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DISCLAIMER

Supernatural and its characters belong to the WB, which will soon be the CW. I only own the plot. And I just discovered that a Trevor Blumas movie I've been waitin' for will be playin' tomorrow at 3 on the Lifetime Channel. So, yay me. For anyone blankin' on the name, he played Teddy Harwood in "Ice Princess". Slight reference to "Cry Wolf".

Sam returned to their hotel room in the wee hours of the morning. He carefully wiped away the traces of blood on his lips and then tumbled into bed. Almost immediately, he felt something shaking him. The young man moaned sleepily. He was shaken again.

"Dude, I am not a frosty. Quit shaking me," he mumbled in annoyance.

"Samuel Jeffrey Winchester, you get up now!" his father's annoyed voice commanded. With a surprised exclamation, Sam did as he was told.

"What? What's going on?" he asked.

"I just overheard a call on the police scrambler," the man reported.

"What happened?" Sam asked anxiously. Had he done something while he was a werewolf? He hadn't thought he had lost control. But then again, it had been awhile since he had wolfed out. In fact, the last time had been when he and Dean had gone back to Stanford to save his pack. He racked his mind frantically. He had killed the fox, then he had caught the scent of its mate, which was attacking a henhouse at a nearby farm. Oh. I bet that's what happened. Someone must've seen me in wolf form, Sam realized. That only brought him partial relief. He was glad that he hadn't hurt anybody, but now he had to keep his dad from finding out that the werewolf was him. But to his surprise, John's report was of something else.

"There's been a mass murder. Jogger called it in," the man stated.

"Demon?" Dean questioned.

"No. They were shot," John answered. Sam and Dean stared at their father in surprise.

"Shot?" they chorused.

"Uh, no offense, but that doesn't sound like our kind of gig," Sam stated.

"It's probably not. But I just want to make sure," John replied.

"Yes, Sir," Dean and Sam chorused. Dean got dressed and walked to their vehicles and then drove to the woods where the crime had occurred. Sam, Dean, and John each grabbed fake i.d.'s and walked up to the crowd.

"Whoa. Hold it," an officer stated, walking up.

"Easy. We're F.B.I," Dean told him.

"Oh, sorry," the man apologized.

"What happened?" John questioned.

"Apparently a jogger was out early and stumbled upon this mess," the officer answered, gesturing towards the scene. Dean's Adam's apple wobbled. It was just a bunch of kids. The oldest was about Sammy's age and the youngest looked to be about ten or eleven.

"Dang it," he seethed.

"Yeah. It's pretty awful," the officer agreed.

"Do you have any idea who could've done this?" Sam queried.

"No clue. It's---it's hard to believe something of this magnitude could occur without us knowing. I mean, this is such a nice town. Everyone knows everyone," the officer replied, as Dean took pictures with a camera phone. Just then, something sharp hit Sam's nostrils. The intensity of the smell nearly knocked the hunter off his feet. It was acidic, metallic. There was only one thing that could hit him this badly.

"Boy, are you okay?" the officer queried. John and Dean turned to the youngest Winchester, who was a pasty white.

"Sammy?" Dean queried.

"Excuse me. I'm---I'm gonna be---" without waiting for a response, Sam stumbled off towards his father's truck.

"He a rookie?" the officer asked.

"New one on me," Dean replied. Then, he followed after his brother, who was vomitting near the truck.

"You know, if any of that gets on the truck, Dad's gonna kill ya," Dean warned. Then, "You okay?" When he was finished, Sam wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

"What is it? Vision?" Dean asked.

"No," Sam managed to say.

"Then, what?" Dean wondered.

"Silver. Those kids were shot with silver," Sam stated.

"What?" Dean asked sharply.

"I smelled it---sharp, acidic---it was so strong, Dean. Those kids---I could smell them. They were a different pack. I---I don't know why they were killed though," Sam continued.

"Okay, did you---smell another werewolf---someone who survived?" Dean questioned.

"Maybe. I don't know," Sam answered.

"What do you mean you don't know?" Dean asked sharply. If there was a freak goin' around killing werewolves, they'd have to be extra careful so that Sam didn't caught in the middle.

"Look, there were a lot of people around, and they all had different emotions. Not to mention the fact that the smell of fired silver tends make me a little sick," Sam snappished growlishly.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to ask it like that," Dean apologized, holding up his hands in a placitating manner. The last thing he needed was a ticked off werewolf on his hands.

"Yeah, I know. I'm the one who needs to apologize. I let off a little steam on a couple of punk foxes and I haven't had team to get a proper's night rest," Sam told him.

"It's all right," Dean dismissed. Then, they went back to their father.

"Sammy, you okay?" John questioned.

"Yes, Sir," Sam responded. "I think it was just somethin' I ate last night," he lied.

"Okay then," John accepted. He wasn't entirely convinced, but knew he couldn't push. Then, "Thank you for your time, officers." With that, the three drove back to their hotel room. Once there, Sam sank onto the bed.

"You okay?" Dean asked in concern.

"Yeah," Sam answered.

"You know, you don't look too good, Sammy," John noted.

"I'm all right, Dad. Honest," Sam insisted. And he was---now that he was away from that awful smell.

"Okay, I took some pics with the camera phone," Dean stated. He showed them some of the pics.

"They were all shot in the heart," John noted.

"Dang," Sam whispered. They hadn't even had a chance.

"Pretty twisted," Dean agreed.

"Wait. Look," Sam said, noting one of the pictures.

"What?" Dean asked.

"Defensives wounds. This kid fought back," Sam stated. He was probably trying to protect his pack, he thought to himself.

"Dad, what do you suggest?" Dean queried.

"We check the area, see if anybody knows anything," John told them.

"Yes, Sir," the boys chorused again. They went back out. Sam grabbed Dean's arm.

"Dude, what?" the older brother asked in an annoyed whisper.

"If---if it turns out to be hunters---" Sam began.

"I won't let them near you," Dean interrupted reassuringly. Sam nodded and the boys followed their father out of the hotel.