Hey again!

So... guess what. Here's the update. Thanks for all the reviews. I hope you enjoy the next part...
I've been told that it would be easier to read if I would make more paragraphs... so... I tried in this chapter. I'm not sure if this make things better.

So, you are the audience... could you just give me a hint? Is this better then the chapter before? - THANKS!

Lee

It hadn't taken Dean more than a couple of minutes before he left the motel-room, the duffel in the Impalas trunk. He didn't know if he was more angry than worried or the other way around.

Fact was, Sam hadn't followed his orders and Sam wasn't back, which left not a lot of options.

The information of Dr. Sassy had been what he had waited for, the one hint that made him sure they didn't deal with a black dog. He had heard about Leroy Evans, the guy that lived here about forty years ago. Every hunter knew Leroy Evans. He was a hunter who'd made himself the star of America's most wanted.

The sick bastard had abducted and tortured several hikers to death. He never had been brought to trial, as a husband of one of the victims took justice into his own hands and killed him. Dean had remembered the story last night, as he had been at the bar, talking to the locals. And he knew now, it had been the thing that had nagged on his mind, never left, only the mauling didn't fit. He beat down on the steering-wheel.

"Damn!" He knew Sam was out there, in the woods. Alone! Only because he was pigheaded like a spoiled brat! Only because… He shouldn't have left him alone. He braked as he reached the parking-lot leading into the forest they had been two days ago. The latest victim had been found in this area. All the other hikers, that had vanished over the years had started their trips from here.

There was an old abandoned shed about two miles along the trail. Opening the trunk Dean prepared for the hunt.

He had finished with loading the gun, putting several spare cartridges into his coat and put several bags of salt into the back-pack, as something caught his eye… breathing suddenly deep, to stay calm Dean left the trunk open, slowly walking up to the thing that lay at the leafy ground. He bent down, grabbing at the cool metal, touching it gently. Then he pushed up again, forgetting about the trunk of the car… about everything. The gun still in his hand he broke through the bushes, not feeling the thorns cutting his skin but yelling at the top of his lung for his brother.

"SAAAAAMMMMMM!"

...

He could feel the presence of another individual. He loved this game. He had played it so often. And he was good at it. He watched as the young man stumbled on, hurt and exhausted. And now the hunter was here. He would participate with his part in the play. "Hunting! Hunting and you are the prey! Hurry! Hurry! Or you'll not get far away!" with his whispered words he took the spell from the kid, watching as he fell, leaving him with an amused laugh… time to meet the hunter!

...

Sam hit the ground and felt his broken rib shift painfully again, his neck being aggravated but even the strength to cry out wasn't left in him. After a while he felt his body going numb, like he was floating. Nothing hurt anymore. He lay there, not able to move, while his mind was screaming at him to do something, working overtime. He heard a slight rustle nearby and a twig broke and briefly he wondered if the victims had been even dead by the time animals started to mutilate them or if they had just lay there, consumed by terror as they had been fed from. Oh gosh… he flinched as not far away a gun went off…

...

Dean had felt the presence of the ghost before it had appeared right in front of him. He didn't allow the ugly bastard to advance on him, levered his gun and shot. He let the gun drop to protect his ears, as the apparition vanished with a furious screech. Withdrawing his hands slowly he only listened to the quietness of the forest… and…

"Dean!"

Holding his breath he waited again for the call.

"Dean!"

Without a sound he bent over, grabbing at his gun again, and then turned in a circle listening for the voice again. As the call wasn't repeated, he inhaled deeply and screamed as loud as he could muster: "Sammy! Where are you! Keep calling!"

"Dean!"

The weak call was repeated and finally Dean had a direction. "I'm coming! I'm coming!" he answered, starting to run again…

...

Sam stared at the bushes a few feet away from him, looking at the yellow glowing eyes that seemed to watch him curiously. He brought up all the strength he had left and scrambled away, his breath coming in sharp, little puffs.

The leaf rustled again, and the shaggy, rugged dog growled. Its chaps drawn up, revealing its teeth. Sam's arms suddenly couldn't hold him upright anymore and he fell backwards.

"Dean!" he weakly called out hoping against hope, that his brother would come for his aid…

"Hunting! Hunting, and you're the prey… " the whispered taunts sounded behind him.

He stopped breathing, as the bushes parted and another rugged and tattered figure emerged the shadows.

"Dean!" Sam called again, watching helpless as the dog from the one side and the man from the other side started to advance on him.

"Sammy! Where are you! Keep calling!" he could hear Dean's voice sounding through the semi-dark forest.

Sam drew in another deep breath, and shouted out, the same second the two figures leaped at him: "Dean!"

TBC...

Tell me what you think!