Okay, so 's weird need to eliminate certain ways of breaking up chapters has required me to go back over this story. I'm taking this opportunity to correct some of the more obvious and consistent grammatical and syntactical errors, so that I don't feel like I'm wasting time replacing the scene breaks deleted.

Hunter/Killer

Chapter 1: A Fight to Remember

The white light of fluorescent streetlamps spilled into the museum showroom through the street-side windows. Various displays and exhibits cut swaths of shadow across the floor. It was in rooms like this one that shadows seemed to be living things, seemed to shift and change at the edge of vision, only static so long as they were watched.

Dean had not expected it to look so human. Demons as powerful as this one usually had no corporeal shape, and those that did were generally horrific and alien in appearance.

But this was a man, or so it seemed, of regal bearing and features. It was tall, almost as tall as Sam, but thinner. It wore black, with a cloak that was a rich, deep purple. It was dark-haired and its blue eyes were terrifyingly confident. In its right hand it held a long, thin sword that gleamed bloodless in the cold light.

It stood over the decapitated body of a victim, its back to a pedestal on which an artifact had rested only moments ago. The object had disappeared when the demon touched it, destroyed, perhaps, or else transported to another plane. Blood pooled around its feet as it looked down at the brothers. For a long moment, none of the three moved.

"You cannot stop me," the demon said, its voice low and sure. It even sounded human.

"We've heard that before," Dean replied, glancing briefly at Sam to assess his brother's readiness. Sam nodded almost imperceptibly.

In a motion so smooth and fast it was almost inhuman Dean pulled the sawed-off double barrel from beneath his black leather coat, brought it up, and discharged both barrels. The rock salt hit the exhibition podium behind where the demon had been standing. It had vanished.

"What the hell?" Sam's question echoed Dean's thoughts. Dean looked over at his brother. Sam met his gaze in time to see Dean's expression go from frustration to terror.

"SHIT Sam, behind you!" Dean shouted. Sam spun around, dropping backwards onto his butt. The demon's blade passed just inches over his head. He brought his revolver up and emptied all six chambers. He didn't miss even once, but the demon was unfazed. In fact, it was smiling.

"Well done," it condescended. Sam pulled the speed-loader out of his jacket and fumbled to get the cylinder open. The demon knocked the gun away with a swipe of its sword and brought the tip up to Sam's Adam's apple. "Most would be dead already."

Dean hadn't been wasting time, though. He'd pulled an English longsword off of a display and maneuvered himself around behind the action. When guns didn't work, decapitation usually did. Sam saw him coming up behind the demon and made a show of being terrified, scooting backward on his elbows and softly begging for his life. The demon was not fooled.

It whirled around so quickly it could only be inhuman and deftly parried Dean's two-handed swipe. Dean changed tactics; now that this was a sword fight, and not a sneak attack, defense was as important as offense. Switching to one hand with the longsword he drew a long, vicious knife from his belt with his left. It was the same knife he kept under his pillow at night.

As Dean engaged the demon, Sam leapt to his feet and sprinted over to their discarded duffel bag. They didn't know what this thing was, only that it was very, very old, and had a penchant for ancient Christian artifacts, so he grabbed a book of Latin rituals, and dropping down next to the bag flipped to the dog-eared page and began to read aloud.

"In nomino patri et fili et spiritu sancti…" Sam began, looking up at the action every few words to see how Dean was doing.

The demon fought one-handed, its thin blade blocking every swipe and thrust. It moved with practiced ease and attacked rarely, but when it did, it missed only narrowly, catching clothing or drawing a little blood. But Dean fought like no one Sam knew. His style seemed dangerous, even reckless, but that was calculated. He didn't do well when surrounded, but one-on-one? There weren't many people who could best him. Sam hadn't seen Dean with a sword in his hand since before he'd left for college. He had been talented then. He was incredible now. It was beautiful, as much as anything this violent could be, broad vicious strokes and athletic dodges, every move an attack, every perceived opening a trap.

Sam didn't have time to admire it though. He'd gotten to the part of the ritual he had to concentrate for. He had to command the demon to reveal its true name, so that it could be banished.

"Quod nomen tuem est?" he demanded, yelling above the clash of steel and shattering of display cases. The demon leapt backwards over a table, separating himself from Dean. They circled each other, Dean crouched in a predatory stance, the demon standing tall and straight like a knight at a debutante ball. The demon kept its eyes on Dean even as it addressed Sam.

"Foolish little human," the demon mocked. "Do you really think that some obeisant words to a God you don't believe in can compel me to do anything?"

Sam looked at Dean. He was panting and sweating, blood running down his face from a small cut above his eye, his coat in tatters. Sam needed to buy his brother some time to catch his breath.

"Then what harm can it do to tell us your name?" Sam shot back, one hand surreptitiously rummaging through the duffel bag for something, anything, they hadn't tried. The demon laughed.

"None." The demon's face was arrogant and its tone was lordly. "But what need have I for a name at all?"

Sam pressed his luck again.

"Why are you here?" he asked. "For the artifact?"

"And to kill all those who have touched it," it answered, its eyes never leaving Dean. Sam tried to calculate what that meant. How many had touched the thing since it had been recovered? Probably dozens.

He tried to keep it talking.

"We didn't touch it, and it's not like we could stop you from leaving. Why are you bothering with us at all?" Sam's hand, deep inside the duffel, wrapped itself around a glass bottle. He drew it out behind his back and searched for a flare gun.

