Author's Note: thanks to agent iz hyper, Julefor, snseriesfan, KnightJellyofCamelot, BranchSuper, and Heartless BytchhakaHelenBach1 for their awesome reviews. I absolutely love reading them.

Chapter Nine: Under Attack

Sam checked the salt lines for what was probably the hundredth time. Not surprisingly, they were in the same condition that they had been in the last time he'd checked. Which was about five minutes ago. But he needed to do something to use up his nervous energy, and this was all he could think to do. It had been very quiet since Chris, Tony, and Dana had left camp. At first everyone had held their breath, waiting to hear screams or see their companions coming running back to safety. But after an hour or so, everyone knew that neither scenario would occur. They were now too far away to hear their cries, and after all that time it was highly unlikely they'd make it back if they were attacked. Now everyone seemed to be in a holding pattern with nothing to do but worry and pray. Kathy sat leaning on her older brother, silent tears falling to her lap. Sam was certain that she was mourning her sister and not her jerk of a boyfriend. Josh held her tightly, occasionally murmuring what Sam assumed were words of comfort. Paul was doing his best to keep his children occupied while Nicki was cooking some food. The twins were in fairly good spirits, but Ryan was sitting drawing shapes in the dirt with a stick and occasionally sniffling and wiping at his face with his sleeve. The little boy was definitely missing his new hero. Ken was staring off into the woods, a look of worried determination on his face. Tracie had cried herself to sleep and was curled up on the ground out cold. And Sam was busying himself by checking salt lines and trying not to think about Dean. Trying not to imagine his brother laying on the ground torn up and bleeding, quiet moans escaping his lips along with thick red fluid, life draining out of him slowly and agonizingly and… No. He wasn't going there.

"Dinner's ready." Nicki announced.

Sam watched as she handed out plates filled with hotdogs, macaroni, and canned corn, first to the children and then the adults, excluding the sleeping woman. She approached Sam last.

"Are you going to sit down and eat?"

"Yeah." Sam responded, but made no move to match action with words.

"You're worried about him."

"Yeah."

"He seems like he knows how to take care of himself."

"He does." Sam agreed. "But not against this."

"You said you guys have run into these things before, right?" When Sam nodded, she continued. "Well, he obviously survived it then, so what makes you think…" Nicki must have seen something in his expression because she switched gears. "What happened? Was Dean hurt?"

"Very badly." Sam admitted, not sure why he was being so truthful with this woman, but glad to talk out his anxiety. "I watched it happen, but I was restrained and couldn't help him. By the time I got free and reached him… I can't forget it and neither can Dean. He's playing it cool, but he's a nervous wreck. I'm afraid he's going to make a mistake or freeze up and get himself killed."

"If you want to go to him, Ken and I can watch out for everyone here."

"No. I told everyone that we couldn't split up to go after the guys that took off earlier, and I can't make an exception now." Sam tried to sound sure of himself, but part of him seriously considered taking her up on the offer, screw what the others would think. But he couldn't just leave these guys to their fate and run off after his brother, no matter how much he wanted to. So instead he sat down and took the plate of food from Nicki. The first few bites threatened to come back up as his stomach rebelled due to the discomfort his worrying had caused. Sam was about to force more down when he heard something sniffing along the outside of the salt circle. A quick look revealed nothing.

"Ken, something's out there." Sam proclaimed, getting to his feet.

The paintball player stepped up next to the hunter and began to fire his gun. It only took two shots before a paint splotch appeared in thin air. Ken kept firing, marking three other invisible beasts. While he was doing that, Sam pulled his gun and fired, taking out the first hellhound with one shot. The second creature was disposed of just as easily, but the third ran and Sam's shot missed. Nicki's, however didn't. The fourth hellhound ran back into the woods. The encounter was over within a matter of moments. Sam was almost disappointed, as the fight had taken his mind off of other things.

"You think they'll be back?" Ken asked.

"Maybe." Sam was sure that they'd be back eventually, but his fear was that for the moment they would be going after the less protected prey. That they would be going after Dean.

…Supernatural…Supernatural…Supernatural…Supernatural…Supernatural…

Dean hit the ground hard, but almost didn't feel his head and back slam down onto the dirt and rocks. He was much more concerned with the teeth that were digging into his left leg. With a strangled cry, Dean smacked the invisible monster in the face with his gun, not trusting his shaking hands to aim and fire. The hellhound let go. Dean felt blood trickling down his leg from the puncture marks, but they didn't seem to be terribly deep. The hunter scuttled backwards, trying to put some distance between himself and the creature. But he wasn't fast enough. Claws tore at his left leg, starting from just below his knee and dragging all the way to his ankle. Dean screamed in horror and agony. Flashbacks from another hellhound attack tried to push themselves to the front of his mind, but Dean fought them back. If he gave in now, his life would be over.

A heavy paw landed on his right hip, and this time the injured hunter didn't hesitate to fire his weapon. Dark blood exploded in midair, spraying all over him. The hellhound fell into Dean's lap. He felt it trying to draw breath before giving one final spasm and then becoming still. With a grunt of disgust, Dean pushed the carcass off of himself. Keeping his upper body propped up with his left elbow, the hunter listened for any more threats. There was only the sound of birds up above in the trees and his own labored breathing.

