A/N: Thank you, Eureka26 and LoupGarouAngel for your kind reviews! I Hope you all enjoy this new chapter; I'm havin' fun writing it!

The need to get to her home prompted her to move from her position at the woods' edge. Her observation of the town and the hunters –for that's what she was now certain the young men were –had taken her away for too long now. Now one was pursuing her, she knew; but she felt confident that she could lose him.

The white wolf treaded with speed and grace over fallen tree trunks and debris on the forest floor but was intentionally leaving a trail that would be, for any tracker, painfully easy to follow. Not even going as fast as she could, she allowed her feet to dig up more of the earth than was necessary, brushed against bushes to leave behind some loose fur and slashed claw marks into defenseless tree trunks.

SSS

Dean wasn't exactly sure what he'd seen, but judging from the claw marks in the ground, whatever it was, would be more than a match for any werewolf he'd ever seen. It was traveling on all fours with a stride of about twelve feet; its hind legs leaving deeper gashes in the ground than the forelegs.

He barely stopped at a bush that held hair that was pure white. He did halt, however when he came across deep claw marks in the trunk of a sycamore. He ran his fingers along the marks in the mottled bark, trying to imagine the beast that left them. Dean was thankful that he was only following one set of tracks.

Lon Chaney Jr.'s got nothing on you, he thought.

WWW

Sam had told Toni about the tip Dean had given him, hoping that confiding in her would make her…friendlier. It didn't, not really, but they shared in the effort.

"I can't find anything," she said after a while. "Someone probably just took off with the baby and it's not even related. So, in all, this has been a giant waste of time."

Sam didn't say so –Toni was quickly wearing his patience thin –but he had to agree with her on that point. They could find no other outstanding reports about missing babies and few children seemed to go missing in Van Auledge.

Once they'd backed away from that dead end, they busied themselves compiling information on the town and every related killing they could find. They exchanged few words, but multiple uncomfortable glances; neither wanted the other there. Sam stretched his long legs out beneath the desk as he read old news reports and Toni paced with a book cradled in her left arm.

"These killings go a ways back," she said. "This book says at least fifteen people were killed around here in eighteen eighty-four and they stopped after a huge wolf was killed. Go figure."

"I've counted at least fourteen similar killings since the eighties," Sam said; "Some of them are pretty interesting."

Toni hovered over his shoulder as he read aloud some of the news reports.

WWW

After about two and a half miles, the tell-tale signs of the beast's trail seemed to disappear. Dean cursed under his breath, although he could have screamed at the top of his lungs and probably no one would have heard or cared. The thing must have doubled back on him, but how?

Gun in hand, he went a little further, tracing over the ground, but it was fruitless. No tracks, no fur, no scratches…and the sun was setting. From what the Coroner had told him and Sam, these things tended to hunt at night; the thought didn't exactly please him.

He sniffed in; the chilled evening air was having an effect on his nose. Kleenexes weren't something he and Sam typically concerned themselves with; so he didn't bother checking his pockets for any.

Wonderful, he thought; no snot-rags.

The two and a half mile hike back to the Impala would give him time to reflect on the loss of the trail. He still wanted to find another trail and follow it, but even he knew there was a difference between doing something ill-advised that would get results and doing something utterly stupid that would get you killed.

The trail had been so clear and then just poof, gone. The thing had lead him several miles into the woods and had managed to evade him.

Evade me? The thought seemed bizarre even to him; he was confident in his ability to defend himself, but he'd seen what these things could do. They hunted, killed and…what if it was deliberate? What if a trap had been set for him and it was about to spring? How could he have fallen for that?

He felt his heart rate escalate ever so slightly as he quickened his pace; the thought of being pureed like that poor bastard in the morgue spurring him on. He moved swiftly back the way he came as the light steadily dimmed.

WWW

Doctor Garrett Bishop leaned on the doorway of the room that had been converted into a nursery as he contemplated the funny turns life had a tendency to take. Hell, some of them were down right hilarious; like housing a kidnapped baby; that was pretty funny.

