Dean hated hunting in the winter. Especially in the north. And where was he? In north-fucking-Michigan, trying to run away from a werewolf in the snow. Great.
He'd lost sight of Sam a while ago, just after the plan had gone wrong and he'd been forced to flee. At least he knew that Sam wasn't in any danger, because the werewolf was chasing Dean.
He was beginning to get tired and was desperately trying to think of a plan. The werewolf was catching up fast. Then he heard it. A whizzing sound followed by the trampling of feet. He looked up and saw Sam, skiing down the mountain and a pack of moose running after him. He stopped in shock. He heard the werewolf whine with fear behind him and looked back to see it running away. A bullet flew past him and the werewolf fell on the ground dead.
He looked at Sam, struggling to think of something to say. Sam looked back calmly and said: „I brought us backup."