So, the reviews from ther last chapter are in and the opinion is split. Some people love my Sam nad some hate him. I will admit that you all have points. Sammy's been known to have his selfish moments, but he3 does care about his brother. I understand why at least three of you have stopped reading, and I;m sorry you feel that you had to (and if you're listening to my apology, you obviously lied about not reading).
I will also admit that I am a bit of a radical Dean fan. I don't always like Sam. Scenes in Pilot, Wendigo Bugs, Scarecrow, Shadow, Salvation, ELAC, Bloodlust, Simon Said, Crossroad Blues, and just about every episode after that made me want to hurt him. The thing about Sam, though, is that he always comes around. He has lapses of judgemnet sometimes that cause him to say or do stupid things. This story's set after Shadow. how's he supposed to know his brother has issues.
I guess what I'm trying to say is that I think Sammy had his reasons for being an ass last chapter. Stanford was his thing, his place to be normal and fit in and be like everyone else. He just doesn't want anyone messing that up for him, and, let's face it, Dean has been known to create some messes.
So, for those of you out there who are pissed at me but still, by some miracle, reading, I'm sorry if I offended you. You see Sam the way you see him and I see him the way I see him. That's really not gonna change. If you would keep readin, you might see that whole 'coming to his sense' thing I was tlaking about. i know he's not a jerk in the sequel :)
Now that I'm done with my Isaiah Washington thing, let's get on with the story, huh? Oh, and in case you hadn't figured it out, looks like I'm not going camping. Lucky me!
Sam rifled through the Impala's trunk, digging to the bottom to find the silver bullets he needed. "Just how were you planning on killing this thing?" he asked, suddenly realizing that his brother couldn't touch the cool metal to load the gun.
"They're called claws, Sammy," Dean said dismissively, his eyes roving over the forest, "duh."
"Oh." The brothers had arrived at the edge of the forest as the sun had started its descent and were preparing for a night of traipsing through the woods.
"Teeth work, too," Dean added, turning from the forest to flash a smile at his brother, "just be careful where you aim that thing, all right?"
Sam nodded, loading up a couple of guns because he'd learned from his mistake the night before. He slammed the trunk lid and glanced over at his brother, who had gone back to watching the forest.
The conversation they'd had earlier that day hadn't been brought up since it had ended, but it still had Sam thinking. Had he missed his brother? Had he missed his life? Missed hunting evil with the only person who would ever really understand him? In the two months that he'd been gone, he hadn't once thought about Dean. He'd been too busy with school work.
"You ready?" Dean's voice tore his brother out of his thoughts.
"Yeah, sure." Sam glanced up at the sun, which had almost disappeared beyond the horizon. "So, how long-?"
"Less than half and hour," Dean answered, somehow already knowing the question. He stepped into the thick line of trees, hands in his jeans pockets, and looked around, his pupils dilating in the dim light. He sniffed the air. "It's here."
Sam looked around. "How can you tell?"
Dean shrugged. "Smell."
"So, does it know that it's a werewolf?"
"No idea. Most people don't. I was working off the assumption that it didn't, until it started moving. It's possible, I guess."
Sam nodded. "If it knows and it kills people-"
"Possible that it knows, but can't control it. Like I said, it's hard."
The brothers began their trek through the forest, walking quietly, moving fluidly through the trees and brush, alert and ready for the attack. Suddenly, Dean stopped. Sam whirled around to see him leaning up against a tree for support, his head down, arm wrapped around his stomach.
"You all right?" Sam asked, taking a cautious step toward his brother. Dean responded by turning around and looking up through the trees. Sam followed his gaze to see the moon beginning to peek out from behind a slight cloud cover. "Great," he groaned.
The light of the bloated moon shone down through the trees and fell on Dean's hunched form. He moaned deep in his throat before dropping to his knees and wrapping both arms around himself. Sam watched in horror as coarse fur spread across his brother's face, neck, and exposed arms. The older man's shirt ripped as muscles bulged and grew. He dropped his arms from his body to the forest floor as his fingers elongated and wicked claws wormed out from under his skin. The boots he's been wearing ripped open as his feet changed shape and size and claws poked through the tough leather.
Sam swallowed hard, both disturbed and fascinated by the transformation taking place before him. He wondered how many pairs of boots, how many shirts, how many pairs of jeans Dean had ruined since being bitten. It stood to reason, though, that, knowing what would happen, his brother would usually strip to change, but had chosen not to that night for Sammy's sake.
Dean moaned again, a sound that turned quickly into a growl as his ears became pointed and started to slide up the side of his head until they rested on top, flicking slightly with each breath Sam took, apparently honing in on the soft noise. Dean looked up at him, then, with eyes full of pain and shame, sad eyes that glowed amber in the light of the moon.
Tentatively, Sammy stepped forward, reaching out a hand toward his brother. "Dean?"
The only reply his brother could muster was a scream that turned into a howl as his mouth and nose began to bulge out into a snout. Sam jumped back, pulling his hand away as he caught sight of the glittering teeth.
Dean dropped his head back down, staring at the dirty ground and panting, the only other noise in the forest the sound of his pants ripping as his knees snapped backwards and a tail wormed its way out of the space between his back pockets. Tatters of clothing littered the space around him, and with one hand he reached back and tore the rest from his body.