Abigail –Abby –was asleep at last, bundled in sheets for warmth.

Where is she? He wondered, hoping he would soon be relieved of his babysitting duties. He'd already called the hospital to say he'd be late for his shift that was due to start in fifteen minutes.

He scratched his chin, wondering if he should shave the goatee he had grown. When he asked his co-workers their opinion on it, they had told him it gave him a more distinguished look. As the statement was not accompanied by snickers, he could only assume they were being honest. He was not a vain man, not by any means. In fact, he wore Hawaiian shirts under a white lab coat when on the job. He decided that the goatee was going to go.

What he really wanted to do was retire; just retire, work on his prints of forest landscapes and maybe publish the book he'd written…

A floorboard in his old farmhouse creaked, disrupting his thoughts. He turned, expecting to see what would appear to most to be a young woman, but there was no one there. Either he was hearing things or his house was haunted; neither option was unlikely, he decided.

Turning, he found himself staring into a pair of silver eyes; he nearly jumped out of his skin.

"You have…" he shouted, then looked toward the sleeping baby "…you have really got to stop doing that!" he yelled in a startled whisper.

"Sorry, Gary," she said with a chuckle that suggested she was anything but. She bustled over to the crib to peer down at the infant. He resigned himself to the likelihood it would happen again.

"You know," he said. "It's only funny until someone drops over dead of a heart attack."

"Then it's hilarious," she said smiling smartly, but not taking her gaze away from Abby.

"I've got to go," he said, unable to stop the smile on his face.

"Hey," she said; her tone more somber. "We've got to talk when you get back."

WWW

"...and the earth becomes my throne, I adapt to the unknown, Under wandering stars I've grown, By myself but not alone, I ask no one…" Dean sang –albeit, off key –as he went.

The sun had almost sunk completely and he wasn't out of the woods yet. He walked and walked some more, his attention divided between squinting at the trail and trying to imagine the beast –or beasts –he and Sam were after. He only saw a blur of white and nothing more; not a whole lot to go on. Hopefully, Sam had turned up something at the library.

A few paces ahead, he ran face-first into a low-hanging tree branch. After sputtering some curse words and batting the hateful branch away with his arms, he moved several paces to his left when one of his boots decided to lodge itself under a root.

When he tried to pull his foot out, it stayed stuck. "Damn it," he muttered and kicked at the root with his free foot. It didn't take him long to figure out that that wasn't a good idea. His gun flew from his hand as he fell backwards, twisting his ankle; not enough to really hurt him, but enough to piss him off more.

"Damn it!" he said with more feeling, as he slammed both of his fists into the dirt. He began moving his foot back and forth and backwards as he wondered how the hell he'd managed to get his foot wedged so tightly beneath the root; it was like he it had wrapped itself around his boot.

Must be in an enchanted forest, his mind grumbled as he kept the gun in his vision, wriggled his foot some more and wondered; why didn't I bring a flashlight? Aw, well, at least it's not a train track I'm stuck on.

His foot came loose and he reached for the comfort of his Colt's pearl handle. Gripping it with an odd affection, he stood and dusted himself off.

About a hundred feet away, a branch snapped.

Dean brought the Colt up in the direction of the noise and waited for whatever was there to make its move as he glared into the darkness.

WWW

"Some of those are…interesting," Toni said, as she stepped away from the computer and picked up another seemingly ancient text.

Sam nodded. "We still have no idea what we're dealing with, though."

"No, but I'm still keeping silver in my guns."

"Yeah; I mean, it's not like a Wendigo, not the way the bodies are turning up and all."

"You've hunted a Wendigo?" Toni asked, curiosity peeking in her voice.

"You make it sound like it was a deer," Sam said with a slight chuckle.

"Nah, it's just that my mo…um, werewolves are kind of my specialty and I don't really think of all those other critters out there."

"Dean and I have hunted a lot of, uh…critters."

