The first thing he'd done when he got back into town was check the phone book. His motel wasn't the first one listed. That explained a lot. He packed his things and headed out to the first motel, driving along the gravel roads in his cheap car, his heart pounding, praying that he was wrong.
The Impala was parked in front of room 12, its trunk sitting open, when Sam pulled up. His stomach instantly tied itself into knots. What was he supposed to say? Hey, Dean. I'm back, but only to kill a werewolf. It wouldn't happen to be you, would it? That wouldn't go over too well.
He opened his car door and stepped out onto the pavement. After taking a few calming breaths, Sam made his way across the parking lot to the room. He raised his hand to knock when the door opened to reveal Dean, who had a duffel bag slung over one shoulder. "Jim Rockford?" Sam asked, eyes roving over the healing slashes on his brother's face.
Dean stared at him. "What are you doing here?"
"Don't you know?"
"Study abroad?"
Sam couldn't help but roll his eyes. "Can we go inside to talk about this?"
Dean shrugged, stepped past him, slammed the Impala's trunk shut, and ushered Sam into the room. "Be my guest."
"There are two beds," Sam noted as soon as he had walked through the door.
Dean dropped his bag and looked away. "Yeah, well. Old habits. So," he turned back to his brother and flashed a toothy grin, "what brings you out this way, College Boy?"
"Dad," Sammy replied, sitting down on the bed farthest from the door, the one that had been his for as long as he could remember, "he called me at Stanford and said that a werewolf was on the loose out here. He said you were supposed to take care of it."
"Sucker's hard to track," Dean defended, "I'm working on it."
Sam nodded. "I went after it last night. Almost got mauled."
"You look pretty un-mauled to me."
"Something saved me. It was another wolf."
Dean nodded. "Great. Now we've got two to worry about."
Sam dropped his eyes. "About that. Dean, what happened to your face?"
"Well, I'm still tracking the wolf. Ran into it. I couldn't line up a shot, though. It got me."
"Really? Because that's a pretty fresh scar. It's not old enough to be from the last full moon. It's healed too well to be from this one."
Dean shrugged. "I'm a slow healer. So, this new wolf, the one that saved you, what are we looking for?"
Sam looked at his brother, really looked at him for the first time in his life. He took in the hazel eyes, eyes that were almost the color of amber, the dirty blond hair, the necklace that never left its place. "It looked like you, actually," Sam said softly, "same color eyes. Same color hair. It even had your necklace."
"Don't be ridiculous," Dean scoffed, "I was here last night. I was trying to track it."
"The wolf that saved me got into a fight with the other one. It got slashed across the face."
"Like you said," Dean pointed out, gesturing towards his face, "it's too old to be recent."
"Werewolves have regenerative abilities."
"Dude-"
"When were you bitten?"
"I wasn't bitten."
"You saved me last night."
"I told you, I was here."
"We can do this all day, Dean. I'm not gonna leave until you tell me. You know what that means? Even if you don't talk about it, I'm gonna find out. I'll know once the moon rises."
Dean sighed and crossed the room, sitting down on his own bed. He looked down at his hands, clenching and unclenching his fists. "Your welcome," he finally said, his voice so quiet that Sam barely heard.
"Excuse me?"
"I said you're welcome," Dean said a little louder, "for saving your life. You're welcome." He looked up, looked into his brother's eyes, and Sam gasped. There was so much hurt there, so much regret, so much pain. He hardly recognized his brother.
"When?" he asked.
Dean dropped his gaze again. "Dad called right after you left. He wanted me to go after this thing killing people up in Wyoming. He told me to be careful. I was out in the woods at night and it jumped out of a tree. I managed to shoot it in the arm, and it ran off. I didn't see the blood until I got back to the room. I didn't know what to do. I turned the next night."
Sam nodded. "You saved my life. You can control it?"
Dean glanced back up at him. "Yeah. At first it was… difficult. Now it doesn't even really take any effort. It's a battle of wills, and I'm just stronger, I guess."
"But you didn't tell dad?"
Dean shook his head. "Didn't want to bug him. Besides, " he smiled sadly, "do you know what he does to things like me?"
"You're his son-"
"Doesn't matter," the older man said, standing up and crossing the room to gaze into the mirror that hung there, reminding Sam of the last hunt they'd been on together, "I'm a monster. He hates things like me."
"There might be a cure, though," Sam said, standing up and moving to the mirror beside the older man, "remember? Dad thinks that-"
"That severing the bloodline with work, yeah. But it's just a theory. Besides, there's a catch, isn't there?"
Sammy shrugged. "Well, he doesn't think it will work if the bloodline's already been passed on, or if the wolf has killed someone, but you're in control, so it doesn't matter."
Dean nodded slowly. "Just don't get your hopes up, ok? It's a long-shot."
"Right, but it could still work."
"Yeah," Dean mumbled, "so, uh, look, I've got this. If you want to go back to school-"
"Are you kidding me? My brother gets turned into a furry freak of nature and you expect me to leave? No, I'm tracking this thing down and killing it with my bare hands if I have to."
Dean stared at him with wide eyes. "Really?" he asked, his voice awed, expression hopeful.
Sam felt guilt start to gnaw at him as he looked at his brother. He never should have left. If he hadn't left, Dean wouldn't have been bitten. He wouldn't look so broken. He wouldn't be so excited about the prospect of a hunt. It was all his fault. "Yeah," he said, heart aching as he watched his brother try to hide his elation, "yeah, I'm gonna do this."
"Good thing I always get the extra bed, then, huh?" Dean grinned.
Sam forced a smile as he realized the truth behind the statement. Dean always got an extra bed, not out of habit, but out of hope. There was always someplace to sleep if Sam changed his mind. It was probably the most painful revelation Sam had ever made.