A/N: Thanks to everyone who is sticking by me on this one. I've seen lots of returning names and familiar people and also lots of new readers. It's really humbling and I'm grateful. This chapter is a little shorter than the others, it's the start of the hunt. Angst and action begin next chapter. I'll update tomorrow. Enjoy!

A/N2: Anything that seems off about the other people or any coming rescue efforts are because I didn't do any research, I'm up to my ears in it now for the rest of the fic!

Chapter 4

Everett, Washington twenty-two hours later.

Sam pulled into another ratty motel room, the Impala coming to a rumbling stop behind Bobby's blue Ford and John's big black GMC. He hated the furious pace that his dad had set, but bit his tongue on the long drive and allowed his brother to sleep for a few hours after Dean had driven for the first ten with only stops for food and gas. He killed the engine and Dean startled awake at the sudden lack of sound. "We here?" he asked.

"Yep. Everett Washington. The attacks occurred at a system of caves about twenty minutes from here. Pretty brutal according to Bobby. Dad hasn't said anything about them but Bobby thinks it's something like the Squaw Peak, Arizona thing. Only this one's a little more than just a scare for people who go into the cave."

"Wasn't The Squaw Peak thing rumored to be a corpse that came back to life and guarded the entrance of the cave so the white men who killed the Indians hiding there would be afraid to come back?"

"Yeah, it was said white men on the warpath killed a tribe that had taken refuge in that cave that the corpse rose and took a seat on a ledge at the entrance and scared off anyone who tried to explore the cave. To keep the spelunkers from robbing and desecrating the bodies of the Indians that are still there. Apparently it was pretty gruesome. The descendants of those Indians who survived searched the cave and found all the remains, giving them proper burials and no one has seen the corpse to date."

"So dad thinks this could be something like that and it doesn't like the spelunkers explorin' the cave system?"

"That's what Bobby says. I can't get jack outta dad, and I'm done tryin'."

Bobby knocked on the driver's side window and Sam rolled it down, the cold December air hitting him and making him shiver. "Here's a key to one of the rooms. You and Dean take it and get some shut eye. Your dad wants to find out when the research team is goin' back in and I'm goin' along to keep his ass outta deep crap."

"You'll call us when you get something so we can meet you before you take this thing?" Dean asked, leaning over to look at his old friend as he asked the question.

"I'll call. I'll keep your idjit dad outta trouble too. Get some sleep."

"Be careful Bobby." Sam said quietly. Dean and Sam got out of the Impala and gathered their bags, using the key Bobby gave them to unlock the door to room eighteen. They went in and Dean dropped his duffle at the foot of the bed, kicked off his boots again, and flopped onto the bed. Sam looked at his big brother and dropped his own bag on the bed. "I'm gonna take a shower." He told Dean, reaching into the green canvas duffle and removing some clean jeans, a t-shirt, hoodie, boxers and socks. He kicked off his shoes and padded in his sock feet across the threadbare motel carpet to the small bathroom situated in the corner of the room. He flicked on the light and looked at his tired visage in the mirror. Stripping off his flannel and t-shirt he looked back at himself from the mirror and took in the nearly faded scars from the last time his father forced him into a hunt like this. The eight claw marks that marred his lean but muscular torso just below his ribs and on his lower abs. The lower ones were more pronounced yet because of the infection that had festered there and allowed worse scars to form. He traced the scars, following the now familiar lines and a bad feeling about this hunt wedged itself into the pit of his stomach, like he'd swallowed a brick. He slipped out of his jeans and socks. Dropping his boxers and moving over to the shower he turned on the hot water and hoped it would wash away the chill that had nothing to do with the December weather.

He climbed out of the shower when the water started to cool. Dressing in the clothes he'd brought in, he went out to find Dean already asleep with a hand tucked up under his pillow. Sam knew Dean's fingers were curled loosely around the hilt of his favorite hunting knife. He also knew that although Dean appeared sound asleep, the slightest out of place noise would have him fully alert before the noise stopped. Sam lay down on his bed and hoped for sleep to come. He finally succumbed in the early hours of the morning, worry about the pending hunt keeping real rest at bay.

At two p.m. Dean was woken by a shuffling noise outside their motel room followed closely by the grating sound of metal against metal before the door opened and his father and Bobby came in. "Dad, what's goin' on?" Dean asked, sitting up as he took in his father's angry features. Sam sat up too, woken by the same noises and then Dean's voice. "That damn thing killed every member of the third research team. The game hunter they took in was the first to go, literally ripped to pieces. That's thirteen people in two weeks. This thing has got to be stopped. NOW! Get dressed, both of you. Warm. We're going after that thing, today."