Toni nodded and gave the closest thing to a genuine smile he had seen on her face. Who said they couldn't relate? In the back of his mind, he wondered where Dean was. It had to have been getting dark out. How long could it possibly take to talk to some locals? Even if they had invited Dean to stay for dinner, as it was getting to be about that time, Dean wouldn't have stayed…well, probably not, anyway. Sam tried to refrain from worrying.

"Oh, well this is just precious," a familiar voice said from behind them. "Hey, Ginger and Brigitte, you wanna fill me in?"

Sam turned to see Dean leaning against the door frame with his arms crossed over his chest and a less than thrilled expression on his face.

"Hey, Dean;" Sam said in a light tone, praying Dean wouldn't alienate a possible ally. "Did you find anything out?"

"Yeah," Dean said without taking his eyes off of Toni. "I found out that not every branch that snaps ominously in the dark is a monster and that whatever we're dealing with is furry, fast and smart."

"You saw it?" Sam asked, excited.

"I saw a blur of it; that mother was movin'. I followed its track for about two miles and the trail just suddenly stopped; almost like it intentionally led me out there."

"Maybe you just can't track." Toni suggested, returning Dean's glare.

"Oh, sweetheart;" Dean said, grinning with his mouth but not his eyes. "I can track and I can also trap. Sometimes it's just a matter of using the right bait. You up for it, Little Red?"

"Dean!" Sam interrupted sharply, knowing that Dean was most likely not serious and that his immature remarks were only going to serve to hurt their case.

"What?"

"We've found some stuff, but nothing that concludes what these things are." Sam said, trying to ease the tension in the room.

"Like…"

"Toni and I found at least twenty-four other deaths that could be linked to this; but something's weird."

"Weird?" Dean and Toni said simultaneously.

"Okay, out of the ordinary; even by our standards." Sam amended. "Including the most recent killings, there have been twenty-nine. Everything seemed to start in eighteen eighty-four; at least fifteen people were killed. The deaths stopped when a wolf was killed. Then there was another string of killings in the early eighties where five people were mauled and de-hearted."

"Sam, there's nothing especially 'weird' about that." Dean interjected as he pulled a seat catty-corner to Sam at the desk while Toni stood leaning against the wall, reading and listening at the same time.

"You didn't let me finish." Sam said, frowning. "In ninety-five there were four killings. The weird thing is these ones were all criminals. There were two pedophiles, a rapist and a man who was tried for but not convicted of murder."

"So, what?" Dean asked. "We got a Charlie Bronson werewolf on our hands?"

Sam saw Toni smile a little at this while he rolled his eyes.

"We don't even know if these things are werewolves or not." Sam feared that that was becoming his mantra.

Toni piped up. "I move that, despite the fact that these things may not be werewolves, we can call them werewolves."
"Motion seconded." Dean said, raising his hand and grinning ever so smartly at Sam.

Sam pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. "Okay, motion carried; can we get on with this?"

There was no objection.

"It seems like werewolves are just attracted to this town." Sam continued. "There's no time pattern these occur in and one of the killers seemed to focus on a certain type to hunt. The oldest attacks, the ones in the sixties and the most recent don't seem to have any concern for who they killed. Maybe these things-"

"-werewolves." Toni and Dean both insisted.

"-werewolves are attracted to this town for some reason." My God, Sam thought, I'm dealing with three-year olds! Oh well, at least the 'werewolf' thing is keeping them on a united front. He looked at his older brother and the small redhead and then realized why.

They shared the same expression; their eyes glinted with anticipation for a hunt. Sam imagined that spending time in confined spaces among shelves and desks was, for them, agony. They were spoiling for a fight, a chase; a chance to shed the blood of something evil.

"Maybe the whole town is werewolves." Dean suggested casually.

Sam and Toni only looked at him with dubiously arched eyebrows.

"What?" Dean said, looking back and forth between the two of them. He rolled his eyes. "Oh, please tell me you've seen The Howling."

