Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural
NetMyne01, thanks for reviewing! Also, I hope everyone is reading this as she pointed out for me at the end of the first chapter there was a random brain missing from a victim and a mysterious disappearing set of lungs from George… there is no brain. That was a mistake. I admit it! Thanks again, NetMyne01 and to yee 2 other people who reviewed!
As Sam watched the sun slowly start to sink closer to the tips of the trees, he urgently checked the locks on all the doors of the car. Sure, he didn't believe that it was a werewolf but he didn't want to take the chance… not that a locked door would stop a ferocious werewolf admitted to himself.
After shuffling around in the near dark for a moment, Sam was able to locate the latch on the cooler and pulled out a poorly wrapped tuna sandwich he had no doubt had been part of his father's dinner the night before.
Clicking on his flashlight, Sam went back to reading his newspaper clippings again, hoping the missing answer would magically appear.
Suddenly, it felt like there was something watching Sam.
Gently, he set down the newspaper clippings and shone the flashlight into the ever-darkening trees unable to see anything in the thick foliage.
Something giggled. Too close, Sam thought. That sounded like it came from upfront, slowly, he turned his head.
A pallid skinned woman sat in the driver's seat watching the youngest Winchester with amusement. She grinned widely at Sam, her missing teeth marring her already hideous grin. Her blind white eyes seemed to follow Sam even though it was impossible for her to actually see him.
"Hello, Sam," she whispered and giggled again.
John and Dean had been walking along the forest trail for over five hours, focusing on getting as far away from the Impala and Sam for the whole time. By the time it was 9 PM; John called a halt to their forward march and turned to his son.
"Alright Dean, we're going to split up now, but stay within 15 minutes of each other. Got that?"
Dean nodded and struck out through the dense vegetation surrounding him, keeping a firm grip on his pistol.
It was only an hour later of fighting through the trees and walking in half circles that Dean finally heard a low growl from his prey. Turning quickly, Dean found himself face – to – face with the muscular werewolf.
The werewolf snarled and slashed the air with its filthy claws.
Dean grinned and aimed his gun, but couldn't get a good shot at the heart. "Here boy," Dean whispered, knowing the werewolf hear could him.
A fierce roar, the werewolf lunged at Dean, claws raking the air as it sprang forwards.
Dean fired his gun – once, twice, three times – each bullet burying itself deeply into the monster's chest. With a pained grunt the werewolf hit the ground, twitched once, before it ceased movement and changed back into its human form.
Dean fired one more bullet into the werewolf, just in case, and started rooting through the pockets of his leather jacket for the small container of salt which he poured onto the body. He froze when he heard something walking through the trees towards him but relaxed when he recognized his father.
"Good job Dean," John praised and pulled out a lighter from his pocket, tossing it on the body after Dean had emptied a small bottle of lighter fluid.
The two watched the fire for a couple minutes, making sure that it didn't end up making a forest fire before heading back to the trail.
"Sammy'll be happy. I figured this hunt would take all night," Dean commented.
John grunted and held out a bottle of water to his son.
Dean's legs were killing him and he was exhausted. After another five hour hike back to the Impala it was almost 4 AM and he was about ready to pass out.
Through the trees, Dean could see the faint light of a flashlight and he rolled his eyes. His brother must have waited up for them; either that or he fell asleep with the light on. Rounding a curve in the trail, Dean froze, his heart pounding in his chest.
For a second, he couldn't move, couldn't breathe, couldn't think until everything seemed to catch up to him and he was running headlong to the Impala.
The back door on Sam's side was open, the flashlight sitting on the seat, the bright light shining out into the forest. Dean slid to a halt and looked inside quickly, praying despite already knowing his brother wasn't in the car.
"Dean!" John barked and turned his head to the windshield where a bullet hole punched through the glass. Frantic Dean scanned the ground in front of the car, hoping to find some indication of what Sam had fired at.
As Dean panicked, John tried to remain calmer and started searching what he considered "the drag zone," where the enemy would have had to drag his son to get away from the car.
The grass was crushed and broken in multiple directions, indicating to the well trained eye that Sam hadn't gone down without a fight. He had struggled against whatever had taken him. John followed the trail of disorder and scratched up dirt for a couple more feet until stopping dead like Dean had only a couple minutes before.
Bending down, John inspected the small splashes of blood that was already being absorbed by the dry dirt. He took a couple more steps, noting how the grass was becoming less and less chaotic as though his son had stopped struggling, as though he was losing consciousness.
Gently, John lifted the pistol his son must have dropped when he passed out, his heart breaking when he saw the specks of blood dried onto the handle.
1) Dear AlElizabeth: Thanks for being my editor. Isn't it nice to be acknowledged? :(
2) This is based on August 7th, 1998, however due to a conflicting scheduling it could also possibly be August 8th, 1998. The two calendars I'm using to map out the date of the full moon do not only disagree on the time of the full moon but also on the date *sigh*