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Dark Hunters or Just Hunters

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Disclaimer: I do not own SPN or Dark Hunter.

Prologue

May 2nd, 1861

“Where the hell is he?” Dean snarled as he plunged his blade into another demon, making it howl in pain as the blessed blade ripped into its host’s flesh, the wound sizzling from the holy water covering the blade.

“He’ll be here!” His brother answered as he ducked and then punched a demon.

“Well he better get here soon!”

“Looking for me?” Samuel Colt called, getting a glare from the older brother.

“About time you got here.” Dean growled as he dodged a blow.

“We need to shut the gates! Many more and they’ll be able to break the trap.” Sammy yelled before yelping as he went down.

“SAM!” Dean yelled in terror but his brother was soon back on his feet.

“I’m fine!” Sam yelled, one hand clutching his ribs. He was pretty sure at least one was cracked, maybe even broken but there was no time to stop and check. They had to close those Gates! The three of them fought on towards the Gates, having no choice but to leave the fallen fighters behind. They were all that was left of the group of ten hunters who had gathered to stop what was happening. Eventually they made it and the brothers guarded Samuel’s back as he went to work using the Colt to lock the Gates and seal Hell away. Finally they clicked shut and all three went back to stopping those that had already escaped.

“Did we actually survive that?” Dean asked in disbelief and Sam chuckled before holding his ribs again.

“It looks AH!” Sam screamed in agony.

“SAM!” Dean screamed even as Samuel aimed and took out the demon that had just stabbed Sam in the back. “NO!” Dean rushed to Sam, catching him as his legs buckled. “Sam? Come on Sammy, look at me.” Dean pleaded, holding Sam up even as his head lolled, eyes fluttering weakly. “Don’t you dare do this Sam, you stay with me.” He begged as his brother sagged in his hold.

Samuel knelt down and ripped the back of Sam’s shirt open to see the wound only to stare in horror as thick red blood poured out of Sam’s back. He punched up the torn shirt and pressed it to the wound knowing it would do no good. Even with a doctor handy Sam would die.

Dean held Sam up as best he could, one hand cupping his face gently. “Come on little brother, look at me.” He pleaded desperately. Sam’s eyes rolled, unfocused and he coughed, blood leaking from between his lips. “No Sammy, don’t do this.” He’d already had to burn their Dad, how could he face having to do the same to his baby brother. “Please Sam.” Sam’s lips parted as if trying to speak but then to Dean’s horror he went utterly still. “No, no, no. Sam?” His hand trembled as he felt at Sam’s throat for a pulse but there was nothing. “SAM!!!”

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Dean fought not to scream as sharp fangs dug into his skin through even his tough leather coat. One arm was raised, protecting his throat even as he tried to see Sam. For one year he had had his brother back. He’d known this was coming but nothing could have prepared him for the fear and pain as the Hounds bore down on him. He knew the demon controlling them was near, keeping Sam from coming to his aide though what he could do Dean didn’t know. Was the last year really worth what was coming? To eventually end up a demon? He didn’t want that, better the oblivion of total destruction than to become what he hated. His mind, heart and soul cried out desperately for help and to his surprise he was answered.

Sam cried out in horror as the room suddenly flared with light and then blinked dazedly as he nearly fell to his knees, the force holding him back gone. He looked around in confusion, the demon lay on the ground, dead and all that seemed to be left of the hounds were furrows in the old wooden floor. He looked around widely for his brother but all that was left of Dean was a cooling puddle of blood on the floor. “NO!!!!!” Sam screamed in grief and rage, eyes flashing briefly with power.

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May 2nd, 2001

Dean stood on the street corner, black eyes searching for his prey. Spotting two he smirked and slipped into the crowd, following them even as they tracked some pretty young women through the New York streets. The city had changed so much since his family had passed through when he was a child but it had been home for the last ten years, it was easy to disappear in such a big city, to be invisible. And that was what he was, had been for the last one hundred and forty odd years, invisible. Living amongst humanity and yet never a part of it, always alone. He had chosen this life but if he had known then…was this really any better than the fate that had originally awaited him? He’d still never seen his brother again. He dropped a hand down to the silenced gun he carried and smiled wistfully.

‘Happy Birthday little brother.’ He thought as he put a bullet through the first Daimon’s hear, killing it instantly.

TBC….