Heya! So yeah, this is my first story here on fanfic, kinda my first story ever really, so please be gentle, thanks :P I've written things before, but I never really finish them, so hopefully I can make this work. Constructive criticism is always appreciated.
R&R please!
Disclaimer: I don't own anything related to Supernatural, if I did? … *smiles evilly*

"Roses are red
Violets are blue
Shits falling on my head
Doesn't it bother you too?"

Sam laughed quietly to himself as he read Dean's text, shaking his head at his brother's attempt at poetry. Bringing the phone up to his face, Sam quickly typed a reply.

"You should really stop doing that Dean. It doesn't suit you at all. Maybe I'll tell Dad when we see him again that his "Badass" Hunter son is writing poetry now, see how he takes it."

Sam smiled again as he rested the phone on his leg and slumped down into the leather seat of the Impala, closing his eyes against a wave of exhaustion. This was the second night in a row he had gone with too little sleep, and the effects were taking him down hard. Dean had insisted that Sam stay in the Impala, threatening to kick his ass if he tried to follow him. After a couple minutes of futile arguing, Sam finally gave in and allowed Dean to go do reconnaissance for the hunt on his own, but only after Dean promised he would stay in touch via cellphone. As if reading his thoughts, Sam's phone buzzed on his thigh, signaling a reply from Dean. Mentally sighing in relief, Sam opened his tired eyes and grabbed the phone from his leg.

"Come on, man. That's so not fair. You're just jealous because you can't think of anything that rhymes. I'm heading back over, by the way, nothing out here but a bunch of mud and dirt that keeps falling in my hair. I'm calling the shower first."

It took a while for the glowing screen to come into focus completely, and the words continued to swim across his vision for a good minute before finally settling into decipherable letters. Reading over the text, Sam smirked to himself at his brother's discomfort of the situation and was slightly glad Dean made him sit this out. He didn't have the energy to take a shower tonight. Speaking of energy, Sam's seemed to be dwindling by the minute and his eyes drooped shut against his will. Within minutes, he was snoring slightly, his head leaning against the cool glass of the Impala's window, his phone falling from slack fingers to land in his lap. Dean's text went unanswered.

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Something wet and warm dripped onto his forehead and dread filled his stomach, eating at his insides. He knew what this was. He knew what he'd see when he opened his eyes. Sam tried fighting it, he tried fighting the pull that forced his eyes open, but to no avail. Another drop splashed onto his cheek and Sam's eyes flew open. Jess stared down at him, accusation in her eyes. Her mouth gaped open and black blood dripped from the slash in her stomach, her beautiful golden hair fanned out around her head like a halo.

It made Sam sick. His own mouth opened, but where Jess's was open heaving for air, Sam's was open in disgusted shock, and he scrambled back on the bed he was laying on until his back hit the headrest. His eyes remained riveted to Jess's dying form, pinned to the ceiling above him. Her mouth moved trying to form words, to accuse him, to blame him for her death, but before the words could leave her lifeless lips, the ceiling burst into blue flames behind her. The supernatural fire quickly consumed the entire ceiling and was soon burning the whole room to ash, but Sam couldn't move, he was rooted to the bed, eyes locked on the charred, blackened form that used to be his lover. He screamed his denial, shouting at whatever God existed that it just wasn't fair but there was no answer, and he wasn't expecting one. Heat licked across his bare skin, burning his arms. It was constricting, grabbing and pulling at him, shaking him. It was unbearable and Sam cried out in fear and pain.

He jerked forwards and his eyes snapped open, the familiar sight of the Impala greeted him, and he realized that the constricting feeling was Dean's hands, which were wrapped around his arms, shaking him awake.

"Sam! Hey, Sam, you're okay. You're okay. Calm down, man." Dean's voice filtered through the cotton in his mind, and he managed to nod, reaching up and patting Dean's arm reassuringly. Dean kept up a litany of calming words and finally the fear that stole his breath abated.