SSS

Dean wondered if his theory was really that obscure. Or, maybe he was just being paranoid. He had emerged from the woods and the Bradleys were no where to be seen. He was usually thankful when people showed him and Sam little interest and let them do their job, but the fact that they hadn't made sure he got out of the woods without being mauled was odd.

He dismissed his theory, though. There would have been a much greater body count in the communities surrounding Van Auledge if the small town's citizens were all werewolves. They were just small town people and they were afraid; add to that the fact that Dean was an outsider and you had the equation that equaled the Bradleys' lack of concern.

The three were silent until Toni, who had since begun searching through a different group of newspaper reports for information, let out a thoughtful, "Huh."

Both brothers looked at her.

"I've found some stories about a white wolf that supposedly haunts these woods."

Dean's mouth lost some of its moisture. "A white wolf?" he repeated.

"Yeah," Toni said, looking him over.

"What I saw was a flash of white." The word 'haunts' tripped something in his mind. He snapped his fingers and looked over at Sam. "What if it's an animal spirit, Sam?"

He watched as Sam mulled it over. "It would have to be one really pissed off animal spirit; they're mostly guides. Maybe it's a shaman's spirit in animal form."

Dean noticed a distinct expression of disappointment on the redhead's face, but the suggestion spurred the three into a renewed frenzy of research nonetheless; they looked for any reports that would give them more reason to suspect an angry shaman spirit.

It didn't pan out. None of them could find a thing; apparently, no noteworthy incidents had taken place. Exiting out of a window on one of the computers, Dean sighed. This is fun, he thought. His stomach growled at him, wanting food and then he had an idea.

The Coroner had said that one of the victims was last seen at the bar, implying that there was one or at least a most poplar bar in town. Maybe going there would get them a lead…and food.

Before he could voice his idea the librarian, Norma, stepped timidly into the research room. "Um, we're closing in a few minutes," she said.

"Let's get some food," Dean said happily as he stood and began walking toward the door and then looked back when Sam didn't follow.

Sam yawned and held up a finger as he and Toni began stacking books and powering down computers.

"Oh, don't worry about that, dear," Norma said as she took a stack of books Toni was holding. "I'll take care of all this."

"Thank you," Toni said, smiling at the older woman.

"Not a problem."

Sam carried his books over to the shelf where Norma had taken the others and thanked her for allowing them to do their research. Such a polite boy, Dean thought with an almost imperceptible smirk.

WWW

Dean thought he would have found it hilarious if the name of Van Auledge's bar was 'The Slaughtered Lamb' but quickly changed his mind when he remembered if it were like the pub in An American Werewolf in London, he would not be provided with any food.

There were a few cars in the parking lot of Rex's Bar & Grill but Dean still parked his baby as far away from them as possible, thusly eliciting an eye-roll from Sam.

"I'm glad Toni didn't accept your dinner invite," Dean said as he walked beside Sam, who only frowned at him.

"Oh, I get it," Dean said. "You're mad because she didn't give into your I'm-so-needy-please-don't-say-no-to-me puppy face."

"She's young, Dean." Sam countered. Dean gave him an unsympathetic look; he didn't understand why Sam insisted on trying to start personal relationships with every person he had a conversation with. We were young, he thought.

"She's irritating too," Dean pointed out.

"Whatever," Sam said, although his expression softened a little, signifying agreement.

Ignoring the vertical letters beside the door handle that spelled: PUSH, Dean pulled the door of Rex's. When it didn't open, he glared at it. Sam tapped the PUSH sign with several fingers and chuckled.

"Read much?" he asked his older brother. It earned him an elbow in the gut as Dean followed the door's instructions and walked into the bar.

The inside of Rex's was much larger than Dean would have thought. There were about ten tables and some booths along the walls but, oddly, only a few were occupied. Few patrons acknowledged Dean and Sam's arrival as they seated themselves at several of the bar's stools. Though several neon beer advertisements glowed, almost everything seemed to be made of either wood or fur and Dean prayed that the stuffed squirrel on the bar's counter wouldn't come too life and attack; it seemed to be staring at him. He also prayed he didn't get a splinter in his ass as he shifted on the stool.

