Truthfully? I don't give a damn


Or the one where Dean and Sam fight a demon plague, almost die, and then immeadiately screw it all up. 2/2


Much to the dismay of the doctor and the nurse, they left Beverly's body right where it was. They had protested at first, but then all Dean had had to do was ask them both, simply, "You want to be infected like her?"

That shut them up.

They'd thrown a white cloth over her body, which quickly soaked up the blood around.

Now, they were in the front of the clinic, the brothers and Mark. All of them watching out of the nearly-shut blinds. Outside there were a number of people coming out of the woodwork, all of them acting strange, and huddled together, staring at the clinic. Everyone was watching everyone else and it was... uncomfortable.

Sam had dad's journal open, reading, trying to find answers to anything he could.

Dean heard Pam's heartbeat double before a loud crash. He twisted around to hear her whisper-shout, "No, no no no no!"

Sam and he didn't need to share a look to go after her.

"You're clean, you're okay," Doctor Lee was saying, as the brothers came around the corner.

There was blood on the ground, a vial shattered, but Pam didn't look like she'd been nicked. The hyperventilating was a little annoying though. Dean took a sniff through the sulphur filled air and couldn't smell two different blood types, or two different blood sources. Fresh or stale. Just stale. She was good.

Still, something was bothering him. With the thick smell of sulphur covering everything, he assumed his senses of 'demon' would be dulled. But now... at least an hour since it first started, Dean's beginning to feel his hair stand on end again. Beginning to feel the danger around them.

He can't ignore it, but for now, he can't pinpoint it either.

Someone in this room is fucking infected.

And he's not got a clue who. And he needs to get Sam alone so he can tell him so.

"We've got to get the word out, Dean," Sam said, frowning at the spectacle in front of them, drawing Dean out. "If we could only find a phone... call the Roadhouse... Warn everyone else. We can't stay here,"

Dean knew Sam was right. It didn't make it easy.

"Good point. Night of the Living Dead didn't exactly end pretty," Dean said, listening as Mark pulled away from the blinds.

"Well, I'm not sure we've got a choice," Mark said, all military in the way he held himself. Which... comforted Dean. A lot. Reminded him of dad. "Lots of folks up here are good with rifles — even with all your hardware, we're easy targets. So unless you've got some explosives..."

Even though the smell of sulphur, Dean smelled his brother's brain. Or rather, heard it. Loudly.

"Sam?" Dean asks as he turns to his brother.

Sam's eyes aren't on either Dean or Mark, but on the shelf above Pam's head. Dean can practically hear him thinking.

"We could make some." He said, and Dean immediately knew they were about to do another incredibly stupid thing.

Luckily, it was around that time that Duane Tanner showed up. Banging on the doors, begging to be let in. Sam and Dean both held back, watching as Mark jumped forward to let him in.

"It's Duane Tanner!"

"He the guy I..." Dean made the motion. Sam looked pale, but he nodded as Mark ushered in the limping kid.

"You alright?" Mark asked. The kid shook but nodded.

"It's a fucking madhouse out there,"

As Mark patted him on the shoulder, got ready to ask him how he was, Dean beat him to the punch.

"Easy there, chief," Dean said, grabbing his upper arm and dragging him towards the back of the clinic. "Hey Doc! Give Duane a good once-over, would you?

The doc met them halfway, before seeing Duane and promptly turning on her heel. "PAM!"

"What the hell?" Duane, now thrown off guard, demanded of Dean. "Who the hell are you?"

"Really not important at the moment,"

In the back of the clinic, Dean shoved Duane forward. "All yours, doc,"

"Thanks," She blew out a breath before getting on with her examination.

Duane looked around at them all, nervous. Dean could sympathize. If he was in a room with four people, some he knew and others that were strangers, watching him being checked for wounds as if he was a suspected-zombie, he'd be nervous too. Still, he left it up to one of the townies to question Duane as he listened to his heartbeat and smell. The smell wasn't helping much, though. Everything was demon demon demon.

"So, where you been, Duane?" Mark asked, as Doctor Lee poked and prodded Duane.

"On a fishing trip up by Roslyn," Which fit with the story they'd been told by everyone. "I came back this afternoon. I..." His breathing picked up. Heartbeat skittering. Smell keeping a mellow even fearUnhappyConfused . "I saw Roger McGill being dragged out of his house by people we know! They started cutting him with knives! I ran, I've been hiding in the woods ever since."

He leaned back and let out a long, drawn-out sigh. Before breaking his own silence. "Has anybody seen my mom and dad?"

Everyone resolutely did not look at the closet. Sam couldn't even meet Dean's eyes.

Awkward ...

"Hop up?" Doctor lee requested. Unable to meet his eyes. Duane did so, getting onto the stool, and then his knee peaked up through a long gash in his jeans. The smell of dried blood rose then, and Dean got his first hint of it. It had been masked by the dead body in the other room, but now it was starkly clear.

"You're bleeding..." Doctor Lee took a step back.

Dean stepped forward. Ready to defend the good doctor.

"How'd you get that?"

Duane looked down at his knee dismissively. "Must have gotten it while I was running. Tripped,"

Except he didn't sound convinced. And if there was one thing Dean knew - an unconvinced person was as good as an unreliable person. His heart was beating too fast to pick out a lie. It was... it was too much of a coincidence. With Sam's vision, his sudden appearance right as they were planning to leave: it made him uncomfortable.

"Tie him up, there's rope in there," Dean directed Mark, pointing to the smaller storage closet. Mark and he had an accord, and the man obeyed instantly.

"Wait!" Duane moved to get up, to jump off the stool.

Dean had his gun out from the waistband of his jeans. "Stay right there!" Duane froze, hands up as he stared at the gun.

Mark hadn't left yet, and he took that moment to tell Duane. "I'm sorry, Duane, he's right. We've gotta be careful,"

"Careful? About what?"

But Mark was already gone.

Dean ignored his pleading, keeping his gun steady. He heard Sam behind him breathing heavily. "Did they bleed on you?"

"Bleed on - what the hell?" When no one acted like they were joking, he added. "No! God no!"

Sam finally pipped in, not getting in front of Dean's gun this time, at least.

"Doc? Any way to know for sure, any test?"

