Hell's Hold


The wind seemed to be picking up speed the closer they got to the cabin. Dean had suggested that they call after his brother in hopes of getting a response, but Amber quickly shot that idea down since it was apparent they weren’t the only beings in the forest.

As soon as they crossed the doorway, Amber walked over to the table where she had placed the weapons. Her small, delicate hands began to rummage through all they had, pulling salt, holy water and a small pistol out and placing them farther than the rest of the dangerous toys.

Dean was beginning to gain that fuzzy feeling in his fingers and cheeks you get after going from cold to warm while he was pacing back and forth by the entrance. “Who was that?”

“Your guess is as good as mine.”

He stopped his frantic moving and looked at the redhead whose back was still turned towards him. Her auburn hair cascaded just above the waist line of her pants and it made Dean wonder how she could take care of it with such length. “You’ve never seen that man before?”

She still didn’t move an inch to face him, “Never.”

Her tone was very bland like she could have cared less about seeing a half-naked man in the middle of nowhere. There were still so many unanswered questions Dean had about the girl, but he would have to address them later because right now it was more important that they find Sam.

He approached her from behind, hoping to really catch a glimpse of what she was so intently focused on, but to his dismay she spun around to look at him. Her deep green eyes met his and he swore he heard her breath hitch in her throat making him take everything not to smirk.

“What are you working on?”

She very visibly swallowed before speaking, “Nothing. I just needed to make sure we had exactly what we needed.”

“How do you know what we need?” He asked taking another step closer to her.

Shit, she was cornered; her behind barely grazing the edge of the table as she took a step back, away from Dean’s overwhelming body heat. “I-I don’t.”

Now he couldn’t fight back the smile playing at his lips as he realized that the young girl wasn’t as menacing as she played. “Amber,” he purposely said her name in a soft, seductive breath. “I think we both know you are a little too calm to not know what this ‘thing’ is.”

She squirmed uncomfortably under his heavy gaze, cursing herself for actually looking in his eyes. She had been warned over and over again of his womanizing ways, but she never once expected a small gaze to cause a knot in her stomach the size of bowling ball. “I, honestly, have no idea what you’re talking about Dean.”

There was no more room between the two them for her to escape, but it was exactly what Dean wanted. He bent down close enough to smell her cherry chap stick ignoring the nagging feeling to bite that pouty bottom lip of hers. “Cut the act, darling.”

The tension was agonizing. Amber couldn’t look at him anymore, so as she looked down at her old boots, she explained, “I’m almost positive we are dealing with a lycanthrope.”

“You mean a werewolf?” He took a few steps back, crossing his arms over his chest trying to create more of a barrier.


Dean watched as she fidgeted with the assortment of rings that decorated her hands, wondering why that nagging feeling in the pit of his stomach wouldn’t pass. He knew that once they got on the search for Sam, maybe it would help clear his head of her faint vanilla scent.

She briefly glanced at him again, “I know you’re probably wondering why I need you and Sam.”

Cocking his head to the side, his curiosity grew. “Actually, I was wondering why we weren’t out looking for him.”



Everything seemed to be against their odds as they left the quaint cabin. The wind was blowing at a blinding speed and it was becoming dusk with every blink, small snowflakes were beginning to dust the ground – making their chances of finding Sam very grave.

Dean wanted so badly to be angry, once more, at Amber for sending his brother away in search of him, but he couldn’t help, but feel it was his fault. After all, he was the one that left. Then again, he wouldn’t have if Amber knew when to keep her mouth shut.

“Did you grab flashlights?” He asked pulling Amber out of her thoughts.

“I could only find one.”

“Hm, I know I packed two. Unless Sam grabbed another one before he took off.” Dean stated before taking their only source of light from her.

She shrugged. “I guess he did when I was trying to figure out which way you could have gone.”

“Wait,” he stopped walking, causing her to run face first into his leather jacket. “You never told me how you found me.”

“Dude, it’s not like I stalked you out of the cabin. I simply followed your footprints in the snow.”

Dean didn’t believe her for a second. Something was off, Sam how to follow a set of footprints and the way Amber’s eyes shone in the moonlight as she spoke about his brother made him quiver. He wasn’t sure if it was the after effects from his mild interrogation or his actual gut.

A light bulb went off. “You’re using him as bait aren’t you?”

Casting her eyes downward, she mumbled something to the ground.

“Excuse me?” Dean’s voice was rising at the thought that his brother could be anywhere in these godforsaken woods with a werewolf on the loose.

Amber didn’t say anything, afraid to look into his eyes again. Without any warning though, Dean’s hand was under her chin, painfully moving her face upwards to stare into his hate filled eyes. She wanted to shrink away into the darkness at the moment.

“I’m going to ask you one more time.” His voice was deep and menacing as the grip on her chin tightens slightly, causing her to whimper. “Are you using Sam as bait?”

She couldn’t lie. “Yes.”

“You little bitch!” He shouted, while throwing the flashlight on the ground with a thud. It flickered for a moment before resting on a pile of leaves somewhere in the distance making Amber and Dean shadows.

In the darkness, Amber could see Dean running his long fingers through his hair. When devising this plan a couple days ago, everything seemed tolerable. She would piss off Dean enough to get him to leave, Sam would want to go after him, and then Amber would send him in the complete opposite direction in hopes of the werewolf finding him when they did making the slaying much easier.

She never counted on the werewolf finding them. She never prepared to feel sick as Dean stood there yelling obscenities at her. Maybe she wasn’t ready to face her demons.

“Dean?” she whispered quietly.

He was pacing again, “What!?”

She bit her bottom lip, like a child being chastised for missing homework. “I just realized – the werewolf… He found us first.”


“Well that means he now has our scent.”

Dean stopped and turned to face her. Amber’s face wasn’t hard to find in the darkness, but it read nothing, but fear. Something he hadn’t seen on her since he caught a glimpse of her through the window several years ago. “That means we’re the bait.”

Somewhere, somehow, against the deafening wind – the two hunters could make out the faint sound of a wolf’s howl. They now knew that this couldn’t be just any animal hunting for food, but it was now a killing machine going to be hunting them.
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This one was more fun to write because Amber isn't being her usually badass - although I like that side of her. I'd love to hear what any of you think. Don't be silent, por favor! c:

Also, if you have time check out my other story Pinky Promise. It'll be over soon and then I start the sequel!