Disclaimer: The boys don't belong to me. Neither do the lines most, if not all, of you will undoubtedly recognise. Just borrowing, mixing it up and returning in much the same state as it was loaned.
Warning: Bit more swearing. And, from here on, the story might have general spoilers for season 1 that I've sprinkled in there. Nothing too serious, but yeah.
Author's Note: Two chapters tonight, since chapter 3 seemed a bit… well, not enough to thank those still reading. So here you go, chapter 4.
Chapter 4: The Hunt
Dean shrugged underneath his coat, frustrated and angry as he stalked the forest near Kelton. Sam moved stealthily behind him. They both had their guns, complete with silver bullets, up and ready.
The rain poured down, the wind tried to push them over, and the shadows of the trees jumped out at them from the night. Dean already felt annoyed as it was, with Sam's strange behaviour on the long drive here and all day today. Biting remarks, incredulous looks… just things that Sam would never have done. And he had seemed almost bored with the research they had had to do. Sammy, the geek of all geeks.
They had arrived in Kelton the night before, waking the displeased attendant who almost refused them a room despite the fact that the motel was twenty-four hour. From there Dean's mood had only worsened. Sam had woken him three times in the night to complain of his snoring, which Dean was sure wasn't actually true. Then he had had to go and get breakfast, most of which was eaten by Sam. The kid had a sudden appetite like none that Dean had seen him have before. And while normally he would have been pleased… this sudden change was just strange.
So now Dean was looking forward to shooting a few werewolves. His grip tightened on his gun.
He knew, from the research, that the den had to be around this section of forest somewhere. And though he couldn't see it past the dark storm clouds, the full moon was high above, which meant they would be around tonight.
He was rewarded with a sudden flash of movement in the trees to his right. He paused, turning slightly on the balls of his feet, and pointing the gun at the trees where the movement had been.
"Did you see that Sammy?" he asked quietly, though he couldn't whisper above the rain.
There was no answer.
"Sammy?" Dean said a little louder. Still no answer.
Fear started to seep into him. He turned slightly, keeping one eye on the forest. The other searched for his little brother. And came up empty-handed. Or empty-eyed anyway.
"Sam?" Dean shouted frantically before he could get a hold on himself. He cursed as he realized he had just given away his position. Well, he supposed it didn't matter now. He needed to find Sam. There were maybe three werewolves out there, and one was hard enough to handle.
He moved away, trying to find any sign of Sam while keeping his hearing trained on the noises in the forest. He knew he should have kept at least one eye on the forest; he would never hear a werewolf coming, not above the rain. But he didn't care. He had to find Sam.
He moved deeper into the forest, off the deer trail he and Sam had been following. But no matter how hard he searched, he couldn't find a single trace of Sam. The rain was washing all tracks away.
He moved forward nevertheless, gun up, senses on alert. He wished it wasn't raining.
A branch snapping was all the warning he had. He heard it to his right and spun, seeing the werewolf leaping just in time. He swung his gun around and the shot echoed in the night.
The werewolf crashed two feet from him, sliding slightly in the mud before coming to rest at the base of a tree. Dean let his breath loose, shaking slightly and moving forward once more. He was just glad to see his aim hadn't been impaired. Obviously the bullet had speared the creature's heart.
He crept on, breathing shallowly. And then a flash of light – lightning – made him turn with shock. And there, in the after effect of the flash, was his little brother, silhouetted by yet another strike.
Dean ran to him, but a growl to his left made him stop. He turned, but too late as the werewolf barrelled into him. He fell to the ground, sinking slightly in the mud, and knocking his elbow on a tree root. The jar made the gun fly from his hand and land three feet away.
Dean had no time to think about it. He put his hands up and grabbed the werewolf by the side of its face, digging into the thick fur hiding a once human body.
But the werewolf was stronger than him, aided by supernatural forces. The distance between Dean's face and its teeth closed steadily.
"NO!" someone suddenly screamed, and Dean couldn't place who it was for a moment. It sounded familiar, but it was a thick tone, of someone struggling to speak through choked emotion.
He lost the chance to think about it further as what felt like wind ruffled his hair. The breeze did much more than ruffle the werewolf though – the monster flew off of Dean, yelping with shock and then pain as it hit a tree. There was a resounding snap as ribs broke and it fell to the ground, whimpering in pain.
Dean wasted no time. He grabbed his gun and stood, ignoring the twinge in his own ribs. He walked slowly to the injured beast and then, with no remorse at all, put it out of its misery with a single shot to the heart.
He turned, feeling suddenly drained. Then his jaw dropped as he saw Sam fall to his knees. He couldn't move, glued to the spot, as Sam grabbed at his head and began screaming, wordlessly at first.
"Sam!" Dean shouted. The younger man looked up and Dean gasped at the blood leaking from his nose. Then it hit him. Sam had used telekinesis to get the werewolf off of him and it had hurt him badly.
"Sam!" he shouted again, suddenly finding movement. Sam looked up again, eyes in pain and…
Dean could have sworn they flashed gold in the next lightning strike.