"I've studied Beverly's blood work backward and forwards." Doctor Lee said, crossing her arms, and shaking her head.

Duane turned towards her sharply. "My mom?!"

"It took three hours for the virus to incubate," Doctor Lee bit her lip, thinking, not positively either before she added. "The sulfur didn't appear in the blood until then, so... no, there'd be no way of knowing. Not until after Duane turns."

An easy, unbreakable calm settled over Dean then.

Well. That settled it. If Duane showed even a hint of turning, Dean would kill him. They had a timetable of about three hours. He could wait that long...

"Dean?" Sam's voice broke through, and Dean cocked his head to let him know he was listening. "We gotta talk. Now."

Mark came back then, ropes in hand. They shared a brief, no-words needed conversation and Dean lowered his gun as Mark advanced on Duane. Mark had it covered as far as Dean was concerned. He felt comfortable turning away, to go talk with Sam.

"Sit in this chair," Was the last thing Dean was supposed to hear as a human as he left to follow Sam into the front of the clinic. Though he continued to listen as Duane obeyed, sitting, the slither of ropes as they were wound and tied. The chair creaked. Duane's heartbeat was still thudding along too loud, but that was believable.

Sam turned to him as soon as they were out, far enough away.

"Yeah, Sam?"

"This is it." Sam looked pale, and shaken like he usually did when a vision was involved. "This is my vision,"

"Yeah... I kinda figured,"

Dean decided then that killing him was the only thing that made sense. Sam already had a vision of it happening.

Inevitable.

"You can't kill him, Dean, alright?" Sam demanded of him. "Not until we know for sure if he's infected or not,"

Dean sighed through his nose, looking away. This wasn't a cut and dry issue. When humans were involved, it never was. When demons mixed with humans, it was even worse. It would be one thing if it was an absolute surety that when a demon entered into a body it killed the host - but that wasn't how that worked. With humans, everything was just so messy.

"I've really been relying too much on my nose," Dean admitted. "Since I can't smell the difference between infected or not, I... I'm falling back on what I used to be. And I gotta admit Sammy."

He turned fully to his brother.

"His whole family infected? He's the only one who got away unscathed? It sounds fishy, even you gotta admit that,"

"All right, then," Sam's face was set in stone. His frown could level mountains. "We should keep him tied up, and we should wait and see."

Dean wanted to roll his eyes so bad. "Wait and see for what? Him to hulk out?"

"Dean! He's a person!" Sam said, shocked.

"For now, sure," Dean agreed, readily enough. "And when he's not in a few hours? When we find out he's infected? That's just a few more hours of suffering for him. We should put him out of his misery, Sam,"

And it was just practicality speaking. Sam was staring at him, which made Dean's spine tingle at the reproving look he was getting. He moved to push past his brother, not needing to psych himself up. It was the job. It needed to be done.

And if it was between Duane and the three other humans - it wasn't a hard choice.

Sam's hand shot out and slapped into his chest.

"You can't just kill him,"

"This is the job," He huffed, Sam's hand a solid, grounding weight. Even though he couldn't smell Sam very well - he could smell enough to be comforted. It didn't stop what needed to be done. "It's the shitty part of the job, yeah, but it's what we're here for."

"It's supposed to be shitty, Dean. We're supposed to struggle with this, that's the whole point!"

I thought the point was to kill the monsters , Dean thought, unkindly.

"What does that buy us? Huh?"

"I don't know," Sam scoffed. "A clear conscience, for one!"

A clear conscience? Dean drew back and stared at Sam.

"You want to talk about a clear conscience?" Dean demanded. "How about this. Five humans, well, and me, I'm cursed but I hope I'm more human that cursed on a good day -" He held up his hands, in a scale motion, with humans on the upwards hand and Duane "-versus one guy who might or might not turn into a monster,"

He shot Sam a snarky grin. "We've made these kinds of decisions over lunch, what makes this different?"

"What makes this different is that the guy is a human, and might not even be a little infected!"

"You wanna bet all our lives on that?"

Sam closed his mouth with a click before he pushed Dean a little to make him stumble back.

"Yes,"

Dean couldn't keep the surprise off his face. Though, he should know better. Sammy was a softy; always had been, always would be. It was up to Dean to harden his heart and do the right thing, the logical thing. So he squared up, pushed past Sam, and told him as he passed.

"Well, I won't,"

And he found himself, not for the first or the second time that day, pulling out his gun to turn it on a human. Sam turned to follow him, hurrying his longer footsteps to gain ground on him, but it was almost childs play to close the door and lock it, since that was how the clinic was built. For defense.

"DEAN!" Sam screamed at him through the glass on the door, hand banging as he was locked out. "Don't do this, Dean! Open this door,"


Sam can't hear like Dean can but he can hear the phantom sounds of Dean's boots on the linoleum floor as he walks towards his execution room. He knows what he saw in the vision. Dean, gun drawn advancing on the tied up form of Duane. Duane, crying, pleading. Mark, Doctor Lee, and Pam all standing to the side, too scared to intervene, too scared to do the right thing.

And it all makes sense why Sam wasn't in the room.

Dean locked him out. He feels like an idiot that he missed it. In his arrogance, he was so sure he could convince Dean to stop, to not kill what he is absolutely sure is an innocent man. Dean was such a different beast than he was even six months ago. He was sure he could get through to him.

The doors not opening until Dean's done, and Sam considers, briefly, breaking down the door. But he can't. Can't in good consciousness leave these humans, these for sure, completely demon-free people without another door to hide behind if those that are infected come their way.

So he backs away from the door, and sits on the counter, and waits. Heart heavy, and head in his hands.

Don't do it Dean, He begged, trying to force the connection Dean seemed to effortlessly command with him in his doggie-form.

Please. Don't do this.

And then, he started to talk.


Dean has never really executed someone before.

Yes, he had decapitated, shot, stomped, slashed throats, wrenched hearts from still beating chests, and any number of horrible things, but he had never had the chance to plan a murder. Killing a monster wasn't murder, it was retribution. It was justice. It was right. Not like this. He had a chance to turn back. Sam had tried his damndest to convince him that his path was wrong.

This was a human, and if he was demon-infection free, then this would be murder.

And Dean had done a number of truly illegal things to people, but he'd never killed them. Stole, beaten up, lied, dug up graves, and the like, but never true blue murder. It was always the one line he wouldn't cross.

