3 days later: the clearing at Franconia Notch, New Hampshire

The wolf pack had them surrounded, circling them like they were cattle for the slaughter. It was hard to believe that somewhere inside those snarling hairy creatures were people, trapped and unable to control themselves. There were kids in there, and Jack… It was impossible to tell which one he was.

The boys were finding it hard to fend off the werewolves without severely injuring them. It was impossible to tell which ones were still human enough to survive the alpha wolf's death. Somehow, they managed to keep them away…but they wouldn't be able to keep it up for long.

Jack had told them that werewolves were afraid of fire. It quickly became clear that they weren't nearly as afraid of it as regular wolves tend to be when Sam built up a good sized campfire in the middle of the clearing. Actually it looked more like a pyre or a bonfire. Sam had MacGyvered a couple of torches out of tree branches among other things, and was waving them around ninja style as Dean sized up the werewolves. He would have laughed except he was too busy scanning the circling monsters, looking for him. The wolf who would end it all. They were all so huge!

Dean Winchester does not get intimidated by the things he hunts… he does have a healthy respect for the supernatural that can, um, very occasionally be mistaken for fear… but there is never any doubt in his mind that ultimately all the things they faced, every last one of them, could be beaten. These werewolves… they scared the living hell out of him and had since he was ten years old.

He scanned the pack of dogs frantically as they inched closer and closer, leaving Sam and him less and less room to move around the fire. They had six different guns between them, filled with silver bullets for the job. None of it would do them any good though if they were wasted on the others. If they didn't kill the alpha wolf tonight, it would just start all over again.

"Dean, they're getting closer.!" "Yeah, I see that Sam!" "We're going to have to do it soon. Which one is it?" Dean didn't answer, he couldn't answer. The lead wolf was nowhere in sight. He heard a yelp and Sammy's shout of surprise as one of the younger wolves got bold and jumped at him. He jumped back again with the smell of singed fur. Sam turned wide, urgent eyes to his brother. "DEAN! Which ONE?" But Dean didn't hear his brother yell. All he saw was the huge ugly beast with the glowing black eyes and matted tangled pelt of fur that did nothing to hide the thickly scarred skin beneath it. He was the one. Their eyes locked and Dean knew the time had come. They would fight to the death. The werewolf was there for him, and he for it and neither would stop until one of them bled their last drop.

Sam heard the growling, low and guttural. Completely animal in nature. He didn't expect it to come from his brother. Dean's eyes had an unearthly green glow to them and were glued on one of the wolves. Suddenly Sam realized what was happening. It was Him, the one they were here for. The alpha wolf.

All at once Dean and the monster began to move. Sam watched in horror as they ran at each other full tilt, intent only on each other and death. "DEAN!" All he saw was dirt, fur and clothing in a roiling heap on the ground. All he could do was warn off the other beasts from the scene as best he could. He didn't want to kill any of them (they were people after all) but he would if it meant the difference between living or dying himself.

There were six beasts in the clearing, seven with the monster that Dean was fighting for his life with. The knife that usually sat under his pillow was in his hands now, neatly carving away at the monster above him. The blade had been forged of silver which was why their father had thrown it to him that far off night. Again Dean used it, and used it well.

Part of him wanted to slash away at the damn thing until there was only blood and carcass left of him. The sane part of him just wanted to gain enough ground to be able to pull out the gun he had tucked into his jeans. No matter what happened, there was an excellent chance he would end up with teeth marks somewhere on his body… and not the good kind either.

They tumbled over, under and around each other until finally the last sixteen years came around full circle.

The werewolf had Dean pinned beneath its massive frame. Its claws dug into his thighs and shoulders, drawing first blood. He had just enough room to move his arms and kept slashing away at it. The familiarity of it all hit home. He'd been in this exact position before. He was scared. Suddenly he was ten years old again and screaming out his rage and anguish.

