ERMAGERD, 400 reviews! You are so naise!Of course, it helps that this story has blown out to become a monster. It's a were-story. I would like the next one to be shorter. (That's what she said). It could take a while, though, there aren't any plot bunnies in the pen, which isn't always such a bad thing, but I suspect that The Denizens won't be happy to hear that...

But for now, onward to finish this one! Go, Mavgang, go, look, there's the finish line just one more chapter away!


Chapter Twenty-Eight

"And so, here we are," Sam finished his explanation to Bobby, then took another bite of his lunch.

"Idjits," came Bobby's comment down the line, "Your brother was an idjit to try a stunt like that, and you were an idjit to go after him. It's just like Jesus said: there will always be idjits in the land."

"That was the poor He was talking about," Sam corrected.

"Well, He could equally well have been talkin' about idjits," Bobby humphed. "So, how is the pack's newest pup?"

"In bed, and whining," Sam sighed. "Ronnie's been stuffing meat and houndswort into him – it's like watching a Florida sinkhole. He's taken to it like a duck to water – I don't think he's said a thing in English for the last couple of hours. It's like he's been 'speaking' Canine his whole life."

"Well, your brother has always been in touch with the, uh, less civilised aspects of himself," chuckled Bobby, "So I aint entirely surprised. Speakin' of which," his voice became serious, "Have you got the countercurse?"

"Yeah," Sam eyed the glass jar of slightly greenish liquid on the table, "Ronnie and Andrew brewed it up for me. All I gotta do is drink it, and I'm back to my human self…"

"…And?" prompted Bobby.

Sam groped for words to explain what he was feeling, but failed. "I can't articulate it clearly, not even to myself," he began, "But, it's been like… I don't know what it's been like, I've never actually had a 'been like' before…"

Bobby sighed heavily on the other end of the line. "You're a big boy, Sam, capable of makin' his own decisions. You just make sure you weight up all the pros and cons before you decide. All of 'em. You got enough Hunters out there got a hate-on for your and your brother – you think real hard about whether you want to give anybody an extra incentive to come after you."

"I know you're right," Sam agreed, "I just… I'll sort it out."

"See that you do," humphed Bobby. "Now, you look after your brother, ya idjit."

Sam couldn't help smiling. "I will if I'm needed, but for the moment, Ronnie's got it under control…"

There was a sound of raised voices, yapping and rumbling.

"Well, for a given value of control. We'll see you soon, Bobby."

He rang off, and went to investigate the noises.

Having been stuffed full to bursting with bacon, rare steak and a special batch of potato pancakes, Dean was complaining about Ronnie trying to get him to take a nap. His strident assertions that he didn't need a nap were the source of the yapping.

"You'll do your first shapeshift tonight," Ronnie reasoned, "It'll be hard enough, with your injuries. You need to rest now."

"I wanna get up!" griped Dean, stifling a yawn.

"You've had a concussion, pup," Ronnie frowned, "You need to let your body rest, even if you don't really want to."

"I feel much better," Dean complained, "Make me some more ass tea, and I'll be fine." I am not tired!

Wounded pups should den, and rest, Ronnie rumbled dotingly.

I am not a pup, protested Dean, as she poured him another mug of houndswort.

You are behaving like a pup, Ronnie gruffed, It is time to den, den and sleep.

No! Noooooooooooooooooooooo! The howl sounded loud indoors.

"What's goin' on in here?" asked Andrew, wandering into the room. With Dean's improvement, he'd stayed human after moonset. "Dean, you shouldn't get up, you know the drill for a concussion, which you definitely suffered, and you need to let your wounds heal…"

"I'm fine," Dean reiterated, "And she's in here tellin' me I need to nap."

She is your den-dam, Andrew rumbled patiently, She knows what is best for you. You will submit.

Dean's lip curled into a snarl.

Andrew didn't move. I am Alpha. You will submit.

The snap of defiance Dean let out wasn't an outright challenge, but it was the sound of a young adult asserting himself; if he'd been a teenager, he'd have yelled "You're not the boss of me!"

As quick as a snake, Andrew was across the room, and had hold of Dean by the scruff of his shirt.

I think you'll find I am, he gruffed matter-of-factly. Dean let out a yelp. You will submit to your den-dam. This is the way of things. Conspicuously turning his back, he sauntered out casually.

Dean whined unhappily. Ronnie shifted to his bed, and put her arms around him, crooning comfortingly.

He is Alpha. He wants what is best for you. Den, now – rest, and heal. When you wake you will be ready to feed.