Out of the corner of his eye, he spied several pool tables. Sweet, he thought.

The man behind the counter may as well have had "Hell's Angel" stamped –or perhaps more appropriately; tattooed –on his forehead. His head was bald save for a line of hair along his jaw line. The man was barrel-chested but not fat, had his left ear-lobe pierced, tattoos on his large biceps and was taller than Dean. Below his leather vest, he wore a Harley Davidson tee-shirt. The only thing that seemed out of place was the gold wedding band the man wore.

"Be with you guys in a second," the bartender's voice rumbled as he served a beer to an oldster at the other end of the bar. If this was Rex, he was indeed worthy of the name. If the situation arose, Dean might actually have hesitated for half a second before picking a fight with the guy.

WWW

Audra, the subordinate female, left her mate's side and watched him sleep. Her stomach growled; she was hungry but she would gladly wait for him to wake up. She loved teaching him to change, to hunt, to kill; but most of all, she loved that he was hers. Months ago, the young man was just a college graduate who, as he aged, would have probably lost his handsome figure and thick golden brown hair. The intelligent spark that shone in his green eyes would have eventually faded out; but she wasn't about to let that happen.

With permission from her father, she'd taken Nathan as her own. She reached an elegant hand out to touch one of her mate's shoulders when her keen ears picked up a sound on the lower level of the decrepit house they lived in. Standing and moving in near silence, she made her way –with what was probably unwarranted caution –to the downstairs.

The outside of the old house looked rather dilapidated, but the inside was livable, homey even. They had running water and heat if they so desired. (Her father was great at finagling that sort of stuff.) Though he had accumulated monetary wealth during his long existence, her father said that their true wealth; the river, the forest, was like them, immortal.

She reached the bottom of the stairs and met eyes with the man…the thing; that was her father.

"Out prowling around?" She asked with a small smile.

Her father yawned and returned her smile. "Cora and I hunted a deer," he said as he and his mate had simply picked something up at a fast food restaurant.

Cora was not at all a mother figure, but a good alpha female nonetheless; and was a match for Audra's father in every way. For that she held Audra's respect.

"I've got a job for you," he said.

Audra raised her eyebrows expecting some minute assignment.

"A hunter showed up yesterday, a redhead," he informed her.

"Yesterday?" she asked. Had the fact that a hunter was on their trail just slipped his mind? "Did you just forget?"

He shrugged wantonly. "There's no way she'll find where we are, but before we kill any more humans, it might behoove us to…get rid of her."

Audra knew that no quarter was to be given to any hunter. She nodded and smiled, happy that her father was trusting her.

"She's in the hotel at the East end of town. Kill her."

Without questioning her father, she turned to walk up the stairs to rouse Nathan when a word popped into her head.

Hubris; she didn't know where it came from but it was there just the same. She would make certain it didn't lead to her father's downfall.

WWW

"How can I help you guys?" the bartender asked Dean and Sam, looking at them curiously as he dried a pint glass.

"Well," Dean began, smiling, "How about two burgers and two beers to start with."

The man nodded; slid open a cooler and sat a beer in front of each Winchester then turned begin cooking burgers. "And some fries…please." Dean said, as though he was unable to believe he'd forgotten to ask for them.

Sam tried to get comfortable on the bar stool, but found it difficult. His legs weren't quite long enough to be able to keep his feet on the floor; and his knees hit the front of the bar if he positioned his feet on the stool's rungs. He settled for slipping his feet behind the rung so that they were positioned directly beneath the seat. He looked over at Dean who was sitting perfectly balanced on his respective stool.

Sam took a swig of his beer; it was cold, refreshing; everything beer commercials on TV said they should be; but he continued to think about Toni.

