Hey folks. Next chapter is up. Thanks again for my reviewers, honestly, without you, it'd be depressing. Have fun.
Bags packed and stuff stored, bill paid and after a brief conflict about who would be driving – Sam lost, even though he'd had the better arguments – they were off towards their next stop, wherever that would be.
At a Dairy-Queen, not far out of town, they stopped to get milk-shakes. Sam was pretty certain those would stay inside his brother, having tested that theory when Dean'd suffered from a nasty bug a few years back. It would also be digested easily and hopefully not cause problems for the wolf either.
Dean hadn't eaten that much the last few days. Since he'd turned, he'd had food, sure, but he'd also puked a lot. Everything he ate as a wolf came back up in the morning, and yesterday Dean had tried coffee every time they stopped, and every time it'd come back up afterwards. So there hadn't been anything inside his stomach all day.
That made two days entirely without food, but Dean had eaten a lot on his presumed last day, feasting on pie and burgers with gusto. That was the only reason Sam didn't worry that much about his brother's health yet.
"'kay, lets hit the road, Sam" Dean smirked and took a long swallow from his shake. Sam glanced over, took in his pallor and the pasty skin-tone that indicated lack of sleep. He tried to remember when Dean had slept well the last time, and couldn't. The last weeks had been filled with nightmares, which ended in Sam not sleeping at all, still trying to find a cure and Dean staying awake with him.
They needed rest, and soon. He'd been hoping they would get it at Bobby's, but now…. They were both pretty good with exceeding their limitations, but driving while half asleep wasn't smart, and nobody would be better off when they ended in a ditch somewhere.
They'd probably have to stop and get some shut-eye in the day, so they'd hopefully be more awake and fresh in the night.
And then there was still the matter of collar and leash, and the fight they would have about it.
Great.
***
Dean was tired. His stomach had settled a bit, now that he had his second ice-cream-cone and two milkshakes in it; finally stopped the growling and churning it had used to tell him its dissatisfaction with being empty. He was also a bit anxious about the whole werewolf-situation he was in. There wasn't much evil about him, apparently, and Sam seemed to be sure that Dean wouldn't suddenly attack anyone without cause. Still, he worried.
It wasn't even the fact that Dean turned into a furry animal and ate raw meat at night. Wasn't even the puking, he could probably do something about that. Lack of coffee was bad, but he'd gone without it before.
No, Dean's problem was that he couldn't remember anything he did at night. He turned and then he was a wolf, and he seemed to be wolf through and through.
He knew a little bit about wolves, had watched a documentary about them one night and had been impressed by their hunting-strategies. But he'd fallen asleep soon after the deer-hunt and hadn't learned much. Their father had made Sam and Dean read about wolves and other wild animals of the US so they'd get the difference between them and anything supernatural, also making them understand their significance in Native American religion and folk-tales. But Dean had focused on the evil things out there, knowing that it was enough to understand how they worked to recognize them and tell them apart from anything natural.
Sam had probably read about every breathing thing on the planet. He'd had this science-fling while in eighth grade, where he had swallowed everything and anything about science and how the world worked, just to be contrary. He'd told Dean over and over how nature was this huge balance, claimed that it was wonder enough and why they always had to seek out the freakiness. It had driven Dean nearly insane, 'specially when Sammy had started to bug Dad with this crap.
Now, though, Dean was hoping Sam knew enough about wolves to base his faith in him on solid science, not on just a hunch.
Hunches and firm believes didn't always work that well, he'd learned. He had believed in Sam's goodness all his life – still did, by the way – but it hadn't kept Sam from falling in with the bad crowd, turning into somebody Dean nearly hadn't recognized. He trusted his brother, completely, ultimately and without hesitation. Maybe even more than strictly healthy but it couldn't be changed.
Still, would Sam really see it if wolf-Dean turned evil? How would he notice? He hadn't noticed when Ruby played him, and Ruby hadn't been half as close to the little brother as Dean was. There weren't any options, apart from suicide, though. Either trust Sam in this, believe in his instincts again and hope to high heavens that it was justified and that his brother would be able to do the right thing when it came to it, or get away and put a bullet in the heart. But Dean neither wanted to die, nor would he do that to Sam if there was a choice.
Dean ran his hand through his sticky hair. It needed a wash, his body needed a shower and his brain rest.
Why the fuck did all this stupid stuff happen to them, all the time! He'd never heard of other hunters turning into something… something as often as they seemed to do. Switching bodies with a kid? Drinking demon-blood? Becoming a vampire? Seemed to come with the family-name. Now a freaking werewolf. Not to mention the sheer amount of deaths they'd been through. Dean was just glad – and slightly terrified – that they had a real, final death to look forward to, now that all the angel-crap was done.
