When they pulled up outside the farm, Beckett didn't see anything unusual at first. It just looked like a weathered old farmhouse, though the scarecrow was a little creepy. There were oak trees out front and a swing on the porch. It wasn't until they were right outside it that Beckett noticed the marks on the walls that looked like they were carved with claws. He didn't understand how Dean could have noticed that, but it must have come from hunting these things for so long.
"So what are we going to do?" Beckett asked as they got out of the car and headed toward the house.
"Ask for directions," Sam said, knocking on the door.
Beckett didn't understand what that had to do with anything, since Sam seemed to have a pretty good grasp on where he was and where he was going. He decided against voicing this concern, especially when he heard the lock turn over.
"Hello there," a woman said as she opened the door. She had a pleasant smile on her face, but when she focused on the strangers on her porch, the pleasant look faltered for just a moment. "Is there something I can do for you?"
"Yeah, sorry to bother you, but my brother and I were on our way to Oklahoma City and we seem to have lost our way," Sam said smoothly. "Would you mind giving us directions?"
"Of course," the woman said. "You aren't the first to get lost out here."
"I'm sure," Beckett said.
"Oh, you know what?" Sam said, feeling his pockets. "Do you have something to write with? I'm afraid I'll forget the way again if I don't write it down."
"I do. Why don't you come in?" The woman stepped aside so they could enter.
"Thank you," Sam said, stepping inside.
Beckett seemed to be a little more worried about going into a building they thought housed werewolves than Sam was, but the inside of the house was relatively normal, as far as he could tell. The walls were bright and there was a general feeling of home in the air. The sounds of children playing came down from upstairs. There were scratches on the banister, but the house was old, so Beckett didn't think that was too strange.
"Why don't you have a seat?" the woman offered when they entered the kitchen. "I'll go write the directions for you."
"Thanks," Sam said, taking a seat. Beckett followed his lead.
When the woman left the room, Sam was on his feet and busied himself going through the cupboards.
"What are you doing?" Beckett hissed.
"She recognized me. Or us, I guess, since she sees Dean," Sam said. "We don't have much time."
"Recognized you?"
"We hunt these things. Sometimes they know who we are," Sam explained, moving to check drawers.
"So you follow her in? Are you suicidal?"
"Not at the moment," Sam said, opening the refrigerator. "Bingo."
The fridge was filled with Tupperware containers, all containing raw meat. Beckett thought he was going to be sick. "What exactly is that?"
"Hopefully it isn't all human," Sam said as he closed the door. He was about to pull out his gun when he heard footsteps approaching the kitchen and he quickly retook his seat.
"I have your directions," the woman said as she returned, smiling sweetly. She held a folded piece of paper out to Sam.
"Thank you," Sam said, but he didn't reach out to take the paper from her.
The woman frowned in confusion. "Go ahead and take them," she said.
"Can't do that," Sam said.
The woman's expression changed from confused to condescending. "I thought that was why you were here," she said.
"Then you know the terms," Sam said simply.
The woman looked between the two men sitting in her kitchen. "Funny," she said. "I heard your brother was the one who did all the talking."
"Well now I'm the one doing the negotiating."
"Oh I don't think so," the woman said, stepping closer to Sam. "I am."
"And what makes you think that?"
The woman smirked and raised her eyebrows at him. "I'm the one with the pack."
The other werewolves had either been hiding in the wings or had done an excellent job of sneaking up on the three of them in the kitchen. But Sam was very hard to sneak up on at this point, so it was much more likely that they'd been waiting from the time the Impala had parked in front of the house. They were suddenly on the two men in the chairs, holding them down and tying them.
Dean was sitting on the edge of the cot in the waiting room, his leg bouncing with nervous energy. He kept repeating to himself that Sammy would get out of this and he'd be back in his own body soon, but he didn't like the cold feeling in the pit of his stomach. He should be there. This shouldn't be left to some amateur, not when Sammy was the one who would have to teach him while on a mission he had supposedly failed.