And... and this wasn't crossing that line, was it?

Duane was as good as infected.

Right?

Every step brought Dean closer to the clinics backroom. He could hear them all talking. Doctor Lee was explaining about his mother, how she'd been infected, how they couldn't take any chances. Duane was crying, and they sounded like real tears, but Dean had been face to face with demons that had the best acting this side of the world. Tears wouldn't move him.

That is until he heard Sam's.

His gun was in hand, he was a step away from turning the corner, and he heard Sam's slight hitch of breath, the intake of breath that was just a little too sharp, and Dean suddenly wanted nothing more than to go and run and comfort him. Sam always made him soft. In a good way. But this... this wasn't a good way.

He had a job to do.

And Sam would just have to live with it.

Steeling himself, he walked around the corner.

Duane noticed him first. Or perhaps the better phrasing was: he saw the gun first.

"No, you're not gonna ..." His eyes widened impossibly in his head. His gaze flickered between Dean and the gun in his hand. "No, no, I swear it's not in me!"

Pam paled dramatically. "Oh god, we're all going to die,"

Mark was even hesitant. "Maybe he's not infected... Maybes he's telling the truth?"

Dean couldn't help but feel irritated. The one person who was supposed to be on his side, and even he was waffling. "No, he's not him, not anymore,"

Duane was getting hysterical now. Crying, snotty and not at all a pretty sight.

"Stop it! Ask her, ask the doctor! It's not in me!"

Looking dutifully at Doctor Lee, he waited for her to confirm or deny, knowing she wouldn't have enough details. And he was right. As her voice shook, and she couldn't look the man tied up on the chair in the eyes.

"I . . . I can't tell,"

"Please, don't. Don't, please. I swear, it's not in me, it's not in me, I swear, I, I swear it's not in me. No, don't."

How truly heartless must I have to be, Dean wondered, not to feel a single thing?

His hand didn't even shake as he raised his gun.

"I got no choice,"

Except that was a lie. But it was a lie Dean needed almost as much as he needed air.

And then, he heard Sam speak.

"I know you can hear me Dean,"

His hand shook, but he listened.

"I know this past year has been rough on you... it's been tough on both of us. But... Dean, if you go through with this - if you kill Duane, and he ends up being innocent - that's on you. And you're not a murderer, Dean. No matter what you believe,"

Dean pressed his his lips in a firm line, and his hand really shook.

"You're not. So. Don't do this Dean. Don't do this... for me,"

Damnit, Sam. Damnit all to hell.

"Damn it!"

As he stalked off, back towards Sam, the whole room breathed a sigh of relief. Duane sobbing with relief so profound he was thanking god.


Sam raised his head when the door opened with a quiet, unassuming click.

"Dean?" He asked, heart in his throat.

He hadn't heard a shot, but - his breath caught in his throat as Dean slumped down next to him. Any noise he might have made stuck in his throat. Relief as profound as anything between them made him sag in relief.

"You talk fucking loud," Dean mumbled, not looking near him.

"Yeah," Sam's throat was dry and he croaked in relief. "Yeah I do,"

"Bitch,"

"Jerk,"

And Dean ignored that niggling part of his chest that preened under the relieve smile Sam beamed at him with that smile.


Sam gave him time, which was a surprise, since Dean was sure as soon as he came back he would be smug, and self-righteous and relieved beyond any reasonable doubt. Instead, he was just relieved. So relieved that he allowed Dean time to just sit and maul over his actions. Sam read over John's journal, and tried his hardest to figure out what was going on. And he allowed the silence for a whole hour, before finally throwing down the journal.

"So, you know I gotta ask,"

Dean snorted, but nodded. "Yeah, I know,"

"So why? Why didn't you do it?"

"For that, we're going to need alcohol," Dean got up and beckoned him forward. "Got no clue where it is though, lend a hand?"

"For alcohol?" Sam snorted. "Of course,"

They entered into the side-room of the clinic, staying far away from Duane. Sam didn't want to tempt Dean. The only person inside the room was Pam.

"Hey Pam," Sam greeted. "How you holding up?"

The smell of sulphur cleared up in a moment of blinding, clarity ridden sniffle. Dean froze as the smell seemed to dissipate by leaps and bounds with every huff through his mouth. Which made it worse, almost unbearably so, when Pam turned on Sam.

"It'll all be over soon," She coo'ed in a whisper.

Dean was disoriented, and his nose was so out of whack, it was back to the basics as he tried to right his sense of the world, all while Pam locked the door on them both. When Dean had been human, he could have rolled with the different punches without his nose - but now it was as if someone had snapped his arm. Debilitating. Sam was concerned for Dean, and he had eyes only for his brother, so he didn't hear the click of a lock, or the sound of Pam's shoes.

"Hey, whoa," Sam moved to touch his arm, lightly, so as not to startle him. "You okay there Dean?"

It all seemed to happen so fast.

Dean blinked and Pam was there. Another blink and she'd downed Sam with a tray, where she moved to straddle him - but not before hitting Dean, too. It was one motion, almost, back and forth, like a golf swing, and it knocked Dean out momentarily. Or, at the least, disoriented him, which wasn't hard. His nose was screaming at him, his ears were ringing, and he was seeing double.

"You made this," She slashed at Sam's chest and he made a wounded, tight sound. "so much harder," Her eyes darkened into pure black as she sliced her own palm. "than it had to be, Sammy ,"

The smell of blood filled the air as Dean came back to himself, sitting up with a snarl.

Instinct led him as he transformed and lunged for the demons throat.

He should be worried about the whole blood thing, but as a dog, he only had one concern: Sammy. His teeth tore into her windpipe and crushed as well as smothered. The sound she made settled the primal part of Dean that longed for a hunt. She gagged, helplessly clawing for air as she fell over writhing; Dean not letting go until she stopped twitching. Animal instinct blurred words, and sounds, and movement. Everything slow motion and too quick all at once.

"-an! Dean! Let go! Dean!"

And Sam's incessant screaming.

Dean dislodged his canines from Pam's neck, scraping his teeth as best he could against his tongue to try and fight the smell and flavor of her. He tried to use his paws to rub off the blood on his muzzle, into her shirt, but wasn't having much luck. Definitely demon. Rotten eggs on the tongue was not a fun flavor but Dean dutifully dealt with it. Sammy was more important than this feeling of discomfort.

