A primeval darkness enveloped the dense forest, the long fingers of the pale moon casting eerie shadows amongst the spectral branches.
He prowled through the semi-obscurity, as silent as a predator, all his senses on alert. At his back he felt the comforting presence of his brother,
their feet skimming over the underbrush, akin to the creatures of the night.
Dean loathed the woods; too many hiding places, too easy for the ungodly to get a jump on you.
Give him the open road any day.
The Impala, his cassettes and his brother riding shotgun, that was his idea of heaven but slinking through dank and gloomy trees was very, very low on his to-do list.
This was who he was though, a hunter of the rabid, evil things that roamed the Earth, a curse that had come to him through generations of Human existence, from the very beginning of time.
He had finally accepted his lot and knew that it could only end badly for him but as regards to his brother...
Sam, his brother...his heart was heavy when he contemplated the pain and misery of his sibling's life. His intelligent, kind-hearted, sensitive little brother condemned so unfairly to Hell, both on this Earth with the demon-blood and then literally.
He paled at the cruelty of it all. Why Sam?
If he could, he would happily have taken all of Sam's burdens on his own shoulders, his intimate need to protect him so ingrained that it made him who he was, even now as his brother towered over him tall and strong.
"Dean," a soft voice disturbed his sombre thoughts, "Dean."
He shook himself from the melancholy recesses of his mind, the voice of his brother anchoring him to the here and now.
"If you don't want to be monster-chow, you gotta keep your mind on the job, man." Sam chided him.
"Cool it, Sam. I'm a hundred percent focused on ganking this were-bitch."
"Dean, I know exactly what you were thinking and you've got to stop all this self-berating over me. Okay!"
He clamped a giant hand on his brother's shoulder and turned him so that their eyes met.
"I know that you would have wanted a different life for me but enough beating yourself up about what might have been!
Don't you think I feel the same about you?
You could have had a career, a wife, a family, but you got stuck with me and this supernatural crap; but man, these are the cards we've been dealt and we have to play them!"
Sam's hand squeezed his shoulder, " Dean, I'm exactly where I want to be, at your side, protecting your back."
"Dude, what are you babbling about, I didn't open my mouth. What brought all this on?" countered Dean, annoyed to have had his thoughts so easily read by Sam.
"You don't have to, Dean. I know exactly what you're thinking when your "it's all my fault aura" starts to glow."
"Right, Sammy, you're really going all pretty new-age princess here!" snapped Dean sarcastically.
He expected Sam to to present him with a stellar bitch-face but Sam's eyes bored into his, hazel rivalling green, and in that moment there was no concealing the truth, no smart words, no smoke-screens to hide behind.
They inhabited separate bodies but their essence, their souls were one and that oneness was becoming ever more unique and powerful.
Perhaps it was their shared Hell experiences that had entwined them even closer, but neither could now deny their strengthening bond.
Recently they had found themselves touching each other's mind, making themselves understood not only with glances or body language but with their thoughts.
Neither had wanted to dwell on it, they had tried deliberately to ignore it, but they were well aware that it was only a matter of time before the one could meander through the mind and thoughts of the other.
They broke eye-contact, turning in unison towards the werewolf poised in mid-flight,their guns firing in concert, the silver bullets transfixing the beast
The stench of the burning corpse lingered in their nostrils and clung to their clothes, as they trudged silently back to the Impala, completely at peace in each other's company. At this point they were no longer sure who they were, what they were, or why they were; they only knew that there was nothing that could divide them, and nothing they wouldn't do for each other.
They opened the doors of the Impala, their eyes meeting briefly over her roof, a smile curving their lips, then the doors slammed shut and she roared off towards the dawning sun.