Just a few notes going in…

I want to thank everyone who takes the time to read this, and I hope it will be worth your time. I enjoyed writing it very much.

Though I wrote a fun fic in "Cherish" this story actually goes through some things I'd love to see happen on our favorite show. Having Dean and Sam meet up with a family who sees things a little more from their perspective would be so good for the Winchesters, and I think it would be good for the females in the show to finally get a woman not interested in them romantically, but platonically.

That's exactly what Angela is intended to be—a platonic interest. And while this seems difficult with the boys, I did work hard to try and make an honest relationship between all of them. I hope it worked.

To clear up any typecasting questions, the Hispanic references in here are all mine—i.e., from my experiences. Campeon is based on a beloved little town in South Texas that my grandmother hails from, and everything Roberto and Angela do and say—the Spanglish, the tortillas, everything—are a reflection of things I grew up with. They would actually probably speak a little more Spanish, but with no footnotes, I could only give them a few choice words.

The Unforgiven is based upon the song by Metallica; if you've never heard it and you have an ear for heavy guitar, go get it. It's magnificent. This isn't a song fic, but as Angela says at one point, there is a little Unforgiven in all of them.

Thanks for reading.

The Unforgiven

Prologue

There was a bite to the air; a cool, sharp chill that froze the workings of the town of Campeon. Families huddled together in their small homes, most of them wrapped in blankets and near stoves, trying to fight off the uncustomary cold that had blown this far south.

Margarita Valdez welcomed the north winds; they meant less attention from the authorities and her parents, who would be too concerned with the incoming cold to worry about whether she made it home in time. And since the Lake Samuel State park, in the woods of which she was currently standing, was at least twenty minutes from home, she'd need them not to care.

It meant she could spend a few more minutes with David.

He was late, though. He should know better.

A low howl echoed through the air, from somewhere behind her. Lake Samuel was part of the Llano 'canyon' area, though there wasn't much of a canyon to be seen, unless you counted the small, flat mesa that rolled above it—and these low woods sprawled out across the Texas prairie for miles. There were coyotes in those wilds, and perhaps a few wolves.

And the Chupacabra, of course.

The howl echoed again, and Margarita grinned. The Chupacabra was a famous local legend, which used the canyon's eerie history to scare children into bed at night. Local farmers had used every ounce of the legend to create publicity for their herds; at least one found one or more of their creatures had been attacked every month. Only those in Campeon knew that the missing goats and cows were the victims of the extremely average local creatures.

There was a rustling in the brush and she jumped, her heart racing. Lobo?

Wolf?

What made that come to mind? There hadn't been reports of wolves in this area for years, except for a couple of research 'introduction' projects.

A silver glimmer flashed through the trees. She froze, watching through the darkness for moving scrub.

Where is it? Where did it go?

If it was a wolf, it was dangerous. No reason to tempt fate.

There was more rustling. She whirled around, fists clenched, ready to bolt.

A white flash pressed into the clearing. She screamed.

"Margi? What's wrong?"

David straightened up, brushing dry twigs from his button-down Polo. She raised a hand to her throat, trying to catch her breath.

"There was something out there."

He stared at her with a curious grin. "Afraid the Chupacabra's gonna get ya?"

"Shut up. There really was something out there. I heard it."

"Did it come from…that direction?" He gestured behind him.

"Yeah."

"Well, that would have been…me."

"What?"

"I got lost trying to get here. I skirted around this place for a few minutes before I found an opening."

She frowned. His shirt had been white, yes, but what she'd seen was silver. Or had it been a flash of white?

"You okay?" David put his arms around her waist. She smiled, worry about the silver flash and the wolf fading.

"I'm fine. What took you?"

"My parents. They're determined to have me at their silly dinner party next week."

"With Debbie Miller?"

"They didn't say as much, but of course."

"Too bad for Debbie…you're with me."

"Too bad for Debbie," he whispered seductively, bending down to kiss her neck. She reached her arms up and around him, drawing him closer. Her breath came in a thick cloud over his shoulder. He moved up her neck, drawing her into a deep kiss that left her shuddering.

"Poor Debbie…" she whispered, as he slid a strap down her shoulder.

Behind them, the bushes rustled again. He kissed her shoulder as she ran a hand through his hair, down his back to draw his shirt from his jeans.

There was a snuffling sound, followed by a low howl. David drew her to her knees. She let him pull at her other strap, tossing a dazed glance over her shoulder, letting the heat of his body draw her in.

Two pinpricks of red were piercing the darkness, staring at her. An overpowering odor rode down on the wind, causing her to catch her breath.

She froze, stiffening in David's arms. He stopped kissing her, his breath coming in hot waves. "What is that?"

She shivered, unable to speak.

"Margi?" The glazed look faded from his eyes. "Margi? What's wrong?"

Her eyes widened as the pinpricks shot from the bushes, charging towards them, a huge black mass of fur and teeth. As the creature opened its mouth, snarling, she fell forward into David, clawing to her feet.

He turned just in time to see the glittering fangs jawing towards them, huge feet outstretched, pinning them to the ground.

She screamed.

At the far side of the canyon, birds fluttered upwards, screeching out of the shallow brush. No one saw them fly out of the park, circling the empty clearing, by the river.

No one heard a thing.