Chapter One- the Hunt
A gunshot echoed through the warehouse as the silver bullet sank into the werewolf's heart. It howled, pain thick in the monster's shriek. Dean rolled out of the way of the falling body, casting a glance around the room, the only illumination being the moonlight shining through the cracks in the wooden walls. Another man lunged at him, this one wearing a ski mask and definitely not a werewolf. He raised his gun and aimed.
The magazine shone in the light a few feet away, the bullets gleaming silver. Dean cursed, hands scrabbling behind him as he searched for a weapon, or a distraction at least. Smooth metal brushed against his fingertips.
"You're a fool, Dean Winchester. War is coming, and there's nothing you can do," the wolfman hissed. It sprung forwards, and Dean swung the metal pole round to crack against its head sickeningly. It dropped to the floor limply. A strangled cry stole Dean's attention.
Sam was pinned to the floor, a werewolf's hands wrapped around his throat, eyes rolling back in his head. He was desperately trying to pull the hands away but his movements were becoming sluggish as he was deprived of air. His hands stopped scrabbling and fell to the floor.
"Sam!" Dean, screamed. He sprinted towards his magazine, sliding along the floor and scooping it up. He clicked it in, raised his gun and shot the werewolf in the head. It collapsed next to Sam, dark red pooling beneath it. Dean sprinted over and dropped into a crouch, shaking his brother by the shoulder. "Sam!" he hissed. "Sam! Wake up!" Dean's heart constricted as his brother remained motionless. "Sammy!" Sam's eyes fluttered, and he groaned. A shaky sigh of relief escaped Dean's lips as Sam's eyes focused lazily on his.
He helped Sam up, slapping him on the back and checking him over. There was a gash on his forehead and along his shoulder. Dean clapped a hand on the same shoulder, Sam gasping and glaring at his brother.
"Jerk," he mumbled.
"Bitch," Dean grinned, sticking his tongue out at him. Sam rolled his eyes and kicked the body with the ski mask.
"Who do you reckon this is, then?" he asked, glancing at his older brother.
"I don't know. My x-ray vision doesn't seem to work with balaclavas," Dean sassed, earning a glare from Sam.
"Funny," he replied sarcastically. "I'm laughing so hard." Dean held his hands up in mock surrender.
"Jeez... someone's moody! Is it your time of the month?" he asked, pouting with fake sympathy.
"Shut up," Sam snapped, leaning down and pulling off the mask. He raised his eyebrows in surprise. "The coroner? That's unexpected."
"Kinda makes sense though," Dean added. Sam nodded in agreement and stood.
"He did have all those baby teeth."
"And that policewoman seemed a bit obsessed with him."
"That's what you get when you pretend to be Jesus. It's just a shame Maria had to skip town. I could've got on that." Dean added. Sam looked disgusted. Dean winked, and glanced over at one of the bodies, frowning.
"Nothing, it's just something the coroner said."
"What did he say?"
"Nothing, it doesn't matter. Come on," he said. "Let's go. They'll be found soon, and we want to be far away when that happens." Dean pulled his car keys out his pocket as they slid into the Impala.
"Where to?" he asked, turning the ignition and smiling faintly as his baby rumbled to life.
"Let's just get back to the bunker," Sam answered, yawning and rubbing his head. Dean pulled out of the parking lot, and headed down the road.