I got a review saying Dean was too much what the social workers said he would turn out to be like... hope he's not too insane and you guys understand he's just having a hard time at the moment and dealing with it in the wrong way. X

Badass Beta/Awesome Editor- Samanatha V

Blame it upon a rush of blood to the head

He hoped he got to use more than salt and lighter fluid tonight, he needed to stab something solid, feel the satisfaction of the blood trickling from the blade over his fingers. He wanted to make something scream like he'd once screamed, he wanted to cause pain.

Dean should have known better. As it turns out, he got what he wanted. For some ridiculous reason he kept hearing Sam's voice saying be careful what you wish for as he grappled with the hairy fugly, currently trying to rip his throat out. Sweeping aside dirt and leaves he fumbled his one hand out blindly towards the handle of his knife glittering mockingly in the moonlight.

He wished for a big, ugly, solid monster, he got a full moon and a nice stray werewolf.

He'd found it in the woods, not far from where he had saved Sam from the vampire. It was his favourite hunting grounds and tonight it was also the werewolf's. Its meandering tracks had been easy to follow so he figured it was clearly not from around here given how confused it was. A werewolf always knew its territory, so he thought that this one was either really stupid or lost. Judging by how quickly he found himself pressed with his back grinding against the forest floor, dodging the hot slathering jaws, Dean guessed it was the latter.

He was not exactly in the position he wanted to be in. Having no gun or ammo meant he'd had to rely on stealth to get close enough to use his knife - his big, shiny, silver blade that would cut through the wolf's heart like it was butter... if only getting through its rib cage was as easy.

Ghosting through the low brush, most already bare of leaves, he had glided between the shadows, all actions tight and controlled. Sweet release from all thoughts and failures, aches and pains, nothing but the hunt.

"Come on you fucker! Play time's over!" he grinned once as he lunged out, slicing the tendons behind the wolf's kneecap. Howling in pain and rage the monster momentarily stilled, giving Dean just the time he needed to take his knife and drive it into the creature's chest. Yeah... right, it was only that easy in theory. Reality was a whole different ball game, in reality the wolf ignored its damaged leg and charged the young hunter down to the ground in seconds.

Wickedly curved claws dug deep into his shoulders making Dean cry out while the beast's weight put pressure on his body.

Holy shit I forgot how sharp those fucking nails were! The only bright side he could think of right now, at least his mind wasn't blind in pain...only a little clouded.

"You're not...biting...me you...wet mutt!" he stretched away from its blood red teeth, fresh blood... that meant a fresh kill not long ago.

Which is how he found himself desperately reaching a hand out to search for his knife that had been knocked from his hand in the pounce attack. When he found it, his enraged growl gave the werewolf a good run for its money. Fingertips finally brushing around the cold handle he crawled his fingers around it, threaded his arm under the belly of the wolf jammed the blade upwards, he didn't care where he hit, as long as it got the wet dog off his chest, they were damn heavy for mutated humans. Judging by the wet spray that gouted across his face and clothes he'd hurt it bad.

The wolf whimpered and rolled from on top of him, it sounded part human in its cries, part dog, and to any unfortunate passersby, it would have sounded like a rather large baby crying out for its mother. Thrashing it tumbled to lie motionless amongst the dry twigs and leaves.

Trembling from the fear and adrenaline, Dean pushed himself up "I'm gonna hang your head on my trophy wall, you fucker!"

Angrily he swiped at the blood on his face, ignoring the pain in his shoulders and wave of dizziness as he stood up. The sound it had made had unsettled him and he had to remind himself it was evil therefore it deserved to die, who cared what it once was. It was also a hell of a lot hairier than werewolves he'd come across in the past and a lot smellier, no wonder poor dogs got compared to these things, they had a lot in common despite the wolfs being more of a two legged mammal than myth suggested.

"Holy shit! "Dean!"" he heard some kid in shock... but there was hardly fear there, strange, he sounded an awful lot like... Dean wasn't sure; past the pain and past the blind fury, he saw everything, heard everything and yet was blind and deaf to all but the prey before him.

A low snarl like the buzz of a chainsaw was the only warning Dean had as the wounded werewolf exploded out towards him.

