Sam and Dean are not mine. They never have been, and regretfully, never will be.

Hey guys, we're nearing the end. I'm thinking two, possibly three more chapters. This has been so much fun. I guarantee I'll be writing more. In the mean time, enjoy this next chapter. And thanks again for all your kind reviews. I love that you guys love this. I think my head's swelling! Hehe.

Dean hadn't been far off when he'd speculated that Devil's Elbow, Missouri was a ghost town. It might as well have been for all the action it had seen since the Civil War. Sam and Dean pulled into the town six days, and one fewer cane, after leaving Laura. Their mouths gaped open as they absorbed the sight before them, feeling like they'd just stepped foot into a classic Western. Every building in the town was run down and falling apart. Grey, weathered wood shingles adorned the sides of the buildings in place of modern day vinyl siding, and the tin roofs were rusted. Empty rocking chairs sat on just about every porch, but some still rocked steadily, as though they had been vacated quickly, and recently. Faded signs, all painted in the same white paint, announced the 'General Store,' 'Bank,' 'Sheriff,' 'Post Office,' and 'Saloon,' and a smaller sign beside the door to the saloon advertised rooms were available for rent. The boys shared a look of amusement as Dean parked the Impala in front of none other than a horse tie-up outside of the local saloon. But for all the details they did notice about the old town, one little detail was still missing. There were no people.

"Dude, I think I just saw a tumbleweed roll across the road up there," Dean snickered, his gaze following the dusty road that ran through the center of the tiny town.

Sam climbed unsteadily to his feet, the added stiffness from the long car ride creating more difficulty to get a stable foothold on the soft ground. He balanced himself, one hand gripping the cane and the other hand on the roof of the car, as he looked to where Dean's eyes fell. As his eyes scanned the town, looking for more illusive tumbleweeds, they fell nervously short of the their intended target. Curtains were drawn on just about every window in the town, and it was the movement of one said curtain that had caught Sam's attention.

"Dean, I think we may want to get out of here," Sam whispered, already lowering himself back into the car. It wasn't the motion of the curtain that had him frightened. It was what had moved them. As Sam's eyes focused more steadily on the window he could see the barrel of a gun aimed directly at them.

"Come on, Sam. What are you talking about? There's nothing to be scared of," Dean countered, spinning around to laugh at his little brother.

"I'm serious, Dean," Sam demanded, reaching across the car to grab at the older hunter's shirttails, yanking at them. "We're not alone. Get back in the car."

Annoyed, Dean shook free of Sam's grasp. "Look around you, Sam. There's not a soul here. Come on, wuss. Get outta this damn car so we can start our investigation. You're the one who wanted to come out here in the first place. I didn't just drive all this way to turn around and leave again."

Panic rose in Sam's voice. He'd just watched the shotgun move, and if he wasn't mistaken it was aimed directly at his brother. "Dean, GET DOWN!" Sam screamed, yanking the stubborn hunter into the car, just as the first shot rang out through the afternoon sunshine.

The bullet narrowly missed hitting the car and Dean scrambled the rest of the way into the seat, nervous fingers frantically trying to insert the keys into the ignition as another shot hit the pole just beyond the car's left headlight. Gunning the engine wildly Dean raced the car out of the town, leaving a trail of dust in his wake. More modern roads would undoubtedly have had two deep black tracks of rubber burned into their surface.

"DAMMIT!" Dean screamed several minutes later, panting wildly. He'd pulled the car off to the side of the road as soon as he felt they were a safe distance away from the psycho using them for target practice. Dean ran both hands through his spiked hair. Leaning against the car for support, he slowly lowered himself into a crouch. His limbs shook anxiously, and his stomach did a little flip flop, but it wasn't due, as would be expected, to the close call on his life. No, Dean's anxiety was caused by the near miss to his precious Impala. "He just about hit my car!"

"He just about hit you!" Sam reminded Dean pointedly, climbing slowly out of the car and circling to where his brother sat in the dirt. "Next time I tell you to leave, listen to me!""You didn't say anything about creepy locals using passerby as prey."

