A/N: I've rated this story 'M' to be safe - I feel like the ratings have changed a bit since the last time I've posted a story, so better safe than sorry. Also: my 20th story on this site, in the year 2020. Coincidence?

We are turning the clock back a bit. This story takes place in Season 6, sometime after 6x16 "And Then There Were None".

Sam kept the flashlight aimed where Dean was shovelling, making sure he stayed back far enough that his brother didn't hurl dirt at his feet. "You know, if you want to switch, that's fine."

Dean grunted as the blade bit back into the ground, his booted foot pressed heavily against the step. "I got it." Muscles tensed as he tossed dirt over his right shoulder, narrowly missing his brother. "Even though you friggin' cheated."

Sam smiled at the petulant response. "Always with the scissors, man."

They were digging up the grave of twenty-five year old Beth Truman who had died three years ago. A car accident that was caused by a drunk driver t-boning her while running a red light. Her restless spirit triggered when the man responsible killed another driver only two months before, also while driving drunk.

Unfortunately, the ghost wasn't satisfied with the death of her murderer by her own hands. Now the ghost was targeting anyone who she deemed a dangerous driver – be it speeding, illegal lane change or some other traffic violation. Four more people had been killed and two others injured before the case made it on to the Winchester's radar.

So here they were, after three days of research and another of interviewing witnesses - Dean hip deep in grave dirt and Sam on lookout duty in the middle of a cloudy, starless night.

The cemetery was rather large for the size of the small Wyoming town. It was situated in a clearing cut into the forest that ran the length of the main road. There had been a road paved right up to the cemetery gates from the road, which made access much easier for them both. It's certainly not the case with older cemeteries – sometimes it was more of a hike than not to get to the more remote locations.

Sam swept the area with practiced eyes, scanning for any danger or unexpected guests. Other than the occasional breeze that made the leaves dance on the trees and the odd cricket chirping everything was about what they expected.

For now.

He heard the shovel hit wood and he returned his gaze back to Dean as he began clearing the last of the dirt from the coffin. "About time."

Dean glared at his brother as he swiped dirt away from the coffin with a practiced hand. "Speak for yourself. Come on down here and you do it."

Sam raised his hand in mock defense. "Nah, I'm good."

"Then shut up Sam."

He grinned at his brother's back. Then frowned as the forest grew quiet. The crickets that had been chirping went silent and the breeze took on a more biting cold. "Dean, I think we're going to have company here soon." He held the shotgun tightly in his right hand, the flashlight in his left still trained on his brother.

Dean glanced around them, then went back to focusing on getting the lid open, grunting with the effort. "Working on it." He did his best to ignore the firing of the shotgun a few moments later, trusting Sam to deal with the ghost. "Come on, come on." The lid finally creaked open and he grabbed at the canister of salt he'd left in their supply bag next to the headstone, prying the lid of the canister off with sure fingers and liberally dosing the remains.

"Dean! Down!"

Dean ducked his head instinctively as he heard and felt the slightest touch of rock salt pepper the back of his collar just as the ghost had reached an arm toward him. She disappeared in a scream of frustration.

Glancing up at his brother at the lip of the open grave, he grinned. "Nice shot." He turned his attention back to the grave, switching out salt for accelerant.

Sam circled the grave, eyes darting back and forth as he waited for Beth's ghost to return. "Any day Dean would be great."

"I'm working on it!"

Dean yanked his hand back toward his chest as the lid suddenly slammed closed, narrowly missing his fingers. "Bitch." He growled. Grabbing the discarded shovel next to him. he tried jamming the blade into the lid of the casket, trying to pry it back open. "Fine. We'll do this the hard way."

Sam grunted as the ghost knocked him several feet onto his back, narrowly missing a tombstone, the shotgun rolling out of his hand upon impact.

Dean's head shot up at his brother's groan. "Sam!"

Sam rolled to his stomach and started to pushed himself up. "I'm fine!" He yelled back, getting a knee under him and standing up.

The ghost reappeared only inches from his face, eyes dark and face twisted with rage.

Sam's head reared back in surprise. As the ghost advanced, he pulled an iron knife from its sheath and sliced the blade through the ghost's midsection in one movement, dispersing it. "Dean!"

