Moonlight Son

DISCLAIMER- I DON'T OWN SUPERNATURAL

Chapter 1

The silence of the late night hour was only broken by a soft snore, the moon was like a smiling crescent in the cloudy sky. The chill of an early South Dakota winter penetrated the wooden walls of the old house. The clock above the desk read just after 2 a.m. The desk itself was covered in papers and bottles of sealed and unsealed alcoholic drinks.

The man behind the desk was probably in his mid-thirties. An old ratty baseball cap sat on his head, and partly over his eyes. His gruff snores were cut off by the obnoxious shrill of a cellphone. His head yanked up, throwing off his ball cap. His knees hit the desk with a thud. And his hand hovered over a drawer that held a gun. With a shake of his head, he reached for the cellphone.

"Bobby Singer, Here. Who the hell are you and why are you calling me at this hour?" He growled, glancing at the clock behind him. He scooped up his cap and dusted it off.

"Bobby… hey. It's me… Sam." A voice gasped weakly on the other end of the phone. The labored breathing and soft whisper made Bobby lean forward.

Bobby's heart thudded in his chest and he worked to keep his voice steady. "Hey boy. Sam… what's up? You don't sound good."

Sam chuckled wetly and his voice caught as he sobbed. "Bobby. I'm not ok…I'm really not. I need help."

Bobby stood and walked to his landlines and car keys, ready to act. "Alright boy. Tell me what happened. I'm here, for ya."

"I got bit, Bobby. I went on a hunt. And it was a werewolf. I got bit." Sam panted. Bobby's brow wrinkled as he looked up at the barley visible moon.

"Sam, that don't make no sense. It's not a full moon. Are ya sure it wasn't a shapeshifter?" Bobby picked up some keys and his gun before heading to his truck sitting out in the yard.

"I know Bobby. But it was a Werewolf. But it had black eyes. And seemed sane. In control. It didn't act like an animal. I chopped it's head off and black smoke came out of it. It laughed at me…" Sam groaned suddenly. "Bobby, it got me good."

"It's ok, Sam. Where'd it get ya?" Bobby raced to his truck. It roared to life and with a quick switch of his hand, Bobby was tearing down the road. His truck protesting a little.

"It scratched me up some. I think I broke my arm when I fell. Concussion… it bit me on my shoulder and in my leg. I think I'm going into shock." Sam's voice slowly tampered off. "Bobby. I got to go. I need to try to get warm…phones dying too… I'll send you the coordinates. Its Big Basin Redwoods State Park."

"Boy, I'm calling for help for you. I don't think I'd get there in time. It's at least an 26 hour non-stop trip." Bobby stepped down harder on the gas. Driving through a red light and continuing on.

"I guess I can understand why. Alright Bobby. I'll send coordinates. See you soon?" Sam's voice shook and Bobby could hear him moving painfully slow. Probably dragging himself along the dirt and rocks.

" Soon boy. I'll call you back as soon as I get close." Bobby brushed a hand through his scruffy beard after hanging up. His mind racing. Most hunters were along the east coast due to a surge in monster activity. He could think of only a single hunter who was on the west. Groaning, he picked up the phone and dialed a certain grouchy Papa Winchester.

When it went straight to voice mail, he swore and clicked speed dial #3, Dean Winchester. The phone rang for a while before a sleepy voice growled at him. "Bobby, what the actual f* do you want? It's 3 in the morning! You could have woke dad up, then you'd be gettin' an ear full from him too!"

"Shut the hell up Dean. Get your daddy up. Pack your bags. And where are you? Sammy needs your help boy!"