"I'm good. I'm fine Dean, it was just a nightmare. You can let go of me now." Sam said, his voice still shaking slightly.

"Uh huh. I'm sure your 'fine' Sam. You almost gave me a heart attack! You know that? You didn't reply to my text, even though it was your damn idea to do that in the first place, so I freaked and ran the rest of the way to the Impala to find you having a bitch of a nightmare. Again. Just stay put, I'm driving us back to the motel." With that, Dean let go of Sam, pushing him back into the seat before shutting the passenger door and circling around the car to get behind the wheel.

The door creaked in protest as Dean slammed it shut behind him, the whole car rocking with the force. He gunned the engine and pulled out of the patch of dirt he had stopped at, dust billowing up in the air as he tore out onto the street. Glancing at Dean from the corner of his eye, Sam saw just how freaked he really was and instantly felt bad for falling asleep. Making a silent promise to himself to stay awake for Dean's sake, Sam turned his head to look out the window at the passing silhouettes of trees.

The moon was out, casting faint white light on their surroundings, but not enough to make out individual shapes. The forest passed by in a flurry of darkness that had a shiver running up his spine and a bad feeling settling in his stomach. Sam pushed the uneasiness away and decided to occupy his mind on their current hunt instead. He reached out a hand and snatched the map from the dashboard, pulling out his penlight from his pocket and flicking it on. The small light illuminated the interior of the car and Sam traced a path marked on the map with his finger. The path led deep into the woods, a rather untraveled path that tourists didn't take when exploring the woods. In fact, rarely anyone took that path when going into the forest, it was too dangerous to traverse for most people, yet still, there had been several deaths already in the past couple months.

According to the sheriff in the small town, a group of tourist hikers had gone up the path and hadn't returned. Sheriff Dope (Dean hadn't believed him when he told him the sheriff's name) had informed them that he sent up a search party, but they hadn't found anything for miles. That is, until yesterday, when one of the hikers was found flayed open by the entrance to the trail. The victim was a young man in his mid-thirties who would have been on par with Dean in the looks department if not for the four vertical claw marks that ran from his collar bone, all the way down his legs to his feet. Whatever had killed the man had claws sharper than any razor in existence. The slashes went almost clean through to the other side, practically separating the man in four. Bone had offered no form of resistence either; its claws were obviously able to shred bone as easy as flesh. All in all, it was one nasty son of a bitch, according to Dean, and it needed to die. Sam had no problem going along with that plan, and earlier that day, he had been researching for anything that might fit the bill while Dean had been getting lunch. He hadn't found anything though, and so here they were, at no-human-should-be-awake o' clock at night, searching, or rather, Dean was searching for any more evidence that might point to the culprit. And now even that was a bust. It seemed like they were getting nowhere with this case and it was getting on both their nerves.

Sam had proposed the idea of Wendigo to Dean, but Dean was quick to deny that possibility, saying that Wendigo don't live around here in the first place, and secondly that they like to keep their pray alive, not kill them and then use their food as a warning. Which is exactly what this thing did, it killed one of the hikers and put their body where anyone walking by might see it. It was a warning to keep others out. Whatever this creature was, it was territorial and didn't like outsiders trespassing.

Sam was pulled from his thoughts when Dean's voice sounded from beside him.

"We're here, Sam. Get your ass moving, it's been a long day and I'm covered in dirt and other crap I don't want to think about." Sam looked up from the map, surprised to find them back at the motel already. "Sometime today, Sam." Dean said exasperatedly from his left, and he complied, opening the squeaking door and climbing out of the car.

"You go on ahead, Dean, I got the bags, and you stink. Go take a shower." Sam replied as he made his way to the trunk of the Impala. A grunt was his only answer, which he took as he a sound of compliance. He pulled the trunk open and grabbed their bags, slinging them over his shoulder and following Dean into the crap-hole motel room they were currently staying in. Puke green colored walls clashed horribly with the orange rug and purple beds. It looked like some fairy threw up a rainbow. Pushing past the headache that was building behind his eyes at the sight, Sam dumped their bags on the purple beds and flopped onto the bed nearest the door, closing his eyes. The sound of the shower running in the bathroom was soothing him to near sleep.

