Disclaimer: Not mine.

Thanks to Klutzygirl33, BranchSuper, cold kagome, QuierdoMusic, Kynstar, godsdaughter77 and Twinchester Angel for the reviews. I'm sorry I've not replied yet – I promise I'll get to the replies as soon as I can. But I've had no time for anything, and I thought you guys would almost certainly prefer the next chapter to the replies.

Chapter 12: Teeth and Claws

Werewolves? Suck out loud.

Sam's walking down the road, a loaded shotgun tucked into his belt and a knife in his boot. He's got nothing in his hands, because he's trying to lure the thing to him, not scare it away.

I don't know what it would take to scare the continent's alpha werewolf, but the sight of my baby brother strolling down a broad dirt track waiting for that alpha werewolf to decide that he's dinner sure as hell scares me. It's all I can do not to call it off, all I can do not to dart out of the trees and grab Sam and drag him back to the Impala and safety.

Little brothers don't get to play bait. Ever. I thought we had that settled years ago, but apparently not.

A twig snaps under Sam's boot, and I jump. He's not trying to be quiet – of course he isn't, he's trying to attract the damn thing – and I am terrified. I don't dare keep my finger on the trigger, because I'm so nervous that I might pull it by accident and if a stray bullet goes through Sammy...

Oh God.

Sam's research says that this particular werewolf doesn't start in with the teeth... Doesn't bite unless its prey tries to fight back.

So Sam's not going to fight back.

In other words, Sam's brilliant plan involves him not only acting as bait, but doing absolutely nothing while a screaming blur of fur and claws rips him apart.

When it's my turn to pick the plan, Sam's job is going to be sitting inside a protective ring of salt and repeating, "I must not put myself in unnecessary danger," until he starts saying it in his sleep. I'm not even letting him do any research until I get that message through.

I hear a sound off to my right and turn. I'm not sure what it was – it could have been a branch whipping in the wind, which has gotten pretty strong, or some small animal scurrying through the undergrowth. Or it could have been a fully-grown werewolf trying to be stealthy.

I look up. The moon is out, full and round and bright. That doesn't mean anything, though; especially not with this werewolf. Even a normal werewolf might change form at any time during the night, or not at all on some nights; with the alpha werewolf there's simply no way to be certain what it can or can't do, and the lore points us in a hundred different directions at once.

I have to be quick. I have to be watchful. If the werewolf gets close to Sam I'll risk hitting him, not to mention that the thought of teeth and claws near Sammy –

Crap!

While I've been looking right and left and peering into the undergrowth for the werewolf, something's snuck up on Sam... Well, snuck isn't the right word, since the bitch seems to have materialized in front of him and is now poking a finger in his chest and saying something that's making his eyes go wide.

Yeah, it's the demon, all right.

We planned for this. I have to remember that. I'm not an idiot, Sam's not an idiot, we knew that the demon would try to get close to us, or at least to Sam. He's promised me, promised me that he's not going to do anything stupid, promised me that if the demon shows up he'll ignore it and just get the job done.

But, damn it, I'm so scared I can't move. Sam's promised, but that doesn't change anything. Sam would break a hundred promises if he thought it would make me happy.

I finger my shotgun nervously. I have the Colt tucked into my belt just in case, but I can't pull it out and start shooting, not when she's positioned herself so that Sam is between me and her. I wonder if she's done that deliberately. She probably has; I'm sure she knows I'm here. Bitch seems to know everything.

"C'mon, Sammy," I whisper. "C'mon, just step away. Step away and give me a clear shot."

As though Sam's heard me, he backs off, moving a few feet to the left, giving me an unobstructed shot. The demon turns, but she doesn't move. She just keeps talking. For a moment I hesitate: she's not doing him any actual harm, and if I waste her I'll kill the woman whose body she's borrowed. But... No. It sucks, and I'm sorry, but no. I can't take risks with Sam. I reach for the Colt, pull it out, aim...

Before I can squeeze off a shot, there's a loud, snarling, growling howl, a sound as eerily spine-chilling as anything I've ever heard in all my years of hunting. Sam stops short and spins. His hand goes to his belt but he doesn't pull out the gun.

