Chapter 1: C-C-C-Changes

Upon returning to North Plains Bobby set to building a safe room in his basement. Like the fallout shelter craze of the 1950s, this was a large concrete bunker with only one door-heavily reinforced-thick walls (clad in iron sheets), and some sparse furnishings to wait out disaster. Unlike the typical fallout shelter, this safe room was designed to keep things in and out. The door handle was detachable from either side, meaning that the door could effectively be turned into a one-way entry, where people could easily enter, but not exit or vice versa.

"Well, it's done. We're cutting it close, but we should be okay. Tonight's the full moon." Bobby anxiously glanced at the mid-day sun as he spoke, Castiel on the other end of the telephone call.

"So far Sam hasn't changed, and to my knowledge werewolves usually shift multiple nights close to each peak of the lunar cycle." Cas hoped that perhaps in this case Sam would not change, having some sort of immunity because of his demon blood. He nervously twirled the phone cord as he looked at Sam sitting in the other room before he paused and looked down at the cord-Why am I fidgeting? It must be part of the human condition, given how I appear to be doing it subconsciously.

"True, but not always. Sometimes it takes a full moon to force a change for the first time-it's rare, but so is a kid with demon blood getting bit by a werewolf." Bobby sighed, exasperated at the seemingly increasingly improbable series of events his life had become.

"Do we know he will chance? I know little about the interactions of demons and other species' genetics. Is it possible he may avoid becoming a werewolf?" Cas voiced his hope, though he feared Bobby's response.

"Maybe, but I honestly don't know. In any case, bring the boys over tonight. Sam can spend the night in the basement bunker and the rest of us can check on him to make sure he's alright."

"Okay. We'll be over by eight." Cas sighed as he hung up the phone and glanced at the three boys arguing over how to assemble a Lego pirate ship. Tonight was going to be a challenge.

It was 7:57 when the Toyota pulled into Bobby's driveway. Cas stepped out of the passenger seat into the warm July air as Dean unbelted Sam, then himself. After the two exited Gus unbuckled and scooted past Dean's booster.

"Can we please trade seats? I hate being stuck in the middle. Sam's the smallest; he should ride on the hump." Gus stretched his leg as he exited the car.

"His car-seat buckles from the right. It has to be where it is. And there's no way in hell I'm sitting bitch." Dean plodded across the lawn towards Bobby's front porch, "That's your job as the middle kid."

Gus rolled his eyes as he joined Dean on the porch. Cas and Sam were following behind, with Cas carrying the exhausted boy. Despite being out of the hospital for multiple days Sam seemed constantly tired. That, coupled with the fear of turning and accidentally hurting someone had driven Sam into a high-strung mess that even Dean and Cas couldn't seem to completely cure.

Dean rang the bell and Bobby soon opened the door. "Hey Dean, Gus, Cas." He nodded politely before turning to Sam, who was equal parts tired and frightened. "Hey Sam, how are you?"

Sam unburrowed his face from Cas' neck and turned to face Bobby. Under his eyes were large bags and stress lines, and his mouth was quivering as he tried to keep himself calm. "Bobby, I'm scared. I don't wanna hurt anyone."

Bobby sighed and motioned for Cas to hand him Sam, come here ya little idjit, "Sam, it's alright. We're all here for you. You'll be fine, we'll all be fine." He smiled, which seemed to partially reassure the small boy in Superman pajamas. "I built something to keep you safe, here," he shifted the weight of the six-year old, "Let me show you it." Bobby walked through the piles of notes and books heaped in the living room and gingerly stepped down the stairs to the basement. The safe room was in the far corner, next to the workshop. "This is a safe room I built for you. If you change it'll protect you from hurting anyone, and we can still be near you in case something happens." He set him down, "I'm sorry we have to lock you up, but it's only for the night."

"Thank you Bobby." Sam hugged his waist and stood by the door. "Okay, let's get this over with."

The physiological change from human to werewolf is not quick. Nor is it painless. Nor is it pleasant to observe. Watching the body of a loved one twist and convulse as it restructures itself into a werewolf nearly made Dean vomit. Gus did. When the change was over a small brown-furred creature had taken Sam's place and was stalking around the bunker. When it saw the faces peering through the door's sliding peephole it charged and began clawing at the metal. Cas quickly slid the peephole shut before it tried to reach through and scratch at them.

