Chapter Ten – Game On

Losers.

Howard Erksine sat in his dark surveillance room, a dozen monitors before him displaying various prisoners, the recapture of the witch and the hunter in the south passageway and of course, the two guys out on the grounds.

He'd watched the whole (chuckle) "battle" between them and the gremlins – Howard's personal favorites from the collection – and had laughed out loud at the young hunters' pathetic attempts to beat them. He'd wanted to let his little beasties have a bit more fun with them but had his orders: the Winchesters were to be kept alive and in fair shape for further observation. So he threw on the flood lights and chased the gremlins away. Now he just watched as the boys made their way through the woods and on toward the compound.

"Pathetic showing, boys," he said to Sam and Dean as he watched. "Ain't gonna last five seconds from what I just saw." He scooped another spoonful of ice cream into his mouth and chuckled again.

The door behind him opened and Fitzpatrick entered, immediately grimacing at the state of utter clutter the room was in.

"You get one piece of food stuck in this equipment and your head's gonna be mounted to the office wall."

"I am very careful not to spill," Howard retorted, but quickly swept crumbs and trash into the can below the console.

"So how are they doing?" Fitzpatrick asked, looking to the Winchester monitor.

"Frankly, I don't see what all the fuss is about. These are supposed to be the best? I think the Winchumpsters have been hyped up waaaay too much. Daddy Dearest made it all of, what, two feet before getting busted? And I personally had to save his little brats' tuccuses from the grems. All in all, LOSERS!!" Howard topped off his assessment with an "L" shaped hand gesture to his forehead.

"Yeah, well," was all Fitzpatrick said. To be honest, he agreed – the Winchesters were a bust in his book, too, but damned if he would ever openly agree with the Howard. The nerd would never let him hear the end of it, then he'd end up beating Howard to a pulp just to shut him up, then he'd have that mess to clean up and he didn't want the hassle. "What quadrant are they in now?"

"Uh," Howard stalled as he quickly typed up the coordinates for the back woods. "A-9."

"Good," Fitzpatrick said. "Boss wants them separated to see how they handle that. Think you can handle that?" he said in a very condescending tone. Without waiting for an answer, he turned and left the room.

"Think you can handle that," Howard said in a babyish, mocking tone. "Putz." He began typing in commands to the keyboard. "One separate assault coming up." He looked to the screen and smiled. "Hope you boneheads like doggies. Round two: Ding!"

Howard hit the "Enter" key.

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Sam and Dean continued on for several minutes without incidence. Their last compass check told them they were heading northwest, which is where they believed the backside entrance to the compound was. The sound of a river was growing louder off to their right and they hoped it would stay there and not cut across their path, forcing an eventual crossing.

"Hey, you think we should text Bobby and let him know where we're at?" Sam asked when they stopped for a breather.

"Good idea," Dean agreed. "What are the coordinates?" he asked as he got his phone out of his pocket.

"Uh," Sam stalled as he referred to the compass, which before had worked perfectly but now only displayed a dancing needle. "Something's screwing with the compass."

Dean slammed the phone in frustration. Probably the same crap that's messing with service. I can't get a signal."

"That's not good."

"Ya think?"

"Well, we should prob…" Sam suddenly quieted.

Dean, seeing Sam probably heard something, stilled himself and listened. Sure enough, rustling could be heard coming from bushes up ahead.

"If that's munchkins, leprechauns or pygmies I'm done," said Dean.

"Pygmies?"

"You saw The Mummy Returns!"

"Right," Sam agreed, remembering the scene.

Dean reloaded his shotgun and handed shells to Sam, who loaded up his own gun. Their heads snapped up as they heard a loud growl come from in front of them: three wolf-like creatures made their presence known and approached the boys. Dean and Sam both reached for their waistbands and pulled their guns with the silver rounds, packing up the shotguns quickly and standing.

"Game on," Dean said, cocking the pistol.

The trio of wolves separated, two going to each side, the third coming for a frontal assault. Dean shot at the first, keeping the one to his left in site while Sam fired at the one to his right. Dean's shot hit its target but failed to be a kill shot and the beast crashed hard into him, knocking him off further to the left and away from Sam. It quickly spun around and went after Sam, who managed to turn and shoot just in time, nailing the beast in the heart and sending it to the ground in a heap. Unfortunately, his initial shot at the third wolf also missed the heart and it had managed to circle around and come between him and Dean.

"Dean, I think they're trying to separate us!" Sam yelled as the beast before him snarled and crept toward him, perched for attack.

