A/N: Thank you so much to Melody Syper Carston for being my beta on this story! I did some small edits after she read through it, so any remaining errors are mine.

Sam was bleeding.

He wasn't that concerned about it, to be honest. It was just a cut on his arm; he'd had much worse. Sam was much more concerned with the fact that the shape shifter he was fighting had disappeared into the darkness, and he had no idea where it was. Sam tightened his grip on the silver knife he was holding, eyes darting around the dark, dank basement in pursuit of the supernatural creature.

God I am so stupid.

Sam had mistakenly stumbled upon this hunt. Or at least, that's what he told himself. He had been hearing rumors of people disappearing over the past few months, leaving no trace behind and no clues for the Palo Alto police. Old habits and curiosities soon kicked in, and Sam found himself elbow deep in the case searching for supernatural involvement. But with those old habits came a pang of guilt. Researching and hunting the supernatural was a way of life he'd sworn off more than a year ago; a furious fight with his father about "family" and "loyalty" had ensured that. But Sam had left more than that life behind. He had left his brother too, and for that Sam felt guilty.

It had been peculiar and lonely for Sam to research without his brother there to bounce ideas off of. It had taken him much longer than usual to pull together the small pieces of evidence pointing towards the veiled supernatural aspect of the case. But he had gotten a good idea of what might have been going on.

Sam had taken the last bus of the night to the outskirts of the city to investigate more, taking only a small handgun and a silver knife from his secret weapon stash. Sam told himself if he found a monster worth killing, he'd call another hunter to take care of it. But he needed to know that there was in fact a case to be taken care of. One of the older, more dilapidated houses he had been eyeing had a basement with an entrance from the outside via a storm cellar. Sam had carefully gone down the ladder that led into the windowless basement, finding exactly what he thought he would: The six bodies of the missing people of the last few months and several disgusting piles of discarded skin. He was satisfied that this was a case for a hunter and knew he needed to leave before the shape shifter returned. Sam had turned around to face the very creature he was hunting. Startled and unprepared, the creature had managed to inflict a deep cut on Sam's arm as the young man pulled him arms up in defense. As the shifter's blade sliced his arm, Sam sprang into fight mode and retaliated with his own knife.

It had disappeared into the dark after that.

Sam slowly revolved on the spot, the silence pressing in.

A rustle from one of the corners of the basement had Sam spinning to face the source of the noise. He couldn't see anything.

I'm a freaking sitting duck.

He slowly backed up towards the ladder, suddenly feeling vulnerable in the middle of the large room.

The shape shifter emerged out of the darkness, grabbing Sam from behind and holding its knife to his throat.

"So. You found me. I suppose it was only a matter of time, but still. I wish I had had longer. I was so enjoying taking these people's places. All rich. All happy. It was an easy life," the shape shifter said.

The shape shifter had chosen the form of a young woman. Tall, with California sun kissed skin, dirty blond hair, and brown eyes, she would not have been out of place in a Stanford brochure. But the creature wearing her face made her beauty take on a sharp, almost terrifying edge.

Sam vaguely recognized her from one of his classes. Amanda, he thought her name was. Or had been.

"You're stealing people's lives!" Sam spat, "You're a monster!"

Anger flashed over the shifter's face and she dug the edge of the knife into Sam's neck. He repressed a shudder, feeling the cold metal breaking the skin.

"I am not a monster!" the shifter hissed, "Just because I'm not human makes me a monster?! I'm just trying to live my own life. And hunters like you won't let me. So I decided being human would be more…satisfying. I just had to find the human whose life I liked the most. It took me a while, but I think Amanda here is my favorite. Pretty face and lots of Daddy's money. You're not going to take this life away from me." The shifter pushed the knife harder into Sam's neck, a trickle of blood running down his neck.

"You've killed people. You're not human. You're just pretending," Sam said with disgust.

Sam suddenly swung around, grabbing the shifter's arms and twisting to force it to let go of the knife. The weapon flew away, lost to the darkness. Sam quickly swung with his own blade, cutting the shifter across the cheek.

"You've ruined my face!" the shifter screamed. With a hiss of pain, the creature flashed angry eyes and lunged at Sam.

