A/N: This was not the way Dean wanted Sam to find out and now he must deal with the fallout. What will Sam decide? This was a hard couple of chapters to write and I hope I did them justice. Thank you to any guest who left reviews. I do like reviews. NC

Chapter 26

Dean stood on the other side of the basement door and tapped on the wood as he called out to his brother. His shoulders were slumped and his voice soft as he listened for movement on the other side of the door.

"Sammy, let me out. Please Sammy."

He had woken from the last change and knew something was off. The lamp was knocked over on the workbench and there were things laying in the floor in front of it. His chain would not let him reach that far so he could not have done it. He sniffed the air and found a scent of something, no, someone. His heart almost stopped beating in his chest when he drew in a long breath and realized he knew that scent. It was his little brother's. He was here in the cabin and that only meant one thing, he had seen him last night when he changed.

Dean tried to pull up the memories and got bits and pieces of what happened. He knew Sam found him as he was changing and ran for his life, and he could not blame him. He knew seeing him transforming like that had to have been a shock for Sam.

"Dee…" Sam croaked out in a whimper.

If Dean had been human, he would not have heard his brother's weak, trembling voice.

Dean closed his eyes as he leaned his head against the door and sighed deeply. He could sense Sam on the other side of it and could smell the fear and sweat wafting from him. He ached inside when he heard Sam's strangled voice call his name. This was not how he wanted Sam to find out about him. He wanted to sit down and explain everything in a calm, nonthreatening way. He could only imagine what Sam was thinking of him right now. Dean did not know if he would shoot him or talk to him or just leave.

Not wanting to upset Sam more than he already was, Dean headed back down the steps and went to the basement door and started to unlock the locks and remove the reinforcement he had added and opened the door to step out into the sunlight. He drew in a few deep breaths and walked around the cabin to the backdoor. He started to go in but realized there was blood on his hands and probably his face from eating the drug laced meat last night. He went over to the garden hose and turned on the water to wash his face and hands off, using his tee shirt to dry them. He did not want Sam to see him that way. They had seen each other covered in blood before, but it was because of a hunt and taking down a monster; not like this. After unlocking the door, he slowly pushed it open and stepped into the kitchen.

Sam quickly stood, his balance wobbling, and he almost fell when the backdoor opened and his brother stepped into the kitchen. He used two hands and aimed the gun at him, not sure what to do. He looked like his brother now, but Sam knew there was a dangerous beast luring deep within him.

"Sammy," Dean greeted his brother cautiously since Sam had Dean's gun pointed at his chest. He could see the fear, doubt, despair, confusion, and uncertainty, in his face as he stood there not sure what to do. He could hear Sam's heart pounding hard and his breathing growing faster. "It's okay Sammy. I won't hurt you; you're my brother." Dean held his hands up to show he meant no harm as he slowly took a step toward him. He could see the gun waver in Sam's death grip but kept his eyes on his brother's face. "I know you're confused and scared. Man, this wasn't how I wanted you to find out. What you saw last night…I'm sorry it happened, but I can't change it. After this cycle, I was going to come get you and we'd have gone somewhere quiet and I was going to tell you." Dean took another cautious step forward. "Why don't you let me have my gun back? We don't want it going off accidentally now do we?"

Sam tried to listen to his calm, soothing voice as Dean spoke to him, but all he could see was the monster version of Dean lunging at him, claws and fangs trying to kill him. His mind was past overload and he was not comprehending what Dean was saying.

He took a step back as Dean took a step forward until his back hit the counter and he could not go any further. The gun felt heavy in his hands now and he felt them tremble with his exhaustion as he tried to keep it steady. Sam could not take his strained eyes off his brother and could see streaks of what looked like blood on his damp hands he was holding out in front of him. His tee shirt hung off one shoulder where it had ripped with the change. He noticed his hair was longer than he usually kept it and he had not shaved in a few days. There was an air of difference about him that Sam could not understand in his current state. Dean came closer with his arms held up and Sam fought his fears as he watched him carefully put his hand on the top of the gun and push it away from being aimed at his chest.

Dean did not want to just violently yank the gun from Sam for fear he would accidently pull the trigger and he did not want to frighten him any more than he was already. Plus, he did not want to get shot since the gun was loaded with silver bullets. He carefully and slowly lowered his left hand and gripped the top of the gun moving the barrel away from him so if it did go off, it would miss him. He used his other hand to gently pry Sam's fingers from around the butt of the gun. They were stiff and unyielding, but he was finally able to loosen them enough to pull the gun from his grasp. He laid it behind him on the kitchen table out of Sam's reach and gently held Sam's cold hands in his warm ones.

Sam's fingers were like claws as he rubbed and massaged them trying to loosen them up. He could feel them trembling in his grasp and trying to pull away but did not say anything about it. Dean kept his face neutral and calm, not wanting Sam to see the hurt of his rejection he was feeling right now or spook him anymore than he already was. He could tell Sam wanted to step away from him, like he did not want to be this close to him.

Every muscle in Sam's body was screaming for him to run, to fight, to get away, but his heart was telling him to stay. This was his brother; he could see it in his eyes. He flinched when Dean took his hands and began to gently rub and massage them trying to straighten his cramped, bent fingers. Sam tried to pull away, but Dean would not let him. His body was tense, and he was on edge ready to flee from him. He watched Dean's fingers rub his own and could feel the warmth began to flow in them again. He heard Dean talking to him, but only comprehended part of what he was saying.

