Hey there! I was toying with the idea of the boys hunting something in a forest and it turned into this. Hope you enjoy and would love comments on canon voice, setting and anything else you can think of. Just dabbling really.

Dean Winchester hurtled through the woods of Virginia. His lungs burned, his muscles screamed, but he couldn't stop. There was no way he was going to give up on his brother. Surely it couldn't have dragged Sam too far away in the short time Dean had been gone.

His Maglite pierced the dim forest, the spear of light jabbing at tree trunks, thick undergrowth and the barely-there track Dean was following. There was nothing out of the ordinary, nothing to show him which way his brother had been taken. But at least there was no blood.

'Dammit, Sammy,' he rasped between gasped breaths, 'Why'd you forget the map.'

Three days previous Dean had found a voicemail message from an old pal hunter of their Dad's. The hunt seemed easy enough: track the creature to its lair, plant a few explosives, and send it to kingdom come before it could snag a second human snack. Except that Sam had left the map of the nature reserve in the Impala…

The Maglite shivered through the forest ahead, bouncing around with each of Dean's lengthy strides. He strained to see any sign of either his brother, or the beast. Anything that would make him certain he was going the right way. If he had remembered wrong, that the caverns weren't to the south, then he had little hope of reaching Sam in time.

Something glittered on the path just in reach of the artificial light. Dean recognised the glare of animalistic eyes moments before they blinked and vanished. He hefted the sawn-off shotgun in his free hand and pushed on, confident now that even without the map he knew where he was headed.

Native Americans had seen these things long before white man. Choctaw mythology named them Nalusa Falaya – literal translation: long black being. This one had settled in close to a town and murdered a local police officer. The reports said, "bear" but the Winchesters knew better; six small holes in the chest didn't come from any grizzly.

Dean saw the eyes gleaming again seconds before the thing slammed into him. He went down, tumbling over the leafy soil like a child's discarded ragdoll. All the breath was driven out of him as his body collided with a trunk. Crumpled at the base of the tree, Dean sucked in air. Eerie yipping came from the dark.

The Maglite had been smashed to pieces. Moonlight filtering down through the canopy cast a pale silver shine on everything, but it was barely enough for Dean to see in. His blood ran cold when he realised light wasn't the only thing he was missing. The shotgun had fallen from his hand as he had been sent sprawling, and now he had no idea where it might be.

Dean drew the knife from his belt and swallowed hard. 'If you've hurt, Sammy,' he shouted hoarsely, 'You'll wish hell spawn like you never even existed!'

His only response was sudden silence. That unsettled Dean more than reflective eyes or creepy noises. Slowly, he pushed himself to his feet. His right elbow felt sticky and he knew he was bleeding. As far as he was concerned it was just a scrape. If you weren't gonna die from it, there was no use in any worry.

'Sam!' he yelled into the dimness. 'I'm comin' for you!'

His words were swallowed by the forest. A distant movement caught his attention. His eyebrows drew together in a frown. A pale blue glow was floating just off the ground, dancing in a non-existent breeze. Dean took a step forward, raising his knife with whitened knuckles. The blue glow gracefully ascended, levelling itself with Dean's height.

The hunter was suddenly conscious of his heart thudding against his ribs. He stumbled, light-headed, and reached out for a tree to lean against. His hand touched coarse fur. Instantly, Dean swiped with the knife. He caught nothing but air. The hairs on the back of his neck prickled as he strained to make out any shapes in the gloom. Whatever his hand had hit was gone.

He blinked rapidly as a thousand hissing voices seemed to fill his head at once. They were all saying his name, all asking him to come nearer – to hold them. His attention swam back to the blue glow as if he was deep in a dream. The knife fell from his fingers. Dean stepped toward the light, a genuine smile curving the corners of his mouth. A sense of warmth had washed over him, promising him safety and comfort.

The little blue glow glided closer until it was inches from his nose. As he reached up to touch it, searing white light flooded his vision. From far away he heard his own voice crying out in pain. Then black enveloped him and he knew nothing more.