Still whining unhappily, Dean shuffled down into his bed, and Ronnie tucked the bedclothes around him. Jimi jumped onto the bed in a show of moral support.

"How ya doin', bro?" asked Sam, suppressing a smile.

"He'll be much better after some more rest," Ronnie stated firmly.

"They're double-teaming me," Dean griped resentfully.

"Is he always this cranky as a patient?" Ronnie asked Sam.

"Every damned time," sighed Sam. "Enjoy it while it lasts, Dean – I won't be making you potato pancakes once we're on the road again."

Dean growled an assertion of himself as dominant in a litter.

"He doesn't like being told what to do," observed Ronnie as they headed back to the kitchen.

"No, really?" replied Sam brightly.

"I don't suppose the reaction would be too good if I said to him 'Why can't you be more like your brother?'," she suggested.

"It'd be spectacular, I'm sure," Sam chuckled. "I dunno, maybe it's because he never had a chance to do the rebellious teenager thing when he was growing up, so he's doin' it now… what?" he looked at the expression on Ronnie's face. It was a mixture of resignation and amusement.

"Your brother is an Alpha," she said, "You can smell it on him. I can't help but think that, once he's feeling better, this could get reeeeeeeeal interesting."

"He won't fight with Andrew, will he?" asked Sam, worried.

Ronnie snorted. "Did you ever fight with your old man?" she asked.

"Well, yeah," Sam admitted sheepishly. "A lot, if I'm honest. Dean was Daddy's little soldier; I was the one who wouldn't get with the program. But it was arguments, yelling matches. Never physically."

She gave him a doting look. "Sam, you already understand how, when canines communicate, it can be quite… physical."

Sam groaned. "Oh, no."

"They won't hurt each other," she consoled him. "Just remember, stay out of it. Whatever happens, they'll settle it between themselves." She eyed the jar of countercurse on the table. "You have to drink that today, before moonrise," she reminded him, "If…"

If you're going to, she didn't add.

"I know," Sam mumbled, "I… I haven't forgotten." That was true. Since he'd woken to find his brother on the mend, he'd been thinking about nothing else.

Dean was his family. Always would be, but…

His pack. The sense of belonging, the sense of being part of that group.

But could he afford that luxury if it meant that he might not have his brother's back? What if they hit another Hunt where the shit hit the fan at the full moon? What if he didn't learn to control the shapeshift soon enough? What if he didn't learn to control it completely?

What if something happened to Dean, and the wolf got loose, and ran wild? Could he do that to his brother? Could he do that to his pack? He tried not to think about his dam-alpha running him down, running down and killing the closest thing she had to a pup, because she was a Hunter before she was ever a wolf…

Worse than that, what if something happened, and Dean had to come after him, loaded with silver?

As if she could sense his churning thoughts, she interrupted them.

"Pups leave the den, eventually," she told him, "It's the way of things." There was a querulous whining from the guest room. "And not a bad thing," she rolled her eyes, and went to see what Dean wanted.

Sam picked up the jar, listening to Ronnie whuff soothingly to Dean.

Dean was his family. Dean, his brother, who would always have his back, no matter how often he screwed up. Dean, who lived in terror of losing his little brother.

Pups leave the den.

His den-dam understood.

Sam twisted the lid off the jar, and drank the contents. It tasted faintly of houndswort.

...oooooOOOOOooooo... ...oooooOOOOOooooo... ...oooooOOOOOooooo... ...oooooOOOOOooooo... ...oooooOOOOOooooo...

Dean's recuperative powers had always been astonishing, but as a werewolf, it was like he was on fast-forward.

Sam let himself carefully into the room, not wanting to wake his brother, but he discovered that Dean was already awake.

Already awake, and out of bed.

Already out of bed, and stark naked.

"Aaaaaargh!" went Sam, clapping his hands over his eyes, "What the fuck are you doing?"

"I wanna know what I look like," Dean replied, staring at his hands. "I wanna see just how awesome I am on four legs."

"You'll shift tonight anyway," Sam told him, pointedly averting his gaze. "Can you at least put some pants on before then?"

"I don't wanna tear my clothes," shrugged Dean, concentrating hard.

"Er, look, you might not want to try that without, you know, some help," Sam suggested, staring fixedly at the floor. "What if you get stuck?"

"Then you can feed me beer," Dean replied happily, his face scrunched in thought, "Hey, you know, I think I got it…"

"Dean, are you awake?" Ronnie's voice drifted in, "Do you want something to eat… hey, what the hell do you think you're…"

Dean never had been any good with delayed gratification; with a shrug and a yip, he shapeshifted.

