The four hunters stood near the table, watching in shock at the young woman writhed on all fours in agony. All four hunters had plenty of experience in dealing with normal werewolves, and they knew to expect a truly unique experience concerning Alicia's transformation, but none of them—even Bobby—could have ever been prepared for the horrific process they witnessed in front of them.

Sweating profusely, Alicia cried out in excruciating pain as they saw skin and muscle rippling, heard the stomach-turning sounds of bones breaking, squelches and cracks as her entire body contorted and reshaped itself. As her human stature took on a more animalistic appearance, her clothes ripped and tore into nothing more than tatters around her.

Limbs grew longer and thicker, more muscular, as dark gray fur began covering her body. Her eyes became more wolf-like, and she opened her mouth to scream in agony, but all that came out was a strangled gurgling sound. Her face stretched, and her jaw distended into a long, dog-like snout. Her fingers and toes gnarled, the nails growing to large claws, as the werewolf's transformation completed, and the creature slowly raised her head and let loose with a skin-crawling howl.

"Son of a bitch," Dean replied, stunned. Sharp ears easily picked up the sound of his voice, and the werewolf jerked her head in his direction, her eyes narrowing as she growled loudly. Her lips curled back to show off every single one of her large, sharp fangs, and the hunter chuckled nervously as he took a step back, clearing his throat. "Easy, girl." She lunged for him, but the shackles restrained her as she snarled and growled loudly like a rabid beast. The chains and poles creaked and shook under the strain, but surprisingly held up. "Sam."

Sam, also shocked by Alicia's transformation, automatically looked for any trace of the young woman left in the monster, but couldn't find any. He felt the knife in his hand, and his expression changed, as if he suddenly remembered it was there since Alicia had first handed it to him. He quickly dipped it in the bubbling potion, then held it up, gripping the handle tightly. "Got it."

"You boys spread out," John barked as he reached in and pulled out a large handgun from his jacket. "Bobby and I'll distract her; you two finish the ritual." He saw the brothers' expressions. "It's just rock salt. It won't hurt her—"

"But it'll piss her off nicely," Bobby finished. He glanced at the brothers as he pulled out one of his own handguns. "What are you idjits waiting for, an engraved invitation? Get moving! Now!" The four men spread out around the large werewolf, Sam and Dean taking the back, while Bobby and John kept her distracted in the front.

"You ready?" Sam asked.

"Let's just get this over with," Dean replied curtly.

Sam nodded briefly before taking a deep breath, gripping the knife as he rushed the back of Alicia. He swiped at the back of the creature, slicing skin, causing Alicia to roar loudly in pain. "Discedite, monstrum tenebrarum!" he shouted and ducked as the werewolf quickly turned and slashed at Sam as he tried jumping out of the way. The claws ripped through his sleeve and arm, and Sam cried out in pain, but still managed to hold onto the knife. John and Bobby both fired a few rounds at Alicia, who growled and snarled at them, straining unsuccessfully against the chains to get to them.

Dean hurried over to his brother, who clutched his arm, blood oozing between his fingers. "You okay?"

"Yeah," Sam winced, his arm throbbing. He pulled out a bandana from his pocket and pressed it against the wound. "I'll live." Dean's jaw set as he yanked the knife from his brother's grip. "Dean, it's not her fault."

"I know," Dean replied curtly. He turned to face the werewolf, who was still clawing and trying to get to Bobby and John. "Okay, sweetheart, you wanna get rough, I'm game." He gripped the knife tightly as he rushed in, slashing the creature on the right arm. "Discedite, monstrum tenebrarum!" The werewolf bellowed loudly and quickly backhanded Dean, sending him flying backward. He hit the ground with a loud 'oof', the knife falling from his hand. He felt minor pain on his face, and touched his face, feeling the slash marks and blood on his hand.

"Dean!" Sam shouted as he hurried over, kneeling beside his brother.

"Son of a bitch," Dean groaned as he slowly sat up.

"You okay?" Sam asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine." Dean winced as he carefully got to his feet. "How many times was that?"

"Two," Sam replied.

"Terrific," Dean muttered.

"Hey, you two gonna stand around flapping your lips or what?" Bobby shouted before firing another round at Alicia's chest, only causing the monster to swipe at him. Bobby moved quickly, but she still caught his jacket, shredding part of it. He responded by emptying his gun into her chest and grabbing more ammunition from his pocket.

John covered him, drawing Alicia's attention as he fired a couple of rounds to her face. "We're almost done, boys!" he barked. "Go!" The brothers looked at each other, nodded, then Dean grabbed the knife before the two stood up and slowly approached the beast.

