Sorry about the shortness of this chapter, but those of you who want answers are in for a treat!
Oh, and a lot of people have noticed that I enjoy selfish!Sammy and neglectful!John. They make for good Dean angst. Don't worry, though. I'm sure Sam will come around :)
A chilling howl cut through the darkness as Sam slid fluidly through the forest, gun at the ready. The first murders in the town had occurred a couple of days before he'd arrived, meaning that he had less than a week to track down the wolf and kill it. The good news was that the thing had staked a claim in a section of forest at the edge of town, and all of the murders were in that area.
Behind him, Sammy heard a twig snap. He spun around, gun aimed at the bushes. He saw a flash of amber and heard a rustle, but that was it. Carefully, he turned back and continued walking in the original direction, heading deeper into the forest.
Another twig snapped, this one closer, and Sam spun again. Bright blue eyes bored into him as he found himself face-to-snout with the werewolf. With a snarl, the wolf reached up with a large paw-like hand and smacked the gun out of the hunter's grasp while he was still in shock.
The feeling of the monster's paw against his hand brought Sammy out of his stupor and he turned and ran, still heading deeper into the forest. He could hear the thing running after him, hear it snarling and lashing its teeth, and knew that he was done for unless he could lose it.
Sam skidded to a stop when he reached a large rock formation that blocked his path. He spun around, back pressing painfully against the jagged cliff, cursing himself for not thinking to bring another gun. It had never been a problem when he was hunting with Dean. The older man had always had his back.
The wolf came slowly out of the forest, baring its sharp white teeth in a sort of sick smile. It stood on its two hind legs, legs that were heavily muscled. Its tail twitched behind it, anticipating the kill. It flexed its hands, opening and closing them, getting ready to rip into the hunter with wicked claws.
It was almost to the rocks, almost to Sam, blue eyes shining out of its dark grey face, licking its lips, itching for the kill. Suddenly, it stopped. Its long ears perked up and its head turned.
Sam pressed himself up farther against the cliff, looking to his left and right for a way out. What he saw as he did his sweep made him gasp.
Another wolf was standing in the trees. It was taller than the first one, better built, and looked more dangerous. Bright amber eyes shone in the moonlight as it took in the scene before it. The eyes lingered on Sam for a long time before the wolf opened its mouth to reveal wicked fangs.
It jumped from the cover of the trees, a sandy flash under the moon, and pounced on the first wolf. The two creatures went down, the second, apparently more able, one gaining the upper hand quickly.
Sam watched with fascination as the wolves fought over him, slashing and biting and clawing. Fur flew. The first wolf reached across and cut open the other one's face, eliciting a howl of pain and rage. The second one sunk its teeth into the back of the grey one's neck, also causing a howl of pain.
They struggled for what seemed to be an eternity before the grey one, the one that had chased Sam through the forest, finally ran off, yelping.
Sammy sank down to the ground, still leaning up against the rocks, relief washing over him. The wolf that had originally attacked him was gone. He was safe. And then he remembered the other one.
The sand-colored wolf was staring at him with intelligent eyes. Sam stared back, swallowing hard, again wishing that he'd thought to bring another gun, or a knife, or anything.
The wolf took a step forward, bringing its head down a little, its tail wagging spastically. Sam pushed himself back against the cliff, breathing fast. The wolf took another step, holding out one furry, clawed hand toward him. Sam stumbled sideways, trying to get away.
With a snort, the werewolf dropped its hand, shoulders slumping and tail standing still as something like sadness flooded its features. It bared its teeth in what might have been a grin, winked, turned, and ran back into the forest.
Sammy stared after it, too shocked to wonder why it hadn't eaten him. It had grinned. It had winked. That wasn't the most disturbing thing, though. As it had turned, something around the wolf's neck had caught the moonlight, which had glinted brightly as it was reflected. It was wearing a necklace, a necklace with horns and a face and a black leather cord.
"Dean," Sam whispered, slowly gaining his feet and stumbling back through the forest, constantly aware of the sensation that something was watching him.