Hey, this is my first real attempt at a multi-chapter fic, so I'm just publishing the first part for now. It'd be great to hear what you think, whether you like it so far, and any tips would be greatly appreciated. So please review!
"Dude, come on, quit screwing around," moaned Sam half-heartedly, his attempts to pick his way delicately through the undergrowth failing due to his large feet.
Dean's eyes glinted as he smirked cheekily at his younger brother.
"Well ain't you a little ray of sunshine?" chuckled Dean, leaping over a fallen log, "What's got your knickers in a twist, huh, Sammy?"
"It's SAM and what are you so happy about? It's just another hunt," grumbled Sam, keeping his lanky frame hunched in order to avoid scraping his face on the low-hanging branches.
Dean rolled his eyes dramatically and spun round to face his brother, still walking backwards through the trees.
"Just another hunt?" repeated Dean, "You getting light-headed from the lack of oxygen up there, Sasquatch? It's a werewolf, man! What part of civilian by day, half-wolf killing machine by night don't you get? Werewolves are badass. And we haven't seen one since we were kids!"
Sam sighed and raised an eyebrow; torn between frustration and amusement as he watched Dean swing comically on the bow of an oak tree.
'Yeah, and not much has changed since then,' he thought.
Ordinarily, Sam would have been eager for another hunt to sink his teeth into, but the trail to their father was getting colder and colder each day. The series of coordinates had stopped and there was no sign of them finding him any time soon. After a couple of heated arguments, Sam had eventually persuaded Dean to start trying to pin their Dad's location by talking to his friends, people he'd helped and even checking his GPS- though they knew he'd never have it on. But when Dean caught wind of the gruesome attacks up in Washington, there was no stopping him. Anything with the power to tear a grown man in half, Dean wanted a piece of. Still, Sam would let Dean have his fun; he'd been off since the reaper in Nebraska and needed to get back into the swing of things. And if that meant letting him hunt down a werewolf then so be it.
Sam was torn from his inner monologue by the thump of his brother falling from several feet up a pine tree. He bounced back up, shaking the leaves from his shirt- his dignity hurt more than anything else, but still grinning.
"Just be careful, man, with the noise you're making we won't have to track anything, the damn thing'll head straight for us."
"No foreplay. My kind of hunt."
"Dean-" Sam began.
"Yeah, yeah, I got it Sammy," he cut in, clapping his brother on the back and speeding ahead, "Now quit moaning and keep a look out. If you get bit, I ain't dragging your werewolf ass home."
Sam gave a small smile and quietly followed his brother through the trees. It was just getting dark now and a slither of the full moon was just visible behind a thin grey mist of fog in the sky. A couple of minutes of silence passed before-
"Wait," whispered Dean, urgently; throwing his arm out against Sam's chest to stop him going any further, "You hear that?"
Sam froze.
There was a soft rustling noise just to the left of them. The two brothers trained their eyes through the trees.
Silence.
The air was still apart from Sam and Dean's slightly quickened breath forming in smoky tendrils in the cool air.
"Come on," breathed Dean, heading towards the source of the noise.
They were heading deeper onto the trees now, and Sam doubted they would be able to find their way back to the Impala. He was just about to point this out when Dean whipped round.
Sam turned his head.
The scene froze.
Back arched, crouched ready to spring, jaws inches from Sam's neck was the wolf.
The scene unfroze.
"SAM!" yelled Dean, yanking his little brother out of harm's way just as the wolf pounced. Dean was flung ungraciously several feet in the opposite direction, landed with a thud and lay face-down. Motionless. The creature rounded on Sam who was slowly backing away, eyes flickering to his dropped gun a few feet away from where Dean lay in a heap.
And then Sam's back hit a tree. He was cornered. A vicious snarl escaped the wolf's lips as it moved in for the kill. He was helpless to do anything, as the creature reared back with claws ready to strike; Sam braced himself for the feeling of tearing flesh.
"HEY!" The wolf turned. Dean was on his feet, a small trickle of blood easing its way down the side of his face. Gun raised, Dean pulled the trigger and clipped the beast across the shoulder.
In his panic to divert its attention from Sam, Dean had just fired anywhere and wasn't prepared for the beast to round on him in anger, batting him away with one sweep of a paw, Dean grunted as he felt dirty claws puncture his midsection before he was lifted off his feet and found himself hurtling through the air.
The wolf was on him in an instant, digging its claws into soft flesh, and in a flash of steely claws, Dean collapsed, blood blossoming over his shirt. Sam threw himself on the discarded gun and unloaded it into the creature's chest.
With a final piteous howl, the thing morphed back into the body of a pale teenage boy and lay still.
"DEAN!"