I turn towards the sound, the Colt in one hand and my shotgun in the other, ready to start blasting the moment I see it –

It happens so quickly I don't have time to react. The damn thing is fast, faster than any other werewolf we've seen. It's a blur as it races down the path, covering the hundred yards to Sam in a few seconds, and he's pushed the woman behind him –

Defending the demon bitch? Why the hell is he defending the demon bitch?

Then it strikes me: he's not defending the demon, he's defending the woman. Oh, yeah, this is the Sam who, just a few weeks ago, gave me a lecture on how collateral damage is an unfortunate but unavoidable consequence of war.

But now the monster's on him, and oh my God I can hear it growling from way over here. I can hear the sound of something ripping – probably his hoodie – and a yelp of pain that could be either Sam or the werewolf. The woman's trying to slink away –

But then it looks up and sees her and leaps for her.

Which takes it away from Sam, which means I have a clear shot. I raise the shotgun, trying not to look at Sam's too-still form, and squeeze the trigger.

The werewolf jerks, but it doesn't fall. The shot seems to have got it in the shoulder and I've only made it angry. Looks like the killing shot will have to be straight to the heart.

I aim and fire again, but it's moving so quickly that this shot just grazes its neck. Damn it.

It abandons the woman. As soon as it does, her mouth opens in a scream and black smoke pours out. The demon's leaving her, too... Not that it'll do her much good, poor thing. When the werewolf lets her go she collapses limply onto the gravel and lies there motionless.

Sam's stirring now, trying to push himself up. The werewolf is on him in an instant, claws tearing into him, blood seeping through Sam's shirt into the ground –

I fire again. This time my aim is perfect, because I don't miss when I'm shooting at things that are spilling my brother's blood. I get it straight in the chest. It rolls over, yelping, and for a moment it sounds so much like a wounded dog that I almost feel sorry for it –

Almost, but then it's up again, and it goes for Sam.

Right. Enough's enough. Shotgun time is over. I don't want to use the Colt; the werewolf's right on top of Sam, and it's one thing to risk hitting my brother with a silver bullet, but I'm not taking any chances with the Colt. Silver bullets don't work, and we don't have time for me to run through iron and salt and holy water in the hopes of finding something that does. I'm going to go there and stake the sucker.

I run towards Sam and the werewolf, snagging a thick branch from a tree as I pass. It breaks easily – no tree is going to stand in my way when it's a question of saving Sammy – and jaggedly, giving me a nice sharp point. Perfect.

When I get closer I realize the werewolf hasn't started using teeth yet. It's still ripping into Sam with its claws, so intent that it doesn't notice me approaching.

It sure as hell notices when I drive the branch through it.

I shove its body off Sam, dropping to my knees and grabbing his shoulder.

"Sammy. Sammy. Sammy!" I shake him. "Come on, don't do this to me, Sam, please." Sam's eyelids flutter. "Sammy? You with me, kiddo?"

"Dean?"

"Sam."

He blinks up at me, then turns just enough to see the werewolf and the woman beyond it.

"Dean –"

"Never mind that, Sam, I'll deal with it. As soon as I've fixed you up –"

"Dean, no." He tries to sit up, and I push him back down firmly. "There's no time. It's not permanently dead, the only way to do that is to burn it now. And then you have to look at her, she's not moving. It'll just take you a few minutes. I'll be fine."

"Sam –"

"Please."

I don't even bother putting up a fight. "Fine, but Sam? Don't you dare die on me. If you do..."

"You'll kill me?" he asks, in a tone that's entirely too light.

"Not funny," I hiss, and Sam sighs.

"I'm sorry. Dean, really, I'm fine. It didn't get any vital organs. I'm not going to bleed out while you deal with it. Just hurry up."

I do the salt-and-burn mechanically. I drag the werewolf's body away, but not too far: I'm close enough to hear Sam if he raises his voice just a little, close enough to hear anything that tries to attack him. It doesn't take long. When I go back, Sam insists that I check the woman over first. His voice is strong, and he hasn't lost too much colour, so I do it.