"Alright Cas," Dean said, looking up and around the room. "I know you can't see me, but I'm somewhere in the southwest US, and you're gonna have to follow my voice from there. I don't like where this is going, and I really think Sammy's in trouble where he is, but I can't get to him. Hell, I can't get anywhere."
"Dean, what are talking about, Sam is-" Cas started when he appeared. But then he stopped, narrowing his eyes as he got a better look at Dean. "You aren't this Dean, are you?"
"No. I'm from two years ago, apparently," Dean said. "When we did the hunt for the werewolves in Oklahoma."
"How are you here?"
Dean was mildly surprised, and he felt his mood deflate further. "You don't remember?"
"I remember I had to leave that hunt as you and Sam were going to the farmhouse. When I got back early the next morning, you had a funeral pyre going for Sam. You told me he was bitten and changed with the others when the full moon was out," Cas said gently.
"I... I shot him?" Dean was glad he was sitting. If he had been standing, he likely would have fainted.
"You didn't have a choice," Cas said.
Dean wiped his eyes and shook his head. "I shouldn't have let that happen."
"How are you here?" Cas asked again.
"There's this guy who travels through time and takes over people's bodies, putting right what once went wrong, as his friend put it. He jumped into my body on that hunt, supposedly to stop whatever happened to Sammy, and that landed me here in this forsaken place," Dean explained. "But you could see him, so I guess he hasn't done his job yet."
"Are you feeling okay Dean?" Cas asked.
"No, I'm not," Dean admitted, though he doubted he was hiding it very well at the moment. "My brother's life is in the hands of an amateur. I need to get back there before he screws it up."
"Dean-"
"Don't you dare tell me I didn't help him the first time through. Don't you dare, Cas."
Cas sighed. "I can't help you," he said. He held up a hand to halt Dean's protest. "You aren't in your own body, and you aren't even in the same time period as the person who is. Maybe an Archangel could help, but I can't; it would take much more power than I have."
"Cas," Dean said, the pain evident in his voice. "You have to help me. Please. I need you."
Cas pressed his lips together and looked away, trying to hide the broken look on his face.
"What?" Tears were forming in Dean's eyes.
Cas smiled sadly at him. "You haven't said that in a long time," he said.
"What?" Dean asked again.
Cas just shook his head. "After what happened to Sam, you were a mess, self-destructive again. I had to get you out of a few scrapes when you weren't fighting."
Dean got the feeling Cas was holding something back. "And then what, Cas?" he asked.
A bitter laugh escaped Cas' lips. "You left," he said sourly.
"Left?" Dean asked, staring uncomprehendingly at Cas.
"Left. You got out of the life. You went and found Lisa and Ben, like you promised Sam you would before the fight with Michael and Lucifer."
Dean closed his eyes and hung his head, taking a deep breath.
"I was too much of a reminder," Cas said.
"Am I happy, where I am now?" Dean asked, not opening his eyes.
"I don't know," Cas said sadly. "You told me to stay away."
Dean took another breath and opened his eyes. "I guarantee I'm not," Dean said. "I've lost the two most important people in my life. I'm not okay. I don't care how long it's been."
Cas and Dean looked at each other for a long time.
"If the past is set right, everything goes back to how it was before?" Cas asked, his voice hoarse.
"That's my understanding," Dean replied.
"Then I hope, for all our sake, that it is fixed." Cas had a small sad smile on his face when he vanished.
Dean sat quietly for a moment, trying to get his mind back in working order. This future was too bizarre, almost like the when Zachariah had sent him ahead as some kind of sick warning. But that future hadn't come to pass, and neither would this one. He stood and walked out of the room, which wasn't hard considering the door was still broken. He made the right and found the room that had had the "IN USE" sign lit up last time he had gone by. He was sure that was the room Al used to get to Beckett.
The door stood open and when Dean stepped in and closed it behind him, he saw a flash of bright white light and then he was standing in a basement. Or he assumed it was a basement from the total lack of windows and the staircase that led up.
"Dean?"
Dean turned around to see the two Sams tied to chairs. Their arms were bound behind them, but their legs were free, and that was something Dean thought they could use to an advantage.
"Sammy! You're okay!" A grin spread across Dean's face.