"It appears as though Sam was infected, it just took longer to manifest because of his other condition." Cas stated, crestfallen.

"C'mon boys, let's go upstairs. None of us needs to see this." Bobby placed his hand on Gus' back and began to reach toward Dean.

Dean stepped out of Bobby's reach. "No. he's my brother. I'm staying down here with him."

"Dean, that thing might have been Sam, but it's not him now. It doesn't know you. If it got the chance it would attack you and try to eat your heart…" Bobby lamented, thinking of how the sweet little kid was trapped under a clouded blood-thirsty veil in his own mind and twisted body.

"No. It's Sammy. I know it's him, and I'll prove 'it' is still him!" Dean crossed his arms and sat down against the door, his legs sprawled out against the concrete.

"Okay. You can stay down here, but as a precaution I'm taking this." Bobby pulled the doorknob out of the door. "Now there's no way in or out of that room."

Cas and Bobby walked upstairs, with Gus trailing behind, waving a sad goodnight to Dean. Dean leaned his head against the door and closed his eyes, God is my life fucked up, "Well Sammy, I guess I'm gonna be the one talking tonight for once, so get ready to hear all about Dean…"

Dean sat against the door every time Sam was in that room. After the first night he settled into a pattern: Sam would change every full moon and the three days preceding and following it. Seven nights a month he fell asleep on a concrete floor and woke up with bloody fingers as he looked in horror at the claw marks he had scratched into the iron walls and floor. Every night Dean sat and talked. He talked about school, television, sports, his ever-growing cassette collection (and you've gotta listen to this new one by Zeppelin…), and anything else that came to mind. Usually it was light, relatively meaningless chatter just to keep his mind busy from the reality that his little brother was clawing desperately at the walls to get out and attack him, but sometimes it got serious. He talked about their parents, how Mom was awesome and how she loved Sam so fucking much, and how Dad, well, he was a bastard. After Mom died he went off and tried to kill the thing that killed her, and in the process turned into a bit of a monster himself. Kinda like Frankenstein, only with us along for the ride.

It was twenty-three full moons before anything changed. April 28, 1991 was the best night of Dean's life (until a particularly romantic evening in November of 1996). Dean sat down and flipped open a book. Sometimes it was relaxing to just read to Sam instead of talk about stuff, it was hard to come up with stuff to say constantly, and it didn't seem to make a difference. 'The Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe' was a favorite of Sam's. He'd already read it a dozen times, but it seemed that no matter how many times he read it he found something new to enjoy. Dean flipped the worn paperback open to the bookmark from last night, "…Everyone looked in and pulled the coats apart; and they all saw-Lucy herself saw-a perfectly ordinary wardrobe. There was no wood and no snow, only the back of the wardrobe, with hooks on it. Peter went in and rapped his knuckles on it to make sure that it was solid…"

Suddenly three metallic knocks echoed on the door.

"Sammy? Was that you?"Dean turned to place his ear flush against the door. There's no way…

Another knock.

Dean was overjoyed. "Holy fucking shit!" He paused, thinking of his promise to Cas to swear less, "Err… Holy freaking crap?" No, it wasn't enough, "Whatever, anyway, Sammy, if you understand me one knock for 'yes', two for 'no'."

One knock.

"I'll be back in a second, I need to get Bobby and Gus!" Dean nearly tripped over his legs as he scrambled up the stairs and burst through the basement door before climbing the second flight up to the two bedrooms. It was 1:41, but Dean didn't care.

"Bobby! Bobby!" Dean pushed open Bobby's bedroom door and looked in. Bobby had been sprawled out on the double bed until his cry, causing the former hunter to spring into action, only for his foot to get caught in the comforter, causing him to land on his back on the floor. Dean winced as he entered the room and stood over Bobby. "Uh, hey Bobby…"

When Bobby saw it wasn't an immediate disaster he grunted and sat back on the bed. "Dean it is too goddamn early. Unless we're being attacked or I won the lottery, let me sleep!" He rolled over to his side and shut his eyes, hoping to be left alone.

"Sam understands me."

