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 Nine: Never Seen That Before.

When Asher woke up, she was staring at the water-stained ceiling of the motel room. It took her a few moments to remember, but that's where she was; she couldn't however, remember how she'd got there. All she could remember was hearing the wolf howling in her head, feeling a desire to change, to run, thinking that it wouldn't be so bad to change because it would help her heal, and then seeing Dean. After that, everything went blank. Asher didn't like it when she couldn't remember something. She remained perfectly still for a few moments and let the pain wash over her, her body pulsing with each new wave until it turned into a dull ache she could force to the back of her mind, all the while trying to remember what had happened. Once capable of movement, Asher sat up and shifted back until she was propped up against the headboard where she could take better stock of the situation, maybe find something to think about other than what was missing.

Someone—probably Amelia—had stitched her wounds closed. She was cleaner than she'd been in a long while and she was wearing a clean bra and fresh pair of plaid pyjama shorts which meant someone had bathed her and changed her, even washed and brushed her hair, and bandaged her wounds with thick gauze. Her entire body was stiff and sore, but she knew it would pass and pass soon. For the moment, she was just glad to be alive and in relatively one piece, but she wished Dean, Sam and Amelia were in the motel room; she wanted to see them, apologize to them. Her memories were fuzzy and scattered, but she remembered snapping and biting and hurting... She hoped she hadn't hurt anyone too badly, if she had at all.

Asher sighed and set her head back against the flimsy headboard, draping one bandaged arm over her waist and pulling her nearly waist-length hair over her shoulder with the other hand; even that small movement hurt. As the fresh pain passed, she looked around the room, saw the signs of Dean, Sam and Amelia having slept in various spots—the other bed, the couch, the floor—saw the empty fast food bags on the table. Her stomach grumbled loudly as the scent of old grease hit her nose and she realized that she was famished.

Almost as if her thoughts were heard, the door opened, admitting the three hunters she wanted most to see. But they didn't have food. Amelia all but ran to Asher's bedside while the boys hung back, watching with nearly identical small smiles on their faces; the biggest difference was the warmth in Dean's eyes, the happiness that she was awake and alive. Asher returned the smile over Amelia's shoulder before turning her attention to Amelia, who was already fussing at her bandages.

"I can't believe you're awake already," she mumbled.

"How long have I been out?" Asher asked, wincing as her sister pulled something.

Sam and Dean settled on the other bed in the room, sitting on the very edge so they were as close to Asher and Amelia as they could get without getting in the way. "Almost three days," the younger Winchester said since Dean hadn't been able to find his words yet.

"Three days—UGH, watch it Amelia—no wonder I'm so hungry."

Amelia looked up at her sister, a slight frown on her face. "I'll go get you food after I check your wounds. You were muttering and moaning and screaming in your sleep. You had me very worried. You had us all worried."

"Sorry, Mom."

Amelia's frown deepened, but it was quickly chased away by a smile, glad to see that her sister was back to normal. Or at least as normal as Asher ever had been. She finished checking the stitches, most of which had to be taken out so her skin wouldn't heal over them, and replaced the few stitches that had to be replaced. Amelia cleaned the blood away and replaced the gauze, just in case something tore or reopened. As Asher was not exactly the most patient person in the world, and then made Asher swallow a handful of pain killers so she might be able to move around without causing herself too much pain. When Dr. Amelia was sure her patient wouldn't start leaping about the moment she was gone and wasn't in any immediate danger, she and Sam went to get food for the werewolf and the rest of the crew. Once they were alone, Dean moved to sit on the end of Asher's bed and they stared at each other for several long moments, both searching for something to say.

"How are you feeling?" Dean finally asked, voice quiet.

A strange smile flickered across Asher's face. "I'm all right. Sore, stiff beyond belief... but I'm all right."

"I wasn't talking about your physical health."

"I know."

"Well then... how are you?"

Asher sighed and slid back down so she was lying on her back again, looking up at Dean and taking in the concern on his face. Her head was starting to get foggy thanks to the painkillers. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she was worried about what she might say, but she was confident she wouldn't make too big a fool of herself. Hopefully. "I'm... still okay, I think," she said, but her voice was shaking. "The wolf, she was really just trying to help, I think... to heal, but I was afraid... I was afraid that I'd lose control and hurt one of you..." Her blue eyes glanced at the injury she'd inflicted on Dean and something changed in her gaze. "More than I already have." Asher sobbed heartily and made a motion like she was going to curl in on herself, but stopped at the last moment, remembering her injured side. "I could hear the wolf in my head, like she was talking to me. I could hear her and I wanted to give. It would have been so easy..." Her dull eyes found Dean and the ghost of a smile crossed her face, but it wasn't a happy gesture. It was the smile of someone who had realized a grizzly truth. "I can't keep fighting her Dean, but what if... what if..."

"What are you getting at?" Dean asked, worried.

"I can't fight the wolf anymore! I've lost! I've lost! I'm a monster!"

Dean leaned over her, putting a hand on either side of her and lowering himself until all she could see was his face. Under other circumstances, the posture would have been intimate and they would have closed the distance until they kissed, but as it was, Dean's closeness just demanded Asher's attention and she could not deny him. The tears ran down her cheeks silently, but she didn't look away. "Asher, stop talking like this," he whispered. "You may have to integrate this wolf into your life, but you don't have to change who you are. You don't have to give up anything. You haven't lost anything."

"Dean—"

"You can't give up Ash."

She closed her eyes and managed to settle farther back into the bed. "Dean, I don't want to struggle anymore," she nearly whined.

