Disclaimer: I don't own anything Supernatural and I am not making any profits off of this story. It all belongs to the CW and Eric Kripke so, please don't sue and please don't be offended by the language or situations the characters find themselves in.
personal not: Listen to the 300 official movie soundtrack, track number 04: Returns a King at the end of this chapter for some added effect.
Chapter 4
Snow, soft and white fell from the gray and blue clouds that had materialized out of no where and hid the full moon behind their wispy forms.
A soft wind ruffled the winter blackened branches of the trees.
A lone figure approached the rocky cliff face that loomed ominously over the dark woods.
Sam Winchester walked slowly and carefully to wards the dark gray and black rock face.
He'd been walking deeper and deeper into the woods, following the blood trail left behind by the Black Dog, his prey, his quarry, his enemy.
It'd seemed like hours since he'd first come after the beast.
As he neared the shadow of the cliff, Sam reached behind himself, his hand snaking under his winter coat as he pulled out the revolver he'd stuck there securely and held the gun with both hands.
He would save the single round left in his father's shotgun as a last resort in case the ammo in his gun ran out.
As he eyed the dark red liquid that stained the ground with directionality, he knew that he was getting close, he could feel it.
As he walked with the shadow of the cliff coming over him like a shallow blanket, Sam felt a pang go through him despite being in full hunter mode.
" I hope Dean and Dad are alright." Thought Sam.
To his chagrin, Sam felt his already threadbare heart lurch painfully within his chest.
He felt his eyes well and was about to let himself give in to the tears, momentarily forgetting his vow when the echoes of his father and brother's voices filled his ears.
" YEAH WELL, IT'D BE A HELL OF A LOT BETTER IF YOU WERE MORE LIKE DEAN, AT LEAST THEN YOU WOULDN'T BE SUCH A WHINY LITTLE BRAT WHO SCREWS UP LEFT AND RIGHT!!!"
" Well fine then, be all bitchy, but Dad is right, this hunt is way more important, people's lives are way more important than some stupid school play that doesn't mean jack, You're just being a selfish little freak!"
John and Dean's words hammered loudly and mercilessly through his head.
WHINY LITTLE BRAT... selfish little freak... WHINY LITTLE BRAT... selfish little freak... WHINY LITTLE BRAT... selfish little freak... WHINY LITTLE BRAT... selfish little freak...
The cold despair fled from Sam's soul at these echoes through his head, the thirteen year old child burned away into ashes, the Hunter, the blood thirsty Predator, taking over completely, gaining full control.
Sam eyed a small part of the rock face that jutted outward and carefully made his way over to it, ever vigilant, alert to any sound, any shift, any other sign besides the fresh blood on the ground that informed him of whether the thing he hunting was near.
Meanwhile, back down the path Sam had just walked down...
Dean Winchester was feeling a massive and very unpleasant combination of fear and frustration.
He wanted nothing more than to run down the dirt path as fast as his legs could take him but, he head was killing him and wouldn't allow that desired action.
And besides that, there was no way his father would be able to run along side him with that messed up leg of his.
The oldest Winchester was grunting softly with each heavily limping step he forced his body to take.
The two of them were both silently cursing that Black Dog straight to the hottest pit of Hell itself, and they were cursing their own ignorance for letting that thing get the drop on them both.
And because they had both had their ass's handed to them and were sent flying for good measure, their youngest and most inexperienced one was out here somewhere in these God Forsaken woods.
As he walked, Dean felt terror cold and coursing through every single vein of his body.
He'd let himself get knocked out.
He'd left his baby brother alone with that thing.
There was no way Sam could take on that Black Dog.
No way.
Sam could be out there somewhere scared and hurt, dying...
Or maybe that thing already made an evening meal out of his Sammy, maybe he was already...
Dean grumbled lightly and shook his head furiously.
No, that could not have happened, not to Sammy, not to his baby brother.
He still had to apologize to the kid for calling him a selfish little freak.
He hadn't meant those words.
It was just that the latest argument between his father and his brother had left him wanting to tear every single strand of his hair out of his scalp. He'd been tired and cold and just wanted to get to hunting that evil K-9 bitch down.
Sammy wasn't selfish, not at all.
That kid didn't have a single particle of selfishness in him.