With the immediate danger over with, Dean dropped back down to lie on the ground. He wanted nothing more than to wrap up his injured leg and rest for a while. He was tired, both physically and mentally, and the idea of getting up and continuing on when there was every chance he'd have to fight more hellhounds just didn't seem that damned appealing. But staying on the ground was not an option. If Dean was to lose consciousness, and the hellhounds or that demon chick were still around, he would never again wake up. He was also having difficulties keeping the flashbacks at bay. Dean felt them lurking at the corners of his mind, waiting to pounce as soon as he let his guard down. So yeah, sleeping was not the best idea.

"No rest for the wicked." Dean muttered under his breath as he pulled himself once more into a sitting position.

He took a moment to inspect his leg. The jeans were shredded, and he pushed the tattered remains away from his wound to get a better look. Four long, deep gashes were pouring out blood. He'd need to stop the bleeding before he could even think about continuing on. Dean was about to take his jacket off so that he could remove his shirt to use as a bandage, when he heard something moving in the bushes. While it was still a bit of a distance from where he was, the hunter knew he had no time to waste. He struggled to his feet, gritting his teeth against the pain. Dean took a moment to reload his shotgun, then took off in what he thought was the direction that he had been heading before running into Candy and Jeff. He knew he was nuts for continuing on with the mission in this condition, but Dean was nothing if not stubborn. Besides, he was almost there. If he could find what was attracting the hellhounds and put a stop to it, all of this crap would be over with. The only alternative would be to crawl back to camp and send his little brother out to face the hellhounds. Yeah, that was not gonna happen.

Dean moved as fast as his injury would allow, trying to be as quiet as possible to prevent the hellhounds from sneaking up on him. He was terrified that at any moment he would feel their teeth once again sink into his flesh, pulling him down once more, where they would rip his flesh open and tear at his insides.

"Dude, stop it!" Dean scolded himself. He could not afford to panic. He had a job to do, and he really wanted to stay alive to complete it.

After he'd been on the move for a while, Dean stopped and leaned against a tree. He didn't think that he'd been followed, but he wasn't positive. The injured man really wanted to take a break and care for his wounds, but it was just too dangerous. He had to keep moving. Dean pulled out the map and compass. After a moment, he let out a sigh of relief. Not only had he been going in the right direction, but if he could trust the map, he was close to his destination. There was only one problem. Up ahead of him was a steep drop. He had planned on climbing down it, although the color coding on the tourist map declared it to be dangerous, but hadn't planned on having a leg injury. If he went around the cliff it would be much easier, but add another couple of hours to the hike. After a moment, Dean decided to check out the drop off and see how bad it was before coming up with a plan of action. Shoving the map and compass back into his pockets, the hunter continued on. He knew that his pace was slowing, but he couldn't force himself to go any faster. That is until he heard a creature growling only a few feet behind him.

Without bothering to look at what he knew he could not see, Dean took off running. He felt as if his left leg would give out at any moment and he was limping wildly, but Dean somehow kept up a speed that would make an Olympic runner jealous. Yet the hellhound was gaining on him. He heard it getting closer and closer and he had no more energy to use to expand the distance between them. And then, just ahead of him, he saw the drop off. The incredibly steep drop off.

When Dean reached the edge, he saw that there was no way in hell that he'd be able to safely climb down. And he'd run out of both time and space to run. So, the hunter turned around and fired his shotgun. Nothing. He fired again. A pained yelp rang out followed by a thud. He heard scuffling sounds, as if it were gravely injured yet still trying to stand. Dean pulled out his handgun, aimed at the floating blood stain and ended its struggles.

Two more growls could be heard closing in on Dean. He turned the weapon towards the direction one of them was coming from and fired. After a few shots, the creature fell. And now Dean was out of ammo. He quickly reloaded the pistol with more iron rounds and shoved it back into his waistband to reload the shotgun. All the while, he kept part of his attention on the other hellhound, which hadn't moved from its spot. Dean was hoping that it was too afraid to get close to the man who'd ganked so many of its buddies, but he knew that it was probably just waiting for its prey to lower his guard. Which wasn't likely to happen.

When his shotgun was ready, Dean went to aim it at the last monster only to find that the beast was completely silent. No noise at all was made to alert the hunter to where his target was. Dean listened carefully and watched the ground. If he hadn't been so focused, he would have missed the very faint paw print appear in the dirt only four feet in front of him. Dean whipped his weapon up and into position, but the hellhound must've somehow sensed that it had been found out because it pounced. The heavy weight of the creature's body plowed into Dean causing him to fall backwards and right off the edge of the cliff.

Dean ended up turning in midair and came down hard on his left side, then rolled, flipped, and somersaulted down the cliff side, occasionally going into a complete free fall. The only good thing was that the hellhound was no longer on him. But as he made his way down the drop, he felt his ankle get caught on something and his twisting body wrenched his left knee out of joint with a sickening pop. He cried out in pain, but only moments later his head struck a rock and Dean Winchester knew no more.

Author's Note Part Two: Yep, another cliffhanger. You knew it was coming. I'd like to take a moment to beg and plead for reviews. I'd really like to know what everyone is thinking of the ride so far. So please take a moment if you got one and review. Thanks so much.