Chapter 6

Dean wove his way through the crowds of people inside the bar in a rush with a look of pure desperation in his eyes as he frantically searched for Sam. After coming up empty in the throes of people, he made his way back to the bar to talk to Misty.

She looked up and saw him, and her smile immediately dropped the moment she saw how panicked he looked.

"The taller guy I was with," Dean motioned with his head, "that was my brother, did you by any chance see which way he went?"

Misty shrugged as she pulled a small shot-glass on the table and began to fill it.

"No, sorry." She replied honestly, "This is a bar, dear. After a while people who don't really make a lasting impression tend to blend into the background. Try asking around though."

Dean swore under his breath, and turned to leave. He pushed his way through a crowd of people walking through the front door and finally made his way outside.

There were a few small groups of people standing outside talking with each other, but Dean didn't see Sam anywhere. It seemed like he just vanished.

On a whim, Dean pulled out his cellphone, and dialed his brothers' number feverishly before resting the phone against his face as he listened to the line connect.

It went to voicemail.

"Damnit!" Dean swore as he closed his phone and shoved it back into his pocket.

After about an hour of searching the premises, it was apparent that Sam was no longer there. Something must have happened to him…was he kidnapped again?

But then again, Dean reminded himself as he got in the drivers' seat of the Impala; Sam's been acting awfully funny lately. Very un-Sam-like in fact…maybe he just left?

Dean wasn't really sure, but he started the Impala and without wasting any more time he drove all the way back to Bobby's so he could get together a search party.

Sam was dead-meat, Dean promised as he banged his hands against the steering wheel in frustration.

xXx

Almost a half an hour later, Dean pulled up to the front of Bobby's house because he saw with wide-eyes that he couldn't park in the driveway as he had before. He couldn't park in the driveway because that spot was not being occupied by a black truck that looked strikingly similar to his father – John Winchester's truck.

Dean parked the Impala and turned it off. He stared at the truck for a moment and gulped in nervousness. It was one thing to tell Bobby that he lost Sam, but it was another thing entirely to tell his father. His father whom he had promised to protect Sam to.

Fantastic, Dean thought to himself sarcastically as he opened the door and got out of the car. He closed the door behind him, and walked up Bobby's driveway past the slick black and then the rusted blue truck.

On his way to the front door he paused and looked down at the now sleeping Rottweiler dog, Bobby called Cohan. He didn't seem bothered at all by Dean, which of course he found slightly unnerving.

What did the dog sense about Sam?

As a chill crept up his spine, Dean thought it best to get in the house and deal with the yelling that would come his way as soon as possible. So he continued moving.

He reached the front door and let himself in without knocking, and sure enough waiting on the couch in the living room for his return was his father looking worried actually with his elbows resting on his knees and his hands beneath his scruffy chin.

The moment Dean closed the door behind him; John was on his feet and pulled Dean in for a hug, which Dean returned.

"Hey son." John murmured into Dean's shoulder.

Dean nodded, not finding the strength to reply. Where this under different circumstances, Dean would have been happy and relieved to see his father. But not now, now he was terrified.

After a moment John and Dean broke away, and Dean noticed at that moment that Bobby had entered the room with his arms crossed over his chest looking at Dean curiously.

"Where's Sam?" Bobby asked.

Dean swallowed hard, not being able to find his voice in that moment. How could he possibly voice this? It was tearing him up inside, he didn't want to disappoint his father.

John's eyes hardened in that moment at Dean's lack of a response as he glared down at him.

"Dean," John said in an demanding tone, "where's your brother?"

Dean blinked slowly and took in a deep steadying breath as he faced his father.

"We went to this bar a couple miles from here…and I told Sam that we'd have a quick round, then bring the food back here, but he had to stay by my side." Dean began honestly, "He went up to the bar with me, and when I turned around with the beers, he was gone."

"Gone?" John asked rhetorically, frustration clear on his face.

Dean didn't reply, instead he hung his head in defeat – waiting for his father to start yelling, waiting for the look he was sure his father would give him because of his failure.

Seeing the lost look on Dean's face, and John's rising temper – Bobby saw no choice but to step in between them with a levelheadedness that was definitely welcome in their awkward stance.