Sam's screams cut off as the third werewolf came charging from nowhere and tackled Sam where he knelt. Sam didn't have a chance to fight back, not at first anyway, and the beast bit down on his shoulder.
Dean was there in an instant, coming in with a kick that sent the werewolf sprawling. Then, as soon as it was off his brother, he brought the gun up and fired once, twice, three times at its heart.
The forest was eerily silent above the rain as the beast groaned once and then died.
Dean kept a hold of his gun in one hand, and then rushed to where Sam was moaning and holding his shoulder.
"Sammy, you all right?" he asked frantically. Sam scowled up at him. His eyes were brown, and Dean rationalized that he was going crazy.
"Does it look like I'm all right?" he spat back. "A fucking werewolf bit me, genius. I'm far from all right!"
Dean was taken aback by the venom in his little brother's words. But he decided to ignore it. Sam was obviously in one of those moods he used to get in when they were kids. A prolonged one.
"Come on, let's get back to the motel, patch you up."
Now this was new, Sam decided as he watched through his own eyes without being able to move them. He could feel the bite, but it didn't hurt. At least, it didn't hurt him.
The demon was in shock. Never before had it been attacked, so used was it by the superior status and fear it inspired in all other creatures. Never before had it had a physical injury.
And that made Sam happy.
He, through the demon, had felt the werewolves the instant they had arrived in Kelton. The demon had laughed at them, sneered at their presence from that same moment. Sam had questioned it about the mood, and it had surprisingly explained.
Werewolves were inferior, outcasts. Demons who had lost sense of what they wanted and so resorted to the one thing they did best. Killing. They were demons overcome by the monster within them. Or at least, the original ones had been. Now, they spread their insanity by biting, spread their disease.
It hadn't been too impressed by the creatures.
Now it was angry. Angry at itself for underestimating its opponent, aka Sam.
Sam had been suspecting it was up to something since they had left Georgia. And when the demon took his body and turned it off the track, he had realized. He had realized it was going to try and get Dean killed. Apparently Dean's snoring was bugging the hell out of it.
It had crept through the forest, watching Dean from deep within the trees. A werewolf, then two, had approached it, and then backed off slightly. Sam had felt the fear grip him when the demon gave the beasts orders.
"Kill the human," it had told them in Sam's voice. And Sam had screamed inside his own head. Even Dean couldn't take on three werewolves. Of course he would try. And he would fail, wondering where his little brother was, and why Sam wasn't coming to his rescue.
Well, Sam wasn't about to have that. He fought and had managed to regain some control by the time Dean appeared and took out the first werewolf. Then the older man had seen his brother, standing there. And hadn't seen the second werewolf.
The demon had been too intent on Dean's almost certain demise, and Sam used the distraction. Completely within his own head, he attacked his captor once more, using his fear and anger to fuel his strength. And it had worked. He had managed to take control of his telekinesis and had blasted the werewolf from Dean.
The demon, of course, had fought back instantly, tormenting Sam, not with pain, but with images. Memories from its point of view. The mental agony had driven his body to his knees, clutching unprovoked at his head.
Sam had tried to ignore the sense of satisfaction as he watched his mother and Jessica burn above his head, and had succeeded to some degree. But he hadn't managed to warn Dean. Not before the werewolf, called by the demon itself, had attacked him.
Well, he had managed to keep Dean alive, something which grated the demon to no end. The bad news was that he was getting weaker. The attack on the demon had taken a lot of strength from him. He didn't know how much more he had. And the demon had plenty of time.
He felt the car slowing down, and the demon looked around with his eyes. They were back at the motel.
He felt the demon wince as it got from the car. He knew it didn't actually hurt the demon. Not more than injured pride anyway. But he had to look like Sam. And Sam would be wincing.
"Come on, let's get you cleaned up," Dean spoke above the slowing rain. The demon nodded, but Sam suddenly felt hope. Dean would use holy water to clean the wound. And demons didn't like holy water.
He laughed before he could help himself. To his surprise though the demon only sneered at him.
You think holy water will work on something like me, boy? it asked, shocking Sam into silence. Wait and see, hunter. I'll wince to make your idiot brother think you're still in your pathetic little body, but it won't hurt me. Nothing can hurt me.
Sam didn't answer, too devastated by the sudden loss of hope. It hurt like a bitch. The demon laughed at him.
Poor human boy. You so want to be free. It's not going to happen. I'll rule your body for eternity and you'll be stuck in your own mind, watching as I destroy everything you love.
Why me? Sam suddenly screamed as the demon made his body sit on his bed. Why take me? Why kill my mother, my girlfriend! You killed them! You did! I'll kill you, I'll take your pathetic excuse for a fucking body and strangle it! I'll make you pay, you fucking sick bastard!
For an answer the demon only laughed, knowing it was so much closer to everything it had ever dreamed of.
So, there you go. Just want to mention once more, that my Dean and Sam have never met the demon and therefore have no clue about its eyes.