Dean grabbed her face, one hand per cheek and forced her to look at him, forced her to face someone who cared about her as she was. Her blue eyes were filled with tears but there was something missing, something that had been there before and had broken. He was losing her. She was physically fine and she was strong, but he was losing her. He couldn't lose her. Not to something he couldn't fight—and he would fight to save Asher, possibly to the death, but he couldn't fight something he couldn't see. "Asher," he breathed harshly. "Listen to me. You do not have to give up. I don't want you to give up."

She gasped, trying to get breath through her tears. She squeezed her eyes shut and looked away from Dean. Asher was muttering, and it sounded like "I can't" over and over again. She pushed at Dean's hands, but he refused to let go.

"Asher!" he barked.

"I'm not strong enough!" she yelled in his face.

Dean pulled back his hand and slapped her across the face. Not hard, but with enough force to be startling.

Some of her normal fire flooded back into her eyes quite suddenly, her tanned skin flushing at the point of contact. Asher grabbed Dean's wrists and squeezed tightly, a warm and vicious smile pulling at her lips. As her eyes brightened, Dean realized the blue orbs had been tinged with green—the wolf peeking out. Asher flooded back into herself and gave Dean a look that he would have paid for, a look he had never really thought he'd see from Asher. It was full of heat and happiness and a million other things he wasn't sure he could name.

"Dean," she choked. "That fucking hurt."

Dean barked a laugh before leaning down and kissing Asher full on the mouth. She slipped a hand behind his head and pulled him down against her, his weight resting on her injured side, even as he attempted to keep from settling completely. Asher grunted against Dean's mouth, but did not push him away, nor did she let him pull away, not that he tried very hard. She didn't give into the pain; when she was herself, Asher Michaels did not give up. When Asher let finally Dean go a moment later, he pulled back only slightly, just enough so he could speak unhampered.

"There you are," he whispered.

"Dean." Asher ran her fingers along his cheeks. "Dean... you pulled me back." More tears filled her eyes, but they were more modest, and she was smiling. "You pulled me back."

Although he was pretty sure what she was talking about, he had to ask. "What do you mean?" He slid to one side so he wasn't putting pressure on her injuries any longer, but he kept a hand on her stomach, fingers playing on the bare skin; all she was wearing was a bra and a pair of her plaid pyjama shorts.

"When I was about to change that last time, I looked at you and focused on your face and you brought me back. I was able to fight off the change." Asher sniffed back more emotion, clearly still off herself. "I don't know what would have happened if you hadn't been there, if I had transformed. I do not know if I would have come back to myself. I might have become a wolf permanently." Asher wrapped her hand around Dean's and pressed it tighter against her stomach. "You saved me, Dean." Heat crept into her cheeks. Dean had never seen her blush before. "And you saved me now. You help me keep my head about me when the wolf's around."

"Ash, you don't know what you're talking about. I think you're still high on painkillers."

She smiled and rolled onto her side so she could better look the hunter in the face. "I didn't know I could stop the transformation."

Dean brushed her black hair off her cheek. "None of us did."

"I feel like I'm losing myself, Dean."

His fingers lingered near her ear, his hazel eyes captured hers. "We'll make sure that doesn't happen."

She placed a hand over his. "I know."

"Why did you focus on me?"

She shimmied closer to him, wincing slightly. Dean didn't tell her not to move because he knew she'd do it anyway, but he did keep an eye on the bandaged area to make sure no fresh blood appeared. "Well, you were right there... And of the three of you... I couldn't stand the thought of not seeing you again. The thought that I might hurt you... It was worse than the thought that I'd already hurt Amelia, that I might hurt someone else." Asher's voice had dropped to a whisper. "I focused on you and I was able to control the wolf."

Dean was a little taken back by the bare emotion in Asher's voice. Like so much about this trip and this encounter with Asher, it was unsettling, but he tried not to let that show. Asher had swallowed a handful of painkillers and though the effects wouldn't last very much longer, she was influenced by them and, if he knew anything about the werewolf, he knew she'd be embarrassed by this display when and if she remembered. So, Dean didn't say anything back. He just kept his hand on her cheek and gave her a small, warm smile. She leaned into him and pressed her lips to his and Dean returned the kiss. He kissed her cheek, her temple, the top of her ear and felt her relax into sleep against his chest. The elder Winchester pulled the blanket up around Asher's shoulders and held her.

The door opened then, admitting Sam and Amelia, both of whom stopped to stare at the scene on the bed. No one said anything for a few seconds, but then Amelia's mouth split in a grin. She deposited three McDonald's bags on the counter before crossing the room to the other bed and sitting on the edge, much as the Winchesters had done earlier.

"I knew it," she whispered, looking triumphant.

Dean twisted painfully to give Amelia a look over his shoulder. "What are you talking about?"

"I knew there was more to you two."

"Well yeah."

Amelia rolled her eyes under the brim of her cowboy hat. "I don't mean the sex, stupid. I'm talking about the emotional shit neither of you are fond of showing—that you're lying here, holding her in her moment of weakness, that you're concerned about her well-being when not that long ago, you wanted to shoot her on principle. I'm talking about the fact that if one of you died, the other one would be devastated and something would break." She sat back with a little sigh and a satisfied smirk. "Neither of you would survive the loss of the other one completely intact."

Dean blinked, but returned to his position of holding Asher, with her head tucked under his chin. Was Amelia right? He would like to think she wasn't—hunters couldn't really afford to have attachments like the ones she was describing. Friends, family and lovers were just hostages waiting in the wings, just potential victims, but since Asher was a hunter, maybe something would be different... Not that it would matter, with Dean going to Hell and all, but it was a nice thought.

"Whatever you say, Amelia."

Author's Note.

Ugh, sorry this took so long. It was a combination of Writer's Block, lack of sleep and a stubborn OC. Asher just isn't into the emotional stuff, so I have to drug her for anything to happen sometimes. GEEZ. Anyways, enjoy.

Next Chapter: Worst News Ever.