A/N: I was a little surprised by the almost total lack of response to the second chapter. Still can't figure out if you liked it or not (I don't have any of Sam's psychic powers), so reviews are always more than welcome. I already wrote this one, so here it is. Review, and the last part will magically appear...

Chapter three: Hunted

Dean stared at the ceiling, listening to his little brother's soft breaths. He was afraid he might fall asleep at first, but the adrenaline and the thought of what he was about to do kept him wide awake. He waited until he heard the bottle drop to the carpet and roll away. He had always had sharp ears. Quickly, carefully, Dean climbed out of bed. He tip toed to the living room to make sure his dad was sound asleep, and then made his way back to his room and quickly changed his clothes and put his shoes on. He glanced at his little brother, and readjusted Sam's covers before taking John's hunting knife and heading quietly for the door. He flinched at the sound the lock made when he unlocked it, looking over his shoulder to see if his dad had heard it. He sighed a little sigh of relief when he heard John snore in his stupor. Dean opened the door, and then hesitated, closing it back. Maybe the nine millimeter wasn't such a bad idea after all, he thought, and took it from his dad's room. Heaving a deep breath, Dean opened the door again, and snuck out.

It was cold outside, so cold Dean could see the vapor of his breath. He kept telling himself that it was only the cold that made him shiver. It was a little after two in the morning, and the streets were practically deserted. Dean pulled his jacket closer, shining his little flashlight to keep the dark away, the knife held fast in his hand. He cursed himself for not thinking of taking a pear of gloves with him. He walked the streets, his eyes wary of the slightest movement. He quickly changed his mind about the knife, slipping it in his pocket and taking out the gun. It would do much better to keep people away from him in these streets.

Dean's heart raced. It wasn't the first time he had gone hunting, but he had never hunted alone before. He had done his homework, though. He did know what it took to kill that thing. His father's notes suggested that a shot to the head, or preferably cutting the head off altogether, would kill the creature. Dean's teeth began to clutter at the cold outside. It's cold enough to start snowing, Dean thought, and kept moving. He looked at his watch; it was almost four in the morning. It was getting dangerously late, and Dean hoped his little hunt wouldn't be for nothing. Either way, he had to get back to the motel by six. And then a quick movement caught his eye. He turned quickly, flashing his flashlight, his gun ready – and nearly shot a stray dog that knocked down a garbage bin, trying to scavenge for any leftovers. Heart still racing, Dean lowered his gun, taking a deep breath and trying to calm himself down. And then he heard it, from behind. He wasn't going to make a fool of himself again. This time, he was going to make sure. He turned his head. And froze.

He knew from his father's stories what the creature would look like. He just didn't realize it would be so… tall. It had a rat-like face, and a muscular body with thick hair. It had a good nine inches on Dean, staring at him with yellow eyes, salivating at the mouth a little. Dean swallowed, his eyes lingering on the creature's hands, ending with at least ten inch claws; sharp enough to tear through bone. The creature's front seemed almost solid. A knife wouldn't penetrate it, not with Dean's strength.

Dean's heart was pounding so hard he actually thought it might pound its way out of his chest. He swallowed, readying himself. The creature lowered its head a little, revealing its sharp teeth, and Dean took an involuntary step back. For a moment, his mind was completely blank. He had no idea what to do. He just stared at these yellow eyes, at those sharp teeth.

He jumped, turning quickly away. It was pure instinct at seeing one of those scary-ass clawed hands reaching his way. Dean's mind screamed at him to run, to get dad. But he couldn't. There was a reason he was here, in this freezing cold, facing this creature. It had hurt his father. It made his father drink again. Dean's fingers tightened around his father's gun. Holding it up with an unsteady hand, Dean fired three shots. Two missed the creature entirely, the third barely scraping the side of its head. Damn, this thing is quick! Dean thought. And then his eyes widened. Oh, shit!

There wasn't much room to back away. He ducked at the last minute, the creature's claws ripping through the air where his head had just been. Dean swallowed as the creature screeched in anger. He tried firing at it again, but the creature was faster once more. Worse, it was fast enough to cut Dean's hand. It was only a superficial scrape, but it was enough to make Dean drop the gun. It almost looked like the creature smiled in satisfaction. Dean swallowed hard, heart pounding, adrenaline pumping. He reached for the gun, but again, the creature was faster. Dean had to make a split second decision, and he made it.Dean ran.

He wasn't sure where he was running to, he just ran as fast as he could. The creature was at his heel, and damn, this thing was fast! It felt like Dean had been running for hours. He knew it wasn't true, but it still felt that way. He was fast, but that thing was faster. Dean slipped though locked fences, hoping it would buy him some time since the creature was bigger and wouldn't fit. Only it didn't have to. It ripped though the fences with its claws instead.

Dean leaned against a freezing wall, peeking behind it. Finally, he lost it. Dean took a deep breath, leaning his head against the wall and wiping sweat off his brow. He should have brought another gun, he cursed himself. Peeking again to make sure the creature wasn't behind him anymore, Dean pushed away from the wall and made his way to the other side. And then he froze again. The creature was there, waiting, or so it seemed. It had been waiting there all this time. With a yelp of surprised, Dean made another run for it, but this time, he wasn't so lucky. The creature slammed him against the wall so hard all the wind got knocked out of him. Dean swallowed in fear, his eyes desperately looking for a way of escape. In his desperation, Dean picked up at sharp rock, throwing it at the creature's head. Unfortunately, the only damage it had done was get the creature even angrier. But there was a slight second in which the thing was distracted, and Dean used it to get away.

