Sam lay on the ground, a man on top of him, his hands encircled around his throat. What was meant to be an incredibly easy job had turned into disaster.

'Dean!' Sam managed to say. 'Little help please?'

Out of nowhere Dean flew past, tackling the Shapeshifter to the ground. Sam slowly got up, taking in big gulps of air as Dean wrestled with the creature. Sam picked his gun up off the ground, trying to get a clear shot, but with no luck.

'Sammy,' Dean gasped. 'Just…shoot…the…bastard!'

'I can't!' Sam yelled back. 'It's not a clear shot!'

With a sigh of frustration, he strode in, grabbing the Shifter and throwing it against a nearby tree. It sat stunned as Sam helped Dean up.

'You can do the honors,' Sam said, handing his gun over. Dean aimed the gun, watching the Shifter slowly get up; it's eyes clicking over.

'Goodbye you son-of-a-bitch,' Dean muttered, pulling the trigger. The Shifter slumped to the ground, dead.

'Another one gone,' said Dean, low-fiving his bro. 'Let's bury it.'

Not more than ten metres away, an elderly man covered his mouth in shock as he watched the two boys begin to dig. He had heard a commotion from his cabin near-by, and came to investigate, only to see a badly beaten man get shot by the two men. Without wasting another second, he headed for home, to call the Sheriff.

'I hate this part,' panted Dean, throwing another shovel full of dirt over his shoulder.

'Dude, stop hitting me with dirt!' Sam complained.

'Oh, I'm sorry Sammy, was I getting you?' Dean said, throwing another load at Sam, getting him in the face.

'It's Sam,' he said darkly, spitting dirt from his mouth.

'Whatever,' shrugged Dean. 'Just keep digging.'

After a good 15 minutes of digging, Dean threw his shovel down.

'That should do it,' he said, hauling himself out of the hole. Sam clambered out behind him. They each grabbed an end of the body and dumped it in the hole.

'Sweet dreams,' Dean muttered, dumping dirt onto the Shifters face. They began filling the shallow grave, when a twig cracked behind them. Dean spun around, holding his hand up to silence Sam. He peered through the trees, spotting a person creeping around, gun drawn, with more following him.

'Sammy,' he whispered. 'We need to get out of here now.'

'Why?' Sam asked.

'SHHH!' hissed Dean. 'Come on, just leave everything here.'

He gently put his shovel down and set off at a fast walk, Sam at his heels. They dodged quickly and quietly through the trees, keeping their eyes open for any threats.

'OVER HERE!' They heard someone yell from behind them. They broke into a run, ignoring the gunfire sent their way.

'Split!' gasped Dean, heading left. Sam went right, pursuers still hot on his trail. He ran deeper into the woods, and hoping he was out of sight ducked behind a tree. 6 uniformed police officers came to a halt near him, listening intently to find out which way he went. Sam picked up a rock and threw it as far away from him as possible. The noise made the police officers take off in that direction. Sam sighed with relief and headed in the opposite direction.

Dean, however, was not having as much luck. His run had ended up in the middle of a huge clearing, making him an easy target. He didn't give up, dodging bullets; running as hard and fast as he possibly could. He reached the wooded area again, but was tackled hard from the side. He rolled around with the officer, who was desperately calling for backup. Dean fought hard, but the officer managed to hold on until his mates caught up with him.

'Come on son,' said the Sheriff, pointing his gun at the exhausted Dean, who was still fighting hard. 'It's over, there's no escape.'

All his strength gone, Dean gave one last shove, and then lay on the ground panting.

'Roll over and put your hands on your head,' ordered the Sheriff, motioning to an officer to apprehend him.

'So,' said Dean, as his hands were pulled behind him and the cold steel bracelets were locked firmly on his wrists. 'Did I do something wrong?'