After getting Gus up from his room-Gus I don't care if it was with Molly Ringwald, GET UP!-the three of them stood in the basement outside of the safe room. "Okay Sammy, remember our knocking from earlier?" Dean crossed his fingers and prayed it hadn't been a coincidence.

One knock.

"That means 'yes'." Dean explained, excitedly.

"Sam, is that really you?" Bobby took a step toward the door, amazed.

One knock.

"Sam Winchester wears girl's underwear when he sleeps." Gus smirked.

Two indignant knocks, a pause, then another three knocks.

Dean slapped Gus in the back of the head. "That means 'no', and I'm pretty sure the extra three was him saying 'fuck you'."

One knock.

Sign language was a pain in the ass to learn, but it was a hell of a lot easier than Morse code. Dean couldn't tell a dot from a dash, and Sam was lousy at spelling long words which often led to interesting mishaps (no STOP not 'coughee', 'rougher'). Sign language had motions for words, which helped the non-vocal Sam convey his thoughts more precisely. While Dean didn't need to know how to sign-only how to read signs-he learned the motions as well, if Sam has to do it I might as well, solidarity or some shit like that…

Sam still locked himself away-control enough to avoid being feral did not mean control enough to avoid going feral if presented with potential victims-but given the ability to have company certainly helped ease the feeling that he was a monster. Once Sam was communicative the others occasionally joined in, though Dean always was present, as he and Sam were the only two who had learned to sign fluently (though everyone else knew at least basic communication Dean was usually a translator for Sam). The system appeared to work, and with regular practice Sam and Dean managed to have full conversations non-verbally.

Less than a week until school starts. Dean signed, rolling his eyes.

Oh, don't give me that. You're excited. Ava'll be back from camp and you two can… Sam paused, trying to remember the sign, before he smirked and crossed his arms in an 'x', "make out" in the supply closet during lunch.

Dean crossed his arms and glared at his canid big-little brother. Sam had just overtaken Dean's height in the last few months, which didn't help at making the furry monstrosity wearing a Nirvana t-shirt any easier to intimidate. Dean was used to having a height advantage. Shut up. Bitch.

Jerk. Sam signed back, before barking a quick 'laugh'. It's your senior year, I know you're excited. When you're done you can go places, do things outside of the only town this side of-Sam spelled out Mississippi-with a combined middle and high school.

It would be nice to just travel the country. Y'know, Cas said he might have a surprise for my graduation.

Like what? The-Sam spelled Impala.

Maybe. Dean shrugged, he'd gotten the old Toyota as a sixteenth birthday present (which was, to be honest, a lot nicer than most of the cars the other high schoolers drove), but secretly wished that Cas would've given him the Impala.

You have a better chance at winning prom king than Cas letting you drive the "deathtrap". Sam referred to Cas' nickname for the Impala, which he refused to allow anyone to drive except on rare occasions. After learning about collision ratings a few years prior-when the NHTSA started the five-star system-he was taken aback at the lack of safety measures and likelihood of the car waffling in a collision.

Well, someone's got to take care of that car. It's depressing seeing her just under that sheet all the time.

Dude, it's a piece of metal and glass. If it wasn't for Ava I'd think you had a thing for your car. Sam teased, knowing how protective Dean was of his girlfriend and the car he wished was his.

Dean scowled and flipped off Sam before picking up a book off the stack next to him. Want me to read? I know you have to read Catcher in the Rye for English, and considering I aced that class I might be willing to help out…

Sam sighed, which came out more as a low growl, Dean often bragged over the victories in normalcy he achieved-which were often difficult feats given the still chaotic nature of their lives, including having to cover for his werewolf little brother and vampire cousin. Well, I can't read it; you know my glasses don't fit when I'm like this.

Yet your braces do. Dean still had no idea how the orthodontia stayed intact with a relatively massive shift, but they were still there. Alright, Dean cleared his throat and began reading aloud, sitting comfortably in the worn easy-chair he'd lugged into the basement a few years prior. Sam sat down on the cot in the bunker and leaned against the wall as the words floated through the door's large sliding window. "If you really want to hear about it, the first thing you'll probably want to know is where I was born, and what my lousy childhood was like, and how my parents were occupied and all before they had me, and all that David Copperfield kind of crap, but I don't feel like going into it, if you want to know the truth."