"Dean!"

:I'm fine, Sammy, : Dean snarled at him, ears laid against his skull in annoyance and at the loud wail. :Are you good?:

"Am I - Dean you got blood in your mouth,"

It was a statement filled with dread, but Dean felt none of it.

:Not what I asked,: Dean snarled. He could taste the stupid demonic filth. :Are you good? Did she get you?:

Sam took his hand away from his chest, where the long, thin wound lay. It bled freely. "I don't know, Dean,"

And that is of course, when Mark, Duane, and Doctor Lee knocked down the door.


"What happened?" Doctor Lee demanded as she came to an abrupt stop feet away from Pam. Dean thought it was because of the gruesome scene before he realizes she was staring at him. Eyes wide as she realized a dog was sitting next to Pam, who was most certainly mauled. "Where the hell did that come from?"

"Pam attacked me," Sam answered, at least partially, leaning against the cabinet and wincing as he touched his chest. "Cut me open. Pretty sure she was infected,"

"Did she bleed on you?" Mark demanded. Dean noticed the gun then. Held upwards, away but professionally ready to arm himself against a threat. Specifically Dean.

Duane took a step back.

When had he been released?

Dean's hackles immediately rose at the sudden move and he snarled, in warning. Everyone froze then, before looking at him. As he was about to ramp up the growl he felt building in his chest, made of warning, and terror, and all kinds of bad emotions when Sam's large warm hand came to rest on his head and he pushed him away. The snarl caught and stopped in his throat.

"Take it a step back, Dean," His brother's voice was tightly controlled and familiar. It didn't stop him snarling at the intruders who'd tramped in on their weakened state, but he did ramp down the volume. Working himself over to a more protective position in front of Sam. "They're not here to hurt either of us. Right guys?"

Every single one of them looked at Sam as if he'd lost his marbles.

Mark was the one who asked the most obvious, glaring question, gun now pointing at Dean. "... Dean?"

:Tell him to stop twitching,: Dean commanded Sam, with a snort as he pulled his fangs and his lips back down, licking his chops to smooth his fur. He still tasted demon, but it was going now. Stinking up his nose, sure, so it was useless again - but dissipating. :I can fucking see he's thinking about taking me out,"

Sam raised a brow at him. Dean may not be turned towards him, but he knew his brother.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you, Mark," Sam parroted. Watching Mark's gun with steely eyes. "Dean's a little pissy at the moment. Which, speaking of, any particular reason you're not turning back?"

:I can smell again,: Dean's nose twitched as he took a hesitant step forward, sniffing. It all just smelled muddled. : Once my nose clears of demon, I should be good to find any more traitors in our merry little band,:

He mimed wiping at his nose, and then sneezed.

"I'm sorry..." Doctor Lee shook. "Turn back?"

Silence. Again.

:You get to tell 'em,:

"Listen," Sam huffed, running a bloody hand through his hair. "I really don't have time to go through the whole spiel, but here's the short and sweet: the supernatural is real, monsters are real, my brother Dean here was cursed, and he means you no harm, but he turns into a dog sometimes,"

Duane was the one who laughed, a short barky sound, nervous and wounded all in one. "I'm sorry - what?" But nobody else laughed, Doctor Lee stared while Mark's jaw moved, silently mouthing something. Duane eventually trailed off, before gulping. "I'm sorry but are you really claiming that... that dog is your brother?"

Sam patted Dean on the head. "He can understand you, so why don't you ask him? Yes or no questions, though, he can really only nod or make noises, after all,"

Doctor Lee stared at Sam for a long moment before her eyes darted to Dean. She cleared her throat, clearly psyching herself up. Except Mark beat her to it.

"You're Dean? The same Dean who killed Beverly?"

Dean sat, obediently half on Sam's lap, half on his leg, and nodded once, firmly while maintaining eye contact. John had taught him the importance of that, and he hoped it wasn't lost on the military man in front of him. Mark stayed stone still, eyes tracking Dean like he was a threat, while flattering and all, didn't make Dean feel any fuzzy feelings for the man.

"You've got to be fucking joking me," Duane said, in awe, then he was crouching down. "Alright, my turn, uhm, you ever kill someone as a dog?"

Dean hesitated but nodded. Webbers blood-taste flooding his mouth in a reminder that he felt would never leave him.

"Hey now," Sam held out a hand. "Don't ask him questions he can't justify right now," He hissed as he moved, the cut stinging. "He'll transform back in a bit, but he's trying to find if any of us are infected,"

"What?" Doctor Lee asked, startling, but then, suddenly, intensely into it. "How?"

Dean wagged his tail as he tapped his nose against his paw. It was a little awkward, and nowhere as charming as his usual human self would be - but it got the idea across.

"He can smell it?" Duane said, somberly serious, with a curious light in his eyes. "Huh. Why didn't he just do that before?"

:Because dumbass, the whole place smelled of eau'd'demon,:

Sam repeated his words, except much more polite, but no less firm.

"I call bullshit," Duane snorted. "No way he can smell an infection in the bloodstream,"

"I don't care what you believe," Sam said, as he finally got up onto his feet, Dean right by his side. "Right now, I need to clean and patch this up,"

"Wait - did she get any blood on you? You never said..." Doctor Lee began to walk slowly over to Sam, well aware of Dean the entire time.

Sam hesitated, but he looked down at his wound. "I don't think she did. She was close, some might have gotten in but Dean dropped her pretty hard and fast," His lips twitched before he turned to Dean. "I am worried about you though," Dean whined at the sound of sorrow in his voice, "you ripped her a new throat,"

:I'm fine,:

Sam hesitated. "We have no clue if your curse will counteract the infection,"

Dean snorted, puffing up. :Worth it. You were in danger,:

Sam scowled at him.

"I'm not more important than you, you jackass," He pushed his smug face away. "Honestly - what happens if you're infected? Huh? Can you even imagine this infection in a dog? You'd be a real life cujo!"

Dean didn't think about that. He'd already had to go through this when he thought he was turning into some kind of werewolf, a year ago, he was pretty well inoculated against this fear. Still, he would be lying if he didn't say he wasn't a little worried. For the both of them. Most, for Sam.