He grabbed her arms, using her own momentum to swing her around and pin her to the wall with a thud. The two struggled for dominance, Sam pushing forward while the shifter pushed back, Sam's blade hovering over the shifter's heart. Sam lost his grip as the shifter began shedding its skin.

"Ugh, God!" Sam exclaimed in disgust, instantly letting go. He shook his hands, trying to get the goop off and dropping his knife in his distraction.

The shifter smirked, pushing away from the wall and searching for her weapon in the dark. Cursing himself for his stupidity, Sam scrambled to grab his silver knife, the blade glinting in the dark. Finding it, he grabbed the shifter from behind, holding his knife to her neck.

"Seems the tides have turned," Sam hissed.

The shifter elbowed Sam hard in the ribs and then kicked up to connect her foot with his groin. He let out a pained noise as all the air escaped him, the combined blows causing him to stumble back several paces. She kicked him to the ground, landing a few in his stomach. The shifter grabbed Sam's arm, twisting it around and forcing Sam to relinquish his grip on the knife. The blade clattered to the ground, and a kick from the shifter had it skidding away across the cement floor.

"What you going to do now, tough guy? Your little knife is gone." The shifter said slyly. She had a knee digging into Sam's hip, pinning him on the floor. She tightened her grip on Sam's arm and twisted it behind his back. Despite the slender size of the human she was impersonating, the shifter was just as strong as Sam, if not stronger.

Weaponless and now breathless, Sam let out a pained noise. His shoulder wasn't going to be able to take much more of this. With one arm in a death grip and his other pinned awkwardly beneath him, his mind scrambled to come up with some way to escape her grasp.

Dean would know what to do. Dean would say something to distract her.

"You know you would be kind of beautiful except for the fact that you killed a girl to look like that." Sam wheezed.

"Shut up." The shifter pulled hard on Sam's arm, and with a sickening pop Sam's shoulder dislocated. He let out a yell, pain coursing through his arm and shoulder.

"You know, you make such lovely noises when I hurt you. I might just prolong your life a little longer."

The shifter kicked him hard in the shin for good measure, eliciting a yelp from Sam. His vision whited out, and all he could do was remember to breathe. He felt small hands roughly search him, and realized with a sinking feeling she had found his gun. Distantly, he registered the shifter move away from him.

Knife. Have to find the knife.

He raised his eyes as his vision cleared, and through his shaggy hair, he quickly scanned the room looking for his blade. The shifter had found it first.

The shifter moved back towards Sam, gun in one hand and Sam's silver knife in the other. She yanked him up to a kneeling position, Sam groaning as his arm swung pathetically with the motion. He grabbed the arm and cradled it against his chest, winching violently.

"So, gun or knife? There's some kind of satisfying irony in killing you with your own weapons." The shifter smirked.

Without warning, the shifter swung with the blade, cutting through Sam's shirt and leaving a gash peeking through the rip.

Sam let out a yell, feeling hot blood already running down his chest.

The shifter smirked. "And you thought you would be getting me with this knife." It clucked its tongue, as if to admonish Sam.

The shifter slowly started circling Sam, deciding what to do next.

C'mon man you have to do something.

The voice in his head took on Dean's voice.

It had been a long time since he had been in this much pain, and his body and mind were struggling to adapt. His right shoulder throbbed with each heartbeat, his arm hanging useless. The cut on his chest stung as the cold air hit it, and he could barely breathe with the bruises to his abdomen.

As the shifter started its second circle, Sam grabbed the wrist of the hand holding the knife and twisted violently. The knife fell, and Sam quickly picked it up and clamored to his feet.

With an adrenaline fueled yell, Sam lunged forward with the knife, aiming for his opponent's chest.

It found its mark at the same time that Sam registered the sound of a gunshot. The shifter's eyes were wide in shock. Sam twisted the blade, the shifter gasping in pain.

Sam saw the glimmer of life leave her brown eyes, and he pulled out the blade with a sickening wet sound as the shifter crumpled to the ground.

He was breathing heavily, staring down at his kill in victory.

Sam took a step away from where the shifter lay, and a white-hot pain shot through his right leg before the limb gave out under him. Sam crashed to the floor, landing heavily on his injured shoulder. He let out a yell of anguished pain before the darkness came up to claim him.

Sam was bleeding.

A/N: Please take a second to review! Next chapter will be posted some time next week.