Sam looked down apologetically at his brother. "It wouldn't exactly be published information. I told you on the drive here, Dean, there isn't much information on the town itself. Just on the deaths and the unusual circumstances surrounding each one. You saw yourself, it's not exactly a mainstream town. These people are totally stuck in the dark ages."

"But we can't exactly do any investigating if they're gonna be shooting at us the minute we set foot within town limits." Dean's exasperation shone through, and Sam could tell he wanted nothing more than to go back and kick some gun-toting ass. "We need to sneak back into that town without being seen."

"Heh. Yeah, no kidding," Sam scoffed, leaning against a tree so he could face Dean. "But what do you suggest?"

Dean glared at Sam as though the answer was so obvious the tree he was leaning against could have told him. "You and I invented stealth, bro," Dean answered. "We tried to make an entrance, and that didn't work. So now we wait till it gets dark. Come on, let's get some grub."

xxxxxxx

"Alright, so let's go over this thing again," Dean mumbled through a mouthful of french fries. "This destroyer thing. Any ideas on what it is?"

Sam shook his head, unwilling to be so vulgar with his own mouthful of food. He didn't respond until he'd finished chewing and swallowed. "I've narrowed it down, but there aren't enough details to get a firm description. The only thing that every account has in common is that the thing has razor sharp claws at least six inches long. Other than that, from what I can gather it has red, glowing eyes, walks on all fours, and could be anywhere from two hundred to two hundred fifty pounds. But they know for sure it's not an animal; well...they assume for sure it's not animal. It's hairless, or at least that's what a couple people have said. The rest didn't say anything at all. Oh, and there's this kind of eerie half howl, half scream that people have heard coming from the mountains just about every night."

Dean nodded, cramming his mouth over his burger and biting down. "So all these deaths have occurred up in the mountains. By an old mine shaft?"

"Dude, Dean. Have a little tact. Try taking the bite after you ask your question," Sam interjected, rolling his eyes out of frustration. But as Dean shrugged, indifferent to Sam's request, Sam realized his efforts were fruitless. He nodded, agreeing with Dean's muffled observation. "Yeah, that's where they've all been found. But there's evidence that they were dragged there, and from a pretty far distance. It's like he takes them from the town and drags them the whole way up there."

"They all died from the same thing?" Dean continued, rewarding Sam's efforts to table train him by flashing a starchy potato grin despite the somber topic.

Sam ignored the move, finding it easier to just not look than to say something about it. "Mmm Hmm. Every last one of them. Three stab wounds to the heart. Symmetrical; probably from the creature's claws."

Finishing up the last of his food Dean grinned eagerly at Sam, his eyes lighting up brighter than Sam had seen in weeks. They were finally hunting again. He was sooo ready to get back on the job. "I guess tonight we go in search of the mine shaft, then," He stated, resolute in his decision. "That's probably where this thing is hiding out."

xxxxxxx

They left the car just outside the town limits, hiding it back in the woods where it couldn't be seen without straining, and set off the rest of the way on foot. It felt good to finally be loaded down with weapons again, and Dean reveled in the weight of the gun hanging from his shoulders, vowing never to complain about its heaviness again. They kept to the forest, circling the town from the safety of the trees and shadows as they worked their way to the path leading up to the mine shaft. Looking down into the town, it was surprising to see that not a single light shone anywhere. On hindsight, there hadn't been any noticeable streetlights, not that they would have fit in aesthetically anyway. Or historically, for that matter. But the shock came from the lack of light in any of the windows of the towns tiny houses. It was as though every person in that little town had packed up and left.

"You alright there, Sammy?" Dean asked as they met the mouth of the trail. In the darkness Sam failed to notice the worry lines that etched Dean's face. But Dean, carrying the flashlight, had noticed the exaggerated limping that Sam had succumbed to as they wound their way around the uneven ground. His right leg was dragging heavily behind, and Sam had taken on a fierce determination in his expression as he supported his weight on the cane, using both hands to hold himself up. His breathing was heavy, and he hadn't said a word in over five minutes.

