(Here is a lighter chapter for yall)

Disclaimer- I DO NOT Own Supernatural

Chapter 13

Sam was stretched out in the bed of John's truck. Bobby drove the truck, John took the Impala with Dean. Sam hated to be away from Dean but after a rather humorous attempt for the 250 pound wall of fur and limbs to squeeze into the back seat, Dean had kicked him out. "Sorry. No dogs in the car Sammy, Rule number one!"

So… here was Sam Winchester. Laying stark naked with his whole body a fuzzy fluffy mess. Sam would like to think… after he got into Stanford, that his life would be normal. Be a lawyer. Be a Hunter on the weekend. Marry Jess. Have kids. But no. Now Sam was a freak of a werewolf. And he had no urges to do anything reminiscent to that of a human OR a werewolf. Food sounded disgusting and humans hearts? Gag!

Bonk! Dad's spare tire bounced into his head while Bobby turned the truck. Sam snarled and bit the tire. His jaw dropping in shock when the tire immediately popped. He sniffed it and chewed on it a little more. Trying to figure out, just how strong his bite pressure was. Sam was so engrossed in chewing up the tire he never noticed they had arrived at Bobby's or the gruff snorts of laughter.

Only when John yelled, "Sam stop using my tire as a damn chew toy!"

Sam's head jerked up, a chunk of tire hanging out of the side of his mouth. The laughter brought a huff out before he got up and trotted up to the house. Only to stop in shock when a wet cold nose slid under his tail.

"Dude!" Sam barked gruffly, leaping around and tucking his tail in. Rumsfeld barked loudly as a new chorus of laughter broke out.

Once inside the house, the group broke ranks, John rushed Dean into the bathroom down the hall. Sam took the time to study the hunters around him. John rarely brought home other hunters, as this was a rare chance to see the Hunter community. As he looked at each person, Bobby, who was seated next to him, began to point each person out to the beast.

"That there is Rufus Turner. And you already know Caleb and Pastor Jim of course. Josh is next to them. The woman by the door is Ellen Harvelle. It was a bitch getting her to come. Your daddy and her don't get along. Then we got the boys that are leaving. That's Jacob and Damien (OCs), great with demons." Bobby gestured to each individual.

Sam nodded along, and tipped his head to each person. Sam had figured out, he had the ability to speak but it was odd. Uncomfortable and garbled when he did.

Dean trudged in from the bathroom, his shoulder sewn up and back where it's supposed to be, a think layer of gauze covered his torso. He walked rather oddly and slid up to Sam, managing to elbow Sam in the face as he walked by.

"Rrrrready for bed, S…Sammy?" Dean grinned widely, slurring his words. John walked in after him and chuckled dryly.

"When I said we had the good stuff…. I meant it." John drawled.

Sam grinned, a scary teeth baring grin before hopping up the stairs. His back legs flailed as he still tried to cope with four legs. His tail bounced behind him, uselessly, since he still couldn't figure out which muscles made it move. Dean trotted behind, careful to not step on the limp appendage.

Dean sat on his designated bed and watched his brother snuffle around the bed covers across the room. With a sigh, Dean lifted the covers and helped his very fuzzy brother into bed. Dean smirked as he tucked Sam in before returning to his own bed. He slipped his tank top off and slid out of his pants, setting his gun on the nightstand. Not a single one of his bullets had been used tonight. And Sammy wasn't burning on a funeral pyre. It had been a good night, all things considered…

And then Sam started snoring.