:I'll let you know if I smell you turning,: Dean could only say. He put his paw on Sam's chest.

"Oh, yeah? And who's supposed to smell you turning?"

Dean clamped his mouth shut and glared at him.

Doctor Lee broke into their rather tense bro-moment. "I'd still feel better if we got you both in quarantine,"

Dean's hackles rose as that, a low noise ripping through his throat involuntarily. A chain reaction of Mark finally pointing the gun at him for the purpose of pulling the trigger and Duane stumbling back at the sudden noise that came next. Doctor Lee standing frozen, too close to get away if Dean decided to snap.

"Hey! Hey!" Mark yelled right back to Dean's growl, gun pointed at him. "No way, not doing this today. Back the fuck down! You two are going to listen to us now,"

Sam raised his hands, slowly, intent not to hurt or to go fast. "Alright, alright, we hear ya, just... let Dean get a good smell of the room? Okay? See if anyone else is infected?"

Mark didn't even hesitate, until Doctor Lee put her had on his arm. "It takes a few hours for the infection to take... they should be safe," She gulped, looking at the brothers. "In theory,"

Duane chimed in. "Hey, the guy turns into a dog. I say we let him," He shook a little. "I mean... What do we have to lose?"


They all let them be, in the end.

:Give me some time,: Dean told Sam when he finally managed to convince everyone that Dean was just going to smell, not touch, not bite, not lick, nothing more than smell them. :All I smell is demon in my nose,:

"It's been like twenty minutes, dude," Sam huffed, crouching down in front of him with his newly bandaged chest. "You seriously can't smell us and tell us?"

Dean resolutely refused to consider Sam being infected. Could be - not positive... Dean was a fucking hypocrite was what he was. He refused to consider Sam infected, because it wasn't something that needed to be faced for a few hours.

: Nose ,: Dean stated, slow, like he was talking to an idiot, shaking his head. :Not. Working.:

Sam breathed harsly through his nose, before turning to everyone. "We gotta give him a little more time,"

Doctor Lee, after the initial shock, couldn't stop herself from asking questions afterwards. "How does that even work ?"

"What? His nose?"

"No, the whole," She gestured to all of him. "The nose being desensitised to certain smells for a period of time, makes sense, I get that - I mean how did he get turned into what he is now? How does it work? Can he just transform whenever he wants?"

Sam sat down on the ground next to Dean as Doctor Lee kept asking question after questions. At least, until Sam held up a hand.

"Can I tell them?" Sam asked Dean for permission.

:... I don't see why not,: Dean said, nodding, before scooting closer to Sam and laying his head in his lap. :It's not like they know enough about the supernatural to guess anything. Keep it vague though, huh?:

Sam pet his ears nicely, just the way he liked, before answering.

"He got bit by another cursed-dog, about a year ago. It took... a month or so for him to turn into a dog for the first time. After that, he can change pretty much whenever he wants,"

"So he's staying as a dog right now... because...?" Duane asked.

"His sense of smell is stronger as a dogs and he's just waiting for the sense of smell to come back." Sam sighed, feeling pretty tired. "He can tell when it does a lot faster when he's actually in the form he needs,"

"And you can speak to him," Mark noted. "In your mind."

:Ding, ding, give the man a prize,: Dean stated, raising his head towards Mark, who had long since put the gun away and was leaning against the wall with his arms crossed.

"What makes you say that?" Sam asked, wearily.

"Just a guess,"

:Pretty good guess,:

And then, much like his nose had seemed to clear up before, his sense of smell was back. He stood up, suddenly, ears perked as he sniffed deeply. With how his nose had cleared, Dean was immediately suspicious of the why, and the how, basically everything. But he wasn't about to look a gift-horse in the mouth.

"Dean?"

:Nose is back!: Dean said, taking off to sniff Doctor Lee's pants. She was clean. He could practically taste the lotion she used, what type of body wash she used, the perfume she had spritzed almost entirely on her right side. She smelled faintly of demon, but that wasn't anything. The entire air still stunk of it.

He moved on, not saying a thing.

Mark was next. He tensed up where Dean sniffed his leg, and went absolutely rigid when Dean went up on his hind legs, paws settling on the counter next to him to get a better sniff. He was also fine, and Dean could tell he smelled of cigarette smoke, but he didn't actually smoke. He also used the same dirt cheap brand of deodorant and shampoo that Sam and Dean did.

Then he turned to sniff Duane and found him gone.

:They're clean, let's go find Duane,:

And he was trotting off through the clinic to the front where he could hear Duane making sounds. Only he wasn't in the front, he was in another room, looking out the window. The room looked to be some kind of examination room, just like the other side, the back, but a little more open.

He smelled fine, from a distance, but as soon as Dean was close, a step too far into the room, the door slammed shut behind him. He was too well trained to actually look behind him, but he did freeze.

:Fuck.:

Duane's eyes flooded black and he smirked like the devil himself.

"You know puppy, you've ruined my fun!" He snarled, pushing Dean away and back to the wall. Dean growled at him, but he was a dog right now, and the only one who could hear him was Sammy. "Sucks a little that you're immune to the plague we've cooked up, but eh, whatever,"

:Sam! It's - :

And then Dean was picked up bodily by the demon's telekinesis and thrown into a wall.

He groaned as he landed, hard, on his side. The demon was quick to hop over. One boot on his ribs.

"Can't stay long now, but that's alright, Dean-o," Duane, or whatever demon had decided to take up residence inside his meat-suit said. "Just came to see how this little experiment played out. Seeing the Winchesters cornered is always fun, too, though, gotta admit that," He smirked, smelling that foul stench of sulphur up close that Dean wondered how he could have missed it. He heard Sam coming, those huge feet of his stomping.

:Why the fuck here?: Dean demanded, stalling for time. :Why this town?:

Duane threw his head back and laughed.

"Oh Dean-o," He said, not kind or young at all, his voice as emotionless as the void. "Why not this town? Why not these people? Why not you and Sammy Winchester?"

Dean didn't believe him for a second, but at the moment the demon was stepping on his ribs and he couldn't move other than to breathe shallowly, scrabbling uselessly for some kind of purchase. He snapped at his leg, but he was in a position of power. He couldn't move his head close enough to bite through jeans let alone leather of a boot.