Dean heard a voice call out his name. It was asking if he was okay, but he couldn't answer. Using all of the strength he had, he shoved upwards on the beast with both hands and feet. The wolf went soaring over Dean's head to land a good seven or eight feet away. He didn't wait to see what would happen next. His feet found the ground beneath him and started running. "SAM! Shoot it, NOW!" The words were barely out of his mouth when Sam saw the wolf pounce on Dean from behind.

His brother was pinned to the ground on his stomach, completely vulnerable and unable to move. "SAMMY!" it was a cry of anguish. The wolf lifted its head and let out a stomach churning howl that was met with answer calls from the others. Just as it started to bend its head to go for the kill two voices rang out on the night air. "Dean, NO!" Two shots fired in unison. The first came from Sammy and hit the werewolf squarely in the middle of its forehead. The other came from trees somewhere to the left of them. It went straight through the wolfs body from shoulder to shoulder, hitting the heart somewhere along the way.

It fell off Dean, growling and bearing its teeth even though it couldn't move its own body. Sam came running to his brother's side to help him up. Out of the tree line, a figure emerged from the cloud of smoke that had come from the old rifle used to finish the alpha dog off. It walked gingerly through the clearing as the other wolves fell to the ground, one after the other. Some were changing, others were dying. It was almost over.

Feeling a little safer now that the werewolf was on its deathbed, Dean leaned his weight on Sam. One supported the other as they doggedly walked toward the approaching figure, both trying to make out who it was. Normally their first guess would have been their father, except that there was no way this was John Winchester. He was bigger, taller… the boys still saw him as larger than life really. This guy was tall and slim, and from the looks of it probably had his hair tied back in a ponytail? What the..? That didn't describe anyone they knew.

Dean saw something move out of the corner of his eye, just out of his line of sight. The alpha wolf was rising one last time. At the exact moment it leaped into the air Annie emerged from the trees and smoke. The s-o-b was headed straight for her. Acting on instinct and adrenaline he tossed his knife with all his might, then dropped to the ground and grabbed up one of the torches Sam had dropped. He ran at the beast head on, murder in his eyes.

Sam aimed his weapon in the same direction Dean had made his toss and watched the knife bury itself to the hilt into the back of the werewolf's skull. He didn't hear the sickening crunch, but knew that it had been there. Annie jumped back as it dropped instantly to the ground just beyond her feet. That wasn't good enough for Dean though, no he had to be sure. He brought the torch down as hard as he could on its exposed underbelly and set the damned thing on fire. A gut wrenching sound filled the air around them and echoed of the mountains and rocks around them. It wasn't quite a moan or a growl yet still a combination of both and it was definitely not human. The flaming pile at Dean's feet convulsed once, twice then went still for the last time. Dead at last.

The other werewolves were beginning to transform. The missing kids huddled together, a tattered and shell shocked bunch by the fireside. The couple that had gone missing were sitting nearby too holding on to each other as if their lives depended on it and thanking God they had both come out of it in one piece. None of them were Jack though. He was nowhere to be seen.

It wasn't long before they heard the rustling in the brush surrounding them. There had obviously been more than just seven in the pack. Sam, Dean and Annie found them scattered in the brush leading up to the cave. All had retained their animal form. It had been far too late for them. Still no sign of Jack though. Would they be able to find him? Dean wondered. The beasts all looked pretty much the same… just in different sizes. Then as they came closer to the mouth of the cave and the body count climbed still higher, he saw Annie stop in her tracks. There were fifteen others, twenty two in all. The five survivors by the fire in the clearing, three in the brush, a dozen just inside the cave… and Jack.

They found him in the middle of a pool of blood, whether it was his own…impossible to tell. He lay on his back with his face turned up to the night sky, completely at peace. From the look of the scene he had kept the rest of the pack away from them during the fight. Using nothing but his own body he had kept them from leaving the cave. A dozen angry werewolves and he had fought them off all by himself. It had been his one last desperate bid for control over the monster within him and it had been a battle won. Unlike the other more seasoned werewolves, in death Jack had returned to himself.