"I get so little time here on Earth. And since so few of those I'm here to kill are worthy fighters," it paused, its lips curling into a menacing smile that chilled Sam to the bone. "I wish to savor this."

Sam found the flare gun. He grabbed the neck of the bottle with his left hand and the grip of the pistol with his right.

"Dean, down!" Sam yelled, lobbing the bottle into the air. Dean dropped back, and the demon did nothing. But then, that's what Sam was expecting. The bottle hit the ground and shattered, spilling clear liquid on and around the demon. It looked at Sam.

"What is this, holy water?" it taunted. Dean flipped a table on its side and took cover. The demon looked confused.

"Gasoline." Sam replied, bringing up the flare gun and firing it at the floor in front of the demon. The room was instantly ablaze and the demon engulfed. Sam almost let himself believe that he'd done it. But in a second that hope was dispelled. The demon walked casually out of the inferno, its clothes not even singed.

Dean launched himself at it. It sidestepped his thrust and struck him open-palmed in the chest with tremendous force. Dean staggered back and dropped to the floor, gasping for air. He tried to get his feet under him and fell again.

"Dean!" Sam yelled from the floor.

The creature turned. Its eyes were on him now.

Sam hurried to his feet but the demon was already there. He didn't feel it, for a moment. The demon's thin and razor-sharp sword went in with so little resistance that it felt like nothing at all. But a little twist from the demon's hand brought Sam's attention to the steel driven through his abdomen. He whimpered in pain, despite himself, feeling the heat of the blood trickling down his pant leg. He looked back up at the thing's face, eyes wide with fear. Its expression was lustful and hungry, deeply discomfiting.

It leaned in and whispered in his ear. "You should be proud of yourself. I haven't had a fight this enjoyable in a thousand years."

Sam burbled, blood coming up in his throat. Out of the corner of his eye could see Dean moving, climbing to his feet, behind the creature. Sam didn't look up. He didn't want to alert the thing.

Somewhat recovered, Dean closed the distance faster than he had any right to be able to. Too fast, however, to be stealthy.

"And that would be the other one, behind me. Resilient," the demon whispered. It moved to withdraw its sword from Sam and found resistance. Sam had grabbed the sword's hilt with both hands. He pulled it into himself. Summoning all his strength he delivered a powerful front kick to the demon's chest with his right leg, forcing the sword out of the demon's hands. Both stumbled backwards.

Sam dropped to the floor in a sitting position, sword still in his gut. He couldn't lie down, because the sword was sticking out of his back. And he knew better than to move it. He did his best to remain upright, struggling to breathe.

The demon turned around in time to see Dean's face as he howled in rage. He brought the longsword down with terrible ferocity on the demon's neck and drove the knife at its chest.

The sword broke. The knife bent. It was as if the thing were living steel.

"Excellent indeed." It seemed genuinely impressed, for whatever that was worth. Dean stood there, green eyes wide, looking at his broken sword and bent knife. What the fuck was he supposed to do? "But now it's over." It moved toward Dean.

Sam was hurt badly, he knew. He had to survive this, if only to save his brother's life.

"W-wait!" Dean said, backing up. "You enjoyed this, right?"

This drew a vaguely amused look that lightened the imperious silence. Dean took it as confirmation.

"Then leave us alive. You know we'll try to stop you from killing the rest of them." There was no way this would work. He was trying to fast-talk a demon. It was the stupidest plan ever. And the only one left. "It's more fun than killing old archaeologists." The demon raised its eyebrows thoughtfully.

"It's not as though you're relevant anyway." It brought itself nose to nose with Dean, as if to smell his fear. "Tend to your brother. I desire a challenge when next we meet."

And then it was gone.

The sword impaling Sam disappeared with it and he fell onto his back with a painful gasp. Dean rushed over, kneeling at Sam's side. He gingerly pushed one arm under his brother's shoulders, lifting him a little. From the blood pooled on the ground it looked bad. He pulled up Sam's shirt to inspect the wound. Sam winced and stared at the ceiling, trying not to look.

"How is it?" he asked anxiously. Dean didn't answer. Sam searched his brother's face. It wasn't fear. It wasn't shock. It was confusion. He looked down just in time to see the wound close itself up into a neat scar.

"That's…different," Dean managed. Sam sat up a little too fast and regretted it. His head spun as he lost blood pressure. He nearly passed out, falling back onto Dean's arm. Sam was out of danger, but badly drained. "Dude," Dean smirked. "Like half your blood is on the floor. Don't be stupid."

"I got the sword away from him by pulling it into my body. You don't get to make fun of me," Sam replied, somewhat drowsily.

"Yeah, that move earned you some serious badass points," Dean agreed. "Not that it wasn't also stupid."

"I gave you your shot, Dean. I'd do it again." Sam was right. Dean relented.

"Whatever, Sammy."

"Sam," his brother corrected reflexively.

"Right. Need me to help you to the car, Sam?" Dean was merciless. Sam flashed his brother an annoyed look. He tried to rise again, and again found he could not. He looked up at the ceiling and closed his eyes, summoning up the strength to overcome his pride.

"Yes," he forced, through gritted teeth.

"Yes what, Sammy?" Dean grinned as he threw equipment into the duffel.

"I hate you," Sam muttered under his breath. "Yes, I need you to help me to the car, Dean."

"Well sure, baby bro! All you had to do was ask."

"Next time I'm letting it kill you."

End Chapter 1