"Dean?" Sam asked again, stepping closer, figuring that it was done, "are you-?"
Dean's head snapped up, his ears swiveling towards his brother, lips pulled back into a snarl of purest rage, eyes flashing with anger. He was up off the ground before Sam even had time to react. The youngest Winchester found himself pinned painfully to a tree with a couple hundred pounds of pissed werewolf holding him there. "Dean?"
Dean growled, his hot breath blowing into Sam's face, teeth dangerously close to the younger man's neck.
"Is this about me leaving?" Sam ventured, knowing that it wasn't his brother, that this was something else, something feral, something that might have been tapping into Dean's subconscious, finding anger there, and acting on it. "I'm sorry. But-"
He fell to the ground with a thud, rubbing unconsciously at his sore butt. He looked up at his brother, who was backing away quickly, whimpering. "It's ok," Sam whispered, slowly climbing to his feet, "it wasn't you, was it?"
Still backing away, Dean shook his head.
"You said it was hard to control," Sam continued, stepping slowly toward his brother, "maybe even more when you first change?" Dean nodded again. "Can you talk?" A shake of his head. "Ok, then. Look, I'm fine. I understand." He took another step forward and smiled as he noticed that Dean had stopped his retreat. "It wasn't your fault."
Dean looked up at him with the same hurt, embarrassed expression he'd had before. He ducked his head down a little, his tail tucking itself between his legs. Sam had a hard time trying to keep himself from smiling at the scene. All his life, he'd never imagined he would see a werewolf look that pathetic.
"It's ok," he said again, walking slowly toward his brother and reaching out a hand, "really." His placed his hand on his brother's head and rubbed it back and forth, moving it to scratch him behind the ears.
Dean flashed him a dirty look, obviously not appreciating the gesture, but his tail gave away his happiness at being forgiven.
"All right," Sam grinned, pulling his hand away and looking closely at his brother, "let's see what we've got. You know, I've never really seen a werewolf up close before. Most of them were either running or attacking."
His first thought was that Dean looked like an oversized dog standing on its hind legs. Then he noticed the bulge of muscle beneath the fur. It was threatening, scary. He knew how Dean was able to overpower him so quickly before.
He eyes roved over his brother, taking in the strong arms that ended in five-fingered hands and wicked, deadly claws. He paid a lot of attention to the legs, noting the way that the knees bent backwards, like a dog's. "That hurt?" he asked, pointing it out. Dean shrugged, then nodded slowly. "Yeah, looks like it would."
He walked around his brother, determined to take in everything and cement it in his memory. He was never going to have another chance like that, never going to be able to investigate something supernatural up close. He ran a hand down the well-muscled back to the base of the tail, which hit his leg hard enough to nearly send him toppling over to show his brother's annoyance.
"One of your ears is bent," he observed, moving back around to his brother's front and finally looking him in the face. Dean shot him a confused look. "Wait, you've never looked in a mirror?" Dean shook his head. "You weren't curious?" Another negative. "Well, it's kinda cute, anyway. Makes you look almost innocent. Open up."
Dean gave him an 'are you kidding me?' look, but obliged, opening his mouth wide. Sam took a look, making sure he didn't get within snapping distance of what he assumed were very powerful jaws. "Nice," he breathed, "you could use a breath mint, though."
Dean scowled and swished his tail, a sign that he was done being poked and prodded like an eleven-year-old's science experiment and wanted to get on with the hunt. Sammy grinned and took his gun out of its place in his waistband. "Ready?"
His brother nodded, gazing around the forest with sharp eyes and starting off at a slow trot through the trees, his nose in the air. Sam followed, gun at the ready, waiting for Dean get the scent.
He glanced around the forest as he followed his brother, looking for signs of the other wolf's presence. He was so caught up in staring at the dark foliage that he almost screamed when he ran into Dean's outstretched hand and the claws curled slowly into his shirt.
"What?" he whispered, looking over at his brother before following the older man's gaze to a small clearing in the forest. A cabin sat in the midst of the clearing. It was old and rotting, missing its windows, and only had half a roof. In the darkness, his eyes could just barely make out a hulking shape moving around inside. "You think that's it?"
Dean gave him a curt nod. "Can you see?" Another nod. "All right, then." They watched the clearing, eyes tracking the dark shape as it moved around inside the run-down cabin. Finally, the other wolf made its way form its safe haven, stumbling out into the clearing, raising its snout into the air, and howling.
It turned its head towards the area where the brothers stood, hidden by trees, and stared at them. Sam held his breath, watching as the wolf sniffed at the air, stepping toward them. Dean moved slightly, putting himself between his brother and the other wolf.
The grey wolf stopped its journey towards them, turned, and took off at a run through the forest. Dean chased after it, leaving Sam behind to marvel at his brother's speed.
He ran after them, striding through the clearing easily, but slowing once he hit the trees again. How was he supposed to find them in the forest in the dark? He spun around, looking for signs of their presence, and saw, much to his delight, five deep gashes in a tree trunk. Someone had left him a trail of breadcrumbs.