Special 'Hiya" to Blondie 20000 :D

Chapter 25
-oOo-

Sam soon overtook his brother, smiling to himself at the sound of Dean's fussing over why forests had to have so many 'Goddamn trees'?; and why every 'Goddamn tree' left their 'Goddamn gnarly roots' above ground right where he could trip over them?
"Why can't they keep 'em nice and tidy underground where Goddamn roots belong?"
"Dean, you do get that if there wasn't so many trees, it wouldn't be a forest?"
"Is that right Einstein?...Go left just after that short fat tree up ahead."
"You mean the shrub?"
"Yeah, that. Head left after it."

Arriving at their previous night's camp, Dean began scanning the area while Sam headed over to the tent. Squatting down he opened the front flap and stuck his head inside. Looking around there were no obvious visible signs of disturbance but, there was something else. Sam detected a faint trace scent, one that hadn't been present while they were making use of the tent overnight, one that caused him to screw his nose up in response. The slight smell was fusty, like an ancient stuffed trophy animal head, and bitter. Sam backed out of the tent and stood upright. Turning, he glanced around, concern instantly flaring at the lack of his brother's presence.
"Dean? Dean?...Answer me dammit, where are you?"

Bringing down it's quarry had been too easy. The mark had no idea of the danger it was in, no clue that death was so close, watching it hungrily. It only took half a bound for the werewolf to reach it's prey. Almost lazily swiping it to the ground, the monster then ripped out the startled victim's throat before it could make a sound. Using the claws of one hand-like paw, The werewolf pinned it's kill to the ground while ripping and tearing the flesh away from the corpse's chest and belly with the claws of it's other 'paw'. It's sharp, shark-like, over-sized teeth crunched on and snapped through the newly exposed sternum, allowing the supernatural creature to thrust two meanly curved claws into the chest cavity. With surprising delicacy, the predator scooped out the heart of it's kill. Tilting it's head back, the werewolf let the bloody organ slip from it's claws into it's open mouth and on down it's throat in the same manner that a human would consume a fresh, raw, oyster from the shell.

The werewolf considered the shredded flesh that was still attached to the mangled body of the prey, before turning and walking away from the remains on all fours. Unsatisfied by the ease of the kill, the monster still felt the knot of internal tension that was the inherent drive to hunt, to chase, to slaughter. The werewolf began to move along swiftly now, eager to find something bigger, more challenging, more satisfying. The remains it had left behind would soon be picked over by various forest scavengers and insects. Elsewhere within the vast forest the second werewolf ran. It ran for the sheer thrill of feeling it's own power, it's own strength, it's own speed. It's muscular yet supple body twisting and flexing a path that weaved between and around the fat trunks of ancient trees, obstacles presented by the likes of moss coated boulders, fallen trees and heaped piles of rocks were deftly addressed without any loss of momentum, the creature simply stretching into high flying leaps and sure footed landings that merged smoothly back into a continued gallop as the savage supernatural beast raced with the moon.

Dean stepped back into the clearing from out of the trees, gun in hand, his eyes sweeping the area before fixing on his younger brother.
"I'm here. What's got your panties knotted up?"
Sam's eyes narrowed.
"Ohhhh, I dunno. Maybe it's you disappearin' right about the same time I discover a werewolf's been in the tent?"
Dean cast a glance towards the tent.
"Really? Well then, I guess it was our guy that's been throwin' last night's ham around, probably decided it was a bit overcooked. Pity he didn't show while we were still around, could'a ended this last night an' left one Sheriff lady thinkin' the only monsters were the human kind."

Not having the ability, nor really the desire, to bury his emotions the way Dean could, a look of sadness washed over Sam's face.
"It's a pity this thing ever ended up here at all. So many people have died Dean, a whole town's been livin' in fear every full moon period an', if that's not bad enough? We turn up and make sure two more good people never get to sleep easy again. Why does savin' lives an' helpin' people mean we have to crap all over people's beliefs an' faith as well Dean?"

It was an aspect of the job that both brothers had acknowledged long ago, and it remained a truth that they both hated. Dean moved to put a hand on top of Sam's head and ruffle his hair affectionately.
"Yeah, it sucks bro', every single time...I've tried convincin' myself that when we tell people the truth, we're givin' them a chance to protect themselves, but I know it don't really work that way. Take the Sheriff? Knowin' what's out there could help her fight back if she's ever unlucky enough to need to Sammy; but people like Phil? He's no fighter. Best case scenario? He might have a shot at knowin' what kinda monster it is that's about to rip him apart."

Sam furrowed his brow.
"Dude! If that's you tryin' to make me feel better, maybe you should stop talkin'?"
"C'mon Sammy, we both know it's true. Only thing we can do about it is focus on the up side."
"There's an upside?"
Dean grinned broadly.
"Sure there is! You an' me baby brother. We're here. We can stop this thing, make certain there's no more 'Moonlight Murders' an' end the fear hangin' over this town 'cos that's what we do. That's what our job's all about Sam so; how about we get on an' do it?"

Dropping his duffel to the ground, Dean knelt down and began rummaging inside it.
Making no effort to move, Sam gazed down at the top of his brother's head, a slow smile forming on his lips. Realising Sam hadn't moved yet, Dean glanced back up at him.
"What?"
Sam's smile widened.
"Sometimes bro', just sometimes, you're amazin'."
Embarrassed, Dean tried to shrug away his younger brother's unexpected praise
"Well, you're weird all the time...Jerk."
Sam laughed, moving to retrieve his own duffel,
"Bitch."

Drawing to a halt the werewolf's nostrils flared and it's mouth twisted into some mutated mimicry of a grin as it realised it was stood downwind of something alive. It's scent was familiar, warm, earthy and musky, the monster began to salivate in anticipation and, hugging the ground, it silently began to creep closer, keen to have sight of the food animal. The werewolf's stealth was rewarded with the sight of a young stag. The animal stood with it's front half in a patch of moonlight, it's flanks twitching, one front foot softly pawing at the ground. Eyes wide, it continuously stared left, then right, then left again. The animal was clearly nervous, apprehensive, far too ill at ease to begin to feed. The werewolf's pulled it's lips back from it's teeth in a silent snarl, already in it's minds eye it saw the dying animal's blood gushing from where it's throat had once been. Unconsciously the monster clicked it's teeth together, like a cat watching a bird. The moment that happened, the stag shook itself once, and bolted. Twigs snapped and cracked and fallen leaves spiralled up from the ground before fluttering and spinning back to earth as the werewolf instantly launched itself forward in pursuit of it's fleeing supper.

-oOo-
Chick xxxx