He didn't wanna rush the dying, though, so Dean wasn't too eager to dismiss Sam's belief in his internal goodness, wolf or not.
With a deep sigh, he slid down the seat and leaned back, wrists resting lazily on the steering-wheel. They wouldn't make it to Bobby in four days. They needed to rest, and they needed time to think. Right now, they were stumbling along and not thinking straight, and made mistakes like the one last night. He'd just run off, and there hadn't been a chance of Sam catching him. And what would happen if he bit someone? Not because of some evil inside, but for a good reason, like when he was defending Sam, or food? What if he bit Sam when his brother did something that he – the wolf – didn't like?
Holy shit, what about those dogs that must've fought with him? Could werewolf-infection be spread to other canines? Did they run around town, infecting other people now? Dogs were basically wolves, right? So there was no reason that this…this thing couldn't be spread over to a dog?
And if they weren't infecting people, what then? Did he kill them? Was there a little boy crying over his dog now, maybe finding it in the streets, all ripped to shreds?
Dean took in a shaky breath and tried hard to keep the shudder to himself. He knew what'd happen if he asked Sam. Sam would look at him, exasperated and worried and guilty and annoyed, and he'd smile this smile he sometimes wore, the one that said 'Aw Dean, you're so cute sometimes' like Dean was a little boy who spilled the milk instead of a person who'd killed demons and angels and bashed other nasty's heads in, bare-handed. Like a man who would leave one brother's soul in a cage with Lucifer and Michael without even blinking and get the other one out.
He didn't like that look. He wasn't cute, and it wasn't cute that he worried about dead dogs. Dean didn't want Sam to look at him like that. Maybe he could just avoid asking, then? Check out for himself? They needed to do research anyway.
There were just too many things they didn't know to keep on going without a plan, too many possibilities of things going haywire. Bobby was a master in research, he'd certainly be able to dig something up.
.
"Uh… Dean?"
"Yupp"
"You know, I been thinkin'…"
"Never a good thing. I thought I'd broken you out of this habit by now"
"Haha. No, seriously" Sam had his earnest face on, the one that was less pleading-begging-puppy but more 'I'm an adult and I know stuff you don't'. Dean hated that face with a vengeance, always had, even when it'd been on his father's grizzled and familiar features. He sighed.
"What then?"
"See, there was this girl in the pizza-place last night. She… she reminded me of somethin'"
"C'mon, don't make this a guessing game. Just spill. I'm sure I won't like it, and I swear I won't like it more if you pussyfoot all around the issue. Just get it out."
Classic bitch-face. Cool, hadn't seen that one in a while.
"Fine. She said dogs need a collar and identification."
"Not a dog, Sam!" Dean growled, even though he knew and agreed with what Sam was saying.
"Yeah, 'bout that? To keep a wolf, you need a permit. Without permit, they shoot the wolf. So yeah, I think it'd be much better if we could at least pretend that you are a fucking dog! That is, if you've gotten over your suicidal tendencies yet." Sam growled in answer, spitting his anger at the only target that was there. Dean sighed and stared out the windscreen, losing himself in the mesmerizing white lines that showed them the way to the horizon. It had always been full of promises to Dean, even now, years after losing his family and nearly losing the world, the open road managed to calm him, show him a future that was better than the past.
Sammy had always looked behind at what they'd left in their lives, always looked for what was missing, while Dean had taken what was there and kept it as close as possible – too close, he knew that – and looked forward to every new day, every new destination.
Unlike Sam, it wasn't leaving he minded, never had been. It was arriving that filled him with dread, stopping the road before it had run to its end, before it had shown him what could be.
Sure, he'd calmed down a lot these last decades. He'd learned too much, found new goals to set than only ever chasing ghosts and dreams. But the familiar urge to take his car, his home, and move, keep moving on and on hadn't been erased, not in life, not in death, not in Hell.
It wasn't just because of Sam that he'd kept her under a tarp while he'd stayed with Lisa and Ben. Seeing her had always, every single time, reminded him that his car needed gravel under her wheels and wind against her windows, rock-music in her heart. Keeping her under wrap had ensured that he wouldn't one day jump in and leave, and keep driving until he'd reached the end of his road.
"Yeah, I know" he sighed, making Sam frown at him in astonishment. "Next pet-store, we see, we get one. But dude, I want a real bad-ass collar: With spikes or studs, or somethin'. Not some wimpy, skimpy stuff!"
"No?" Sam grinned "Aww, and I so wanted to get you one of those cute ones, with pink swirls and hearts and glass-stones as engravings… I might get one anyway, 's not that you would notice in your other form…"
"Don't you dare, man! I swear you'll regret that on a much grander scale than just being bitten!"
