A/N: Hi, back again with chapter eight. thank you again for all the reviews. i am glad you liked the chapter, i am also glad that the emotion came across right with Joshua, he really is a loathsome character. i really love writing for the bad guys, i find it so much fun. well, on with the story, let me know if you like it.

SHADOW STALKER

Chapter 8

Dean stumbled forward, his walking stick catching among the many rocks that littered the forest floor. He clenched his arms tightly around the stick as he swayed dangerously, willing himself not to fall. "Damn it." He breathed harshly as he regained his balance. He could feel the sweat pouring down his face as he walked, his strength dying away with each step he took. His lips were chapped and his throat was on fire, he could barely remember the last time he had something to drink. "Coffee for nine hours, then before that beer. There had to be water in there somewhere." He spoke to himself, finding the sound comforting in the oppressive silence, no longer caring how sane he looked.

He stood there for a few more minutes panting, his tall body leaning almost entirely on the stick still clutched tightly in his arms. "I just have to rest. Just for a few minutes." He swayed dangerously again, trying to decide some safe way to the ground. "Maybe I'll rest later." He decided, finding no easy way to lower himself.

He had made amazing progress for the condition he was in, or at least he thought so. Dean had managed to walk about a mile and a half diagonally up the side of the hill, coming to a stop about two hundred and fifty meters higher then where he had started. However, the ground beneath his tired feet was starting to get much steeper, and his exhausted body could not handle much more.

His lean frame had become wracked with tremors shortly after he had started his fight against the mountain, and the shaking had only grown in intensity the longer he tried to climb. His hands were shaking so badly that it had become nearly impossible for him to hold onto his walking stick. So instead of stopping he had wrapped his forearms around the stick, leaning his entire body against it. And he had continued on like that for quite some time. But now things were become exceedingly difficult as he stumbled more the stepped his way along.

Taking a few deep, ragged breaths he prepared himself again for movement. He lifted up with his arms and pulled the stick from where it had become wedged. He then swung his body around, nearly falling over before the makeshift cane had again hit the ground. "Ten points. Crowd goes wild. Hhhhaaaa." Dean joked quietly to himself, mimicking the sound of a cheering crowd. He then gave the ground beneath him a smug grin, looked up at the ever nearing road above and once again began his slow progress to safety.

He had made it about another one hundred meters, the ever increasing darkness masking the dangers the were all around him. He was unable to see more then a few feet ahead of him, and therefor could not see where the mountain may lead. He stumbled forward again as the rocks began to slide out from under his feet, the loose ground wet from the recent summer rains. In his mind he could here fast running water, but, even in the daylight he was unable to find it. 'Just my mind playing tricks on me.' He thought as he walked. He was so thirty that he wouldn't have been surprised if his mind invented a cozy looking bar right in front of him. Hot barmaid and all. "That would be nice." He grinned as he picked his way along the mountain. "I'm gonna call her Tina." He continued to smile as he imagined what types of beers and whiskeys the place would have. And what he and 'Tina' would be doing after hours.

It was helping him keep his mind off the ever increasing pain of his body, as well as the deep chill that was coming with the growing night. "Tina would be warm." He grinned to himself as he shivered, pulling his jacket a little closer. He walked on like that for a while, and before he knew it, there were thirty two taps, and two walls worth of very high end liquor. He had even gone so far as to pick out matching barstools and booths as well as some top of the line pool tables to go into the corner nook.

"Nook? Damn it brain, stop listening to Sammy. Damn boy's gonna have me picking out china before this year is over." He then switched tactics and instead of letting his mind decorate the bar, he decided to let it decorate 'Tina'. And he was once again lost in his fantasies.

His mind was suddenly ripped away from his sultry barmaid when he felt the ground beneath him begin to give way. He swung his body around frantically, trying to find some way to keep from sliding back down the hill. He pushed his walking stick firmly into the ground in front of him, hoping to brace himself as the area around him began to slide away. But, to his horror, the stick sank far into the ground, only succeeding in pushing more earth away in front of him. Dean barely had time to brace himself as he felt his body pitch forward over the stick. His back struck the ground hard, and he let out a piercing scream as his broken knee connected harshly with the rocks below him. He tumbled down about fifty meters before coming to a rest in the soft grass, thankful to be laying on his left side.

"God damn it." He moaned as he pressed his face into the dirt, angered at the tears of pain he could not stop. He moaned again and coughed fiercely into the dirt, finally loosing control of his strong body. He was shaking so much he felt like he would pull a muscle, and his teeth were chattering loud enough to be hear up on the road. But there was nothing he could do about it. His body had finally given up to the exhaustion, his mind dulled by hunger and thirst. He curled up on his side, trying hard not to move his injured leg, pulling his jacket tighter. 'It's so cold.' He thought as he continued to cough into the grass beneath him.