Toni said she had been in Van Auledge since yesterday and was staying in a hotel much like the one he and Dean were staying in, except it was across town. They had exchanged cell numbers and said their awkward goodbyes. Beneath the young woman's confident veneer, Sam could sense in her sadness and beneath that, seething anger. It made her dangerous to both herself and their mission. He really couldn't help but worry.

WWW

She would have to start making up names rather than using pop-culture icons. Contending with two other hunters was not what Valerie Shay had planned. They were experienced and maybe they'd be useful, but she really didn't want to find out; she just wanted to kill the things –they had to be werewolves –leave Van Auledge behind and find another town…alone. That's the way it would always be for her now; she only hoped she could live with that.

She'd eaten in a pleasant enough diner –undoubtedly family-run –and then headed to the hotel where she now sat on her bed, sharpening a knife and ignoring the droning television. She imagined she looked ridiculous sitting there in her faded, worn jeans, undershirt and boots.

The somber light of the lamp combined with the pink –or perhaps it was salmon –décor was comfortable. The forest-green bag of weaponry she had set on the floor, however, didn't exactly match.

She held the blade up and watched as the lamp and TV light played along its deadly, silver edge; at that moment there was nothing more beautiful to her.

WWW

Dean's stomach was absolutely snarling when he heard the burgers sizzling on the grill. They smelled great. He happily took a long pull on his beer, relishing it as the amber liquid went down his throat.

"So," the bartender said, sliding the burgers to Dean and Sam, "You boys aren't from around here; are you on a hunting trip or something?"

"Actually," Sam began…

Dean chewed his burger, listened and nodded in the appropriate places, allowing Sam to recount their 'business' to the bartender. Dean liked bartenders; they seemed to know things besides just how to pour drinks.

The bartender's already large chest expanded with a sigh at the mention of the murders in his town. "I sure wish I could tell you something besides the fact that it ain't been good for business and all the tall tales I heard as a kid," he said. "Right, Willy?" The bartender turned his attention to the grizzled old man at the opposite end of the bar who, Dean noticed, was eying he and Sam with interest from below a white Stetson.

"Rex," Willy addressed the bartender in as though he were an insubordinate teenager. "You might find that some tales ain't as tall as you think when you've lived to be my age." His voice was surprisingly strong. The words of the old man –who had appeared to Dean to be nothing more than a barfly -held dignity in them.

Rex –Dean congratulated himself for having guessed the bartender's name –looked as though he was going to say something, but Dean cut in. "I'd like to hear some of those stories, sir." He noted that a here-we-go-again expression crossed Rex's face.

Willie nodded; grabbing the Yuengling he'd been nursing and made his way on bowed legs over to the seat next to Dean, who knew that this guy was sober, despite the fact the man had probably already had several beers.

WWW

Valerie hadn't realized she'd dozed off until the banging on her door jilted her awake. She'd fallen asleep with her knife resting on her small stomach, rather than under the pillow where she typically kept it. She quickly put the knife into the sheath on her belt loop, snapped it shut and walked to the door. The knocking came more insistently.

"Who is it?" she asked groggily, knowing that she may very well stab someone if they were offering towels.

"Help, help me please!" came a woman's desperate voice from the other side of the door.

Val snapped completely awake. After stuffing her black .38 handgun into her waistband, she opened the door. A young woman –a little older than Val, maybe –grasped desperately at her arm. Her black hair was disheveled and tears flowed freely from her eyes.

"Please, you have to help me! They took my…my…my boyfriend; they're going to kill him! Please help!" The woman implored her as she pulled at Val's right arm.

"Okay," Val said, peeling the woman's grip from her right arm, although she quickly attached herself to Val's left arm. "Where did they go?" she asked calmly, allowing herself to be led toward danger.

"They went this way," the woman wept as she increased their pace to a jog. They were now well beyond the hotel's parking lot and going into the bordering woods. "They're so horrible!" she whimpered.

The woman didn't even seem to notice when Val drew her gun.