With the ghost dispersed, Dean was able to get the lid back open. Crawling out of the open grave, he flicked the lighter on as he got to his feet, dropping it a moment later into the half opened casket, the fire quickly engulfing the remains.

The unearthly scream echoed in the enclosed cemetery, signalling the ghost was gone for good this time.

Dean caught Sam's eye as his brother took in a few deep breaths, adrenaline slowly fading. "And another one bites the dust!" Dean singsonged cheerfully, grinning cheekily at his brother.

Sam sighed, trying but failing not to grin back, albeit tiredly.

They both stared at the fire for a few minutes, watching the flames flicker and dance as the adrenaline slowly faded, both lost in their own thoughts.

Turning away from the grave, Sam looked around for the dropped shotgun while his brother began stuffing items haphazardly back into the duffel bag. They still had to wait for the fire to die down and fill the grave back in before they could head back to the motel, but other than a few bruises, the hunt had been quite successful.

Scratching the back of his neck, he spotted the shotgun a couple dozen feet away, next to some thick bushes that lined the perimeter of the cemetery. He made his way over, stepping around the odd gravestone and bent down to retrieve it with a sigh.

He caught red eyes peering back at him through the foliage just as his fingers made contact with the shotgun, startling him. "The hell is that?"

Sam's eyes widened as the bushes exploded outward as a dark form took the youngest Winchester to the ground, hard, sharp teeth ripping into the meat of Sam's shoulder on the way down.

Dean tried to stifle a yawn as he tossed the salt canister back into the duffel bag, listening absently as his brother moved off farther towards the back of the cemetery. All in all, this hunt was a successful one. No major injuries, simple and uncomplicated. Just what the brothers needed after the crapfest that was the last few months. Especially with Sammy getting his soul back not even two months ago.

It must have been that glass-half-full attitude that turned what was supposed to be a relatively easy hunt into a nightmare in mere seconds.

He thought he'd heard Sam murmur something to himself a few seconds before Sam cried out, Dean's head snapping up at the sound. "Sam!"

Sam's scream chilled him to the bone.

Dean pulled the handgun from his waistband and ran towards his brother, taking in the dark form draped over Sam, his aim steady as he pulled the trigger.

He fired three shots into its hide, the creature pulling its massive head back and snarling at Dean with bloodstained teeth.

Sam's blood.

A giant paw pressed itself against Sam's cheek, the weight pushing his face painfully into the ground. It's sharp claws dangerously close to his eyes as he fought to move.

"Hey!" Another round was fired off from the gun and Sam heard the creature roar in pain, feeling a few drops of blood splatter across his face.

Dean had shot it in the eye.

Sam used the distraction to bring the iron knife still in his grasp and swung upward, landing a blow to the thing's neck.

The creature's roar was almost deafening. It's paw shifted off of Sam and instead dug into the wet grass beside him, claws tearing at ground.

"Grab the other shotgun!" Sam yelled through clenched teeth, arm shaking with the strain of keeping his knife jammed into the neck of the wolf-like creature without it turning it's massive jaws back on Sam.

The creature started shaking its head violently, trying to pry Sam's grip off of the knife. "Dean!"

A few seconds later a loud boom erupted above him. Half of the creature's head exploded in a spray of blood and gore, staggering it a moment before it collapsed on top of Sam.

Dean dropped the shotgun, breathing heavily and reached for his brother. Grabbing a fistful of his brother's jacket just under his arms, he pulled Sam backwards, clenching his jaw at the pained sounds Sam tried to keep quiet.

Finally, Sam slipped free from under the creature's heavy weight, Dean falling backwards on his ass with Sam landing half in his lap. Both brothers lay there a moment, breathing heavily with exertion.

Dean was the first to move, sitting up and leaning Sam against one knee, as he took in the bloodied shoulder. "Sammy? You okay?"

Sam swallowed, nodding as he cradled his left arm against his chest, staring at the dead creature. "What was that thing?"

Good question.

Dean reached an arm out to grab Sam's dropped flashlight and shone it on the creature.

It's body was covered in dark fur, almost black. While half of its head was gone, thanks to a shotgun blast to the temple, Dean could tell that it's head and body was wolf-like, but not like any wolf he had ever seen. It was probably pushing 250 lbs, large muscular limbs on a quadrupedal body. Sharp claws protruded from large wolf-like paws, almost as big as Dean's hands. It's tail had longer fur on it than the rest of its body, and what was left of the face had hardly any fur on it at all.