"Allie!" Dean shouted. The creature turned to face him, crouching defensively on all fours. "Look, I get it, most chicks don't like having a facial hair situation, but you don't have to be such a bitch about it." Her ears flattened and eyes narrowed as she snarled loudly. "Looks like I've struck a nerve." The hunter motioned for her. "Come on, sweetheart."

The werewolf lunged at him, mouth open, claws extended, and Dean dived to the side, swiping at her right arm. The blade cut the upper area, near her shoulder, and she bellowed loudly. "Discedite, monstrum tenebrarum!" Before she could recover, Bobby and John fired several shots at her while Dean tossed the knife to his brother, who quickly moved in, swiping at her back left thigh, yelling the incantation. Alicia stumbled, but didn't falter as Sam tossed the knife back to Dean and the hunters fired again. Dean quickly moved in, making a hard swipe against her back, shouting the last incantation. The four hunters backed away and gathered together out of reach, watching and waiting as the werewolf stood there, hunched over, panting hard.

"Did it work?" Sam asked, looking worried. "Shouldn't something be happening by now?"

"If the damn thing was real," Bobby said, "she should be changing back. Did you boys miss anything?"

"We did everything the way Allie told us," Dean replied. The werewolf quickly regained her strength, facing the hunters and lunging for them, straining hard against the chains, despite the lacerations and injuries. The four heard the metal creaking and saw the poles slowly rising from the ground.

"Those restraints won't hold much longer," John said. "We have to do something, fast, or she's gonna get loose."

Dean felt the cold metal of Alicia's gun tucked in his waistband, remembering what the young woman had asked him to do if anything went wrong, and he could feel the bile rising in his throat. Keeping the knife in his left hand, he reached around with his right hand shaking, and pulled the gun, gripping the handle as he reluctantly aimed it at the creature.

"Where did you get that?" Bobby asked, eying the familiar firearm.

"Allie gave it to me," Dean replied. "Her idea, not mine."

"If you put a bullet in her, Dean," Bobby threatened, "I swear I'll—"

"Then you come up with something better," Dean interrupted angrily, "because if she gets loose, there's going to be a bloodbath. You think she'd want that?"

"Dean!" Everyone looked over and saw Sam, who had run over to the table, and was reading from the book. "She missed something!"

"What?" Dean asked.

"The last part! The knife: you have to stab her with it!"

"Are you sure?" Sam nodded. "Where?"

"Anywhere, but the blade has to go all the way in!"

Dean glanced at the knife in his hand, then quickly returned the gun to his waistband. "Distract her—I'll try not to kill her."

As Bobby and John quickly reloaded and started firing at Alicia as Dean quickly circled behind her. When he was sure she was completely distracted, he ran at her as fast as possible, but ten feet away, she suddenly whirled around, swinging a clawed hand at him. Dean was prepared and he ducked quickly, feeling the rush as her claws brushed against the top of his head. He didn't hesitate as swung the knife down, plunging the blade all the way into her left shoulder.

The creature bellowed loudly and grabbed Dean by the shirt, flinging him—and the knife he still held onto—aside. Dean went sailing through the air, landing hard about fifteen feet away, the knife knocked from his hand. He groaned as he lay stunned for a moment, the wind knocked out of him, but he quickly regained his senses and rolled over, looking over at the clearing.

Bobby and John kept their guns trained on the werewolf as she collapsed to her knees, convulsing and jerking in pain. She howled in pain, doubling over like she was going to be sick, as her entire body shook and appeared to shrink in on itself.

Just as the hunters watched the previous transformation turn Alicia into the horrific creature, this new transformation did just the opposite. The creature bellowed and writhed in pain, hearing the body's internal organs and tissues reshaping themselves once again. Limbs and claws shrank, fangs and fur disappeared, and the animalistic eyes fluidly reverted back to their more human appearance. Every trace of the monstrous creature disappeared, leaving behind a completely reverted young human woman.

Alicia stood in the clearing, breathing hard, her body shaking and drenched in sweat. She was completely naked, bleeding from the multiple wounds all over her body. She slowly turned her gaze until her eyes met Bobby's. The look of relief in her uncle's eyes made her smile slightly, then she looked over at Dean as the young hunter slowly got to his feet, looking at her in stunned silence. A look of peace washed over the young woman's eyes before they rolled back and the young woman crumpled to the ground, eyes closed and unmoving.

The hunters all scrambled over, Dean reaching her first, followed by the others. Kneeling around her, they quickly removed the shackles, tossing them aside, as Dean shrugged out of his jacket and covered Alicia's body. He carefully cradled her in his arms while Sam took his bandana and pressed it against the stab wound.

