Thanks for all the reveiws so far, and on just a short-short intro! I'm touched you guys like my writing. (blush)

A/N: I inserted some stuff on were-animals in this story, mostly courtesy of Laurell K. Hamilton's 'Anita Blake: Vampire Hunter' novels. If you haven't read any, CHECK THEM OUT! They're absolutely phenomenal. (and hilarious, too :)

That Time of the Month

Chapter One: Were...what?

"OK, Dean, tell me again...Why St. Louis?"

"Well, let me see, could it be because, oh, I don't know, Dad sent us the coordinates for St. Louis? Now shut up and let me drive," Dean said for what had to be the three hundredth time. Actually, it was only the third, but it seemed like a lot more after being cramped in the car with an insomniac for a passenger.

While on the way from South Carolina to Missouri, Sam had done a little research in the motel they had stayed in one night. He had found news articles on a rash of attacks in the heart of St. Louis, mainly attributed to animals, particularily something with large pointy claws and teeth. So, as the brothers Winchester drove into the metropolis, they mentally checked every round of ammo in their arsenal, particularily silver.

Sam studied the atmosphere of western St. Louis as Dean manouvered the car through the winding streets. They ended up at a hotel in a rather seedy area of town, near a park where the most recent attack had occured about a week prior . As Sam and Dean had already figured out, the assaults had happened mostly around the time of the full moon. What was puzzling, however, was the fact that the autopsy reports (and don't ask Sam how he got them) had attributed the deaths to a large cat, not a wolf, as they had previously predicted.

"So, are we still looking for a werewolf?" Sam wanted to know.

"Why ask me, dude?" Dean answered his question with a question.

"Because the smart ass big brother always has the answers, that's why," he replied.

Dean glared at Sam. "You're the college boy. You tell me, professor."

"Look," Sam sighed exasperatedly, "Let's just admit we don't know, and that we'll have to take in some of the local color and do some digging?"

"Local color? This is St. Louis, not New Orleans, Sammy."

"Sam! And would you stop arguing already? Let's go."

oooOOOooo

It took the brothers almost a week to figure out the pattern of the events, and another three days to narrow down the range of victims, leaving a window of another week before the next attack.

"Why are most of the victims strippers?" Sam wondered out loud to himself.

Overhearing, Dean said, "Well, the area is heavy with strip clubs, so you're going to either get strippers or their clients."

"Yeah, I know that, but why here? Why this area? Does the killer have something against strip clubs or something?"

"Dude, unless you're planning a little sit-down chat with our buddy, we're not gonna know. All I gotta know is where and when to find the slobbering sucker, and put more silver in 'em than Fort Knox."

"Gold."

"Huh?"

"Gold is in Fort Knox, not silver."

"Well, gold bullets ain't gonna make that bastard anything but rich, Sam. Silver kills them."

Sam just nodded and rolled his eyes at his brother's stubborn refusal to think logically. He had been increasingly hard to deal with since realizing that there was another week to wait. Dean and waiting just did not go together well.

"Look, I'm gonna go get some coffee, you want any?" Sam asked. Anything to get out of the cramped hotel room with his cabin-fever-crazed brother.

"No, not really. Sure you don't want company?"

"I'll be fine. We've got another week, at least."

Dean waved absently, his brain already ensconsed in the newest Hot Rod magazine he had picked up from a street vendor earlier that night.

oooOOOooo

Sam walked through the dark side street juggling his hot coffee in one hand, and a donut and newspaper in the other. The donut and coffee in one hand and the newspaper in the other didn't work because he either spilled hot coffee on his chin or got donut sugar up his nose; and the coffee and newspaper in one hand didn't work because he kept poking the paper in his eye when he tried to drink. He was just about to forget the multi-tasking and drop the paper altogether when he heard the sound of a scuffle in the park just ahead.

"Dammit, Dean, where are you when I need you?" he thought. Dropping paper, donut and coffee, he slipped quietly into the brush, unsheathing the silver blade at his belt at the same time.

He was close to the two fighters when all sound stopped. He froze.

He waited for what seemed to be hours before he heard a soft gurgle coming from in front of him. Clutching the blade more firmly in his hand, he crept forward and peered out at the clearing. On the ground in front of him lay a young man, in his late 20's, not moving. Sam knelt beside the body warily and put his fingers on the man's neck, glancing around continuously. There was no pulse. There was also no reason to try to resuscitate him, as his throat had been nearly slashed open.

Sam realized that this was no ordinary mugger, this was the killer he and Dean were after. With no warning, he sprang up and launched himself into a sprint. His long legs ate up the ground and he was out of the park and about two hundred yards from the hotel when something hurtled into his back, knocking him violently to the ground.

He was barely able to put his arms out to try to break his fall, and even then, his body slammed into the concrete with enough force to drive the breath from his lungs. Rolling over, he tried desperately to catch his breath, knowing that if he didn't he would die.

Something moved at the corner of his eye, almost too fast for him to track it, and he scrambled back on hands and feet, still not steady enough to rise. He had dropped the knife in his fall, and spotted it near the street gutter. Crab-crawling towards it, he tried to shake his blurred eyes back into focus and had nearly succeeded when he felt the hilt of the knife with his hand. He curled his fingers around it, feeling a little safer with it in his grip. With the hair on the back of his neck trying to jump down his collar for safety, he stood up and looked around.

This time he was attacked from the right, the huge furry body bearing him down onto his left side. Sam felt a couple of ribs crack as the weight of the creature crushed him. He felt fur on his neck, and rancid breath on his cheek. He could hear and feel the rumbling growl in the creature's chest as it rested on him.

Suddenly the weight was gone.

"Uh-oh," was all he had time to think before the pain ripped through him. The creature swung a massive clawed hand at Sam and caught him in the back on the right side, all four claws burying themselves in his flesh. He felt his body sailing through the air and he landed in the middle of the deserted street, too weak, breathless, and in too much pain to even consider moving.

He felt the hot breath of the animal on his neck again, and tried to brace himself for another assault.

It didn't come. Instead, he found himself on the edge of a pack of large animals.

"Now I know how the rabbit feels," he thought fuzzily.

The new animals surrounded his assailant, and he saw the form of a dark-haired woman approaching. Sam wanted to try to warn her, but his fight-or-flight instinct heavily favored flight, for the time being. Struggling to his feet, he wobbled to edge of the building in front of him, and ducked around the corner. The last glimpse he thought he had of the woman was of her standing with her hands on her hips, staring down the creature who had attacked him.

oooOOOooo

Dean jerked awake from his dream, an awful feeling creeping up his spine. He nearly jumped onto the ceiling when he heard pounding on the door of the room.

"Dean..." He could hear Sam call from outside.

He sighed heavily.

"What the hell's the matter with you?" he yelled, "Forget the damn keys again?"

Dean stalked angrily over to the door and yanked it open. Sam leaned heavily against the doorframe, his cheek scratched and blood dripping from his lips and nose. He clutched his right side, and blinked rapidly.

"Oh God, Sammy!"

Sam's eyes rolled up and his head fell back as his body collapsed as if his strings were cut. Dean caught him just before he hit the floor.