I don't own Supernatural. Darn. I do own Asher Michaels and this story, excluding the bits from the show. My friend Shauna owns Amelia Shaw, and I am using her in my story with her permission. This fic is rated for violence, blood, language, drinking, sexual situations and, hopefully, some scary shit. I don't know how good I will be at writing scary stuff since I've never actually tried before. Enjoy the stories.

Monster Hospital, Book Three: Werewolves.
Chapter Six: No Mercy.

Amelia didn't know what to do.

She mumbled something about the burns never having been this bad, before getting all flustered at the sight of her slowly burning sister. After Sam had managed to calm her down, she did the only thing that might help—she dug out her medical kit and gave Asher all the painkillers she had in there, which wasn't much and wouldn't last long with her werewolf's metabolism. But at least it was something, and it was something that made her whimpering cease. The burning didn't stop, but the trenches the chains were cutting in her tan skin began to cauterize and though the smell worsened, the immediate damaged lessened. The horrible smell of burning flesh clung to the room, but no one commented on it.

Everyone ignored it.

Amelia became suddenly engrossed in a book and Sam disappeared, heading out after food or booze or both, leaving Dean to sit in the chair and stare at the werewolf. He didn't leave the chair beside Asher's bed, not even when Sam returned with food. The remainder of the pizza sat on the table and grew hard and cold and still Dean did not pull himself away from the burning woman. He couldn't. Partly due to sick fascination, partly to curiosity and partly because of his closeness to Asher, the bizarre connection they shared.

Sam and Amelia ate and then went to bed, curling up together on Amelia's bed; Sam's arms encased the much smaller woman and her head fit neatly into the curve of his throat. Dean only spared them a glance and was momentarily jealous of their ability to distance themselves from the situation and prepare for the next day, whatever it would bring. He knew it wasn't because they didn't care, but because they were exhausted. Dean couldn't bring himself to sleep. Couldn't bring himself to do anything but sit there and stare at the wounded werewolf as she burned away and wonder if she would be all right. More than once he caught himself leaning closer to her prone form, hand outstretched as if he would touch her but unsure of where to place his fingers. He wasn't sure how to react to Asher in so much pain, not because he cared about her, or because it was hard to watch, but because it was Asher, who was strong and unflappable and immoveable. She shouldn't be confined to the bed. It was wrong.

It was wrong to see her lying there, black hair messy, matted with blood and sticking to her skin with sweat. Her tan skin was shiny with it and her chest rose and fell in short breaths, unnatural for her. She was unconscious, but still her eyes were squeezed tightly shut against the pain.

"Asher," he breathed, voice catching slightly.

"Dean..."

He jumped, startled by her voice after the lengthy period of silence. The older Winchester leaned forward, consciously this time, and wrapped both his hands around her groping fingers. "Hey Ash."

She feebly tried to pull his hands closer to her face, but unmarred skin began to sear and she stopped, wincing. "Get me out of these things..."

Only because the sun was close to rising did Dean agree; through the window in the back wall he could see the first gray-white light of dawn between the trees. He didn't actually think Asher would flat out attack him, but he knew if night had still been out in full force, Asher would have stayed chained up just in case the wolf decided she wasn't finished. As it was, he nodded, fingers trailing over her arm as he dropped to his knees and began to fumble with the chains hooked under the bed.

Surprisingly, the rattling didn't wake Sam or Amelia—they wouldn't be up for at least another hour—nor did Asher's pained gasps as the chains fell away and her skin began to knit itself together. Apparently, it was as painful a process as the actual burning. She curled into a ball on the bed, wrapped her arms around her legs and pressed her mouth to her knee to stifle the whimpers, but these noises of pain didn't last nearly as long as the burning had. It wasn't long before she was able to unwind and pull herself from the bloody sheets, as if she couldn't stand to remain on them. She stumbled to her feet, wavered and failed to catch herself. Dean caught her before she crumbled to the ground like the chains but, because of her sideways movement, they both went down anyway.

"Are you okay?" Dean asked quietly; Sam and Amelia had both made some noises and shifted as Asher and Dean had fallen, but they still hadn't awoken.

"I'll be fine," Asher replied, her voice still tight with pain. She pressed her face into the soft fabric of Dean's t-shirt, her nose poking against his sternum and her hands balling into the fabric above his stomach. He felt more than heard her moan, the vibrations thrumming through him. "I'll be fine."

Dean manoeuvred himself until he was sitting with his back against the bed and could hold Asher to him, his legs on either side of her. Rather uncharacteristically and likely only because there was no one else to see, Asher pulled herself to Dean, wrapped herself around him and cried softly until the pain had passed. Dean didn't say anything, just held her, just hushed her and stroked her blood-matted hair.

"I'm sorry," she said as the last of the tears vanished. "I'm so sorry Dean."