Ronnie and Sam blinked at him.

The newly turned werewolf stood up, inspecting his heavily muscled arms, then turned to the mirror.

"Well," began Ronnie, "That is unusual – I've never heard of a brindled werewolf before. I imagine that would be very practical for camouflage purposes…"

"You got freckles, bro," chuckled Sam, "Even as a werewolf, you got freckles!"

"Your pelt is a beautiful colour," Ronnie reassured Dean, "Look, you're a lovely pale goldy colour, with darker brindling."

"She's right," agreed Sam, "You'd make an awesome rug."

Lupine Dean humphed in an annoyed fashion, and drew himself to his full height, intent on towering menacingly over his now-human brother.

By all of about two inches.

Sam burst out laughing.

"What the hell's going on in here?" asked Andrew, coming to investigate the noises.

"He's short!" laughed Sam, as Dean bared his fangs, "He's got freckles and he's short! Jeez, you can't be more than, what, six-six, six-seven? Even as a frigging werewolf, you're short!"

Dean's angry snarl was pitched surprisingly deep.

"Oh, listen to that, you've got your den-sire's voice," Ronnie noted dotingly.

"And your den-dam's height," Sam grinned.

"You got your den-dam's build, too," remarked Andrew, "I bet you'd still come in over 300 pounds."

"He's got a better gun show than you, dear," chuckled Ronnie, prodding at a massive bicep.

"Yeah, he always has been pretty dense," nodded Sam.

Dean growled, and extended one heavily muscled arm towards Sam. Ronnie grabbed the shaggy appendage.

"Now now," she warned, "Don't play rough with the humans – they're squishy."

The noise Dean made suggested that he would be up for a bit of human-squishing.

"Well, I was going to ask if you were hungry," Ronnie said, "I was going to make cheeseburgers, but if you're stuck, I can get you a marrow bone…"

With an eager yap, Dean resumed his human form. "Cheeseburgers?" he trilled hopefully. "With bacon?"

"Got your den-dam's control, too," muttered Andrew.

"Might've guessed that food would be a motivating factor," mused Sam.

"And tater tots," Ronnie promised, smiling in approval. "You are a clever pup. And your pelt is such a beautiful colour." She sniffed deeply. "Whoa, it's a good thing we don't have any feral females around, or they'd be breaking the door down to get to you. They whole sex-on-paws bit, it must be a Winchester thing."

"Sex on feet," smirked Dean smugly, "The Living Sex God's awesomeness is bound to translate across species."

"I'm sure," Ronnie smiled indulgently, like a mother proudly watching her child eat the finger-paint. Are you ready to feed?

I am ready to feed! Dean yipped eagerly.

I am also ready to feed! barked Andrew, using the expression that a Young not able to bring down its own prey would use to an Elder. Ronnie rolled her eyes at him.

Sam could no longer understand the exchange, but the context was pretty clear. "I guess at least your dietary preferences won't change any," he noted philosophically.

"His table manners can only improve," said Ronnie, heading for the kitchen.

With a happy whuff, Dean followed her.

"Hey! HEY!" yelled Sam, "Put some frigging pants on, you freak!"


Oh Sam, let's see how you like your brother's sudden nudist tendencies…

I think we have a chapter to go just to finish this off, then presumably The Denizens will be agitating for a Special Bonus Feature. There are a number of possibilities for this, so I have decided to throw it open to The Denizens to decided (because they may be depraved, but they get shit done). So, cast your vote for one of the three following choices:

A: A visit from the DDD&SSS bus (which would have to wait until I've tallied up the reviews to work out who holds The Clipboard)

B: Another instalment from the inter-chapter interlude 'A Spot Of Bother', aka Ackles in shackles. How do they get the shackles off Dean? Does Sam put shorts on?

C: A peek into an alternative universe, where the Winchesters went down the other leg of the Trousers of Time, and stayed werewolves. The Were!chesters Jimiverse, even. No doubt there would be Hunters after them. Or were they part of the pack that would save humanity in the next Apocalypse, as Hunters' tittle-tattle suggested at the end of 'Here Comes The Snide'?

Vote early, vote often, and vote without mercy!

Vote while you send reviews to get Mavgang the gender-confused plot bunny over the line, because Reviews are the Delicious Snacks Prepared For You When You're Feeling Under The Weather Because You've Been Assaulted By The Vampires Of Life!