A/N: Warning: mild gore ahead.

There was little point in a possession at the moment: the Winchester boy's father was unwittingly providing as fair a test of mettle as Ruby could envisage. She hovered idly during Sam's school day, watching him turn again and again to check over his shoulder, as though there were a glint or shadow in the periphery of his vision. The amusement of that didn't last long, and the time was not instructive. The other students avoided Sam, and he avoided their eyes. One young, naïve math teacher of the bleeding heart persuasion attempted to ask Sam about his weekend, and how things were at home. when Sam handed in his assignment. He answered her with an implacable, 'Fine, thank you', and the woman watched him leave with a thoughtful, sweetly-sad expression.

Ruby retreated and conserved energy until nightfall. Then, she tracked the black Impala from its place by the apartment to the borders of the dense forest outside the city limits. The moon was half-obscured with misty cloud, and the darkness heavy. Snow was fresh on the ground, but not falling. Ruby remembered the feel of snow, fresh and biting and clear. The forest hulked black and impenetrable, branches scraping and rustling against each other in the wind.
Ruby entered the car through the air vent, and Sam jumped. The father gave him a tight look in the rearview mirror, and the brother reached back from the front seat and punched him in filial reassurance. All three were dressed for the night and the weather.

"Alright," said the father. That was apparently the signal to move, as the boys got out promptly and the older oy opened the trunk of the car. The three distributed guns without comment, movements brisk and efficient. Ruby could feel the fear radiating from Sam, and she felt – disappointed. Which was stupid. The vessel she should want was the one most suitable, most perfect. (What did it matter if she felt for this boy, just a little bit, with his hard, distant, inexplicable father?)

"Dean, circle round and take Sam to the north-east mark we put down last night – I'll take the south-west. You have thirty minutes to get there: at 22:30 we start moving in. Regroup at the nest site at 23:00. Keep your eyes peeled for fresh kills, droppings or other new marks. This is just a reconnaissance mission, Sammy. There's probably none left out there."
Sam nodded tightly and looked at the ground.
"That's yes, sir," said the father.
"Yes, sir."
Something changed in the father's face. He said,
"Hey…you perform well tonight, you can sleep in tomorrow. We'll skip the 06:00 run. How about that?"
Sam shrugged and his brother knocked into him, as though to repeat the question, or perhaps demand a response.
"Yes sir," Sam said again.
"Move out," said the father, and Ruby followed the boys, with a moment of regret because the father was really starting to piss her off, and she would've enjoyed landing a tree branch on his head or some similar act of malevolence.

The 'mark' turned out to be an X, grooved deeply into the tree trunk. Sam followed his brother to it, his eyes more on his feet and than the foilage, despite Dean's repeated sharp reminders to look out, to be careful, to listen.
"How am I supposed to listen with you bitching at me all the time?"
"Get your head in the game and I won't have to bitch. Bitch." The older boy grinned at his own repetition.
"So funny I forgot to laugh," Sam said, and Ruby shared his sentiment.
"Okay," said Dean when they reached the X. "Five minutes. Then we're heading into their hunting ground." He had changed, suddenly. Intent. "Let me see your gun."
"It's fine."
"Show me then."
Dean checked the small, lightweight hunting rifle was loaded correctly, then gave it back to his brother.
"Now you stay close, and you keep your guard up. Dad wasn't kidding when he said these aren't puppy dogs. If in doubt, you fire, and ask questions later."
Sam nodded.

And they started to track. Seeing her chance, Ruby slid into the body of an owl, silent and brooding in a tree bole. She blinked her new eyes, appreciating her sharp sight and profound hearing, and ignored Lilith's vague tug of disgust. Silently she tracked the trackers. She admitted a gruding professionsal respect for the elder boy – one killer to another. He was utterly focused, intent on prey, yet always aware of the younger child behind him. There were no sounds other than the wind and the woods, the odd bird call, the rustle of a rabbit. The older boy cocked his rifle at that; but the creature slipped away, moon briefly catching its leporid bound, and he lowered his gun. Breathed out.

A heady, rich scent filled Ruby's owl-senses, and she thought, 'meat', as Sam stopped short. He gasped and Dean extended an arm in front of him, abrupt and automatic.
"Old," said Dean, and they breathed out in tandem, eyes on the part-frozen corpse of a fox, fur and flesh ripped open by a larger predator. Blood soaked into the forest floor, frozen where it had congealed, and an army of cold-hardy insects feasted on the remains. The owl-drive urged her dive and eat, but she resisted in case they were startled at shot this useful body.

"Alright," said Dean, when the moon had travelled, and the owl was urging her that the prime time for hunting had started: "That was the nest." He gestured with his gun towards an open tree bole, leading down into what must have been a den. Dark blood stained the leaves around the opening, illuminated briefly as the moon slid from behind a cloud. Nearby, the remains of a pyre lay, black char part-covered by snow. "Hey, we beat dad."
"You shot them in the den," Sam said disgustedly.
"Yeah, the pups. What? Trust me, dude…if you'd seen the parents….hey! What's that face for? Don't you pick now to go all fucking PETA about this! Give those things a year and they will rip you into shreds, you understand me? You want them breeding out here?"
"Dean…" Sam was staring, wide-eyed, at the bushes behind his brother. An immature tailypo, more than a pup, but less than a full-grown, was poised, muscles tensed, in the undergrowth. It was watching the boys with its lips drawn back, emitting a low growl. The thing was lupine, dark-furred, glowing eyed, not as brawny as Ruby knew it would grow, but with glinting claws fully developed.
"Shoot it," said Dean quietly, not turning round, but knowing full well what his brother was staring at. Shaking, Sam raised his rifle and sighted. Ruby held herself still, anticipating.
"It's not moving," Sam whispered. "I think it – I don't think it's going to attack."
"Shoot. It," said Dean through gritted teeth.
The tailypo cringed a little.
"I – think it's scared. It's the last one!"
Ruby deflated in disappointment. This was not the Vessel. Well, it was silly to get attached. They were means to an end, nothing more. Talley's strength, hardness, realism was needed. She felt Lilith's thrum of satisfaction, her thoughts already turning to ways to destroy the would-be soldier.
"I can't," said Sam shakily, and Ruby prepared to depart. Then a massive, huge-muscled adult tailypo sprang from the trees at the further side of the clearing, slamming heavily into Winchesters, and she stayed to see what would happen.