"I'm fine," Sam huffed, and Dean noticed the failure to correct him on choice of names. "Let's keep going."

"Maybe we should turn around. Give yourself a few more days to heal and then we'll come back out. We could try again to talk to the townspeople."

Using the conversation as an excuse to stop for a minute, Sam faced Dean. "They shot at us. The minute we rolled into that town they all disappeared into their houses and took aim. Whether they're somehow in on this, or scared shitless, I guarantee you we'll never get anyone to talk to us. And besides, we're already halfway there. I'm fine."

Dean eyed Sam sternly. He'd seen that look in his brother's eyes before. It was the same look he'd had the day he found Sam taking his first walk around the hotel. It was the same look Sam had had on his face every time he got involved in his therapy efforts since that day. It said Don't fuck with me. And do not tell me what I can't do. Look how far I've come already. Asshole.

There wasn't much Dean could do to change Sam's mind, so they trudged off again, Dean walking slightly behind his brother, ready to catch him at the slightest sign of need. If Sam noticed Dean's absence from taking the lead he didn't say anything.

Halfway up the trail brought cause to stop dead in their tracks. "That's just creepy," Sam hissed, his eyes round. The scream cutting through the darkness sent shivers down his spine. One look at Dean told him his fearless older brother was experiencing the same reaction. Seeing the description of the half howl, half scream on paper hadn't done this creature justice. Not by a long shot.

"I've never heard anything like that," Dean answered, putting his body protectively in front of Sam, shielding him despite the lack of anything tangible to protect him from. "I really think you should head back, Sam. We don't know what's up there."

Sam glared at Dean, angrily brushing him out of the way as he pushed forward, moving further up the trail. Gritting his teeth, he snarled, the annoyance at Dean's over-protectiveness blatant. "I told you, Dean. I am fine. I can take care of myself."

Dean followed, easily over taking his puttering brother. "You're not looking too good, Sam. I'm just–"

"You're really starting to annoy me, Dean!" Sam snapped, interrupting Dean before he could say something he would end up regretting later. "We have a job to do, and I, for one, intend to finish this tonight. Besides, we're here."

Stopping at a clearing, the boys took in the sight. As Dean flashed the light around their trained eyes spotted the dried remains of blood spattering the surrounding foliage. They could only assume it had come from more than one of the victims who'd met their demise at this very location. All around, the ground was tamped down in various configurations. Each spot told the story of its last resident, their final hours above ground before they were discovered and interned in ceremonial funeral services. The entrance to the mine shaft was just as dilapidated as the rest of the town, if not more so. Old boards had rotted away from their nails, and now hung loosely, flapping and creaking in the light wind. There was evidence of at least one cave in, but enough residue had been removed from the mouth that it was still possible to gain entrance.

Dean aimed the flashlight into the entrance of the shaft, hoping to do his research without needing to actually enter the structural nightmare. Sam followed, resting his hand lightly on Dean's elbow hoping Dean would read it as indication that Sam was asserting his presence, lest he fear an attack. Only Sam knew it was really to steady himself, his legs getting weaker by the moment.

Less than fifteen feet away the light hit wall. The entire entrance to the mineshaft was empty, filled with nothing but dirt and rocks. "Dammit. I do not want to go in there," Dean shuddered. But he took a step forward. Desire not to do something was never enough reason to keep him from actually doing it. Especially when hunting was involved.

They entered cautiously, Sam still holding tightly onto Dean's arm, grateful for the additional support when he stumbled over a rock his foot hadn't sensed. Dean spun around, easily catching Sam and righting him before too much noise could be made. They held steady for several seconds, waiting for assurance that Sam had regained his footing. But instead of releasing his grasp he found himself squeezing harder at the image of Sam's eyes growing larger. Sam's attention had fallen on something around the corner and Dean could see the reflection of what Sam saw in his eyes. Red. In each eye two red dots reflected back at Dean. And from over his shoulder, a low growl echoed loudly, bouncing off the walls in surround sound. Dean shivered.