Sorry for the delay guys! I've been trying to figure out which direction I want to take this story so comment and let me know how im doing, it really helps me come up with ideas faster and I'm able to post another chapter quicker! I own nothing!

Dean wiped the seat from his forehead as he stepped out of the elevator, followed by Steve. The two made their way to the kitchen and the werewolf yanked open the fridge, grabbing two water bottles and tossing one to the super soldier who swiftly caught it.

"Good morning," Sam greeted cheerily as he stepped into the kitchen.

"Morning," Dean nodded and began to chug the water.

"Why are you guys all sweaty?" Sam studied the two men with a sign of confusion.

"Because," Tony grumbled and entered the kitchen and made his way towards the coffee machine, "Every morning Capsicle and Wolfbreath decide to run until they smell like the dead and then come back here to stink up the whole damn tower."

"Tony, I forgot how much of a morning person you were," Dean commented dryly and received a middle finger in response.

"How far do you guys run?" Sam asked as he sat at the table.

"About fifteen miles or so?" Steve answered and looked to Dean, who nodded in confirmation.

"Tony's right though," Dean chuckled and finished off his water bottle, "We do stink."

Tony scoffed, "You don't say, go shower before you kill someone with the stench."

"Yeah, yeah," Dean stuck his tongue out and left for his room.

After the werewolf had showered and dressed, Dean returned to the kitchen to be greeted by the whole Avengers team and his baby brother. Tony and Sam were busy cooking breakfast for everyone, Natasha and Clint were arm wrestling at the table, and Steve and Bruce were having a quiet conversation. Dean smiled warmly, it was like a scene from a typical American family house. The werewolf's thoughts were interrupted as the hair on the back of his neck began to bristle. Dean spun around quickly and met eye to eye with Director Fury.

"Good morning, Director," Dean greeted sarcastically and went to sit next to Natasha, who had successfully pinned down Clint's arm.

Fury gave a curt nod, "I came by to," he trailed off as his eye landed on Sam, "Fucking hell! Stark! Another one?!"

Sam turned to meet Director Fury's gaze and shrunk back at the intensity there.

"What is this a goddamn pound?! Are you taking in homeless strays now?!" Fury slammed his hand on the counter and stalked towards Sam.

Dean shot up from his seat and quickly intercepted Fury, "Back. Off." The werewolf growled threateningly.

"Or what?" Fury growled back.

The director raised a hand to push Dean aside, but the werewolf had other plans. Dean snatched his wrist into his vice-like grip and twisted unforgivingly. Fury slammed fast first into the counter, immobilized with his arm twisted painfully behind him.

"Let him go!" A female demanded from the doorway of the kitchen, she was wearing one of those blue and silver suits and had a gun pointed directly for Dean's head.

Dean flinched at the sight of the weapon, memories racing back, but he kept a fierce expression on his face. He twisted up on Fury's arm one last time before he released the limb with a growl. The director righted himself, fixed his clothing, and stared angrily at the eldest Winchester. Without warning the director drew his arm back and struck out, striking Dean across the face.

"You will never do that-" He was cut shot as One hundred and eighty five ponds of tensed muscle slammed into him.

The force carried the Director and the werewolf through the doorway, past the woman with the gun who had just barely been able to get out of the way, and hurdled them into the living room. Dean growled as he shoved Fury and watched as the man tumbled over the back of the couch. The werewolf pounced, his mind full of pure white hot rage. First he threatened Sammy, and then this dickweed had the balls to punch him? Dean landed on top of the director and drew his arm back, rearing for a punch. Fury brought his feet up and planted them on the werewolf's chest, he kicked out and sent the other man flying back and crashing through a side table. Dean snarled and lunged again, sending him and Fury crashing into another side table and effectively smashing that as well. Fury threw his weight and managed to roll over so he was on top of Dean. The director swiftly punched the wolf in the face again, Dean howled in rage and brought his hand up to Fury's throat. The werewolf grabbed Fury's throat harshly and yanked, sending the director over his head and allowing Dean to roll into a defensive crouch.

Fury also rolled into a crouch and stared at the man. The two were panting heavily, eyes filled with rage and hands curled into fists begging to be thrown.

"That's enough!" Bruce snapped harshly and grabbed Dean by the back of his shirt.

The werewolf growled in frustration as he was literally carried out of the room. Sometime during the fight everyone had moved from the kitchen to the living room; Fury turned towards Sam.

"You and your friend there have just made my list." He snarled.

"He's my brother," Sam crossed his arms defiantly.

"Watch your backs," Fury whipped around and stalked towards the elevator, followed swiftly by the woman in the blue and silver suit.

Line Break

Director Fury was pissed, no that didn't even begin to cover it. He growled slightly and glared daggers into the upholstery of the limo he was currently seated in. The two bastards wanted a fight? He was damn well going to give them one. No one interfered with his team. Being the director of S.H.E.I.L.D definitely had its perks; for one, he had complete access to all cameras around the globe including the Avengers Tower. Also, he could find out anything about anyone, no matter how hard they tried to hide it. An evil grin spread over his face as the limo came to a stop outside of a rundown motel. The director swiftly pulled himself from the limo and walked towards room 7. He knocked without hesitation. The door was yanked open suddenly and Fury found himself looking at the shell of a man. This man had bloodshot eyes from lack of sleep, hard wrinkles from worrying too much, his breath smelt of alcohol, he looked like he hadn't shaven in weeks; this man was falling apart.

"John Winchester?" Fury asked in one of his harsh voices that left no doubt that he was a man not to be trifled with.

The man's eyes narrowed, "Who wants to know?"

"My name is Director Nick Fury, I believe that I know something you'll want to hear; concerning your son."

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