Why, Sam? Why did you let me die?

Jess's voice resonated through his mind, waking him up like a slap in the face. He lay on the bed for several more moments, carefully holding his breath and listening for anything out of the ordinary. When nothing but the shower running met his ears, he allowed himself to relax back into the bed, taking comfort in the fact that Dean was just in the other room. He swallowed convulsively, fighting back sudden nausea and decided that sleep wasn't an option anymore.

Getting up from the bed, he grabbed his bag from the floor and pulled out his laptop, going over to the small table by the window and dropping down heavily into the chair. He opened up the computer, his search engine popping into existence on the screen. The shower shut off then, and Dean came into the room, steam curling out the door behind him. He gave one look at Sam before his eyes narrowed, but he didn't say anything, instead he walked over to the bed nearest the door and dropped onto it like Sam had done earlier. Within minutes, Dean was asleep, his breathing deep and even. Smiling at the sight, Sam turned back to the small laptop screen and sighed. This is gonna be a long night, he thought as he began to type, a long night of research, and once again, no sleep.

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"Dean…Dean! Wake up, man! I think I found out what we're hunting." Sam said, taking a sip of his fifth cup of coffee and waiting for Dean to get up, excitement bubbling in his veins, or maybe that was the coffee. Sam didn't know and he didn't care. "Dean!" He said again, and this time he was rewarded when Dean's green eyes opened to slits and peered at him angrily.

"Ugh…What is it Sam? This better be damn good if you're waking me up at six in the morning." Came Dean's unhappy reply from the bed.

"It is. I found out what it is we're dealing with. It's called a Mngwa."

"…Sorry, what? Are speaking the same language here?"

"Actually, no, we aren't. The Mngwa is Swahili. It's a panther/tiger creature, better than both combined when it comes to both killing and hunting. It hunts humans too, and it says here that one swipe of its claws will kill you, or one bite for that matter. This Mngwa, its serious shit Dean. It says that when hunting at night, the damn things impossible to hear. I thought it was just a legend, but it all adds up. Mngwa are seriously territorial and they only live in forests, explains why it left our victim out in plain sight, it's trying to scare everyone else away because it can't survive anywhere outside the forest. Hmm, the bad thing though, is that they aren't known for leaving anyone alive, and there's no record of a Hunter ever taking one out before, they all fail. Most likely, this thing has already killed the other hikers, and if we want even a chance at killing this thing? We have got to do it during daylight. We don't stand a chance once night falls. This thing is the perfect hunter, Dean."

"Well shit, this is gonna be real fun, isn't it?" Dean said sarcastically as he levered himself up on the bed and swung his legs over the edge. He reached down and grabbed a pair of jeans out of his bag and pulled them on. "Does it tell you how to kill these things by any chance?"

"When are we ever that lucky?" Sam sighed, and Dean groaned in annoyance.

"Alright then, Sammy. Just means we gotta pull all the stops on this one then, huh? What about the grenade launcher? We never get to use that thing anyway. And plus, there's no way this thing is the perfect hunter, Sam." Dean said confidently.

"Oh really? Because from what I've read, I'm pretty sure it is." Sam raised an eyebrow expectantly.

"Nah, there's no way it is. Wanna know how I know?" Dean smiled at Sam.

"Please enlighten me, Dean. I'm dying to know." Sam said sarcastically.

"Well, Sammy, there's no way it can be the 'perfect hunter', because I'm the perfect hunter. And I'm gonna teach this bitch the meaning of fear." There was nothing friendly about Dean's smile this time. Now it was the smile of a predator, and Sam didn't have anything to say to that.

So that's it for the first chapter. Not sure if I'm gonna continue or not. Please review and let me know what you think. Also, I don't have a beta seeing as I'm new, so all mistakes are mine and I apologize if there are any I didn't catch. Bye bye! -Thorn