"Sammy," Dean whispered trying to get his attention as he stopped rubbing his hands. Sam was looking down at his hands as he rubbed them and not at Dean. "Hey bro, I need a shower and change of clothes. And I think you need to lay down and try to rest for a few hours. I know you didn't sleep last night. We can talk later once you're feeling better and maybe a little clearer headed," Dean suggested. "You can use my bed since the other bedroom's not made up."

Sam raised his eyes to look at him finally and still could not make himself say anything. He opened his mouth and licked his lips, but he could not get any words out, his mind just seemed to shut down and refused to work. He could only look at his brother's face and see the concern and worry in his eyes. He was able to nod a shaky yes, he agreed with him. He was not in any shape to have a conversation with him yet. He needed to be able to think and not let fear take him over.

"C'mon bro, you'll feel better after some sleep." Dean turned him in the direction of the hall and gave him a gentle push to get him moving, and guided him down the hall to his bedroom, keeping a grip on Sam's jeans as he stumbled slightly as he tried to walk. He led him to the bed and let him sit down. "I'll just get your boots off, so you'll be more comfortable." Dean knelt in front of Sam and took off his boots and as he stood, Sam stretched out on the bed, laying on his side, never taking his haunted eyes off Dean. He had his hands clutched tightly to his chest, now relaxed from their previous clawed form, and curled his long body slightly. Dean grabbed a blanket and draped it over him. He went to his bag and got clean clothes and snagged his boots before leaving Sam alone in the bedroom. He pulled the door partly closed to allow him some privacy.

Sam did not resist when Dean suggested he lay down and on wobbly legs let him lead him to his bedroom. He sat on the bed and watched Dean remove his boots before laying down. His body was cold, and he curled up hoping to warm it. When Dean covered him with a blanket, he clutched it tightly to his chest and watched him move around the room gathering clothes and boots before leaving him alone. Once he was gone, Sam gave in to the exhaustion he had been holding in and let the tears fall from his eyes to wet his pillow. He turned his face into the pillow and could smell his brother's scent on it and noticed the difference to the smell than what he was used to. How was he supposed to deal with this? How do you come to terms that your brother is now a werewolf? He lay there staring blankly at the wall, his mind refusing to form coherent thoughts, to let him sort things out until his fatigue just pulled him under, into the unfeeling darkness of sleep.

spn

Dean closed the bathroom door and placed his clothes by the sink. He started the water running and finished ripping off his torn tee shirt and dropped his sweats. He adjusted the water before stepping under the hot spray and letting it wash over him. If only he could wash away all the feelings that were surfacing and invading his thoughts. He had two more nights of changing to deal with and he had to get Sam out of here. He did not want him going through what he had experienced last night because it looked like it about destroyed him.

He was Sam's big brother and was supposed to look out for him, take care of him, and now all Sam saw was a monster. He pressed his hands against the shower wall and hung his head letting the tears fall and mix with the water running down his face. He sought restraint of his emotions and shoved them deep as he found control once again. Dean quickly washed his hair and body and shut the water off. He dried himself and stepped from the tub to put on his clothes.

Dean stepped into the hallway and pushed his bedroom door open enough to drop his sleep clothes inside. He looked to the bed and saw Sam had not moved since he had laid down. He could see the top of his head sticking out from the blanket clutched tightly around him. Dean moved silently as he approached the bed and took another blanket to drape over his curled form. He looked down at him again as Sam moaned softly and curled even tighter into a ball, before turning to leave.

They had a lot to talk about if Sam would give him the chance. He was not sure he would even stay once he woke up, but that was okay. It would be his choice and Dean would not force him to do anything. Maybe it would be better if they separated and went their own ways? He went into the kitchen and started a pot of coffee for something to do. He was not hungry as his stomach churned, but the beast would have none of it. It wanted to be fed. He gave in and pulled a bowl with raw meat from the fridge and went to the sink. He opened the bowl and pulled the meat out leaning slightly over the sink as he bit off a chunk and ate it. Blood dripped between his fingers and into the sink, leaving a red trail on the white surface. When he was done, he washed his hands, mouth, and sink before turning to pour a cup of coffee.

Dean went out on the back deck and took a seat in a lounge chair to watch the day come alive and to think. He had to have a composed, soothing, positive approach toward his brother. He did not want this to be the end for them. Dean did not know if he could take that because there would be a huge hole in his soul, and he would never feel complete again. He sipped his coffee and tried to work out in his mind what he was going to say. He hoped to quell Sam's fears and once he was thinking logically, maybe Sam would be understanding and they could work this mess out.

Snapping of twigs at the forest's edge caught Dean's attention and he froze, watching as a doe cautiously stepped to the tree line and looked around, searching for danger. A young fawn moved out beside her and started eating the sweet clover that grew along the tree line. He could smell their scent and fought back the urge to attack since it was a mother and baby. Even in his current form, he could not kill the gentle creature, leaving the baby alone in the world. He chuffed out a growl and they quickly disappeared into the trees. His keen hearing picked up muffled sounds from the bedroom, but did not go investigate, giving Sam his privacy. If they got worse, he would go check on him. It would work out; he was sure of it; it had to.