"Don't worry," Bobby said to Dean, grabbing him by the collar of his leather jacket and shoving him away from his father gently, "we'll find him. We'll trace his cellphone. He couldn't have gotten too far."

Obviously accepting that, both Dean and John nodded in agreement. Bobby was right; he couldn't have gone too far.

Dean stifled a bought of hysterical nervous laughter as he scrubbed his hand down his face. Trust Bobby to be the voice of reason when Sam's not there.

"Before we get your brother," John interjected, his voice still rough with anger, "I want someone to tell me why the hell I'm here. What's going on with him?"

"I already told you." Bobby said with a shrug.

"Sammy and I went hunting in Wisconsin…it was this half-dog, half-human looking thing. It was like how you described The Beast of Bray Road in your journal." Dean began honestly, figuring it would only be best to let his father know everything they did, "Well we killed it with a silver-plated dagger, but not before it bit Sam – once in his arm, then again in his shoulder."

John nodded, and stiffened his body as he was preparing himself for the worst. He hung on to Dean's every word, trying to catch up with where they were.

"B-but when we got back to the motel room so I could patch his wounds they were almost healed. I mean, there was a lot of blood, but no marks." Dean continued, "That was yesterday."

"So what makes you think he's changing, as Bobby so blatantly put it?" John wondered out loud.

"Watch it, John." Bobby muttered threateningly under his breath.

John ignored Bobby's warning and nodded at Dean, signifying him to continue.

"Today he tells us that there's something in his head or something – I don't really know." Dean said helplessly as he made eye-contact with his father, "He said it was completely untamed and it was fighting him for control…and – a-and it was getting stronger."

John nodded again, following his sons every word.

"And then he showed us his hands." Dean muttered.

"His hands?" John asked, a little angrily because Dean didn't elaborate.

"H-he had claws." Dean whispered, not being able to say it out loud.

"Claws?" John asked wide-eyed. Okay, admittedly that caught him off guard. When Bobby said Sam was 'changing' and then Dean said something about there being something in Sam's head, John thought they meant psychologically or something. He didn't think they meant physically.

"But The Beast wasn't a werewolf." John countered, "It was a man who was under a curse. I mean, when I killed it, it turned back into a man."

"I know that." Dean replied, "But what if the curse can pass from person to person through a bite maybe – like a werewolf. Only unlike a werewolf, it doesn't change the victim once a month but…permanently."

"We've been calling hunters, getting help with research – without explaining Sam's situation." Bobby cut in, "We're looking for the name of the witch who cast the curse to begin with. That way we can maybe try and figure out what the specifics of the curse entail. I mean, the whole Sam turning permanently is just a theory."

"Her name was Elizabeth Godrick." John said completely sure of himself, "I did research before I took the case on, but I couldn't find the specifics of the curse she cast."

"Nothing?" Dean asked sounding devastated.

"No…I tried everything short of summoning a demon for a friendly interrogation." John replied with a mirthless chuckle, "I guess we don't have a choice this time though, huh?"

"Summoning a demon," Bobby muttered to himself, "this won't end well."

"Definitely not." Dean agreed.

"Well first things first," John said a little calmer, "let's get Sam back."

Dean nodded and headed toward the kitchen where Bobby's phone was as he instructed Bobby to boot up his computer so he could see the GPS.

xXx

Sam lifted his head from the lumpy and rather uncomfortable pillow, and looked down at the woman he had gone home with. She wasn't particularly pretty, but there was just something about that scent that Sam couldn't ignore.

-Earlier That Evening-

Sam watched Dean's back as he approached the bar with a certain confidence played on his face. When he looked past his brother and toward the bar, he saw the woman Dean was eyeing and knew he was into her. And it was obvious she was into him too.

Maybe Dean would forget he was there and go home with this chick. Sam could only hope really. He needed to do something, and being on his brothers' leash wasn't exactly what he had in mind.

Then something weird happened. It was as if a plug or a wad of cotton that had been stuck in his nose and ears had suddenly popped out. Irritated by the sensation, Sam rubbed his nose and then massaged his ears for a moment.

But when he pulled his hands away it was as if he could smell and hear everything much clearer. He couldn't smell anything too distinct yet, other than the few that he knew such as booze, vomit, cigarette smoke, meat, blood, etc. But there were other underlying scents that he couldn't quite decipher with all the excitement of the bar around him.

