Hi, another delay, another commission, this time a painting for some poor woman's birthday.
At least if she hates it, she doesn't know who am or where I live :D
WitchHunter 82 : If you're reading this, you need to read 'Who You Gonna Call?'
Chapter 16
-oOo-
Dean raised a quizzical eyebrow at his brother as Sam dropped the last of his weapons, the antique silver penknife, into the chest pocket of his jacket.
"You ready?"
Sam shook his head and fished around in the jacket's inner pocket.
"One more thing. Here. I bought us one of these each in that last antique store. They're both hallmarked. Dunno if they'll help but, gotta be worth a try, right?"
Sam dropped a silver neck chain into Dean's open hand.
"What d'you think?"
Dean nodded approvingly.
"I think if the big doggy goes for the neck an' has to hold off bitin' while it yanks the chain off? It'll give us that extra second we sometimes need so, yeah, good one little brother! Where's yours?"
Sam grinned and pulled the neck of his tee down,
"Already wearin' it."
Dean checked out Sam's chain.
"Aw look; they match. That's adorable."
"Shut up an' put it on."
Hidden in deep shadow downwind of their prey, the two werewolves stared at the young buck snuffling around amongst a wet pile of fallen leaves, completely oblivious to the danger it was in. The alpha male moved first with the female leaping a split second behind him. The deer snorted in surprise as it was efficiently brought down, it's back legs kicked ineffectively while it's throat was torn out. The female werewolf waited the very minimum that was necessary in order to show deference to the male, then she joined in the feast Her first taste of warm blood and flesh caused her to whine appreciatively, and she eagerly shoved her snout further into the dead animal's gut, craving the hot, gelatinous morsels contained within.
Dean watched while Sam, on his knees on the wet ground, poured a small amount of oil over the sticks lying in the fire pit.
"If sittin' round here bein' bait don't bring him to us tonight bro', I say tomorrow night we switch to plan B an' we go hunt him down; ok?"
Flicking a zippo alight and holding it to the sticks, Sam jerked his head back as the oil instantly caught. Pocketing the zippo, he stood upright and headed back to the tent.
"If this don't work? Sure. But I brought somethin' that should make us extra temptin' tonight."
"You're turnin' into a regular shoppaholic brother of mine."
Sam grinned and pulled a parcel wrapped in foil out of his duffel, he threw the package to Dean. Opening it, Dean broke into a broad smile.
"Good job Sammy! If it don't lure a werewolf our way, we got ourselves a pre-breakfast breakfast. Bonus!"
Dean sniffed the raw ham joint appreciatively.
"You realise once the smell of this cookin' gets out there we're gonna get every carnivore around payin' a visit, don't you?"
"So long as our target is first in line."
Catching the barely there scent of another deer, the alpha male held back, letting the female take pole position for their second hunt. As always, the female took off confidently. Graceful, silent, swift, and deadly. The male maintained a pace and distance which meant that, trees and foliage allowing, most of the time the female was ahead but still in sight. He had no desire to interfere. This kill was hers, she was more than capable. He had taught her very well. Slowing slightly, the female checked the increasing strength of her prey's scent, judging how close she was getting. She set off again, increasing her speed then veering off to the right, the terrain momentarily hiding her from the male werewolf's view. Familiar with his surroundings, the alpha recognised the female was following a route that joined up with one of the many deer trails created by their prey's regular use.
The Hunters' campfire sizzled as drops of light rain fell onto it, but kept on burning. Perched on a low rock by the fire, Dean had his head down, busy.
"How's it going?"
"Finished. All yours."
He handed two rough tripods to Sam, each one made from three lengths of cut tree branches that he had tied together using one of the guy ropes from the tent.
"Thanks. These're perfect."
Standing one tripod on either side of their fire, Sam then produced the ham joint, now skewered by another branch that he had covered as best he could with the foil to stop the wood setting alight. Dean watched in amusement while Sam fussed around balancing either end of the branch on the tripods, adjusting and re-adjusting the position of everything, until he was completely satisfied that he had the ham positioned just so above the fire's flames.
"There we go. Shouldn't take long for that to start cookin'. Once it's smellin' good, we move it an' stand the whole thing next to the fire, it should be plenty warm enough there to keep that temptin' smell..."
Sam stopped in mid-sentence, noticing Dean sat with his eyes narrowed as he squinted at the ham joint critically.
"Um, Dean? What's wrong? What's the problem?"
Dean tilted his head onto one side.
"I'm thinkin' maybe the whole set up could do with movin' left a bit. Not much, you know? Maybe just quarter of an inch or so?"
"Jerk. Take my advice, stick to Huntin, comedy's not your thing.'"
"Bitch, I'm hilarious an' you know it...Who's gonna take first slot hidin' in the tent?"
Sam grinned.
"Rock, paper, scissors?"
Dean rolled his eyes and sighed.
"That'll be me then."
For the next two hours it was Sam's role to be the bait, which simply involved sitting out in the open next to the campfire armed with close quarter weapons encompassing a silver dagger and, if he managed to lose that, his silver penknife as backup. Dean remained out of sight, watching the clearing from inside the tent. Armed for distance work, he had his gun ready and loaded with silver bullets and a couple of spare clips in his jacket pocket, though he had no expectation of needing them. He figured that if he couldn't score a hit on something as large as a werewolf within the confines of the forest clearing it would be pretty shameful and he would have to give serious thought to giving up Hunting and considering the insane idea of becoming a comedian instead.
From now on it was a waiting game for the two brothers and, for a while, they waited in silence in their respective positions. A rustle in the undergrowth at the edge of the clearing caused them both to tense, ready to react. Sam smiled and allowed himself to relax a little when a young rabbit emerged from the area. Showing no concern for either the fire or the presence of humans, the little creature made it's way through the clearing and disappeared again beneath a low growing shrub. Once again there was silence, broken only by the fizzling fire and the sound of the rain pattering on leaves.
Suddenly the fire spat loudly, startling Sam. The sound was rapidly followed by more spitting and popping as fat from the ham joint began to drip into the flames. Sam started talking to the ham joint.
"Time to move you over I guess...Let's have a look at how you're doin'."
He didn't bother lowering his voice, if there was a werewolf within the vicinity then Sam wanted it to know that there was a potential human snack out here.
"Yup, you seem to be doin' ok, soon be startin' to smell like bacon...I'll put you here, close enough to carry on cookin' without fat drippin' onto the fire...There you go, that should do nicely."
The whole time that Sam was moving and talking Dean pointedly ignored him. Instead the older Hunter focused on everything else within his field of vision, determined that no damned werewolf would have the chance to get anywhere near his brother before it died.
-oOo-
Chick xxxx