Dean ignored Sam, barely knew he was there in fact, as he tightened his hand around his blade and went for the wolf much like it had done to him not minutes ago. Using his momentum he pivoted the monster onto its back and with all his weight on the animal pinning it down to the ground, he drove his knife deep into the slowly beating heart. There was a crunch of bone, the gurgle of blood and finally, a steady trickle on the end of his knife... All was silent except for his harsh breathing and the pounding of his own heart in his ears – a cold satisfaction for a job well done settled through him as he felt the adrenaline rush start to ebb.

He pulled the dripping blade out and staggered to his feet.

"D-Dean?" someone called from behind him with a hand on his back. Snarling he spun and brought his knife up again. "Whoa! It's me! Sam! Dean it's me put the fucking thing down!" Sam backed away quickly, a werewolf he wasn't scared of, but this crazy killer in front of him was terrifying.

"Sam?"

His little brother was relieved to see reason return to Dean's eyes.

"What... the hell... are you... doing here?" Dean asked breathing heavy, both with shock that he nearly impaled his brother and the rush of rawness from the bleeding holes in his shoulders.

"I could ask you the same thing!" Sam yelled.

Dean smirked... "You cursed, your dad would ground you for a lifetime if he heard that coming out of your mouth again."

"Dean what the hell?" Sam was not in the mood for Dean's wise cracks and avoiding the subject shit tonight!

"What? The werewolf?" Dean looked over his shoulder at the dead mutt, poor guy, too bad he turned into a walking talking slaughterhouse several times a month.

"No, you being out here with all alone with your knives hunting a frickin' werewolf! I thought my parents put all that stuff away when you promised you wouldn't do this anymore?"

"Like I gave them every weapon I owned. I'm smart enough to know to keep a few for emergencies."

"So this was just an emergency? You just happened to go for an armed walk and accidentally bumped into a werewolf?"

"If I say yes would you stop with twenty questions?"

"Dean!" Sam yelled, he was so pissed off right now!

"Alright, fine, I was... I was mad and I wanted something... I don't know what I wanted but I just happen to end up here, with my knife in my hand, and really smelly dog charging after me, okay?"

"So you did walk out of the house intending to hunt something?"

"... yeah... but this is the first time since my... since R-, since him, I swear Sam. This was just a onetime thing, I was mad, I just needed something..."

"What? To get yourself killed?" Sam snapped, Dean wasn't being straight with him, he knew it!

"No, I wouldn't have brought my knife if I wanted to try and kill myself." Dean was smirking again, despite the pain. No, scratch that, agony, with a side order of gut wrenching guilt, no salad with that thanks.

"We need to call Steve, he can get rid of this," Sam tried hard not to look at the body in front of him.

"I can do that," Dean said trying to be helpful. "It needs to be salted and burned..."

"You're bleeding, and you can barely stand," Sam commented dryly looking at the blood pooling on both his shoulders. Sure Dean was wearing black, but Sam could see in the bright moonlight his shoulders were wet and sticky where holes were ripped in the thick fabric.

"I'm fine," Dean replied as he crossed his arms across his chest and pressed his hands to the wounds to stem the blood flow.

"I'll call Steve when we get back home."

Dean sighed, he was busted anyway, might as well use the resources he had to save him a job.

They worked together to move the werewolf to a safer hiding place that would do until Steve could get there, make a convincing story and clear the body a lot more thoroughly than Dean could on his own.

"You're a real idiot you know that."

"You're bedside manner sucks."

Sam didn't speak after that as they both made their way from deep in the woods back to the house, he only watched out of the corner of his eye to make sure he didn't sway too far from the side walk onto the road.

"Sam?"

Sam looked his way with a glare in a silent, 'what?'

"What were you doing there? You know you're not supposed to be in the woods after what happened last time."

"Don't start lecturing me on things I'm not meant to do, you hypocrite."

"Okay, sorry I asked."

"Good."

What crawled up his ass and died? Dean thought to himself as he continued to stare at his little brother who looked pissed as hell, and sounded even worse.

"Sammy, seriously, what-"

"First, it's Sam, I'm not a little kid anymore, and second, my parents were arguing, my mom sounded close to slapping my dad and it was all over you and this stupid surgery. I wanted to get outta the house, take a walk, then I heard someone sounding an awful lot like you screaming so I went to check it out."

"So it looks like I'm not the only idiot."

"I'm learning from the best, now shut up, you're supposed to save your strength in these circumstances, not talk yourself and others to death."

"Dude it's just a scratch."

"Whatever jerk."

