Here it is…this took a long time to get right, and this is still probably my iffiest chapter. I'll update again before the end of the week. All disclaimers still apply…

Review at the end, please! Tell me if it went as you thought it would!

Love from the fairytalemanipulator…

Chapter Nine: The Battle Part One

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"It's time."

The words were spoken so soft and so low that Sam cocked his head at his father. John nodded, gesturing towards the sky. As Sam peered up, he could see clearly the outline of the trees above him.

The moon had come out.

"Lock and load," came the order. There was a simultaneous clicking as each checked his own load of ammunition and guns. Dean took a breath, letting it out along with a prayer.

Please, keep Sammy safe. Keep us all safe; but just watch out for him, 'kay? He's not that big of a boy yet.

"Dean?"

"Yeah. I'm ready." His mouth set into a grim line as he watched his father handle the rifle. John was favoring his left leg as he moved quietly to the edge of the clearing. Damn it. Damn it all to hell.

Dean felt the weight of the clips in his pocket, knowing that they were precious commodities and had to be used with discretion. Sam didn't speak, but he seemed to be watching Dean.

For some reason, Dean had a bad feeling about this. He was used to taking risks, but this was bordering on suicide. Something's going to go wrong. The morbid thoughts cropped up in his head, and he just couldn't shake them off.

Turning towards his brother, Dean stuck out his tongue childishly, hoping to ease his nerves. Sam grinned, sticking out his own tongue in return. John watched them out of the corner of his eye as they moved closer to him.

Brothers. What else can you say?

"Okay, boys. When I say go, we charge in there, because there's no way to handle this quietly. We follow the plan to the tee, you understand? And if anything goes wrong…" John paused, looking his sons in the eyes. "Run."

They nodded, and turned away from their father. John took the moment to look at his boys. Mary's boys. His head swam for a second in memories, in fear, in sadness.

John shook it off. Can't afford weakness. All of a sudden, he wasn't a father. He was a commander.

"There's one guarding the leader, and two just prowling about. The rest must be out; but they'll be close. Remember- shoot them in the head. It's the only way for sure that they'll go down. And they can pop out of anywhere. So be ready, you hear?"

Dean and Sam nodded soundlessly, fingers poised over triggers. Sam knew that this was a matter of life and death; he would never admit it, but he was glad to finally be a part of something big. Not like I had a choice, anyways.

It was then that they heard a growl, and a snuffle coming from right ahead of them. John didn't need to say anything for the teens to figure out what happened.

Shit. They smelled us.

John mouthed words to his sons in the cover of darkness, with the boys leaning in close.

"Wait. Wait for him."

Sam stared straight ahead, watching and waiting, just like John had said. His lips parted in concentration, with his tongue hovering to the corner of his mouth. He was, however, distracted by the pattern of the bark on the trees. Whoa. That's kinda cool.

Wow. How much blood did I lose? Sam shook himself out of his daze, raising his head.

He was paralyzed by fear with what he saw. Instead of tree bark, there were two glowing yellow eyes. Where there should have been pupils, there were glowing red caverns of rage.

"Sam!"

Sam had no idea which one of them shouted his name, as he was temporarily deafened by the sound of the gun in his hand releasing its bullet. It found its mark, in the middle of the massive forehead—and the silver in the bullet apparently worked just fine on these magical werewolves.

All three stood, guns aimed in the direction that they expected to see werewolves charging out of. Yet—

"What the fuck?" Dean's voice rang out across the suddenly-empty area. He voiced what the other two had been wondering in milder language.

"Dean," John said distractedly.

"Sorry,"

"What the…" John didn't get to finish his sentence before a blow to the back of his head sent him sprawling.

"Dad! Shit!" Dean turned, landing on his bruised back as he lost his footing across tree roots. The werewolf leered over him, eyes shiny with the malice of a predator.

Dean didn't give it a chance to kill, however, as with one shot to the forehead the werewolf landed right beside him, eyes glazed and wide open.

"Dean," John struggled to his feet, with Sam right beside him. "That was too easy. It's been too easy so far,"

"I know," Dean didn't let his guard down, as he searched the area for more surprises. "Where the hell did they go?"

"They have powers, Dean, powers that they use for their own gain,"

"You mean they can go wherever they want, and do whatever they want…"

"But apparently they die very easily," Sam said thoughtfully, eyeing the body of the werewolf. It still retained its werewolf shape, and Sam was grateful for that. He didn't know if he could handle looking at another dead person. Helluva day.

"Maybe that's, like, their punishment. For having those 'powers' or whatever," Dean pondered to himself. "Like those banshees up in Harlem. They decided to amplify their own power using a spell, but the catch was that they could be offed a lot easier,"

"Pretty big words there, Dean," Sam snarked, catching a look from his father.

"This isn't the time for that, Sammy. Dean, they couldn't have gone far. We'll split up. You two stick together."

Dean opened his mouth to protest, but before he could say anything his father cut in.

"I don't want to hear it, Dean. We'll split up, we'll cover more ground that way,"

Since when has splitting up ever worked for us? Dean thought in frustration, watching his father limp heavily through the undergrowth of the forest.

"Since when has splitting up ever worked for us?" Sam asked Dean quietly, making him jump. He stared at Sam until his brother shifted uncomfortably.

"Come on, stick close," Dean brushed off the worries, concentrating on the path ahead. It was getting increasingly harder to ignore the way his skin stretched across his back, tightened by the drying blood. It was also difficult to see his brother's eyes glazing every few minutes.

"Sammy. Keep going," Dean said lowly to his dawdling brother. He started in response, glancing up with a gaze of confusion.

Dean sighed as he waited for Sam to catch up. Whose bright idea was this? Oh yeah.

Mine.

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