:I'm gonna rip your throat out ,: Dean promised him.

"Even though the meats still alive?" the demon asked, cocking his head curiously. Dean would have hesitated had his ribs not been stomped.

"Thought you Winchesters didn't do that kind of stuff," He shrugged with that slimy smile. "Oh well, fine by me. Been a while since I've had that kind of foreplay," His hand started to creep down, as if to pet Dean.

:Touch me and I'm snapping your hand clean off, alive-meat-suit or not,:

The hand paused. Because the demon cackled.

"Oh, I can't wait to bring you to the boss, he's going to love this development."

Dean froze, glaring. :What the fuck does that mean?:

"A familiar... I mean, what are the chances of that?" Demon-Duane said, ignoring him. "It's like winning the lottery! You know how much you'd go for on the market?"

Before Dean could ask him what the absolute hell he was on about - the door was kicked in, and a shotgun shot went off.

Duane jerked forward with an unholy screech as the smell of rocksalt and ozone filled the air, pitching forward against the wall and giving Dean ample opportunity to run. Which he used to get behind Sam, before finally transforming. He was back to human Dean in a second.

"Son of a bitch is a full blooded demon, Sammy," Dean huffed. "No virus, just a dirtbag from hell using the kid as a meatsuit."

Sam cocked the gun, reloading before turning the rifle back to Duane. Only Duane had had enough of playing nice and was headed for the window. Without hesitation, he crashed through and in a shower of glass shards rolled into a landing on the ground outside. Where he then ran for it.

"Fucking coward," Dean snarled, running to the window to see Duane disappearing into the forest.

"Are you alright, Dean?" Sam asked, grabbing Dean and dragging him over to check him out. Sam's hands patted him down sure and firm, before Dean slapped them away. Perhaps a little less steady than Sam.

"Fine, fine,"

The demons words sat heavy in his mind.

Mark and Doctor Lee came running in seconds later.

"What the hell happened?" Mark demanded while Doctor Lee exclaimed. "You're human again!"

"Duane was infected," Sam said, hand still on Dean's shoulder. "Dean came in to confront him, or - er, to smell him. But Duane was ready for him,"

"Damn near broke my rib," Dean muttered, leaning back against the counter at his back. "Fucking asshole,"

Doctor Lee came over to check him out, "Does this hurt?" she asked right before she pressed on his ribs.

"Ouch, yes, but not broken bad," Dean groaned. "I know broken. This isn't that."

"Well, that's something, at least," She huffed, while prodding at his side, lifting his shirt. "I think you're right though. Nothing looks broken,"

Then she hesitated, her smell sharply twisting towards nervousness. Guilt. Dean got it.

"Yeah, yeah," Dean pushed her hand away. "You can put Sam and I in quarantine. You both are clean, so I'll trust you that far,"

Mark raised a brow. "'Let us', huh?"

"Yeah," Dean smirked, all predator, "'Let', believe me, Sam and I have the skills to get past the both of you. It's better for all of us involved to put us away and you two make your escape,"

"Hey now, Dean - "

Dean cut Sam off. "We're either both infected or both not infected. We'll deal with what comes, as it comes," Then he turned to Mark and Doctor Lee. "The plan stays the same. You've got the weapons, the explosives, and you both know the town. It's the smartest move,"

He made sure to look Mark in the eyes when he said that. The man knew when to do what he had to do. Perhaps he would have protested had it been just him, but he also had Doctor Lee to look out for. He squared his chin, and gave Dean a nod, which was as close as a spoken promises as Dean was about to demand.

Relaxing, Dean felt a little better, especially since he refused to think about Sam and his own timely demise. Or rather, if the demon was being honest, just Sam's.

"We'll head out an hour after first light," Mark claimed. Doctor Lee spun and glared at him. "Angela, we've got no choice,"

And that was how Dean finally learned Doctor Lee's first name.


Doctor Lee, Mark, and Duane had left perhaps ten minutes ago.

Sam and Dean were free for now, since they knew that symptoms didn't show for at least three hours - and they still had one to go. Sam had managed to keep his chick-flick-moments contained, but he couldn't hold it in forever. Dean loved and hated that about him.

"I'm sorry, Dean,"

"For what?" Dean asked right back.

"For all this shit. The visions. Getting us trapped here. For getting infected,"

"Hey! We don't know if you're infected, Sammy. And we can't believe that demon when he said I'm immune, got it? We're in this together. Through hell or high water," He paused, contemplative. "Besides, what would a familiar like me do without their person?"

Try as he might, he couldn't take the levity out of the situation and Sam looked stricken.

"Damnit, Dean, you can always find someone else!"

Dean snorted giving him an 'are you crazy' look. "The only people who have magic are witches, and no thank you." He shivered in disgust. "Plus, I don't think I'm going to find another hunter with your kind of mojo, Sam, no offense. So this is it for me."

"Dean... what are you saying?"

"I'm saying, if you go the way of the dodo, Sam, then I'm going the way of the dog,"

He spoke firmly and clearly, and yet Sam just stared at him uncomprehendingly.

"So what, so you're just going to give up?" Sam asked in a surprisingly strong voice. "You're just gonna lay down and take it? Look, Dean, I know this stuff with Dad has -"

"Fuck the stuff with dad, " Dean snapped, completely unprepared for the vitriol in his own voice.

Sam too. He snapped back in surprise.

"Dean, you don't mean that..."

"And what if I do?" Dean challenged. "What if I want to say fuck dad, and fuck this life, and ... and fuck it all? Huh?"

Sam was, for probably the first time in so many months, speechless. Dean deflated, seeing Sam like this. He looked away, unable to look his brother in the eye when he admitted the rest of what he had to admit. If this was Sam's last moments as an uninfected, and Dean's last however-long it took for the curse to take him full canine, he would never have spoken.

But it was. And it is.

"I'm tired, Sam. I'm tired of this job, this life, this curse... this weight on my shoulders, man. I'm tired of it,"

"Dean..."

"So just - don't fucking think this is a new thing," He spat. "I've been planning for any eventuality, and your death, just like my death, is going to be unavoidable someday... I just wasn't expecting it this soon,"

"So that's it?" Sam demanded. "We just fight the good fight and then give up?"