He put his mouth close to his ear as he hugged her closer to his chest, her hand tightening around the handful of t-shirt she had grabbed. "Don't apologize."

"I nearly tore your arm off."

"You already said that wasn't you."

She nuzzled into his chest again in a very dog-like way. Dean reached around the bed to where he had piled the comforter when Amelia was tying her sister to the bed and wrapped it around Asher the best he could without making her move. Accepting the warmth, Asher cuddled deep into the blanket; Dean was impressed at how many of the burns had already disappeared completely. She still didn't let go of Dean's shirt. For a few moments they sat in silence, listening to the soft sounds of Sam and Amelia sleeping; one of Dean's hands idly stroked Asher's naked back and the other remained low on her waist.

"Before the others gets up, Ash, I want to ask you something."

She looked up at him with her face still mostly pressed into his chest. It made her blue eyes look wide and her face appear vulnerable—she was anything but vulnerable. "You want to know why I went, don't you?"

Dean just nodded, sensing that this would be a difficult topic for Asher to discuss.

Asher sighed and shifted, wincing as she moved. When she was sitting more upright and could look Dean in the eye with the hostility she normally had towards everyone. This time however, it wasn't directed at Dean; it was wherever her eyes were focused, somewhere out in the country at an old farmhouse. For several minutes, she just sat there in silence, Dean's arms still around her under the blanket, until she finally said, "I could try and explain the metaphysics behind it or whatever, but that always sounds so lame. The truth of it though, is that the Alpha... called to me. I felt him as soon as we got into town; knew it was a big wolf, a powerful wolf. I fought off going to him for as long as I could, but something—probably the rest of the pack helping him—finally pulled me away. Got me to attack Amelia." She closed her eyes and sighed, leaning back into Dean's shoulder. "I felt myself slipping away..."

"She knows you'd never attack her on purpose, Ash."

"That's not the point, Dean. The point is that I no longer know if I have completely control over myself. I watched from behind my own eyes as I attacked my sister—I saw what I'm going to become—"

"What?"

Asher sat up again, straight and under her own power. She wrapped the blanket around her naked body, almost as if to ward of the cold, but it wasn't the chill of the air. It was the chill of memory. "Dean... the other wolves... their eyes and hands and teeth don't just change." She paused, letting that information sink in. She knew that the Winchesters had only encountered werewolves in their most basic of forms. As she watched Dean's face grow wary, she tried to push some of her bloody hair back from her face, tuck it behind her ears. "They had full animal forms. Their wolves came out into the open. And they were big. Bigger than normal wolves. Much bigger. And I saw a couple of the more powerful wolves turn into like, a wolfman form. A fucking wolfman, Dean. And they were all mean. Vicious." She wrapped her arms tighter around herself, bringing the blanket with her. Dean didn't try to touch her. She was in some other place, reliving some memories that clearly were not comfortable or easy for her. "Dean..." Her voice broke and she crumpled forward a bit, tears bubbling over her lids.

"Ash... what did you see?"

"Dean, those men and women are murderers. They like killing. They enjoy it. They're barely human anymore..." She sat up straight again and wiped her eyes with the corner of the comforter. "I... I liked hunting the animals, Dean. Not my wolf. Me."

"Ash."

"I'm going to turn into one of those things." A fine trembling started in her hands and moved up her arms to her torso. She backed away from Dean when he tried to approach her. "They've all gotta die," she managed through clenched teeth. She was crying again.

Noise from the bed brought her to a complete stop for about a second. When Dean turned to look, he found Sam sitting up in bed, staring at Asher over Dean's head—or more precisely, the spot where Asher used to be. The bathroom door slammed shut as Dean wondered where she'd gone. He sagged back against the bed and sighed heavily. Asher had always thought of herself as a monster, regardless of the constant reassurance from Dean, Amelia, Sam, Bobby, Ellen, and Jo that she was not. That she was a human, a hunter, one of them. This experience would do nothing to help that self-image. Dean was pretty sure there was something else she wasn't telling them, that she may never tell them, tell him.

"Is she okay?" Sam asked.

Amelia was pulling herself into a sitting position beside the younger Winchester, a concerned look breaking through the haze of sleep. "What's wrong?"

Dean sighed again and ran his hands back over his hair. "Asher was trying to tell me what she saw at the house. About the other wolves." He heard the shower running in the motel bathroom and wondered if Asher would ever finish talking to him. If they'd ever get that moment back.

Amelia seemed to gather that her and Sam waking up had interrupted something more important than just information. She climbed off the bed and walked over to the bathroom, knocking on the door but walking in away instead of waiting for a knock. Dean waited to hear Asher scream at her sister, for Amelia to come out of the bathroom again, but she didn't. The water shut off and there was a soft murmuring audible through the door. But that was it. Fairly sure the moment was gone, Dean got to his feet and went to find food.