"Bitch," Dean grinned, he thought it was back to joking time... Sam's face said differently.

SPN

"What are you doing?" Sam whispered into the night air as Dean started to walk around the side of the house as he went to the front.

"I'm not gonna walk through the front door like this you moron!" Dean whispered just as harsh back as he motioned to his blood spattered clothes and 'scratched' shoulders. "I'm grounded long enough."

"Yeah, well who's fault will it be if that time's extended."

"Look would you just help me get into my bedroom and we can talk about this tomorrow, I'm tired man."

Dean looked positively dead on his feet; he looked like crap physically, ready to either sob or scream emotionally. Sam gave in and helped Dean through the window before climbing up himself.

Dean locked his bedroom door and pushed the chair under the handle for good measure before he peeled off his jacket. He hissed as it pulled on his claw marks and was grateful when Sam helped him out, his expression a little less hard than it was a few minutes ago.

"Are you hurt anywhere else?" Sam asked, his little brother concerned tone back in its rightful place as he watched Dean bite his lip through the pain of getting his shirt and tee off.

"No, but... at least they don't look bad enough to need stitches. Few aspirin and I'll be good as new."

"I hope so."

Dean nodded a thank you, then stood from his bed to get his first aid kit or rather tried to. Sitting quickly back down while the greying of his vision mercifully receded he covered by pretending to make himself more comfortable.

"Could you get me my pencil case from the middle drawer?" he asked Sam as he bit deeper into his lip. Shit, the gouges didn't look good, but not too bad either; at least the bleeding had almost stopped. The worst gaped open slightly, but he couldn't manage stitches with where they were so he'd just have to make do. What's a few more scars anyway.

Sam frowned but did as requested, he handed Dean the case before sitting back down next to him. When it was opened he realised what it was, bandages, pills, peroxide... yup, Dean was good, but this was another sign he was prepared for more than just the one hunt.

"Dean?"

Dean looked up from his supplies. "Come on man, it's embarrassing asking your mom for first aid stuff, she practically wanted to kiss my knee better when I fell off my bike that time, this makes things so much easier."

Dean was good, he was lying out of his ass, but he was good.

"Okay, I'm gonna go called Steve." Sam was also good, so good Dean was convinced Sam was convinced. He called his uncle, told him about the dead fury fiend in the woods, where they hid it, and sorry they were out late in that particular woods yet again. But Dean was shocked when he heard Sam ask Steve to promise not to mention this to his parents, because they would flip out.

"Okay kiddo, but you have swear to me there'll be no midnight killing sprees for you or Dean."

"It was an accident, we didn't mean to-"

"Sam?"

"We promise, thanks Uncle Steve."

"Bye Sam."

Sam ended the call and looked back at Dean who was having major trouble cleaning out his wounds by himself.

"You need help?" Dean nodded, couldn't hurt, in fact, might help things.

"Thanks for not telling him the whole story."

"You mean thanks for lying for you?"

"Well... yeah."

"You're not welcome."

"Ah! Watch it man!" he winced when Sam pressed on his right shoulder hard with peroxide soaked gauze. This was totally pay back.

"Sorry," Sam said, not sounding it at all.

"I repeat, your bedside manner sucks ass."

"I repeat, it's your own stupid fault."

Sam finished helping Dean. Awkwardly he taped some bandages on his shoulders and packed the stuff away just as he found it in Dean's drawer.

"Thanks Sam," Dean said sincerely, this wasn't just a thanks for patching me up, this was a thanks for everything, and I'm sorry about the rest.

"Just don't do anything stupid again okay? Please Dean?"

"I won't... thanks for watching my back man."

"You're welcome... now go to sleep, I'll see you tomorrow."

Sam moved the chair back under the desk, unlocked the bedroom door and went to crawl out Dean's window. It wasn't crazy late, so if he went through the front door it would still look like he'd just been on a long walk, and Dean had been in his room the whole time. For Dean's sake he hoped it worked, his parents might be pissed at him for lying, and for who knows how long, but Dean had enough to deal with right now. John and Mary finding out Dean had returned to his extracurricular activities could wait a few weeks.

"Night Dean..."

"Night Sammy."

Sam didn't correct him this time... just slipped from the window and crossed his fingers as he made his way round the house.

Quietly creaking open the front door, he eased it shut and ghosted towards the stairs hoping to slip up to his room without a fuss.

"Where have you been?"

TBC...