Dean cocked his head at him. "You know this is how it was always going to go down. We don't get to grow old and senile,"

"But I fucking want to," And Sam had tears in his eyes and Dean wanted to hug him, but as a person - he was still squeamish.

As a dog, he could do whatever the fuck he wanted. So he did.

They both were sitting on the examination table, so it was easy to transform and then curled up with his head in Sam's lap.

:I'm sorry, Sammy,:

"Yeah... me too,"

And then the door to the clinic opened.


Dean hadn't been paying attention to the outside world, too caught up in Sam's final moments and his own fate. So when Angela came back around the corner of the hallway, breathing a little hard, flushed, excitement singing in her veins - Dean wasn't sure what to think.

"You'd better come see this,"

Sam and Dean shared a look, dog to human, before they both followed her out as they were.

Outside, in the mornings clear air, Dean was shocked to find not a hint of demon smell, no sulphur, no blood, no nothing.

"What... where did they all go?" Sam asked, eyes wide as he looked round the abandoned town square.

Angela was the one who answered.

"There's no one. Not anywhere. They've all just . . . vanished."

"This doesn't make any sense," Mark muttered to himself, wearily watching the world around him. "I mean... where would they all go?"

:We're not in kansas anymore,: Dean stated, sitting and wondering what the hell this was all about.

Was the demon plague on a time table? The all consuming smell of sulphur had gone away a few hours ago... perhaps that was when the blood became inert? Or carried away it's victims? Dean wasn't an expert on anything but killing monsters, so this one was way way over his head and pay grade.

"You think... You think this has anything to do with the infection?" Mark asked.

"How?" Doctor Lee demanded. "What infection makes people run off? What infection makes people that violent?"

Mark and Doctor Lee looked to Sam and Dean then.

Sam sighed, hand in Dean's soft head-fur. Doctor Lee and Mark looked to them for answers.

"Don't look at us. This is completely new for us,"

And two hours later, as Sam and Dean sat on the examination table, wondering how they were still alive and kicking, Angela turned to them in awe.

"Nothing," Shaking her head, she look in disbelief into the microscope again. "Not for either of you,"

Dean had only allowed her his human blood, but still.

"How is that possible?" Sam demanded, right back in the same kind of awe. "Dean was definitely exposed. And I was pretty sure I was... How could neither of us be infected?

"Maybe his curse protected him?" Angela shrugged. "And you... well, you just dodged a bullet,"

"None of this makes any sense,"

Doctor Lee nodded. "Believe me, I know, and I mean when you compare samples with the Tanner's all we get is - what the hell?"

Dean perked up. "What's up doc?" She was staring in incredulous shock at her equipment.

"Their blood. There's no trace of the virus. No sulfur, nothing,"

Sam and Dean were silent, but then Dean got up and exclaimed loudly.

"Alright, that's it, we're out of here,"

Doctor Lee left everything behind as she walked right in front of them. "Ditto,"

It only took them a couple minutes to gather what they needed, but then they all were outside. Mark and Doctor Lee at his jeep, Sam and Dean at the Impala. The goodbyes were a lot less awkward than either of the Winchester brothers were expecting. Probably since Mark and Doctor Lee still had a kind of wide-eyed disbelief about them.

"We're headed over to Sidewinder, sticking together, get the authorities up here. If they'll believe us... Take care,"

"We will," Dean claimed. "You two do so as well,"

"We will, and thank you Marshals," Doctor Lee waved with a smile. "You were invaluable,"

Sam smiled at her and Dean gave her a rather sharky grin.

"Probably should come clean," he said, as he popped his car door open. "We ain't Marshals,"

Doctor Lee's hand froze in the air.

"Oh,"


After everything. After fighting for their lives. After Sam being thought to be infected. After Dean almost being infected. After making their decision to stick with each other, through thick or thin or death. After finding out Sam is immune just like him, but without the curse. After just... After the shit storm that is the demon virus, Dean can't hold it in any longer.

"We need a vacation." He said to Sam as they both stop to share a drink in Oklahoma, next to a big lake inside a cow-fence. Those big dumb animals barely raise their heads to look at them, but Dean can sense they are more aware of them than he would have ever thought.

"What?" Sam asks, shocked, as he blinked owlishly. He's still coming down from the high of everything that had happened.

"I don't know, man. I just think maybe we ought to . . . go to the Grand Canyon."

Sam stares at him.

"The Grand Canyon." Sam says it so flatly, Dean feels the need to explain himself. He shrugged, not looking at Sam.

"Yeah, you know, all this driving back and forth across country, you know I've never been to the Grand Canyon?"

Sam shook his head. Clearly he hadn't known, but now he was thinking about it. Those wheels turning behind those bright eyes of his, making the brain of his work. Sensing that Sam was listening, and not just because Dean had surprised him, Dean continued to paint a picture.

"Or we could go to L.A.. or Hollywood, see if we can bang Lindsay Lohan."

She probably wouldn't notice he was a dog. Well, not in that way, anyway.

"I -" Sam shakes his head. "Why are you saying this?"

"After everything we've been through, you have to ask?"

Sam opens and closes his mouth.

"Why now?"

Dean chuckled. "What, death scare isn't enough to make you want to go on a vacation?"

Sam was unimpressed with him.

"Last year, before the familiar-deal, you were kidnapped by a crazy shapeshifter, and you were way closer to death a hundred other times in the last year alone," Sam made sure to talk slow and measured. "But it's a demon virus that's got you freaked out?"

Dean shook his head. Not sure how to say what needed to be said. They'd already had their heart to heart, but this was different.

"This was different," He said, and knew it was useless.

Because it wasn't different. It was the same. Always the same. Danger and fight or flight, always choosing fight. Sam and he continuing down this path, never stopping, always just... doing what they always did.

"Bull," Sam said, hand on his shoulder turning him back. "Listen. You've been getting pretty good about talking out your feelings... "

Dean shoved his hands in his pockets. "Hey if you're going to complain - "

Sam held his hands up defensively.

"I am so, so not complaining," He sighed. "I just - listen Dean, talk to me. I mean, who else are you going to talk to? Doctor Lee? I don't think so. You're my brother, all right? So whatever weight you're carrying, let me help a little bit,"

Dean refused to look Sam in the eyes.