He struggled to stay awake, but he was slowly loosing the battle shortly after his second fall. His mind fighting against the blissful unconsciousness as he felt the pain around him fade away. He spared one last glance at the forest and gasped as his eyes began to focus. There, kneeling next to his shaking form was a man, his cold gray eyes boring into Dean's soul. 'There's something wrong with him.' His mind questioned weakly as he stared at the figure. He was a shadow, a mirage. He wasn't real.

"What do you want?"

"I want you, Dean."

"Why?"

"Because, you are worth a lot to me."

"What?"

"You are valuable. As is your brother. Demons, witches, spirits. They will all pay a great price to have you. To hunt you."

"Money?"

"Oh no, my boy." The shadow answered, running its icy hand over Dean's forehead brushing his hair back. It was a gesture of affection, but coming from something so vial, it seemed obscene. "Not money, souls. They are what I crave, they are my power."

"What are you?"

"I am the shadow cast by humanity. I am the footprint of all that life is and was. Every emotion that has been felt, every lie told, every heart broken. That is what I am."

"Then why are you roaming a forest. Shouldn't you be in a place a little more.. Upscale." Dean chided, wanting nothing more then to anger the shadow, because at that moment it was all he could do.

"I wont be here much longer."

"Moving up."

"You might say that."

"You know, you should stop throwing me down the cliff. I'm sure I am more valuable in one piece."

"No, not necessarily."

Dean froze and stared at the shadow before him. That was not the answer he had wanted to here. His life was his one bargaining chip, the one thing he could hold over this monstrosity, and now he was told it didn't matter. In that moment Dean was truly afraid. What if no one found him, what would happen to Sammy without him.

"Where is my brother. What have you done to him."

"He is on the road above you. He is fairing better then you, if that is what you ask."

"If my life doesn't matter then why not kill me now."

"I didn't say it didn't matter, quite the opposite. Your life is what matters most to me. I would prefer to keep you breathing as long as possible. But it is not a necessity, your soul lives on with or without a body."

"So you want to trade me."

"That was the original plan."

"I take it there's a new one."

"Perhaps."

"So, what does one get for a black market Dean."

The shadow then smiled, an act that stole Dean's breath away. Its mouth was hollow, as though he were looking into a black hole. He could feel the grotesque joy dripping from the man, all of its desire aimed at him, encircling him, as it smiled down at his broken body. "Not nearly enough. You have no idea of your worth, do you child."

"I'm not a child."

"Oh, but you are to me. You know, I would want nothing more then to have your soul. You could be mine, forever."

"Get the hell away from me." Dean wheezed out defiantly trying to slide himself away, knowing that there was no way he could fight the shadow.

It then laughed softly. "Oh yes, what a soul. Yours alone could keep me going for so long. Maybe I will keep you. After all, I can always trade away the younger."

"Don't you dare touch him."

"But if I trade you, then I would have to keep him. Would you prefer that."

"Screw you." Dean whispered, loosing his fight with oblivion.

"Oh now, that is what I want." The shadow leaned in closer, its eyes mere inches from Dean's. "Your defiance, your bravery. It feeds me more then any other emotion." It then laid its entire hand across Dean's face. "I can feel you, you know. Always, not just when you are here. I felt you in Nebraska, when the faith healer touched you, I felt your fear then. I felt your anger when you killed Meg, helped rip the soul from her body. I felt your loss when your brother told you he would leave again in Chicago. And I felt your anguish as your house burned all those years ago. You see, Dean, you and your brother, I have been waiting for you for twenty three years."

"Well, here we are."

The shadow then breathed in deeply, the winds around it growing as the shadows flickered once more through the forest. It was feeding off of Dean, draining him of his strength as it ate away at his emotions. "Yes, you are here. And this is where you will stay, forever." The shadow caressed his face once more then misted away into the night, leaving a cold wind in its place.

Dean then lost his battle with wakefulness as he shivered uncontrollably on the cold forest floor. The shadows blocking out all light and sound, keeping Dean vailed with their presence. He barely registered the voices echoing down from over head, his mind unsure if they were real or imagined.

"You found the impala."

"I didn't know it was missing."

"When Dean didn't come back..."

"Well its up here on the shoulder, about two miles."

The rest of the conversation was lost in the darkness, the completeness of the night swallowing all life around it. The shadow stood there over his prey, looking down at the man, no the child, curled into a ball at his feet. He did not want John Winchester there, and his presence had changed all his plans. He was running out of time, he needed strength. He couldn't wait for the payments the boys would bring, he needed to save one of them for himself, trade the other. He looked once more at the boy at his feet, his mind deciding which to chose. A sour smirk then crossed its face as a sickening laugh filled the nigh. It would make them chose for him.

TBC..