Supernatural: Fallen Son

Tails You Lose

The forest was almost unnaturally quiet. Nothing moved throughout its entirety, and the thick blanket of darkness covered everything in sight. The sun had gone down 2 hours ago, now - and the Winchester brothers were already on the hunt. Searching for a single, unmarked wooden grave in this massive woodland. A mid-sized wooden needle in a haystack filled with mid-sized wooden hay.
Neither of the brothers spoke - suspending their bickering - unable to make a sound for fear of disturbing whatever it was that was keeping the landscape silent. 'I think that's it.' Whispered Sam, trudging slowly towards a small, dark-oak cross that was impaled into the deep underbrush.
'Crap.' Dean mumbled disapprovingly as he followed his brother through the scrubland, and was scraped and cut repeatedly by thorns and assorted other bladed plants.

Despite the quiet, there was something watching the two humans. It was small, black and shiny. With two red eyes and a mouth filled with needles for teeth. A bloodied stump where it's tail should have been dripped sluggishly down into the bushes below. Wrapping its little, lemur-like claws around a branch, it rocked backwards and forward in the tree's arms, cackling quietly like a small child. 'Give it back...' It giggled.

Sam ran his fingers along the splintery wood, and then shined a torch on the centre of it. 'Dan' It said simply, in words that looked like they had been carved by a pen knife by a child 200 years ago. 'Sorry Dan.' Dean announced, heaving his mildly-bleeding form out of the vicious undergrowth and overgrowth. He was sure that that latter thing was a thing. Sam took one look at him, and then caught the shovel that his brother promptly threw to him.
Tailypo's eyes widened just slightly. 'Give it back!' He screeched, and his grating voice was heard throughout the entire forest. Dean and Sam both stopped dead in their tracks, the hairs on the backs of their necks standing on edge. Dean clasped his hand around his rock salt loaded handgun, and gestured to Sam to keep digging.
'Where is it?'
'I want it.'
'Give it back!'
'My Tailypo!' The thing screeched, and then started to curl its shadowy body amongst the branches leading down to ground level. Its rictus grin slithered up its cheeks, and then Dean yelled in sudden pain and shock as the monster raked its claws down his face. Gunshots echoed out across the forest as the hunter fought for his life.

A cold sweat started to roll down Sam's forehead, and he finally smashed his shovel down through the wooden lid of a coffin. Inside, the classic, mummified-looking remains of an age-old corpse grinned up at him. 'Sorry, mate.' Sam said as a simple eulogy, and then seasoned the body with a thick layer of salt. Scraping a match along the box, he stared at the flame for a second before dropping it and letting it do its work.

Dean had just enough time to snatch a glance behind him. He could see the flames of the corpse screaming upwards into the tree canopy, but he could still also see Tailypo. Bloodied, Dean's arms kept swinging at the monster before his legs instinctively turned to run. The creature laughed loudly - 'Ha! You'll have to do better than that, little man!'
'Sam! Sam it didn't work!' He screamed at the shape of his brother silhouetted by the blaze. 'What?' He could vaguely hear his brother reply.
Sam thought for a minute. 'Crap' he swore. 'Get to the house! I have an idea!' He yelled off into the darkness, only able to see the two red eyes of the ghost glimmering through the ebony carpet. Sam knew what he had to do, and so turned and ran towards the house.

Scrambling up a muddy and pebble-laden trail, he clutched onto a splintery tree for balance as he kicked down the door of the house. It had been left by the family due to the police investigation. If Tailypo was only killing those who were in the house, then there must be something of his in the house. Flashing a torch around the darkened household, he came to the realisation that the oldest area of the place would presumably be the cellar. Hairs on the back of his neck stood up as he heard his brother scream from outside.

'I'm giving it back.' Sam muttered as he scuttled his feet down a flight of rickety wooden stairs as fast as he could. Dean pounded his fists against the side of the house, the monster blocking his way to the door - and unrelentingly slashing and biting at his face. He screamed and shouted, clutching his head with his cut-covered arms.
Sam searched around the cellar of the house - scanning every nook and niche between washing machines with his torch. 'A little witchcraft wouldn't go amiss now.' He growled in a state of panic. Just then, he found a pile of dusty wooden planks. They'd seemingly been nailed to the ground - over a hole of some kind. Smashing through it with his shovel, he saw the bones of three dogs. Three dogs. Another torch scan. And a tail that wasn't theirs. With a lurch of giddy excitement, he salted the remains and lit another match.

Dean closed his eyes and fired blindly off into the darkness - but the attacks kept coming. His shirt was sticky with red blood, and his mouth tasted purely of iron. He could feel the creature scrape him in the stomach again, and he braced himself. But the blow never came. With a brief surge of fire, Dean knew what had happened.
Allowing himself to finally take another breath, he collapsed to the ground.