Gunshot rang through the still night. John turned and saw the werewolf hit the ground right at Dean's feet.
"Good shooting son!"
Dean gave no response. John looked up and the pride he felt at his son's first kill tore from his heart, replaced with horror and guilt. Dean stood motionless, gun still gripped tight, the whites of his eyes showing.
"It's alright Dean." John slowly took the gun from Dean's hands. "It's dead now."
Dean looked at him, turned and ran, not wanting John to see his fear or tears. He had seen it though and it killed him.