WWW

Despite himself, Sam was enthralled by the way Willy told his story and by the looks of things, others were too. Dean alternated between taking sips of beer and bites of French fries (Dean already finished his burger.) but did not take his eyes off of the old man. Several diners had stopped their conversations to listen. Even Rex was listening with what Sam was sure was concealed enthusiasm. Sam regretted that he and Dean were never able to look on such stories as just that…stories.

Willy had told them about the killings in the eighteen hundreds –nothing there they hadn't read –and then about the killings in the nineties and about the white 'wolf' that people had claimed to see. Sam wondered why he had omitted the killings in the eighties.

When the door to Rex's opened, letting in two paramedics and a rush of cold air, Willy paused in his story.

"Hi, Rex," the female paramedic said as she took a seat and was followed by a younger man; they both looked Dean and Sam over, knowing that they were strangers, but quickly turned their attention back to Rex.

"Hey, Lynn" Rex said. "Burgers and beers?"

Lynn chuckled and shook her head. "I wish," she said. "Just the burgers, please; Kenny and I are still on duty."

Dean and Sam both turned their attention back to Willy, who continued.

"It's been about twenty five years since I saw it." Said Willy, who was staring with gray eyes as though he were looking into the past. "I was in my hunting cabin for the night; my buddy, Slim went out to get firewood. Ten minutes came and went and I thought that maybe he'd had too many beers and had fallen on his ass." The faintest of smiles played across Willy's face; perhaps he was remembering some misadventure he and his friend had had when they were younger.

Willy took his Stetson off and set it on the counter.

"So, I grabbed my boots and flashlight and walked out the door and around the corner." The old man would have appeared as affected as a stone but his eyes misted over almost imperceptibly, betraying his emotion. "The first thing the flashlight beam caught was gray fur and two eyes; they flashed hell-fire red. And the teeth…dear God, they were covered in something…and you know what? The first thing that my mind thought was that it looked like they were covered in cherry syrup." Willy chuckled a cold, humorless chuckle and all the eyes in the bar widened a little bit.

WWW

The woman's crying and pleading had stopped.

Although she didn't want to go too far into the woods at that time of the night, Val continued on, hoping it wasn't too late for the woman's boyfriend. She listened for cries or screams but heard nothing until a deep growl sounded behind her.

Gun in hand Val spun, aiming the .38 in the direction of the noise. All she saw was a flash of golden brown fur in her flashlight's luminance before a fist connected with her jaw, sending Val sprawling backwards and crashing to the ground. Her gun fell from her grip and before she could retrieve it, the woman's foot kicked it beyond her reach. A small noise of denial escaped Val's throat.

Val dumbly shone the flashlight upward into her attacker's face. Cruel, golden eyes shimmered down at her hatefully.

"Hunter," the thing that looked like a woman greeted with a slight nod before maliciously kicking Val's ribcage.

Val bit her lip to keep from crying out in pain. She tried to stand but another kick kept her down. The woman –the thing –walked around in a small circle, clearly gloating.

"My father told us to come get you, a hunter." The woman said as she looked Val over coolly. "But he didn't seem too worried about you and now I know why. You're pathetic."

"Go to Hell," Val gritted out, trying to stand again. The thing didn't try to stop her this time, but crinkled her nose as though Val's suggestion didn't appeal to her.

"I won't," she said, "not for a long time, anyway."

The thing began to circle her. Not to be outdone, Val began to circle as well and unsheathed her silver knife. They looked at one another, absolutely seething. The dark-haired golden-eyed creature attacked first; all limbs and fury. Val slashed downward with her blade, but the blow was blocked.

Before Val could contemplate her next move, claws ripped into her shoulders and spun her around. Green eyes bored into her own and she could only hang there like a rag doll in the animal's grip; she was, at the same time was filled with both awe and terror.

This was a werewolf that had clawed its way out of a movie screen; it was nothing like any she'd ever seen. It snarled viciously at her, letting its hot saliva fleck her face.

