I suppose I should start with an apology for not updating this is over a month. Reason being, as you might expect, is that exams and life got the best of me for a while, as well as me forgetting to update for a couple of weeks despite having chapters to post. So, hopefully this makes up for it. Enjoy.

-10-

"I'm still mad at you Dean…" Caroline huffed into Dean's chest.

"I bet you are" he replied, pecking a kiss to the top of her head. The pair of them had quickly made themselves comfortable in the others embrace after they finished, and Caroline dragged them both to the shower. Though it was affectionate, they truly were exhausted, and nothing more seemed to happen in the way of that first encounter. So, there they lay, the fresh tingle of the shower colliding with the scent of their sex.

The perfect sheets were well and truly ruffled, much to Caroline's satisfaction. The hybrid of angry-make up sex had really put a silver lining on the whole experience, she reflected.

"Hey" he chimed up quietly while she drew her fingernail across his skin "you know I won't be around tomorrow evening…as a warning in advance. Got some business to attend to"

"What sort of business would that be Dean?" she responded angelically, continuing to trance intricate patterns.

"You know, business business" he said, before adding "the family kind" as a prompt, to which a small "ooooooh" floated into the air in acknowledgement.

"So…what're you going after?" She probed hesitantly, more than aware of what he might find.

"You've got a werewolf lurking around the place somewhere. I'd put my money on it being the thing that overturned the car just a few miles out of town"

Caroline turned her head on his chest, listening intently to the heart beating away within. There was every chance in the next 24 hours it could end up plucked and beating in the heart of someone who caught him for what he was…a hunter. By chance, her eyes drifted out of her window, and at just enough of an angle caught the silver orb hanging in the darkness; enough to trigger a bullet train of thought.

"But Dean…the moon. It could be full tomorrow" She couldn't judge it well from where she lay. "You know what the legends are like, about the wolves being all big and ferocious. And I just don't want you getting hurt okay?"

His only response was a silent kiss. She knew already of his intentions, and more so of her own precautions, but the most pressing concern of all soon took the pair of them: sleep.

The morning after came as a pleasant surprise to Caroline, for Dean was still sound asleep when she woke. Never one to waste a moment, she pecked his chest before slowly shifting his arm and freeing herself. She had her morning cravings that needed attention, and while the sleeping giant lay dormant in her bed, she made her way to the kitchen, and retrieved a bag from the freezer. She immediately tore the cap free and gulped down the thick crimson liquid. Oh how good it felt, so cold on a morning, enough to wake her up properly from her sleepy daze. After a few minutes, she felt satisfied and resealed the bag before positioning it back into the shelf. She was surprised that having taken such a lengthy pause in doses, that she hadn't taken a proper bite out of Dean. For some reason, she'd never felt the urge. Perhaps it was since she subconsciously couldn't ever consider hurting him, and well, sinking her teeth into his neck wasn't exactly a painless procedure.

The next question that sprang to mind was breakfast. It seemed like forever since she'd had to prepare anything. She rummaged through the fridge, glad to find it was freshly stocked. Dean seemed like the kind of guy who really enjoyed bacon and really, eating in general. So logically, creating a mountain of sandwiches seemed like a good idea. You know, one or two for her, and five or six for him. Two packets, half a loaf and the best part of an hour later, and she was balancing two mugs of coffee and a large plate of food in her two hands. As she kicked open the door, she saw Dean roll over with a sleepy smile on his face, which grew to a beaming grin as he saw the welcome surprise.

"I knew there was a reason I stuck about this morning" Dean remarked, to which Caroline cast him a scowl. She couldn't keep it up for long, soon allowing a smile to overwhelm her as she admired his exposed upper body while setting the plate on the side table, and handing him a mug of coffee.

After a sip, she inquired about last night, specifically the conversation they'd had prior to falling asleep. "You're adamant about going out tonight?" she said raising her eyebrows in sincere curiosity. Dean, within minutes, had almost emptied the plate, which she didn't honestly mind. She was happy to just sit on the edge of the bed and slowly drink coffee until he finally replied.

"Job's gotta be done. I sort this wolf out and I can go about seeing my brother again. I mean, I came here for a nest but…no trace in hell of it. Believe me"

She studied him intently, though tried to make her expression show otherwise. Dean Winchester: a supernatural hunter of anything and everything. But a hunter who talked about 'vampire nests' as though he was after a rare species of bird. And if nothing else, the vampires of Mystic Falls certainly weren't a chirpy lot.

She dwelled on her thoughts for the remainder of the conversation, and even though Dean didn't make reference to it again, she couldn't help but worry when he left the house that evening.

The Impala was cold when Dean finally took a seat behind the wheel that evening. By the time he'd got away from the town, the daylight was disappearing at a pace, and as he got onto the roads surrounding the area, he required headlights to navigate.