Amelia emerged from the bathroom once to gather some clothes for Asher and then once again a few moments later. She didn't say anything to Sam or Dean about what they talked about or what had happened. When Asher came out, she was dressed in her normal black skinny jeans, another baggy t-shirt—this one bright red with some faded logo across the chest—but that was it. No belts, no holsters, no boots. She was not hunting and didn't look pleased about it as the others prepared to hit the werewolf hideout before it moved.

"They'll be less active during the day," she was saying from her place sitting cross-legged on the couch. "They won't be any less strong, but they'll be slower to react and slower to change. The transformation is more painful during the day as well for some reason, especially for the weaker wolves." Asher's blue eyes were locked on the floor and she kept running the fingers of one hand through her loose black hair. "Watch out for the Alpha. He'll probably transform before attacking you. He's a big tawny wolf—huge and incredibly strong. If you see him, shoot him multiple times without thinking about it." She closed her eyes and sighed, moving her fingers like she was counting off things from a list. "Werewolves are at their weakest when they're changing, so if one drops to the ground suddenly, shoot it. The moon is completely full tonight, so if you're out there that long, don't let them bite you. Run. Don't keep fighting." She looked up at them then, blue eyes dark.

"Ash, are you sure you want us to kill them all?" Amelia asked.

She nodded. "Those men and women are murderers and if they are not stopped, they will kill more innocents. They will take over this whole town and they'll just keep going. We have to kill them."

"Are you sure you don't want to come?" Dean asked.

Asher gave him an indignant look. "I would love to come, but I don't want to risk changing and hurting any of you. Or being forced to hurt any of you. The Alpha can control me," she added glumly. Sam, Dean and Amelia looked at her for a moment longer until she scoffed and waved towards the door. "Go. You're wasting daylight." Sam and Amelia left. Dean remained. "What?" she snapped.

He crossed the distance to the couch and dropped to his knees in front of her so they were closer to eye level. "Are you really okay with us killing a bunch of werewolves?"

"Yes."

"Are you going to be okay sitting here?"

"Yes."

Dean leaned in, put his face close to hers. "Ash."

She stared at him for a moment and then side and put her forehead against his. "No. I'm not. But I'll deal."

He put his hands on her arms and pushed her back just far enough to look her in the eye properly. She closed her eyes, not wanting him to see her pain anymore. He leaned in a kissed her softly on the lips.

Then he got to his feet and left.

Asher had been wrong to think that her wolf wouldn't be an issue until nightfall. She could feel the wolf pack, the wildness calling to her, to the animal part of her. Her wolf was howling inside, begging to be let out to run. She could feel the Alpha calling to her, directly to her, and it was proving hard to ignore him. Her wolf didn't want to ignore him. She was howling to run, beginning, ramming against the inside of Asher's head, of her body—physical signs were showing. Faint scratch and bite marks, pushed out from the inside. There was an actual animal inside there. Metaphysical, maybe, but real.

Luckily, it didn't hurt very much. Just felt very, very weird.

While her inside rolled and the wolf tried to get out, Asher paced the motel room, wringing her hands and trying to get her wolf to calm down. There was a sheen of sweat on her brow and if you got close enough, you could hear the grinding of her teeth. She was losing the fight to keep the wolf inside and she knew it.

You can't come out. We have to stay here... I should have got them to chain us up before they left.

No, no, no chains. No. Let me run.

Not yet. We'll run when this is all over. We'll run when we won't hurt anyone.

Run, run, run.

No! We can't!

The wolf growled so loudly, Asher could have sworn it came out her own throat—maybe it had. The wolf pushed at her confines inside Asher's head and a scream did come from her lips. This hurt. This wasn't the wolf just pushing. This was the wolf fighting to get out; this was the wolf actually trying to hurt her host. Asher groaned in pain, held her head and curled into a ball, as if that would help keep the wolf inside.

Run, run, run.

"No! We can't!"

The wolf howled inside Asher's head and broke past the flimsy barrier the hunter had set up. Asher screamed, her back bowed and her skin began to split. She was changing. There was nothing she could do. Asher screamed and shifted.

The black wolf that stood where Asher had been a moment later shook out her fur, howled and ran.

Author's Note.

Okay, so thanks to working at EB Games (Gamestop Canada), I had a bunch of new video games and I ended up playing more than writing this holiday. Oh well! I'm back at it now after a very enjoyable and relaxing holiday so I'm sure the writing will just pour from my fingers since it's been so long. I'm a little ashamed, but apparently I just needed time to be a lump on the couch. The writing takes first priority again.

Anyways, I hope you enjoy this chapter. I sure as hell can't wait for Supernatural to start up again. I miss my shows!

Enjoy.

Next Chapter: Risky Business.