Okay, almost done. Please keep reviewing, it's what keeps me going! I love you guys!

Chapter Eight: Before The Fight

…………………..

"This is taking forever," Sam commented quietly. Dean let out a low growl of frustration, so much like a werewolf that Sam raised his gun in alarm.

"Easy on the trigger there, cowboy," Dean snarked.

"What are we waiting for?" The moon was hidden behind clouds, as it had been for the past few minutes. Dean pointed straight up.

"Once we get some moonlight to see by, we'll hit 'em hard and fast,"

They had found the pack, not far from the clearing where the fight between John and the werewolves had occurred. Apparently, Yaswan was getting sicker, so the werewolves were debating what to do. Dean could just make out a hind leg protruding from a bush guarded by two or three werewolves. Yaswan, he thought. What the hell kind of a name is Yaswan?

From his vantage point, Dean could make out four wolves, but he knew that more could appear within seconds, hearing the call of their fellows in need. Dean was worried, though he'd rather shoot himself than admit it. The plan was for Sam to distract them while Dean put a final bullet in the head of the weakened leader. So many things that can go wrong. What if this magical werewolf thingy doesn't die? What if it doesn't work?

If it didn't work out, they would have to resort to Plan B.

Run like the wind.

………………….

Dean was getting impatient. The cloud cover still hadn't lifted, and it only made visibility worse that they were in the midst of an overgrown thicket. He shifted restlessly, leaning back against a tree.

"Dean," Sam whispered, eyes widening. He gestured behind him, mouthing words that Dean couldn't make out because of the darkness. What the hell is he doing?

Dean turned with narrowed eyes, trying to see past the dark. He flicked his tiny flashlight on.

"Shit," he cursed softly as it emitted a dim glow for a second before fading out.

Dean was almost positive that there was something behind them. But without the moon illuminating shadows, he couldn't be sure. Dean let out an involuntary shudder. How is it not making any noise?

It was then that the thing shuddered, causing leaves to rustle. Panicked, Sam let out a quivering, "Who's there?"

"Boys?"

"DAD?"

The brothers responded in perfect, stunned unison, only to be shushed by their father.

"They're out there," he whispered hoarsely. Dean could feel him move closer to them.

"Dad…are you…what…"

"Do you have ammo?"

"Sammy has silver bullets, and I just have regular ones…they took the rest of our gear,"

"I figured," John let out a breath in thought. "I have some extra clips in my pocket; here, fix it up," John was grateful for the cover of darkness as he handed off ammunition to his oldest. Hopefully they can't see the dried blood.

"We're going in when the clouds lift," Dean was all business, while Sam opened his mouth in protest.
"Maybe we should get Dad back to the car…"

Both older Winchesters stopped and turned towards him. Sam could feel the lasers of their eyes on him.

"I never leave a job undone." John's voice was gravelly, and Sam knew he was hurt. He thinks that I think that he can't handle this…whoa, confusing. He closed his mouth, knowing the futility of argument.

Dean switched bullets with minimal noise and practiced military technique. With a twinge of guilt, he wondered whether their father would be an asset or a liability.

Depends on how badly hurt he is. Not like he'd ever admit it.

John let Dean take charge, trusting his son's rational judgment. I hope he's right, John thought as he listened to Dean's carefully whispered plan.

………………

They waited silently, grimly, for the battle they knew they were beginning.

"You ready for a gamble on your life, Sammy?" Dean whispered mischievously, grinning a morbid grin at his younger brother. The grin disappeared when Sam blanched, losing his footing in his squatting position.

"Jeez, Sammy, it was a joke,"

"No, it wasn't!" His brother hissed. John looked up at the sky, pretending not to hear them arguing.

"It's just like any other job, dude, just chill—"

"No it's not!" Sam's eyes were as large as saucer plates in childish fear, and Dean could see them glinting in what little light he had.

"This is, like, DIRECT mortal danger! We're taking on a freaking pack of werewolves! What happens if we get bitten or something?"

John sighed. Sammy was always the worrier.

"You don't think I'm scared too?" Dean snapped harshly, his voice raising. "I just don't act like a fucking PUSSY about it!"

"ENOUGH." John's voice was quiet, but still boomed over the feuding teens.

"Watch that language."

"Sorry, sir," Dean bit his lip, falling back into taking orders.

"It's almost time. So both of you, calm down,"

Sam stuck his tongue out at Dean, grateful he couldn't see the gesture. And on the other side of their father, Dean flipped Sam the bird.

Review! Next chapter coming up!