She doesn't seem to have lost too much blood – she has a few scrapes, but they're superficial. Fortunately there don't seem to be any bite marks: I don't know how Sam would have dealt with it if I'd had to shoot her. She has a worrying lump on her head, though; she's unconscious and her breathing is harsh and shallow.

"She needs a hospital," Sam offers. I look up to see that he's managed to push himself upright, but the effort has clearly been too much for him and now he's clutching his stomach and wheezing through clenched teeth.

"So do you." I stifle any incipient protest with a glare. "It may not have bitten you, but I'm pretty sure you can get a totally non-supernatural infection from those claws. With our luck you'll probably get rabies. We're not taking chances." I hesitate, because now we have a problem. The woman's clearly not going to wake up, Sam's awake but he sure as hell can't walk on his own, and I can't carry her and support Sammy at the same time – the Sasquatch is just too damn big. "Will you be OK by yourself for a few minutes while I take her to the car?"

"I'll be fine, Dean."

"Wait." I leave the woman and go to Sam. I don't check him over yet, because I know that once I see how badly he's hurt there's no way I'll be able to tear my attention away from him long enough to get her to safety. I haul him off the path, prop him up against a tree, and slide the Colt into his right hand and his cell phone into his left. "Keep talking to me, you hear? Call my phone and keep talking. And if anything comes anywhere near you and even looks at you wrong, you waste it."

"Yes, Dean."

He sounds so much like a sulky teenager that I chortle under my breath as I go back to pick up the woman. I hoist her over one shoulder in a fireman's carry, and turn and glare at Sam until he presses speed dial 1 and I feel my phone buzzing in my pocket.

I pull out the phone as I begin the walk back to the Impala.

"Hiya, Sammy."

"I'm fine, Dean. I can take care of myself."

"I know you can. But you don't have to. Nothing's caught fire, has it? I made pretty damn sure the thing was out of the way of anything that might light up, but you can never tell."

"Seems fine."

"Good." I'm amazed at how light the woman is. Of course, considering that the person I'm usually helping back to the car is about twelve feet tall, it's no wonder it's so easy for me to put her over my shoulder. "How are you holding up?"

"I'm fine, Dean." He sounds just a little weaker, and I cringe to hear it. "Getting darker. Moon's going in."

"Yeah, I know. You have a flashlight?"

"Pocket."

"Can you get it out?" There's a noise, the sound of cloth rustling, a muffled curse, and then a choking breath that tells me more about how much Sam's hurting than he's ever going to admit. "Sam? You got it yet?"

"Yeah... Think I broke a rib."

"I'd be surprised if you hadn't broken any ribs. That thing was even bigger than you are, and it landed on you full-force twice. Just hold on, OK, Sam? I'll be back as soon as I've taken care of her. Hold on."

"Yeah."

He sounds drowsy, but I keep him talking as I walk towards where we left the Impala. It takes me a few minutes to get there, and I can't help worrying. Sam's conscious and he has the Colt, which should keep him safe from most things, but with the kind of nasties we deal with...

When I finally see the Impala's sleek black lines, I go weak-kneed with relief. I don't put the woman inside – I saw the demon leave her, but you can never be certain until you've actually done the exorcism, and until we're sure I'm not trusting her with either my baby or my baby brother. I lay her on the ground and draw a Devil's Trap around her. I wish I had Sam with me: remembering mystical symbols is his thing, not mine. I'm asking him for help as I go, not because I need it – I may not be as good as Sam, but I know how draw a freaking Devil's Trap – but to keep him from falling asleep.

"Then cross it with a line down to the middle," Sam's murmuring. "Go down to the left and – Crap!"

"What?" I almost drop the phone. "Sam? Sam! Sammy! Don't you dare say crap and then nothing! What's going on?"

"She's back – another body! How the hell does she do it so fast?"

Before I can answer I hear a gunshot, a curse, the clatter of the phone being dropped, another gunshot and then a strangled scream that's definitely Sam.

"Sam!"

I don't bother finishing the Devil's Trap.

What did you think? Good? Bad? Please review!