With a cry of anger and fear, Val slashed her knife across the beast's chest. It yelped in surprise and threw her. The other wasted no time in lashing out with now pronounced claws, at Val who could now only stumble blindly to where she'd seen her gun fall.

WWW

Dean reached for his plate of fries only to discover they were all gone. It didn't matter. He was listening intently to Willy's story which had by that point in time become fragmented sentences full of confusion.

"I ran back into the cabin and got my gun; it followed. It looked enough like a wolf, but it wasn't; it was so much bigger and its body was…different; it stood on its hind legs and came at me. I shot it. The bullet hit it in the chest and it fell but got back up. It looked at me with this look of pure…hatred. After that I shot it in the head and then I passed out. When I woke up, it was somehow worse than it was at night. There was a man lying on the floor where the thing had fallen. I knew it wasn't a man I shot. I went outside and saw what was left of my old friend. It didn't even feel real, ya know?

"Somehow, I drove to town and when I got back with police ol' Slim's body was the only one there." Willy chuckled again as though saying: Doesn't that beat all?

Willy ran a gnarled hand through his mostly gray beard and sighed wearily.

"I know how crazy it sounds, young man," Willy said, addressing Dean. "I kept quiet about what I really saw back then, but maybe I just don't care anymore." Willy drained the rest of his beer; it was clear the story was over.

"Alright, Willy," Rex interjected; albeit a little too late to allow the rest of the patrons a restful slumber. "Maybe you should head on home."

Willy stood, seemingly drained. "I reckon you're right," he said, putting his hat back on his head and walking out the door, leaving silence in his wake.

After a few moments Dean spoke up. "Should that guy be driving home?"

Rex waved a dismissive hand. "Willy lives just a little ways down the road. He'll go home and sleep it off." As though Rex's pronouncement made everything better, the few customers began carrying on hushed conversations. "Willy's a good guy," Rex continued. "Those werewolf stories are just…"

"Freaky?" Dean finished.

"Exactly."

"So they really never found a body?" Sam asked, finally making some noise. Dean noticed that his burger was only half-eaten.

Rex crossed his arms over his chest and sighed. "Not that I can remember. I was twelve or thirteen when it happened. It was confirmed that a wild animal killed Slim, though. Only one other person was found killed like that that year and then there were a few more in the nineties; it hasn't happened again since…well, you know."

After a few moments of contemplative quiet, Rex asked, "Can I get you guys anything?"

Dean opened his mouth to ask for another beer and more fries, but before he could, a static-laden voice crackled over the woman paramedic's walkie-talkie.

"Unit two, come in, we have a Code Three Emergency at Freemont's Hotel; it's an apparent animal attack."

"Unit two responding," Lynn practically yelled into the walkie-talkie. "E.T.A., five minutes."

Dean and Sam looked at each other. 'Toni,' Sam mouthed as his brow knit with worry.

The paramedics, Lynn and Kenny, flew out the door; Dean slapped a twenty onto the counter, and he and Sam ran after them, leaving a bar of wide-eyed townspeople behind.

Shortly after the ambulance's lights began flashing in a red and blue frenzy, Dean twisted the key in the classic car's ignition. A fast beat blared in the Impala and James Hetfield yowled with conviction:

"…So seek the wolf in thyself

Shape shift nose to the wind
Shape shift feeling I've been
Move swift all senses clean
Earth's gift
Back to the meaning of wolf and man."

Without even looking down, Dean jabbed the STOP/EJECT button on the tape player and wedged his foot down harder on the accelerator.

"Dude," Sam said, looking out the windshield at the speeding white vehicle ahead of them. "That's just wrong."

A/N: Thanks for reading! Reviews would be lovely; let me know what you liked (or didn't like, for that matter). The only references that weren't really explained in this chapter were: When Dean called Toni/Val and Sam Ginger and Brigitte, the main characters in the Ginger Snaps series. The song quote toward the end of the chapter that was 'werewolfy' was from Of Wolf and Man by (you guessed it) Metallica.