"Allie," Dead said to the unconscious woman, smoothing hair out of her face.

"Come on, baby girl," Bobby muttered worriedly, feeling her neck for a pulse. "Come on, wake up."

"Bobby?" Sam asked. "Anything?"

Bobby didn't answer as his fingers gently moved around her throat, his expression grim. He suddenly paused, then he sighed with relief as he closed his eyes. "Got a pulse."

"Let's get her back to the house," John said. With everyone helping, Dean carefully supported Alicia in his arms as he stood up, then they quickly and carefully headed out of the clearing, making their way back down the path back to Bobby's house.

Alicia slowly opened her eyes and found herself staring up at the ceiling in her room, laying in bed under her sheets. She could tell from the light streaming through the curtains (and the cracks in the boarded up windows) that it was daylight. It only took her a few moments to realize her left arm was in a sling, and she had various bandages all over her body—which was completely naked. The young woman shifted self-consciously, and every part of her body began aching, and she winced. "Son of a bitch," she muttered.

"Welcome back."

Alicia glanced to her side and saw Dean sitting next to her bed, dressed in the same clothes she remembered seeing him in the night she had transformed, with some blood stains near the collar. He also had a large piece of gauze taped on his cheek, and the young woman's eyes widened as she remembered what happened.

"I am so sorry," she said as she slowly sat up, making sure to keep herself covered. "Are you okay?"

Dean shrugged. "It's just a few scratches," he replied.

Alicia looked at him, tearfully. "How's Sam?"

"He's Sam," Dean joked. Alicia appeared unamused, and Dean sighed. "He's fine." He smirked. "I'd actually be more worried about Bobby; he's pissed you ruined one of his favorite jackets." Alicia looked like she was about to cry, and Dean looked guilt as he quickly moved from the chair, sitting next to her. He reached out to put a hand on her uninjured shoulder, then stopped when he realized she didn't actually have an uninjured shoulder at the moment. He gently cradled her face, trying to ignore the spray of rock salt wounds peppering her skin, and looked her right in the eyes.

"Look, everyone's fine," he reassured her. "No one got seriously hurt, no one died, though you gave it a pretty good effort while you were out. Bobby was beside himself for a while until we were certain you were gonna pull through." He felt her slowly relaxing as a look of relief washed over her eyes.

"So I was out all night?" Alicia asked.

"Two," Dean corrected her. "We've been taking turns keeping an eye on you."

"Did I change last night?" Alicia asked. "Did anything happen?"

"No," Dean replied. "You stayed your unconscious human self."

"So, does that mean it worked?" Alicia asked hopefully.

Dean wanted to say yes, but he shook his head apologetically. "We don't know for certain," he said somberly. "Bobby says we'll have to wait for the next full moon to be sure." He saw her disappointed expression, even as she tried to hide it. "Look, Allie, I know it sucks, but you did revert back after we finished the ritual, and nothing happened last night, so that's a good sign." He tilted his head as he could see her trying to process what he just said. "You okay?"

"I'm in pain," Alicia answered wryly, "but getting sliced and stabbed in the shoulder will do that."

"Yeah, sorry about that," Dean replied, "but for future reference, make sure you read through the entire thing. That night almost had a different ending." He gave her a look that indicated he wasn't happy.

"Sorry," Alicia replied sincerely. She raised an eyebrow. "Speaking of which, you still have my gun?"

"Bobby has it," Dean replied. Alicia looked confused. "He wasn't exactly happy, and he said he's going to have a word with you when you're feeling a little better."

Alicia cringed. "Getting stabbed is less painful."

"Yeah, well, unfortunately, it's gonna get worse," Dean replied. He reached past her for a large whiskey bottle and a clean rag. "Now, this stuff isn't a walk in the park, but it gets the job done."

Alicia raised an eyebrow. "You know, I do have sheep sorrel and violet and a whole plethora of other herbs that do a much better job of treating wounds than whiskey."

"Okay," Dean replied, "but this is my tried and true method, and that's what I'm going to use." Alicia opened her mouth, but Dean stopped her. "Look, when you're doing the Florence Nightingale routine, you use what you want. When I'm in charge, whiskey is my cure for what ails you."

"I'm naked," Alicia protested, blushing slightly as she pulled her bedsheet closer.

"So?" Dean asked. "Look, if it makes you feel any better, Sam was red as a tomato when we were getting all the blood off you and stitching you up." Alicia blushed deeper. "Allie, you're hurt, and I need to check on your injuries." He gave her a playful smile. "I'll behave, I promise." He indicated her right arm. "Look, I'll start there."