No, Sam was just Sam, his annoying, stubborn, head strong, absolutely wonderful, one of a kind kid brother.
Now, all Dean wanted was to find him, alive, maybe terrified shitless. but above all else, alive.
That was all.
With a feeling of guiltiness nagging at his heart, Dean stumbled on ward down the path with the shotgun he'd picked up before he and his dad had gone down the trail gripped tightly in his hands.
From where he limped after his oldest son, John Winchester was fighting with every ounce of his will against the cold, the pain of his injuries, and his body's urge to have a full blown, hyperventilation included panic attack.
His youngest son was out there in these woods somewhere.
His baby was out there somewhere in these pitch black woods with a monstrous creature that was already thirsty for it's next meal and now surely wanting vengeance for the injuries that had been caused to it.
John felt his heart ache and bleed as he remembered the awful words he'd screamed at his son the night before.
Now as he mulled over the memories, he could not believe he had said such things to his youngest child.
Sammy wasn't a whiny little brat who screwed up all the time. No, if anything the boy was only solid in his stubbornness... like his old man.
And as far as screwing up, it was only now and then because he was still learning the ropes of the "family business" as it were.
John felt guilt bubble up from within the pit of his stomach. It was now that John wished that he himself had not been so stubborn and unyielding.
Now, the father wished that he had indulged his youngest son instead of snubbing him.
If he had given Sam the time of day, the three of them would have been enjoying a Winter stage production at a school with Sammy at risk of only getting stage fright.
Instead, they were here in this cold, desolate place on a night that had gone straight to Hell.
And now, his youngest son may have been ripped to shreds by a vicious Black Dog...
NO!!!!
John banished all thoughts that his youngest child had been killed and that all they would find at the end of this long path was blood and a few mangled body parts .
No, his son was alive.
He had to be.
With a steadying breath, John soldiered on ward after his oldest son, ignoring the pain of his bitten leg as they followed the trail of murky red.
His only concern was finding his youngest son.
The Black Dog didn't matter as much.
Back to the looming rock face...
Sam slowly and carefully made his way over to the space of the looming rock face that seemed to have been carved out of it.
The youngest Winchester crouched down low under the jutting rock, a crude roof that shielded him from most of the fluttering snow falling from the sky.
He crouched and with a keen eye heightened by adrenaline and the most basic of human instincts for survival, he took in his surroundings.
Everything was quiet.
Too quiet.
As his eyes fell on the blood trail that had guided him to this place, Sam felt his heart stop dead in his chest, though only for a moment as he eyed how the the trail led straight into a clump of frost covered evergreen bushes perfectly across from his position, just feet away.
No sooner had this realization registered within in his mind, a low, menacing growl filled the air.
" There you are." Whispered Sam, tightening his hold around his hand gun as he watched and waited for his adversary reveal himself once again.
The bushes of evergreen rustled and snapped. The first thing Sam saw of the Black Dog were it's eyes.
Two glowing blood red orbs, rubies from the deepest pit of Hell itself glared back at him murderously, filled with hate and hunger, attached to an inky, shapeless mass.
Then the sunken face of the Black Dog emerged from the darkness.
The Dog snarled grotesquely, once again revealing jagged, slobber covered teeth.
The thing slowly moved out of the shadows, growling low and angry, shaking off the flecks of snow that clung to it's fur.
Shaggy and thin, the animal took a few slow, deliberate steps further out of it's hiding place.
The Dog's jet black fur was matted and slick with deep crimson at the shoulder, and down the side of it's neck.
Drops of the thick liquid slashed softly onto the lightly frost covered ground.
The wounds the Winchester brothers had inflicted.
A wounded beast.
A enraged beast.
Sam willed his body into motion as the evil creature before him stepped fulling out of the shadows it had hidden in, the dim, clouded over light of the Moon illuminating it's demonic form.
Feeling weighed down by the heavy coat he was wearing, Sam slowly shrugged it off and slung his father's shotgun onto his other shoulder, his eyes never leaving the fiery ones of the animal that wanted him dead.
He pulled Dean's large hunting knife out of one of the inside pockets and quickly stuffed it into the waist band of his jeans.
He had a feeling it would be useful later.
