Hey, hey, hey another update. Longer than the last one! Hope you like it. I promise the story will be moving on soon. Thanks to all those who have reviewed so far!

Don't own them, yadda yadda yadda

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Dean huddled near the door, trying his best to avoid his younger brother's many attempts to comfort him. He shouldn't be the one being comforted; Sam should be running away from him. He was dangerous. Maybe the doctor were right, it would have been best if he stayed and let Sam bring him the herbs later. At least if he was in the hospital he wouldn't be able to hurt Sam.

Sam was still talking. Probably still trying to offer some semblance of comfort to Dean, but he wasn't listening. Once again Dean wandered in the maze of his thoughts, albeit, his thoughts seemed to be more coherent for the moment.

The last time he was bitten, Dean didn't remember the urges being so violent. Of course he had been pretty far out of it with fever for about a week, but it seemed to him that the few urges he did have were somehow less than this time. He could remember wanting to eat the hamburger meat his dad stored in the fridge raw, and there was the night that he tried to bite John, but they had been outside and the moon only a night from full. He also didn't remember the urges being so hard to fight; holding Sammy's life in his hand like that gave him a thrill that he did not wish to experience again. Dean was honest with himself; he could admit that the thought of Sam's blood rushing just underneath the surface of his skin caused Dean's heart to go double time. Thinking about it now made him more excited than he would ever care to admit.

Dean turned his thoughts away from that dangerous topic; if he was going to allow Sam to even sit in the Impala with him then he should not think about what Sam would taste like. Maybe it would be better if he sat outside for the time being. He didn't know if maybe the reason this time seemed worse was because he, in a small part, acted on his new urges, or if it was because he was putting Sam in extreme danger. Sam, whom he engrained upon his mind that he, Dean, needed to protect no matter what the cost. Dean was certain that his "protect Sammy" programming could be seen in an MRI if he were ever to have one. It would state in big bold letters across his frontal lobe somewhere "Sammy needs protecting, even when not on a job, and especially when Sammy thinks that he can take care of himself."

This thought made Dean smirk a little. At least it was keeping him from attempting to partake in the culinary oddity of cannibalism, if that's even what it would be, considering that Dean was now a werewolf.

Dean felt himself drifting; he knew he was fighting a losing battle with his consciousness. His head suddenly swimming again, his sight not only red but burning. Even with the blood and fire alternately drowning and burning his vision, he could track the diluted moonlight coming in through the windows of the garage as it set.

His hearing started to buzz, the buzzing growing to a high-pitched whine as waves of hurt began to overwhelm the painkillers and travel up his arm.

His eyes seemed to follow a single moonbeam of their own accord. Dean knew that this was impossible, the moon's light was barely strong enough to get passed the accumulated grime covering the windows of the garage. There was no way it could penetrate this far into the Impala. That would also require a lot more bending than Dean thought was allowed any form of light to do.

The imaginary, it had to be, shard of light landed on the tip of the letter opener, bathing Sam's blood that was still there in silver. Dean insanely wanted to lick the tip of the dagger like object. The silver cast of the light on the red of Sam's blood making it oh so appetizing.

Dean's preoccupation with this meant he didn't feel the pressure of Sam's hand on his arm. He was completely entranced with the slowly congealing liquid on the tip of the knife.

He was about to move it up to his lips when the moonbeam exploded. Turning the brightest red Dean had seen so far in his newly red world. It was more than blinding, bursting through his optical nerves and down into his mind, blinding him there as well. Dean couldn't think, it was too bright, too red and flashing. Going from the bright mind killing red flushing though an artery to the deep purple red of venous blood.

The whole world was drenched in red. Dean dropped the letter opener as if it burned him. He would have cried out as well if Sam had not clapped a hand over his mouth.

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Sam noticed Dean grow quiet and still against the door. He didn't know what to do for his older brother. Even in the best of circumstances Dean would refuse comfort of any kind and Sam knew that because Dean felt that if he did he was putting himself in danger it was going to be near impossible to do anything except add to the frustration level of both brothers.

It unnerved Sam how quiet Dean was being though. Sam couldn't even tell if Dean was breathing or not. The dusty stillness of their hide out only added to this. Dean seemed like something that was dying, much like the town was doing.

This gave Sam a start. He suddenly needed to check and see if Dean was still alive, still breathing, anything. A short internal debate ensued, Sam arguing with himself about whether or not he should grab Dean. On one hand, Dean could've been allergic to, or the werewolf venom could be reacting to, one of the many things that the creepy doctor gave him. Dean could be going into cardiac arrest as Sam was doing nothing. On the other, Dean just be dozing off, it was too dark in the Impala and Dean turned too far towards the door for Sam to tell if his eyes were open or not.

If this was the case then Sam risked startling Dean again and having Dean react like before, possibly pulling stitches and further injuring his arm. If that happened Sam would then need to fix the problem himself. Fight his brother to allow Sam to help as he was not going to take Dean back to that clinic. Not only would they be arrested there more likely than not, but the doctor gave Sam an odd feeling, something was not quite right there. Or, Dean might actually attack him in this situation; Sam noted that Dean still held the letter opener loosely in his fist.

If it was the former option Dean might die because Sam was too afraid to touch him.

Coming to his conclusion Sam moved his arm across the seat, trying to keep his movements non-threatening. His fingers brushed Dean's arm again, just above the knot that was forming where the doctor had given him the "rabies" shot. Sam was not even sure if that's what they gave Dean, he wouldn't trust that doctor as far as he could throw him.

Sam could still feel the heat baking from Dean's skin; it seemed as if Dean's fever had risen since they left the clinic. If that was at all possible. Dean jumped slightly at Sam's touch, but didn't react to Sam's presence in any other way. It was like he was in some kind of trance.

Growing in boldness, Sam gripped Dean's arm tighter. He watched as Dean began to raise the letter opener. It wasn't a threatening gesture, but it made Sam nervous anyway. Sam reached his other arm across Dean's chest, hoping to slap the letter opener away before Dean could do whatever it was that he was planning on doing with it.

He didn't hear the police cars coming, they were running on silent, but their flashing red and blue lights flooded the front of the building. Everything inside the garage was painted in blue and red.

Sam clamped his reaching hand over Dean's mouth, ignoring the letter opener that Dean almost threw from himself, on the off chance that Dean cried out. Sam also pulled Dean's loose body over into him. Even in his panic, Sam was careful not to smash Dean's injured arm between their bodies.

It seemed that the police found their hiding place. The idea of throwing the Impala into drive and just taking off flitted quickly through Sam's mind and was just as quickly thrown out. If they ran then they would be in bigger trouble than before, right now he might be able to convince the police to let them off.

Sam hoped that the police were unsure though, that if they stayed quiet the flashing blues and reds would move on. It would certainly make things easier.

He sat, huddled with Dean in the Impala and waited for the worst while preying for a miracle.