Hah, I'm naughty, updating during school. But I got bored, and had my USB so... meh. I apoligize, I have three other stories going on, one a major project. This chapter's short, but I wanted to post. :/ I'll work faster from now on!

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Dean jolted awake, the spine-chilling wail still ringing in his ears. He was breathing heavily, and he glanced over at the clock. 3:02. He sighed, and sank back into bed, pinning the sound on a bad dream.

But, not a minute after the first, it came again, starting low and sliding up octaves. And it was close. Dean made a grab for the Smith & Wesson he kept under his pillow. But as his fingers wrapped around it, the door slid open.

Alarms went off in his mind, not only that someone or something was in the room with them, but that they usually kept the hall light on, just in case they had to ditch fast. He hadn't turned off the light.

"Sammy?" he rasped softly.

There was no response, but Dean saw the curtains flutter, near the foot of the bed. He swiveled, aiming the gun towards where it was, but upon peering closer, saw that nothing was there. He lowered it slightly, furrowing his brow.

A throaty growl came from the corner of the room, by the dresser.

"What the hell?" Dean mumbled, turning to the corner. I thought we killed the dang thing.

A thought broke into his mind. Where's Sam? Dean's eyes widened and he momentarily lowered the gun.

Suddenly golden-yellow eyes were flashing through the air and Dean felt claws dig into his shoulder as an animalistic scream ripped from the creature's throat. Dean kicked it off, unable to get a shot in with it at close range. It tumbled off the bed and Dean fired after it. There was a yelp of pain, though Dean was unable to tell how badly he'd hit it. But he pulled the trigger again.

It just clicked. The dang thing jammed! Dean cursed and threw it to one side, then snatched up the bed covers and tossed them over the creature. It distracted it long enough for Dean to make a break for the door.

Dean slammed the door in its face. The animal let out a howl of anguish as it collided with it. Dean ignored it, and jammed a chair underneath the doorknob. Right now he had to find Sammy!

He shoved open his brother's door and flipped the light switch. It didn't work. The werewolf must have somehow cut the power. The thing was friggin' smart! He scoured the room, and much to his dismay, couldn't find Sammy anywhere. At least there weren't signs of a struggle.

He rifled through Sam's bag and grabbed the Beretta. He hesitated, then grabbed the Taurus too. If he found Sammy, his little brother would need a gun. No. Not if. When.

He slipped out the door and scoped out the rest of the upstairs. He would deal with the wolf after he found Sammy.

He gave a growl of frustration as he bounded down the stairs. Sam had to be somewhere. He just had to.

At the foot of the stairs, he ran smack into something. He jumped back, gun raised, then lowered it.

"Dad!"

"Dean what the hell is going on?" John grumbled, rubbing his shoulder where Dean's gun had hit him.

But Dean couldn't answer that, for there was a sound of splintering wood and a fierce howl of rage, that told them the creature had broken from its prison.

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Oh crap. Loose Sammy.