Alicia hesitated, then sighed and slowly lifted her right arm over the sheet. She held it out and finally got a good look at it for the first time: she had a gauze covered area on her lower arm and another near her shoulder. Dean carefully pulled back the tied gauze, revealing the sutured lacerations; there was a little redness around the stitches, but nothing of concern. "Who did the tailorwork?" she asked, impressed.

"Me," Dean replied. "Leaves minimal scars. Figured you wouldn't want that canvas all scratched up."

"Oh, this canvas has its fair share of scratches and scars," Alicia replied, a small smile playing on her lips. "Maybe we can compare war wounds one day."

Dean paused, raising an eyebrow, not sure he'd heard her correctly. "Like Lethal Weapon 3?" he asked slowly. Alicia smiled and shrugged a little. Dean chuckles and tried to act casual, even though his thoughts were anything but at the moment. "I think I could be persuaded to pick up where we left off last time—after you're healed, of course."

"And we make sure the cure actually worked," Alicia added.

"Yeah, definitely," Dean replied. He dabbed some whiskey on the rag and gently dabbed it on the wounds. Alicia tensed and sucked in her breath with pain. "Easy."

"It stings."

"Quit being a baby," Dean said, amused. "You're worse than Sam, and he whines over a papercut."

"Yeah, well, I doubt Sam's been sliced and diced like this," Alicia retorted as Dean finished cleaning the two wounds then repositioned the gauze back over the wounds. "So, where's the rest?"

"Two on your back," Dean replied, "one on the back of your left leg, as well as the lovely souvenir on your left shoulder, of course."

"So, how do you wanna do this?" Alicia asked. "I can't exactly roll over on my stomach."

"Can you stand for a few seconds? I'll be quick, I promise."

Alicia nodded. She gathered the bed sheet tightly around her like a towel, the young woman carefully swung her legs over the edge and, with Dean's help, slowly got to her feet, supporting herself on her good leg. Dean quickly moved behind her and knelt down, parting the sheet around her legs. She had to bite her lip, her thoughts drifting, as she felt his fingers brush against her skin to remove the gauze. She closed her eyes and tensed, wincing silently, as he dabbed whiskey on the wound before replacing the gauze.

"You can sit down now," Dean said calmly.

Wordlessly, the young woman gingerly sat on the edge of the bed, giving Dean enough space to sit behind her. She held the sheet securely against the front of her body with one hand as Dean parted the bed sheet, and she felt the cool air hit her exposed skin from the shoulders all the way to the curvature of her buttocks. She tensed briefly as she felt Dean move the gauze on her shoulder and tended to the stab wound before moving down to the middle of the back to the first laceration. After dealing with it, she felt his fingers on a familiar spot in the small of the back.

"The second one?" she asked.

"Yeah," Dean replied as he removed the gauze to examine it. "Unfortunately, it went right through your tattoo—twice—and it's going to leave some scarring, which means—"

"It's useless now," Alicia replied, trying—and failing—not to appear worried.

Dean paused and glanced at her, looking sympathetic. He couldn't see her expression, but he knew enough to understand how important that tattoo was to her: one of the few things in her life giving her some modicum of protection—and it was gone. "Hey," he said softly. "Look, we'll get it fixed once everything heals, okay?"

"I know," Alicia replied softly, trying to keep her voice from cracking, "but what happens if Yellow Eyes finds out what happened? He won't hesitate to—" She stopped as she felt his hand cover hers.

"Don't worry," Dean said reassuringly. "We'll keep you safe."

Alicia slowly shifted, turning around until she was facing the hunter. The two just stared at each other for a few moments before she leaned forward and gently pressed her lips against his, kissing him softly. Dean was a little startled, but he quickly pushed it aside, returning the kiss. He cradled her head in his hands, gently pulling her closer, deepening the kiss. After a few seconds, he suddenly pulled away, looking slightly mortified.

"I, uh," Dean said quickly as he grabbed the whiskey and rag before standing up, "I'll let everyone know you're awake." He marched over to the door and opened it, shutting it behind as he left. Alicia just stared at the closed door, her chest rising and falling, the hint of a smile on her face. She carefully shifted back into a lying position, resting her head on the pillows as she looked up at the ceiling, exhaling loudly. She was definitely going to be needing a cold shower later.

Outside Alicia's door, Dean leaned against the wall, breathing hard. It had taken all his strength to be professional around her, focusing on her injuries, but the images of her bare legs and back, the feel of her body and mouth pressed against his, the thoughts going through his mind were driving him crazy. The hunter took a really long gulp from the whiskey bottle, trying to compose himself before heading down the hall.

It was going to be a hell of a month.

(The End)