Sam was forced to his knees in the middle of a large clearing. He looked up and around. Not 10 feet from him, the Lord of the Hunt, Herne, sat on a throne of buck and human bones. My God..., he thought in awe Its like meeting a celebrity. All around him, the members of the hunt, demons, ghost, creature, and even a few humans all unpacked from that nights hunt.
They had found him on the street as he rounded a corner. Instinctively, Sam had raised his shotgun and fired into the mass of horse mounted beings. He hit one or two before they overtook him, moving quicker than an average human. Sam had been forced to the ground, and waiting for the death blow, he prayed that Dean would fare better. But it never came, instead, they grabbed his arms and tied his wrists before him, attaching the other end of his tether to the saddle of a horse. They marched this way for several miles through the night, a dull pain covering Sam's legs and feet. Now, near dawn, he wished they had stayed back in Kansas.
"Ah, Samuel, I thought we would meet," Herne boomed, "When I heard tell of the Winchesters visiting Amsterdam, I admit, I was curious."
Sam swallowed his shock at his name being known, "Well, even we need a vacation...sir." It was best not to insult him.
Herne let out a booming laugh that made Sam twitch. It wasn't normal, it was robust and full, yet made your spine feel like a thousand ants were crawling across it. The rest of the hunting party twittered along with him, but between the enjoyment, there was an undercurrent of fear. "A vacation?" he roared, "oh, that's a good one!"
"Uh, no, I was serious." Sam flashed a sardonic smile, "We needed a break, we didn't expect to find your hunt. We didn't even know you existed."
"NOT EXIST?" Herne's short temper flared to life, sending a wave on unease through the group.
"I'm sorry, sir, I didn't mean to offend. Its just, us being American, we have never come across you before." He turned on the charm that Dean loved to poke fun at. "If we had known it was your time to hunt, perhaps we would've stayed home."
Seeming to be placated, Herne pondered for a moment, "I've never been to the Americas, true. I cannot get there without crossing great waters, and I prefer to stay here. The people here respect my hunt's needs." He snorted, "Unlike you Americans, sticking your noses where it doesn't belong. If you don't be careful, you will find that nose gone."
"No sir, I rather like my nose where it is." Ha Dean, and you said charm doesn't work, "But you are killing my race, my people. In my book, that's enough to start my own hunt."
"Ah, honorable. But alas, if that means that you mean to kill me, I cannot allow you to live free."
A new voice flowed across the clearing, "I'm sure we can come to a certain agreement, Herne, old boy." A man stepped into the circle of torchlight.
Dean! Thank God. Sam thought, relieved.
The man laughed and turned to Sam. "Not quite, Sammy." His eyes glowed yellow.
Sam swallowed. This is not going to end well.