"Yes sir." Sam and Dean said in unison, both getting up from the bed and dressing in several layers. Dean added a long sleeved cotton shirt over his t-shirt, both black, and put his flannel on that he'd worn on the drive. He slid out of his jeans and put on thermal bottoms before shimmying back into the tighter denim. Then he put on two pairs of clean socks and laced his boots tightly. Sam echoed the motions, putting on thermal bottoms before pulling his jeans back on, two pairs of socks and the hiking boots he'd brought along. They got into heavy coats and tucked gloves and knit hats into pockets. Going outside Dean rummaged through the trunk of the Impala, pulling out a knife in a sheath which he strapped to his wrist. He also pulled his Colt and a couple clips along with Sam's .45, spare ammo, and hunting knife. Dean fired his dad's truck, but left the Impala quiet, knowing she would be going nowhere given the six inches of new snow he brushed off his dad's black truck. Bobby came out, dressed warmer than normal also and then headed to his truck, firing its rumbling engine; he brushed the accumulation off it too. Sam came out and walked to where Dean stood at the front of John's truck. He stopped next to his big brother and leaned against the fender, his shoulder bumping with Dean's.

"You okay Sammy?"

"Yeah." Sam stood straight as John came out of the room, bundled in the same heavy clothes the rest of them wore.

"Load up." he barked. Sam and Dean headed for the truck and John came over and climbed into the driver's seat. He shifted the rumbling truck into gear and pulled out, kicking up snow with the spinning tires. It took them thirty five minutes to reach the trail that led to the cave, the cavers' vehicles and rescue services parked at the head of the trail that led to the yawning maw that gaped at them from the side of the mountain. Rescue services had some ATV's with rigs and lights shining into the mouth of the cave. The four hunters watched the scene unfold, just in time to see two rescue workers run from the mouth of the cave. One began shouting while the other hit his knees and retched, his lunch steaming in the cold snow.

"Dean, glove box." John barked. Dean reached in and pulled out a cigar box that housed his father's fake ID's. John rummaged through and pulled out one reading John Waits, Washington Department of Fish and Game. "Stay here." He told the boys and got out of his truck. Bobby followed suit and let John flash the ID and do the talking.

"What's goin' on fellas?" John asked when everyone bought into his identity and the two men settled down some.

"It's awful. We went in to recover the last bodies, the hunter and Renee Wilson, the lead on this crew. They are…" the man who'd thrown up gagged again, "ripped to pieces. I mean we can't tell what part belongs to which person. I'm not goin' back in there." The man stood on shaky legs and glared at the leader of the rescue team as he spoke.

"We have to get those bodies outta there."

"I am not going back in there." The shaky man said, carefully enunciating every word.

"I'm not giving you a choice. Those people had families that want them recovered."

"You are giving me a choice. I quit." The man shrieked, throwing his hard hat to the snowy ground with a soft thwack.

"Look, Officer…"

"Morris."

"I have a team ready to go in and make these caves safe from the animal or animals that are killing people. If your team will vacate the premises for the time being to let us destroy the animal then I can assure you, your team will be able to come back in safely to collect the fallen members of the research team." John said, his Marine background giving him the unmistakable authoritative tone that made the other officer back down.

"I'll give your crew twenty four hours to rid these caves of that animal. Regardless of weather conditions and the cavern environment being one to maintain the condition of the bodies I will not give scavengers a chance to mutilate those people. They were my friends and I'll not dishonor them and add further hurt to their broken families by allowing varmints to chew on them." The officer turned to the other remaining members of Rescue Services. "Alright everybody, let's head back to base." The crew men all seemed to breathe easier and packed up the gear, some heading back down the trail on foot while two took the ATVs. The officer looked at John again. "Here, you might need this to find those animals. It's a copy of the map that the research teams have made so far. Each group got a little further into the cavern but the map ends with the last group. Good luck." The man joined his crew on the trek back to the vehicles from the road.

Dean saw people coming around the bend in the trail and shoved Sam's head down below the door panel, following him down so they wouldn't be seen. He knew from the uniforms and the gear that they lugged with them that they were from Rescue Services and that it wouldn't be a good thing for them to be spotted. They got in their respective rigs and ambulances and fired engines, heading from the trail head back to Everett. Dean sat up when the sound from the last engine faded and allowed Sam to do the same. Shortly after he saw Bobby and John emerge from the trail and walk over to them.

"Okay boys, we have twenty four hours to end this thing and get outta here before they come back. Let's get some gear and head in." Dean jumped from the truck, instantly obeying John and went to the tailgate with his father, who used a key from his pocket to open his weapons locker that was kept under the bed cover. The large box opened to reveal an arsenal, all organized neatly and encased in form fitting foam liner that ran the length and width of the black metal locker from wall to wall. John pulled out a sawed-off shotgun and passed it to Dean, taking a rifle for himself. He held out another sawed-off to Sam, who shook his head and pulled his .45 from his waistband. Bobby reached over Dean's shoulder and took the sawed-off. Everyone took a deep breath and began walking up the trail to the black hole that held something evil.

A/N: That's it for tonight. Please hit that little button and let me know you're still reading!