The youngest Winchester and his quarry began to circle each other, slowly and with exaggerated care.
Deep down, Sam knew that this was a test, an initiation
His initiation.
He would either pass this test and live, or fail and experience a painful, brutal death.
The Dog circled the human boy before it, claws of black iron itching to tear into soft flesh.
From where he stood, something behind him caught the corner of Sam's eye.
Without fear, Sam tuned his head to the animal facing him and glanced over his shoulder.
A narrow, jagged path that led into the rock face.
A crevice that was not too small for his tall and thin frame.
This was it.
This was the key.
The Black Dog, giant and sniffing, savoring the scent of a fresh meal before it.
With his entire body numb to the biting cold and his eyes now the color of hard obsidian, Sam took a slow, calculating step back wards.
The Black Dog snarled in fury and matched Sam's step back with a slow step forward.
Sam continued backing away, getting closer and closer to the narrow opening behind him.
Then, in a brazen act of insult, Sam turned his back to the Black Dog, staring over his shoulder at it in an almost mocking manner, and walked slowly into the passage way.
If it were possible, the murderous rage in the Black Dog's sunken eyes increased another level as it took a few more calculating steps forward.
It's snarling grew louder and more guttural with each paw fall on the hard dirt.
Sam carefully eased his way into the jagged crevice, maneuvering as best he could with his father's shotgun against his back. He weaved his way in wards until he deemed himself to be deep enough inside before turning his full attention back on his mangy opponent.
The Black Dog took one final step before it crouched down low on it's hind legs.
Sam could tell that the Dog's sinews and muscles were tightening themselves beneath it's shaggy fur. Sam raised his arms, aiming the business end of his revolver at the beast.
" Come and get me you ugly son of a bitch." Said Sam, he didn't scream these words, just spoke them with quiet venom.
But, volume didn't matter, the Dog heard the challenge crystal clear.
That snapped whatever internal clip was holding the spring back.
With a roar, the Black Dog launched itself into the air with all the power it's hind legs could muster, catapulting itself at the youngest Winchester.
Sam stood stark still, holding his ground firmly for the first few seconds, then on instinct he began squeezing the trigger of his gun, firing bullets furiously at his would be murderer.
BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!
Sam got off eight rounds before his gone clicked, signaling that there were no more bullets left to fire, in the split second this registered in his brain, Sam was violently throwing himself backward and away from the Black Dog and it's eager jagged teeth.
As he fell back wards, Sam heard a dull and satisfying thud in front of him before his own flight was abruptly ended when his back impacted with the hard and cold ground.
He was dimly aware that he'd probably have a bruise on his back in the morning.
Then, another welcome sound filled Sam's ears.
" ARRRROOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!"
This sound was the pitiful, howling wail of the Black Dog where it hung, jammed mid-leap between the two solid, immovable rock walls of the passage way, now bleeding from several more bullet wounds.
Wedged in too deep to wriggle it's way out.
Trapped.
Sam climbed slowly to his feet and eyed his enemy.
" RRROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!"
The Dog howled again, trying futilely to free itself but it was useless.
It hung were it was wedged, snarling and growling.
As he stood there staring at the beast that had wanted to rip him to shreds, Sam didn't feel fear only a hyper awareness of things around him.
Bits of frost falling from the sky landing on the bare skin of his arms.
The cold air that filled his lung with each breath he took.
The wind rustling against the tree.
The moon's soft light as the stormy clouds that had obscured it slowly dispersed.
" ARROOOOOOOOOOOOOOAHHHH!!!!"
The Black Dog howled mournfully, knowing that it's death was near.
With a steadying breath, Sam Winchester unshouldered his father's shotgun.
He held it with perfect form, his hand unmoving with not even the slightest tremor, not even from the bitter cold.
Sam watched as the Black Dog opened it's mouth wide to howl once more and he seized the moment.
The animal's cry was cut abruptly short with a gagging yelp as the muzzle of a shotgun was jabbed forcefully down it's throat.
A small, sad sigh escaped Sam as he stood there at a precipice within his own soul.
He knew that after this night, he would never be the same ever again.
He would never be the same person ever again.
And with this silent lament of what he was about to loose for the rest of his life...
Sam pulled the trigger.
