Just want to say thanks for all the great reviews! I'll admit I was a bit reluctant to post this becasue I was changing the Dean everyone knows. Wasn't sure how well that would go over ;-)

Chapter 10

The aromatic smell of burning sage tickled Sam's nose as the shaman passed the smudge stick back and forth over his brother. The chanting that accompanied the ritual was rhythmic and stirred something deep in his soul. It seemed to have the opposite effect on Dean. Sam cringed as his brother screamed and tried to pull free from the restraints. They were forced to tie Dean to the bed as the time drew closer to the full moon. It hadn't been easy and Sam probed the cut on his lip as he glanced at Caleb. The dark haired hunter sported a dark bruise under his right eye. Dean screamed again and the young hunter instinctively moved towards him.

"No, Sam."

He glanced towards Reaves. "How much longer?"

Caleb looked at his watch. "About thirty minutes until the moon crests."

"I can't do this," Sam admitted as he watched Dean struggle to break free.

The longhaired hunter had to agree. It was pure torture watching the older Winchester. At first they loosely tied Dean's arms and legs to the bedposts. They quickly realized that wasn't going to be enough to hold him. Mac was also worried Dean would break something by pulling on the ropes. They also had to consider Dean's broken leg. It was decided they'd have to strap him down with wide pieces of cloth. Even with his chest, hips and legs strapped to the bed Dean still struggled. Through all the screaming the shaman calmly continued what he was doing. Caleb wished he could be more like the shaman, White Cloud. The chanting finally stopped and they watched as the old man threw herbs into the boiling water on the nightstand. He stirred the liquid and said a few words. When he was done he poured the concoction into cold water. He tested it with his finger and when he was satisfied he stood up and leaned over Dean. The older Winchester was quiet now that the chanting was over. His breathing was labored and he was covered in sweat. The old Indian dipped his finger in the water and wrote a symbol on Dean's forehead.

"No!" Dean yelled as his eyes popped open. "Sammy! Help Me!"

"Dean!"

Sam tried to move to his brother but was stopped by Caleb. His struggles were futile against the older hunter.

"Take him out of here," Mac suggested.

"No!" Sam argued. "I have to stay!"

Caleb just shook his head and kept his arm around the younger man. It was then the Caleb noticed Sam was as tall as he was. He wondered when the young hunter had grown so tall. He could remember when Sam barely came to his shoulders. It was amazing how swiftly time passed, how there were times when you wanted to slow its process. But, at that moment, Reaves would have given almost anything to speed its momentum, to end Dean's suffering quickly.

White Cloud continued to anoint Dean drawing archaic symbols on his body with the water. Dean screamed as if the water was burning and after a few minutes he was reduced to soft whimpers. When the shaman was done he turned to the others.

"The moon is at it's highest," he said. "Now we wait. Come young Samuel."

The shaman held out his hand and Caleb let Sam go. The young hunter placed his hand in the shaman's and was pulled forward. White Cloud reached up and anointed Sam's forehead. The feel of the callused fingers sent shivers down Sam's spine.

"Now you can go to your brother."

Sam moved quickly to his brother's side. He tentatively reached out and ran his hand over Dean's sweat dampened hair.

"Sam," Dean said, hoarsely.

"I'm here."

Dean saw the cut on Sam's lip and smiled. "Thought I taught you how to duck."

"Guess I'm a slow learner."

"Yeah, you're slow alright," Dean grimaced.

"Have him drink this," White Cloud handed Sam a cup.

The youngest Winchester lifted Dean's head and placed the cup to his lips. The blond hunter took a sip and gagged.

"Damn, did you put horse piss in this or something?"

"Or something," White Cloud smiled. "Now drink."

The younger Winchester sympathized with his brother as he helped him drink the rest of the cup. When he was finished Dean lay back sighing and closed his eyes. The brew worked so fast that Sam turned to the shaman in alarm.

"What was that?" Sam demanded.

"Something to ease his pain."

"Is it over?"

"It is only just begun."

Caleb stood on the balcony over looking the city. The full moon was slowly setting and he cursed its slow progress across the heavens. White Cloud had been right, the rest of the night had been worse. They all watched in horror as Dean's bones rippled under his skin. The emotions flooding the room had forced Reaves to take a breather. He'd tried to get Sam to come with him but wasn't surprised when he refused.

The young hunter just sat at his brother's side wincing ever time Dean cried out. Caleb knew Sam wanted to hold his brother hands but White Cloud warned that Dean could easily crush his fingers. Caleb shot back the whiskey he was holding as another soft cry could be heard from the room. The ritual seemed to be working but Reaves was prepared just in case. He set the crystal tumbler on the rail and reached behind his back. The revolver he pulled from his belt felt heavier then usual. He knew it was only his imagination as he popped open the cylinder. Six gleaming silver bullets winked in the moonlight. Snapping the gun closed he returned it to his belt. The clicking of the chamber triggered a vision forcing Caleb to grab the balcony.

The dense forest muffled his movements as he followed Sam. The younger hunter carried a shotgun and holy water. Sam turned to him and asked his opinion on how to track their quarry.

"Dean will find the trail."

Saying his name conjured the older Winchester who appeared next to Sam. Caleb blinked his eyes and wondered how he moved so silently.

"Stand still," Dean demanded. "You're both making so much noise I can't hear where it went."

Sam smiled as Dean cocked his head as if he was listening to something far away.

Mac had come out to check on his adopted son, finding him caught in a vision. He didn't want to startled him and called his name.

"Caleb?"

Reaves shuddered as the vision passed. He shook his head and turned to his father. Aames stepped closer and gripped his arm. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah," Caleb said. "How's Deuce?"

"It's over."

"What?" The dark haired hunter asked confused. That's when he noticed the sun coming up over the park. "I only just came out here."

"You've been out here a few hours," the doctor corrected.

Caleb shook his head unbelieving. "Dean's alright?"

"He's not out of the woods, but White Could is sure the ritual has kept him from turning to a lycanthrope."

"Then I won't be needing this," Caleb pulled out the gun. "Do me a favor?'

"Of course."

"Takes this," Reaves handed his father the gun. "I never want to see it again."

Mac nodded as Caleb walked back to Dean's room. The older hunter went into his study and over to the desk, putting the revolver in the drawer. Then he reached behind his back and pulled out a gun, placing it next to the one already in the desk and closed the drawer.