He also found he could hear snippets of other peoples' conversations from clear across the room. If he were a nosy person that would come in quite handy. But as he tuned in, he quickly tuned out when he realized he didn't really give a crap about Joanie and her boyfriend being a cheating son-of-a-bitch.

Sam knew that this all meant he was changing. It scared him, and exhilarated him at the same time. But he didn't want this. None of this. He wanted to be normal – human.

Just as those thoughts crossed his mind and dread filled his heart, his nose caught an interesting scent from directly behind him. He couldn't describe it, he knew it was a woman, and he knew she was looking at him – even with his back turned. But the scents she was giving off made him want to just bask in her presence forever.

When Sam couldn't take not knowing what she looked like anymore, he turned around to face her suddenly. He was surprised, but at the same time he wasn't. Again, it was hard to explain.

She wasn't quite plump, but she wasn't in shape either. Her dirty blond hair was tossed in a messy bun, and she didn't wear any make-up so the tiny scars and acne flaws were noticeable on her skin. Her skin wasn't awful, but imperfect. Her green eyes pierced him pointedly from behind her thin-rimmed glasses, and were suddenly full of fear when she saw that he noticed her.

She shoved her hands in her black hoodie pockets nervously as he approached her intently. And only when he was in front of her did he notice that the smell coming from her wasn't from a perfume…it was all natural he realized, his nostrils flaring.

"I'm Sam." He introduced himself, shoving his hands in his jean pockets, not feeling the need to expose his claws to her.

"Kelly." She replied, still obviously nervous but trying to keep it cool.

"You from around here?" Sam asked almost playfully as he was filled with a foreign confidence.

Was it that bastard in the back of his mind that constantly mocked him? He wasn't sure.

"Yea." She mumbled, "I live about ten minutes out."

She blushed at her own nervous words.

"Sorry, I don't really meet many guys. You probably didn't need to know where I live exactly."

Sam laughed, "No its fine, Kelly."

She laughed in return, feeling a little more comfortable with him.

"I'm usually not this forward, but you wanna get out of here?" Sam asked curiously.

Kelly looked up into his eyes and shrugged, it wasn't like she was a virgin or anything.

"Let's go to my place." She offered.

"Sounds great." Sam agreed as she lead him out of the bar.

-Present Time-

Sam found that Kelly wasn't all that great in bed. Experienced though she may be, she definitely couldn't hold his interest for long, though her enticing scent that drew him to her in the first place still lingered.

After spending time with her, Sam learned that the scent was her excitement as it tightened her gut, and the chemicals ran wild in her brain – pure, unleashed, untamed, emotion.

So now he lay there with his bare chest pressed against her bare back as she slept. Her dirty blond hair now sprawled in a long tangled mess across her face and her glasses on the nightstand by the bed.

She looked like a completely different person from when he met her. Still not really his type though; he knew after this morning, he wouldn't see her again probably.

When had he become such a player? Sam wondered to himself. This was more his brothers' department, really. He wasn't much of a 'love 'em and leave 'em' type.

But things change, right?

Not being able to resist, he ghosted his clawed hand over her bare arm as she grasped the covers close to her in sleep.

Sam's attention was then drawn to his claws with wide-eyes. Was it his imagination, he wondered, or had his claws grown longer? They seemed a little longer, and much sharper. He didn't doubt his ability to tear through flesh with those now.

But why would he want to do that?

Why wouldn't he?

Then something was off, Sam realized as his head snapped up and he was suddenly more alert. He was drawn out of his thoughts when he heard a sudden but low 'thump' from the front of the house.

Then there were footsteps, headed toward this room.

Sam got up from the bed, and shoved underpants, then pants on hurriedly. As a last minute thought, he then tugged his t-shirt on.

That's when the footsteps approached the bedroom door, and Sam readied himself to fight off the intruders as he flexed his knuckles subconsciously.

Then the doorknob turned, and the door opened.

Sam immediately relaxed when Dean stood in the threshold pointing the light of the flashlight in his face. His face was contorted in an angry expression; until he laid his eyes on Kelly…then he looked downright pissed.

Sorry some of this is...kinda inappropriate. I try to keep it appealing to all readers, but I think this had to be done.

More to come soon! What do you think? :)