"I can't. Not this," He admitted. "I promised."

When Sam sucked in a breath, Dean hunched his shoulders. Shit. He'd said too much. Sam was smart. Super smart. He could put together scraps of information out of nothing. Now Sam was going to be like a dog with a bone.

"Who?" Sam demanded. But Dean didn't need to say anything. Sam was quick. "Dad?"

He wasn't letting this go.

"Dean what the hell did Dad make you promise?"

Man, it was like it was being pulled right from his chest. He didn't just want to tell Sam, he had to. It was the first time he felt so out of control. Like Sam was actively controlling him. Panic came next. It was closely followed by outrage. His breath caught in his throat, but the answer came.

"Before he died..." Dean couldn't believe he was actually saying this.

"What Dean?"

"He told me..." He gritted his teeth, but he couldn't actually stop himself. "About you,"

"What?"

It was like pulling nails. Dean clenched his teeth. He couldn't not say anything. It was as if his mouth was off its track, a runaway train. Not even when he had attacked Webber had he felt so uncontrolled. Like he was just an inhabitant in his body, not a driving force. He clenched his teeth, harder.

And still, it did nothing.

"He said that he wanted me to watch out for you, to take care of you. This time was different," Dean said, the truth crawling out of his mouth. "He said that I had to save you."

Sam leaned heavily against the Impala next to him. "Save me from what?"

"I know... that's what I asked him," Dean huffed. "I mean, I'm cursed and he still said I have to save you, that nothing else mattered; and that if I couldn't, I'd..." He felt his throat close up around the words.

"You'd what, Dean?"

Fuck. When did Sam get so pushing? When did Dean become a pushover? And why did this feel like an inevitable thing. Like falling off a cliff. Like the truth would set them all free?

"That I'd have to kill you,"

The clearing was deathly silent. Sam's heartbeat didn't start a triple beat until it seemed to dawn on him what Dean said. Then his heartbeat, his breathing - it all kicked up a notch. Dean hunched his shoulders waiting for the outburst. Now that the truth was there, now that it couldn't be shoved back in its box...

Dean wasn't sure what else to do. He deflated, aware his anger was nothing next to Sam's shock.

He didn't have to wait long.

"Kill me?" Sam scoffed and huffed and one. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

He didn't let Dean even try to defend himself or his words. He became more and more animated. More and more agitated.

"I mean, he must have had some kind of reason for saying it, right? Did he know the demon's plans for me? Am I supposed to go Darkside or something? What else did he say, Dean?"

Dean opened his mouth to respond, again, with the sudden and absolute obedience, but Sam just kept going.

"So what? Everything you said in the clinic - what, was that a lie?"

Dean drew back in alarm. "Of course not, Sam!"

Sam's scent took a trip down, smelling sickly sweet and disturbing.

"You kept this from me! How could you? After everything we've been doing - I - I can't," Sam spluttered. He was angry. Dean didn't need his nose or his ears to tell him that. His face said he was angry and... worse he was hurt. Betrayed. "I thought we were making progress! I thought we were getting out of this stupid cycle! We've been doing so good and it was all for nothing!"

Dean wasn't exactly sure what that meant.

But he knew he couldn't interrupt. He wanted to, he needed to, but suddenly his wants and his needs floated into the background of his mind. He sighed.

"Listen, Sam - "

"I can't do this Dean."

Dean's mouth snapped shut. He heard the truth in his brother's voice. Saw the truth in the way he held his body. And he knew, right then, right there; Sam was going to walk away. He was going to leave. He was impulsive when he was angry, just like dad had always been. He was going to be angry, he was going to fume, and he was going to just walk his little self right out of Dean's life.

And he wasn't coming back.

Again.

Their earlier conversation was forgotten, the promises stale, and Dean knew this was... this was a turning point.

But that was par for the course with Sam, wasn't it? Dean thought bitterly as they stood only a few feet apart, but lord - it was like a chasm had opened up between them. It didn't matter what had happened in the clinic, it didn't matter how they had reached out to each other and had responded, how they had fought together. Every bit of that was ripped apart to make room for doubt, and hate, and every little small voice in Sam's head that had spoke against Dean.

And Dean hated himself for the one thought that slithered in:

This is how we're free.

Because he wasn't stupid. Sam had compelled him to answer, to tell the truth. To put Sam first, before Dean, to put his thoughts, his feelings, his emotions - to the very forefront. He had never done it before, but that didn't mean this time didn't count for nothing. Didn't mean that he shouldn't be freaked out over a 'demon blackmarket' for familiars like him. Didn't mean he could live in this simple existence of living for Sam. Solely for Sam.

"I'm sorry," Dean said, feeling hollowed out. "I - "

Sam's scent was unchanging, his frown was more pronounced, and he turned his head away.

"Just - don't, Dean," Sam refused to look at him. "Just... just go Dean,"

It hurt. As a familiar and as a brother, the hurts were different but they merged into one kind of pain.

It wasn't an exactly dismissal, but Dean took it as such. It hurt, but it was expected. Dean had been waiting for it for a while, honestly. Ever since he transformed. Ever since their father had dropped his stupid truth bomb. Ever since Sam had become more and more... used to being the top dog.

Sam already had the keys, it wasn't like Dean was going to have use for things that needed hands soon enough, since he was pretty sure a few days away from Sam was enough to turn him doggie indefinitely. And he didn't feel the need to grovel, and beg; something he was feeling grateful for.

Even if Sam had unknowingly compelled him, he was also giving him his freedom with his anger.

Ever since Dean had realized that Sam held control over his whole life... he thought any moment like this would lead to him panicking. Throwing away everything that he was for a few seconds of forgiveness that would never really be forgiveness, Sam was too stubborn for that.

Dean was grateful that turning away only hurt the usual way it might.

Heart ripping pain, sure, but at least he felt like a person while it happened.

"Fine," He said, without turning back. "I'll see you when I see you,"

And he walked off.

Sam didn't follow.

The only sound as Dean walked off was the steadily fading sound of a heartbeat returning to a steady beat. The fading smell of Sam, the scent that Dean would know even if he was half dead. And the forest swallowed him up as he walked away, feeling free'er and more profoundly different than he ever had before.