"Yeah? What'd you do? Pee on the car – oh, whoops"
As much as he pretended to be horrified, Dean enjoyed the glee in his brother's eyes while they bantered. It had been a long time since he'd seen him this carefree, and yeah, they hadn't had much reason to laugh but he'd still missed it, more than he'd ever admit.
***
"Pet-Paradise" was one of those huge-ass mega-stores, set in the wilderness far off the next city-limits that kept sprouting out of nowhere every day, it seemed. It didn't stand alone; there was an outdoors-store and some factory-outlet for designer-jeans next door, as well as a food-court with a coffee-shop. Starbucks wasn't Sam's favorite place but at least he'd get some decent coffee there – if he managed to slip in when Dean didn't notice. He'd never hear the end of the bitching if his brother knew Sam'd gotten coffee when he couldn't get one too.
For now, though, they parked in front of the pet-store and walked into the brightly-lit and surprisingly full place, at once scanning the aisles for the supplies they were here for.
Food, food, snacks and more food was the first impression Sam got. When some grumpy old woman shoved them out of the way, they started wandering through the place, looking for either collars or a sales-person. Both seemed of short supply.
"Dude" Dean shoved his shoulder and nodded towards a sign that said 'Dog-Supply and puppies'. "Think that's the right way. And no, you don't get a puppy, so don't even ask" he joked.
"Aw, scared I'd replace ya?" Sam shot back and grinned at the scowl it produced.
Behind the row of puppy-cages filled with cute, yiffing dogs, Sam spotted what he'd come for. Collars. Hundreds, if not thousands of collars, in every size, every color and every material. Dean stood in front of them, staring open-mouthed and Sam wasn't much better off, amazed at the sheer amount of designs for something as basic as a leather-belt with a ring to hook a leash on.
"That's… insane" he murmured and felt his brother nod next to him. "So, go on, pick one."
"Uh… yeah."
But nothing happened. Dean was still rooted to the spot and scanning the merchandize. Maybe they should go at it a bit more organized. "Ok, so. What material d'ya want?"
"Leather" came at once, and like a starting-signal, they both went in the direction of the leather that was easily recognizable in between the colorful stuff. Narrowing down the search helped, but there were still a lot of choices. Dean started to go for the studded, broad bands, while Sam looked at the less heavy collars.
"Can I help you?"
He swung around, a collar in his hand that was still attached to the hook it hung from, a long metal-bar locking it against the display like every other collar here. "Uh… I'm … my brother and I are looking for a leather-collar for… our dog," he replied to the perky, slightly overweight young woman in the 'Pet Paradise'-uniform who smiled brightly at him, trying not to be too obvious with her stare.
„Great" she piped, like selling a collar to them was the best thing that could've happened to her. Maybe it was." What kind are you looking for?"
Sam realized he was still fumbling with the collar in his hand and let it go. It banged against the metal-bar and he winced and grinned apologetically at the girl,"Not sure, really. My brother likes the studded ones, but…"
"Oh, they're great and cool, but they're pretty heavy and also a bit stiff. What kind of dog is it?"
"Big. Husky-mix" Sam lied again, keeping with his first lie which also made sense if anyone would look at his brother.
"Sam, hey, I think I got the one" Dean shouted from some way over "Dunno how to get it off, though"
The girl – Caroline, or Carolina, Sam couldn't really read the tag – looked over and blushed adorably when she spotted Dean. To her credit, she caught herself fast and smiled – a little more than necessary – and walked over, Sam trailing behind.
"Let me help ya, I got a key"
She opened the lock and the bar came off and Dean grabbed the collar he'd been admiring. It did look bad-ass, there was no doubt. It was broad and had studs and spikes and a big-ass leash-ring, and Sam couldn't help but grin. This collar was the equivalent of Dean's car.
When they finally left the store, they had a long leash as well as a good, solid collar, though not the studded one Dean had been swooning over. Caroline had convinced them – no, had convinced Dean – that a narrower one would make more sense with all the fur Dean had around his neck. And while Dean had gone to the freezer-section to buy some of the raw meat-stuff that was apparently the big hype these days when it came to feeding dogs, Sam had guiltily bought one more item which he kept hidden in his coat-pockets, already out of the package so his brother wouldn't notice.
"Gimme the keys, we'll stop next town with a moderately decent motel and try to get some sleep, get down to some research"
"Good idea. 'cept I'm driving"
"Dean, you've been awake more than me, as human and as wolf. And you're still hurting, I know that. C'mon, you can let me drive, get some shut-eye so we'll both be good for hitting the net and the phone."
"I'm fine, Sam. I'm gonna drive and I'm not gonna discuss that. Can't be far to the next motel anyway, right?"
"Man… you're such a stubborn bastard."
"Yupp. And proud of it."
And that was that.
tbc