This was nothing that Dean had ever encountered before. "No idea. You?"

Sam shook his head, grimacing. "Nothing I've ever seen." He turned to look at his brother. "You think maybe this is something new? Like, something Eve created?"

Dean shrugged. "God, I hope not." He paused, thinking. "Although, it's not like we know every Supernatural thing out there either." He reached for his brother. "You think you can stand?"

"Yeah. Help me up."

Dean reached a hand down and grasped Sam's elbow, levering his brother into a standing position, watching as Sam's lips pressed together tightly, fighting pain. "Let me see, Sammy."

Dean eased off Sam's jacket as carefully as he could, biting his lip as he took in the bloody shirt sleeve and the teeth marks that marred his shoulder and upper arm. The t-shirt was soaked with blood on his left side, sticking to the wounds at various places. He probed the arm and shoulder gently, assessing. After a moment, he sighed. "You're going to need a hospital, man. Get this stitched up, antibiotics and some nice pain meds."

At the look of protest he saw coming, Dean put up a hand. "Dude. Some of these wounds are deep. I could do it, but I don't wanna risk your arm doing bathroom triage. And you're going to need stronger antibiotics than what we have."

Dean would do it if he had to – but he didn't want to risk an infection, and especially didn't want to put Sam at risk if it wasn't absolutely necessary.

Sam seemed to chew on it a moment, before he nodded. "Yeah, okay."

"Okay – good." Dean clapped Sam on his good shoulder on his way by, earning him a pained glare in return. "I'll finish up here. Better make sure the Big Bad Wolf actually stays dead."

Sam shook his head, smiling. "So... salt 'n burn?"

Dean grinned, retrieving the discarded salt canister from earlier. "Salt 'n burn. We got ourselves a two-for-one special Sammy. How often does that happen?"

"If you ask me, once is too much."

Once they finished disposing of the bodies, they made their way back to the motel to pick up their things and headed to the nearest hospital, which was almost forty minutes away. After an exam that included x-rays, Sam sat through just over half an hour of stitching, a shot of antibiotics and waited for the pain medication to arrive. He also had to sit through and watch Dean reenact the story of how he heroically saved his brother from a vicious bear attack to the various nurses that came in to Sam's room - three times. One blonde, one brunette and a red head. Sam told his brother in no uncertain terms after the last nurse left the room that he was kicking him out if he didn't shut up.

Dean just smiled innocently. "What? I'm just laying down our cover, man."

Sam rolled his head on the pillow and groaned.

A little while later, Sam was finally given some pain medication and a prescription for oral antibiotics that he could pick up later in the morning. His arm was eased into a sling to take the pressure off his wounds and then he and Dean were headed back to the Impala, the sliding glass doors of the Emergency room closing softly behind them just as light began to touch the sky.

They found a motel nearby and Sam let his head sink back against the bench seat, exhaustion tugging at him as the door creaked open and Dean shut it behind him, heading to the motel lobby. He must have dozed for a moment because Dean was at his window, pulling the car door open. "I don't know about you, but I could use some shut eye. Come on."

Sam allowed Dean to ease him out of the car and into the room, neither brother bothering to bring their duffel bags in. They only planned to catch a few hours of sleep and then take off back to Bobby's. Dean's idea, give them a few days to let Sam's arm heal enough before they decided to take on another case.

Sam kicked his shoes off at the foot of his bed and gingerly lowered himself down, not even bothering to take off his clothes, save for his ruined jacket. He got himself flat on the mattress and managed to roll to his right side, wiggled under the blankets and used a pillow to prop up his bad arm. The drugs at the hospital were finally starting to kick in, the pain a dull throb instead of the hot burn of before. It took a moment to get comfortable but when he did he sighed, content.

Dean smiled at his brother's back as he fidgeted trying to get comfortable as he eased himself into his own bed, his jeans tossed next to his shoes at the end of the bed. "Night Sammy."

"Night Dean."

It didn't take long for either brother to drift off, exhausted after a long night.

A/N: I will try and update on a weekly basis. I'm still not sure how long this story is going to be, as for the first time (I believe) I am posting a story that I have not finished in its entirety. A new thing for me. Ballpark guess? About 7 chapters.