shape is lurching, Sam realises with a painful jolt of his heart, to where his father is lying unconscious on the ground. Before Sam can even form a coherent thought as to what he is doing, he finds himself jumping forward and pumping burst after burst of flame at the creature. It all bounces off it of course, and doesn't seem to do anything to divert the thing's attention from his father.

So, he yells out with as much force at he could muster, "Hey! Fog horn! Over here!"

He prays to a God who hasn't made a habit of answering his pleas, that the creature is not deaf. And that it is at least intelligent enough to realise that what Sam yelled is an insult. The thing growls, but it doesn't turn its head. It's still nearing Dad, though, and Sam knows he has to do something. Anything.

'Anything' turns out to be throwing the empty flare at the beast, hitting it square on the back of the head as he waves his arms and lets out another loud bellow. And for the first time in nearly a year, his voice stays even in and low. It sounds almost threatening to his own ears.

"Hey, wookie! I know you can hear me!" He yells. Dean would call him out for that if he were conscious, would call it blasphemy that Sam is calling a monster like this after Chewy's peace-loving kind. It works, though, so Sam doesn't care.

Only, now the thing is coming for him, its staggering footfalls moving towards Sam. Briefly, he thinks oh, shit! Then he sees his family, unconscious and helpless, and he remembers that this is exactly what he wants. He needs to get the thing away from Dean and Dad.

The dark shadow approaches, as Sam walks back quickly, away from his family. Away from every feeling of safety. The whistle permeates the air again, cutting through the rain. With the whistle, the creatures red eyes seem to start glowing, two fiery embers in the wet night. Maybe Sam's imagining it though. Fear does strange things to people, after all.

Sam has moved back almost five feet, the shadowy figure stalking him and leaving his family behind. Sam's hand inches to the small of his back, scrabbling for the knife he knows is always there. The was loathe to steal one of Dean's weapons in case his brother would need it when he woke up. He has to delve under four layers of clothing and a heavy jacket before he feels the handle of his knife. Silver, and infused with holy water, it'll take just about anything out. He just hopes that whatever he's facing now is also on that list.

The forest has gone eerily quiet save for the ominous whistle that comes from the creature and Sam's measured footfalls as he moves back. The two of them keep constant eye contact, trying to figure out who is the predator and who the prey. They're measuring each other, Sam knows that. Looking which of the two is weaker, judging whether to make the first move or let the other go first.

The whistling shadow has the upper hand in this.

Tall, dark, with eyes that look like their bleeding fluorescent blood, the thing would instil fear in anyone. But Sam, despite his hatred for the family business is a hunter. Wat scares him most about this monster is not its appearance, or the fact that it has killed nine people. No, what scares him is how easily both Dean and Dad were taken out. If even they can't kill this thing…. How will Sam ever manage?

Sam has to go through more trouble to look frightening. Mostly because monsters don't usually scare easily, but also because despite all the training his father makes him go through, he's still just a skinny 15 year old. So he gives the monster a look of sheer determination, of a deep-going anger that promises vengeance. It's not entirely fake either, this thing hurt his family, he's going to hurt it back. Really though, Sam just hopes that the monster gets intimidated by the fact that someone dares to insult him. Going by the creature's looks, that can't be something that happens often…

The intimidating eye-contact is broken seconds after Sam thinks this, when the hunter stumbles over a root behind him that he didn't see coming. He's half surprised by how long he's managed to walk over the uneven ground (backwards!) without tripping. The other half of him realises he just broke whatever intimidation tactic he had going for him when a dark shadow looms over him. It's physically impossible for the thing to have reached him so fast, but there it is. The whistle is louder from close up, and Sam can see now that what looked like fur in the light of his father's flares is in fact a smoky substance that billows off of the creature in waves. When the thing's hand – large, and clawed and absolutely terrifying – grabs hold of his shoulder he feels, despite the beast's insubstantial look, that it is in very corporeal.

Without any knowledge on the lore of this thing, if there is any, Sam knows he'll need to wing it. As a Winchester, things tend to go wrong, so has learnt early in life how to improvise. As the 'clumsy Winchester', he's learnt how to improvise without looking stupid.

So it's with a decent amount of grace that Sam punches his knife upwards into the things stomach as he tries to worm away from the thing. To his surprise, the knife actually goes deep into the body, and the beast rears back with an ear-shattering whistle. Sam takes that as his cue to scramble back, and on to his feet. He turns and runs with as much speed as he can. A short look back confirms that he thing is not dead, it's following him. Good. That leads the creature away from Dean and Dad at least.

When the thing walks it lurches and stumbles, and for a moment Sam hopes that he'll be able to outrun it. Then he remembers how quick the thing was upon him when he tripped and he sees that the thing doesn't need to run. It just 'appears' a few meter from where it was before. Almost like it's teleporting. It's fast and efficient and creepy as hell. And it's gaining on Sam, seemingly unaffected by the blade Sam just stuck in him.

Branches whip past his face, he nearly falls over dozens of times, but he manages to remain on his feet out of sheer will alone. The thing is still behind him. He can hear the shrill whistle, behind him, in front of him, everywhere. The all-encompassing sound pounds at his eardrums and numbs his mind. He can't think straight. Then there's suddenly no ground under his feet and he rolling down a muddy hill, branches and bushes scratching and bludgeoning him open. The world whips past in a whirl of greys and blacks, and that whistle just keeps sounding he entire time. He wonders if maybe the whole thing is just a figment of his imagination. He hopes he's just dreamed Dad and Dean getting hurt, hopes that he's just gone insane. If he hasn't, he knows the whistle will drive him to insanity soon.

Sam's fall comes to a halt against a large tree, it punches the air from his lungs as he crashes into it, and for a few beautiful moments he hears nothing, and sees only the flashing lights of breathless pain behind his closed eyes. Then he manages to take a breath and the whistling is back. Closer this time.

The creature leans over him, reaching out with hazy hands.

Sam notes with some surprise that he's still gripping his knife, apparently it slipped back out of the creature when it reared back. The blade is clutched in his right hand, knuckles white and red with blood. It might not be much use, but Sam tries anyway. With another smooth move his slices upwards, but his knife doesn't find purchase, it slides through empty air. Then his hand is hit with a blow that sends the knife flying, and his arm hitting the tree with a loud crack. White hot pain explodes from his elbow upwards, as he sees crimson blood flowing from three scratches in his skin. Another claw clutches around his neck, turning his face away from his hand. The eyes he looks into are as red and liquid as the blood that seeps from Sam, burning into his like the whistle scorches his ears.

The claw on Sam's neck grows tighter. He squirms against the hold, but that only ignites new pain in his ribcage. The edges are growing darker. Things start getting fuzzy. God, this is such a bad day, the thinks vaguely.

Then the world goes absolutely dark, and Sam is finally free of the whistling that was driving him mad.

Author's Note: So this is the first chapter, and I'm not exactly sure how long it will be. Let me know if you like it, or have any tips :)