Crowley's definition of howling at the moon was odd, odd enough to make Dean wear an expression of annoyance when they arrived on the ridge.
Thick beams of silver moonlight streamed in through the trees hanging above the ridge, lighting the stony floor.
Ahead, on the black sky, above the forest, was a full moon, it's essence as radiant as it could ever be.
Dean didn't understand. He almost didn't want to understand. Ever since he awoke, Crowley had been acting as if he was Dean's teacher.
But that wasn't what really bothered him. The moment Dean set foot on that ridge the less human thing within him seemed to shriek. Almost as if Dean… wanted to howl at the moon.
"Feel it, puppet?" Asked Crowley. Dean stood stony as the ground beneath him. "I feel nothing," he began, "nothing at all."
"You're lying," Crowley replied. "I know you feel it. It's a… a call. Almost universal. Go ahead, Dean, answer it."
Dean turned to face Crowley, sick of the King of Hell's games. "I'm not answering anything. I'm not answering anything until-"
"You see Moose, I know," replied Crowley, knowing the end of that sentence even before Dean did. But yes, Dean wanted Sam.
Sammy. Sammy. Sammy.
The less human thing within him laughed again, pushing Sammy's name further and further away. No… NO…
He needed Sam, he needed him. He wouldn't let the less human thing destroy him. But yet…
Dean howled. He howled until his lungs strained in tension and his throat grew hoarse. He howled until his blood boiled and the moon seemed much brighter. Crowley watched, like the teacher he thought he was, smiling.
Then he heard it.
Sammy. Sammy. Sammy.
He stopped abruptly, the less human thing that made him howl recoiling, angry that Dean stopped.
His other half, his good half, told him there was no need to howl at the moon. No need at all. He needed Sammy.
Sammy. Sammy. Sammy.
He felt like two hands were stretching him apart. In a nearby puddle he saw his face… his eyes black as the atmosphere above.
Crowley approached the distraught Dean. "Why did you stop?" He asked, his thick english accent almost deafening. "Because I wanted to stop," replied Dean. Crowley smiled even brighter. "Winchesters… arrogant, ignorant, and rude. Remember that lady in the diner? Didn't even finish your cheeseburger…"
"Shut up…" Dean growled, his voice flooded with pain and loss and the years before and ahead. "Now-now, Dean, don't get snippy," said Crowley.
"Shut up…" warned Dean. "I don't like being quiet, I like hearing myself talk, Dean," replied Crowley.
"SHUT UP!" Dean could feel veins all over his body bulging, his thick muscles red and heated. "JUST SHUT… THE HELL… UP!"
His voice seemed to travel through the forest below, seeping in between the trunks of trees like poison.
Then the less human thing spoke, it's voice endless and deep. No, Dean, you shut up. You shut your mouth and listen. Shut your mouth and howl.
His good half responded. No…
The less human thing seemed to smile. Yes…
His good half fought back the only way it knew it could.
Sammy. Sammy. Sammy.
Then Dean grabbed Crowley by his black collar and brought the two boys face to face in a flash of anger on one side and amusement on the other.
"Kill me," said Dean. "Kill me Crowley. I can't live like this, not like this!"
Crowley pushed him away, still smiling that dark, dark smile. "No. You have much to learn Dean."
Dean collapsed to his knees. When did he become so weak? The less human thing laughed again.
His good half responded yet again, the only way it knew it could.
Sammy. Sammy. Sammy…
Sammy.