He came to the road where the accident had occurred, the only signs of such being the tape cast loosely across the road and the indent in the tree line. Most of the wreckage, and really any trace of activity here had disappeared. He sat for a moment surveying the area, the beam of his headlights catching a small wreath of flowers set under a tree. It took that little symbol for the entire situation to truly sink in to Dean. He realised in all the years he'd been working this field, every death was just part of the case. Not a statistic by any means, but not a life either. Sure when we saw it happen it meant something, and to someone he knew, even more so. But dead bodies now were just one aspect of an average day. And it took the complete solitude of him and the Impala to appreciate that he was only here because of people dying. With that solemn thought in mind, he snapped back to reality, and rose out the driver's seat.

He made his way to the back of the car, and opening the trunk, gathered the usual itinerary for a wolf job. "Silver stake" he reeled off, attaching it to his person before releasing the magazine on one of the adapted pistols. "Silver bullets, more of those" and he loaded the additional clip into his back pocket. "If only that Colt didn't grow damn legs. So much easier!" He shook his head in slight frustration before withdrawing a second stake just for good measure and the every faithful torch, and shutting the boot of the Impala.

It took Dean a few minutes of tentative walking to realise the only sound in his immediate vicinity was his own respiring punctuated by the occasional crack or crunch of the earth underfoot. Every few steps his attire would jangle, and sometimes the stake would bluntly connect with an awkward branch, but aside from his own actions, not a sound was present.

Dean came to a small clearing, apparently natural formed, for he saw no trace of human influence. Not sign's or crests or anything of the sort; just a gap in the dotting of trees. While he stood in its origin, he paused to appreciate his surroundings. Looking back, the forest seemed to have closed behind him, almost swallowing him. No trace of the gap in the hedge, just thick fauna. It took him a moment longer to adjust to quite how dark it had become. Before, the moonlight had gifted him some form of a path, accompanying the powerful torch beam, but now, even the mechanical light source seemed to be struggling to illuminate the environment. Dean, through a combination of resolve and experience, was a typically calm guy even in relatively disturbing scenarios. But he'd almost always had Sam, or another hunter…or Cas. Someone to cover his back, yet now, he had no one: nothing but his gut instinct, which wasn't all too reassuring at present, and his trusty piece of silver.

"Why couldn't it just be demons?" he mused.

Then a snap whispered from outside Dean's field of view. Dean paused. Whatever it was had silenced itself. But he had company. Paranoia didn't exist in the world of Dean Winchester. When your kid tells you there's a monster in the cupboard, or under the bed, or at the window, the chances are there usually fucking is. And now, when one half of the inside of Dean's head was screaming for him to turn and look, and the other to remain focused on what was in front of him, well, it was almost hell.

He roared a challenge to whatever it was stalking him. Now, the creature took spared no time making its presence audible and distinct. Flickers of colouring that differentiated from the black and brown of the wood flashed before Dean, as he turned back and forth trying to keep track on it. With a stake occupying one hand at the ready, he pulled free the pistol from his side, and on impulse fired off rounds as he saw any slight movement. But it was getting closer, and with it, the guttural growl grew in decibels with every meter the beast gained. Dean pulled the trigger under the gun fell silent, and with the knowledge he'd have no time to reload, dropped it to the floor, filling his spare hand with the second length of silver. This son of a bitch was in for one hell of surprise, he thought, as it stumbled into his sight line for the first time. Good thing he brought two, considering the oversized puppy was the size of a small horse. He felt his grip tighten, only moments before the beast leapt for him, with meters yet to run, launching itself towards him. In a blur, Dean was knocked down to the ground with an almighty crack and spasm of pain streaking up his spine. He released a cry of anguish, his breath forcing itself out his lungs as he drove both stakes upwards, feeling them meet tough resistance as they pierced and slid into the mass of fur and muscle that towered over him. In response, he felt the talon like claws sink into his side, and as he attempted to gut the animal, it mimicked him, sinking the blade like nail deeper still and tearing his side open. His mind was conjuring images of thick rusted chains, the bulking hooks stung into his limbs…it was all he could feel now. Alastair was laughing in his ears. It was ringing over and over, drowning out the sounds of his own agony. "CAS? SAMMY! SOMEBODY. PLEASE." But it was unrelenting. The pain had no intention of slowing, and as his strength wavered, he drew back his hands and tried again, a different spot…to similar effect. It didn't pause. It didn't stop. It didn't end. Death wasn't coming for Dean, it had abandoned him; to be ripped apart and eaten alive.

He felt the weight, the pressure leave his chest and roll off his body. Dean was choking, coughing on his own blood, and he felt it warm and thick in and around his throat, as well as swelling over the hand he applied to his side. Through his fragmented vision, he caught glimpses of something fast, almost unattainable flitting about the grey bulk and keeping it restrained, in fact, he dared say beating it down. Yet when it finally turned back, it looked demonic, possessed even. A demon possessing who? Her perhaps? But no, it couldn't be. Why would they save him, when he was being tortured to an agonisingly slow death? Questions flooded Dean as consciousness failed him, and with a demonic visage fast approaching, his world fell blank.

-10-