The skies were starting to brighten up. Soon, the sun would be up. Dean didn't know if that was enough to deter the creature, but he wasn't going to risk his life on a guess; and so he kept running. But he just wasn't fast enough. The creature jumped on him from behind, making Dean crash to the ground and hit his head on the pavement. Dean's eyes watered at the pain in his now bloody nose. He shuffled, trying to get to his feet and get away. Dean screamed as the creature's claws ripped through his back. It would cut him open, feeding on his internal organs. Dean knew it was that creature's MO. He squirmed, kicking as hard as he could, and for the slightest of moments, managed to turn on his back, facing the creature that was about to devour him. The pain in his back was blinding, but there was no time to think about it. He wished with all his heart that he had kept hold of the gun, that by some miracle, his dad would show up and save the day. But he knew those wishes would never come true. None of his wishes ever did. He had just seconds to live, and Dean knew it. It couldn't happen. Not yet. Sam wasn't ready yet. There would be no one to protect him if Dean died.

The knife! He remembered in the last possible moment, and quickly reached in his pocket, taking his father's hunting knife out. He thrust it in the creature's neck as hard as he could, just as the creature was about to bite his own neck off. The creature screeched again, shaking its head in anger and pain. Dean quickly rolled away, but still got another nasty taste of the creature's claws on his back. He stumbled to his feet and ran as fast as his frozen, weary, terrified body allowed him.

Dean glanced over his shoulders several times before he was convinced the creature wasn't still behind him. He knew he couldn't go back to the motel with this thing at his heel. It might hurt Sammy. No, he had to shake it off first. Dean stopped just once, trying to catch his breath. Sweat was trickling down his back, and the deep lacerations on his back hurt like hell. But there was no time to stop. The sun already came up. It was past six o'clock. He had to get back. He was nearly run over by a newspaper truck when he ran across the road without looking. But it didn't even register in his terrified mind. What was a huge truck against what he had just faced? He thought he had been prepared, but that creature scared the living daylight out of him. Dean kept running, gasping for breath, ignoring the pain in his lungs and back, until he was certain the creature was no longer after him. That it wouldn't sneak up on him and try to hurt Sammy. It was after sevenwhen Dean finally made it back to the motel.

His hands shaking, Dean cursed as he failed to get the key in the keyhole for the third time. He had wounded the creature. He wasn't sure how badly he had wounded it, but it was wounded. Dean could see the blood trail as he ran in circles so that the thing won't find Sammy. If they left now, his dad could kill it before it had time to recover. If only he could open the damn… And then the door was yanked open from within.

"Dad!" Dean breathed, almost relieved. John didn't say anything. He just grabbed Dean by the collar and hauled him in the room. "Dad, listen," Dean started, but then noticed the look in his father's eyes.

"What the hell were you thinking!" John demanded.

"Dad…"

"Shut up! I'm talking now, boy!" John snapped. Dean swallowed. "You think you're so smart, sneaking out in the middle of the night?" John was fuming. He grabbed at Dean's ear and Dean winced in pain. "How many times, Dean? How many times do we have to go over this?" John yelled. "You want me to trust you, you want me to take you with me on jobs, but you keep disobeying my orders!"

"But dad, I didn't…"

"Don't you talk back! You don't get to talk back!" John snapped. "I trusted you! I told you that I needed you to watch over your brother, to protect him! And what did you do?" John demanded.

"But dad…"

"I said shut up!" the vein in his father's forehead was sticking out. Dean bit his lip. "What the hell was so important you snuck out in the middle of the night? Seriously, Dean, tell me. What was more important than making sure your brother was safe?" John yelled.

"Dad, I was just…" And then John backhanded him. He hit Dean so hard he threw him to the floor, knocking over a lamp. Dean stayed down, shocked to the core. He looked up at his father, frozen, and didn't move.

"Don't you ever pull something like that again, you hear me?" John cried in rage, glaring at his son. Dean was still shocked, but still managed a small 'Yes, sir', his hand reaching slowly to his throbbing cheek. "You ever try to pull this again, and I'll really make you sorry, do I make myself clear, Dean?" John demanded.

"Yes, sir." Was Dean's automatic reply. John glowered at him a moment longer before heading for the kitchen.

"Get up, boy." He said, "Go get cleaned up, and you'd better be quick about it. You'd better not be late for school!" John glanced back at Dean, "And you'd better not get in any more trouble. You hear me?"

Dean let the water run down on his body, washing away all traces of dirt, blood and tears. And there were many tears. And there was a lot of blood. Dean's back seared in pain, his cheek still throbbed where his father had struck him. And it hurt so much more than anything that creature did. It hurt so much more than anything that creature might have done. But there was no time to sit and cry and feel sorry for himself. It was late. He had to make sure Sammy got to school on time. Sam hated to be late for school.

Dean dried himself, gritting his teeth against the blinding pain in his back, and got dressed. He walked out to the kitchen to see Sam sitting by the table, finishing his eggs. There was a plate sitting there for him, too, but he couldn't eat it even if he wanted to. He smiled at Sam.

"Come on, Sammy. You don't want to be late for school, do you?" Sam quickly stuffed another forkful of eggs in his mouth and shouldered his schoolbag. Dean carried his in his hands.

"Dean, why was dad yelling before?" Sam asked as they got out of the house.

"He just gets like that when he drinks." Dean explained. "It's nothing, you don't have to worry." He went on. Sam looked up at him.

"Are you sure? 'Cause it was a little scary." Sam said.

"I'm sure, Sammy. Now come on, or we'll be late." Dean answered him. "You don't have to worry Sammy." Dean added a moment later, seeing his little brother going all quiet, "You know I'll never let anything happen to you."

"I know, Dean."

TBC