But there was no response from Dean. Sam quickly shifted his site back and forth between the wolf and beyond it to where dean had been. What he saw horrified him. The wolf was knocking into Dean again and again, pushing him further off into the distance. And with each blow, Dean was taking longer to get up. At least he's getting up, Sam assured himself.

The snarling before him brought his eyes back to the threat at hand and he cocked his gun again. Wasting no more time, Sam pressed the trigger but before the discharge, something grabbed him from behind and he felt fiery pain as claws dug into his shoulders.

Turns out these weren't ordinary werewolves. The silver bullets weren't killing them after all, just stunning them. The third wolf dragged Sam back as the second stayed if front, making sure their prey didn't escape. Sam bit through the pain and struggled to keep his hand on the gun but felt his arms numbing. He could also hear the sound of the river growing louder as he was apparently being dragged to it. Oh hell no, Sam thought as he figured they were planning on tossing him in for a swim.

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Meanwhile, Dean had had just about enough of being a wolf-bitch's bumper car. He, too, had concluded that these wolf-like things weren't werewolves when he'd caught glimpse of the third wolf rise up behind Sam. He'd desperately wanted to shout out warning to his brother but the third slam by his own creature had winded him and he figured the best way to help Sam was to stay alive and take it out, then go back to help – if it wasn't too late.

The wolf slammed into him again and Dean went down hard again. Clearly the bitch was playing with him. Why wasn't it killing him? Why hadn't the gremlins? They want us alive, he thought. Doesn't mean their not going to let us get knocked around, clearly…he thought as he took yet another hit.

Needing a minute to think, Dean did not get up. He instead stayed still on the ground and waited to see what the thing would do. To his surprise, it just stood and waited. My move, bitch? Dean thought. Alrighty then. With his left arm, hidden from view, Dean reached for the knife at his waist and waited.

What seemed like minutes went by, neither opponent making a move. Fed up with waiting, the wolf started moving closer to dean, leery of any sudden attack. Dean listed to the approaching footsteps and prepped. Come on, he mentally prodded. Come on…

When he could hear – hell, feel – the creature's breath just inches, Dean rolled toward it and struck out with the knife, plunging it into its forehead. The creature howled for a second, then dropped dead to the ground. Dean collapsed back on his back and breathed, spent. But only for a minute. After all, he had a brother to save.

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The third wolf had let go of Sam, leaving him to collapse to the ground. Fortunately despite the killer grip, the creature's claws hadn't dug in too deep, just enough to keep hold. Sam slowly go to his feet as the wolf pair teamed up before him and edged forward, inching him closer to the steep river bank they had finally reached. Sam dared to look behind him and chilled as he saw the raging water below. Looking back to the wolves, they were a mere few feet from him, their intention clear.

Sam weighed his options. He could take his chances and jump, though it wasn't a straight drop down, but more of a slope. He'd have to have a running start to jump out and down, and he didn't have that, so it would be a risk. But at least he'd go down on his own terms. As the wolves took another step forward, Sam made his choice. He turned took the few precious steps the ledge allowed him, and leapt.

He didn't hear his brother's frantic call to him from behind.

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"SAM!!!" Dean cried out as he watched his brother's desperate leap of the river ledge. He'd seen the situation Sam had been in with the two wolves and probably would have made the same choice, but it didn't make the situation any less dire, less heartbreaking. Dean didn't know how far the drop-off was, how deep and fast the river below, there were too many unknown variables. And Dean hated not knowing his brother's fate.

With a mad, warrior yell, Dean drew his guns and ran toward the wolves, firing furiously at both, aiming for the head and hopefully, kill shots. Sure enough, one went down as the bullet hit its mark. The other, badly wounded, opted not to meet the same fate, ran off.

Dean reached the ledge and looked down, not seeing Sam anywhere. He searched frantically, trying to see a way down, but it wasn't possible without making the same frantic leap. And if Dean got hurt or worse doing so, he'd once again be no help to his brother. Taking one last look down and around, he sadly turned and walked away from the ledge and sought another way down.

He continued along the bank, keeping careful eye out for any sign of Sam. Seeing a possible lessening of the slope ahead, he began to ran toward it. But as neared it, the ground beneath him suddenly gave way and he found himself falling down into a deep hole … and darkness.

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Back in the surveillance room, a certain voyeuristic computer geek popped open a Dr. Pepper and took a big, hearty swig.

"Round Three. Ding!"