"For now," Sam said.
"You left that damn room again?" Beckett asked.
"It does seem that way. What happened?"
"Went in a little half cocked," Sam said.
"Did they take your weapons?" Dean demanded.
"They think so, but they didn't get all of them," Sam said with a smirk.
"Awesome," Dean said, walking over to them. He went to reach out to Sam, meaning to untie his arms, but his hand went right through Sam's arm.
"You're a hologram," Beckett said. "You can't touch anything here."
"That certainly puts a damper on things," Dean said, trying to force down his rising panic at the thought that he was going to have to watch helplessly while the events played themselves out. "Why'd they bring you down here?"
"Said they wanted to wait until the full moon tonight," Beckett said.
"Good," Dean said. "They'll all be down here asleep for at least twenty minutes before they change."
"Why's that?" Beckett asked.
"If they're awake, they don't change," Sam said. "Not in our experience anyway. Unless they're angry."
"Why was this so difficult then?" Dean asked. If it was really going to be that easy, they shouldn't have failed.
"Not sure yet," Sam said. "But I'm all for not being bitten."
"Me too," Dean said. "Beckett, can you move your arm at all?"
"A little. Why?"
"I have a silver pocket knife in the sleeve of that jacket. If you can move your arm and get it into your hand, you can cut yourself out."
"Good to know," Beckett said, shifting his arm around to try to feel where the knife was.
"You still have one up your sleeve?" Dean asked his brother.
"Always," Sam said, turning his hand over and revealing a pocket knife glinting on his palm.
"Where's Cas?" Dean asked suddenly, looking around. Future Cas had told him he had needed to leave, but he hadn't wanted to believe it.
"Heaven," Sam said. "He said he needed to get up there to try to stop Raphael from forming an army to open Lucifer's Cage again and restart the Apocalypse."
"He's got great timing, doesn't he?" Dean muttered, looking up the stairs. "I'm going up there to see what I can sniff out. Get yourselves out, but don't be too conspicuous."
Upstairs, a whole family of werewolves was congregated in the living room.
"The Winchesters," one said excitedly. "Oh, won't this be something special. Two hunters drop into our laps and they're these two."
"They did stop the Apocalypse," one acknowledged. "That's pretty impressive."
"And killed how many of us to get there? I'm all for the world spinning on uninterrupted, but I don't feel like being sent to Purgatory," the first one snapped.
"No, I'm all for eating them," the second assured them. "I just meant that they're a pretty impressive meal."
"Can't I go have a taste?" a young one asked, looking up to a woman who must have been his mother.
"No," the woman said. "We have to wait for the others."
"Well that doesn't sound good," Dean said, counting five werewolves in the room now. He wasn't sure how many there would be when the others got there, but if this turned into an actual fight, it wouldn't end well. Hopefully there'd be enough time to kill them before they turned or this would really go sour. The sun was setting, so the others would likely get there within the next hour.
When Dean got back down to the basement, he found Sam and Beckett sitting in their chairs, rubbing their wrists where the ropes had been tied. Standing beside them was Al, who looked pissed off.
"How many times do I need to tell you to stay in that damn room?" he demanded.
"I'm not sitting around waiting for the end. It's not my style," Dean said. "Besides, you know where I am. As soon as he's done, I go back and get in the room and then back to my own time."
"You can't help," Al reasoned. "There's nothing for you to do here."
"I'll watch. I'm not sitting around to wait."
"Al," Beckett said. "Let him stay. We're getting nowhere telling him where to go."
Dean grinned triumphantly. "Come get me when it's time to leap. I'll be here."
Al sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I'm getting too old for this."
"You love it as much as I do," Beckett said.
"Doesn't mean I'm not getting too old for it," Al said.
"I feel like we'll be having that same conversation in the future," Sam said thoughtfully to Dean. "You know, if we don't die first."
"We have died," Dean pointed out.
"Did you find out anything useful up there?" Beckett asked.
"There are five werewolves here," Dean said. "They're waiting for others before they kill you though."
"That's encouraging," Sam said. "Beckett, you said you can fight, right?"
"Sure," Beckett said. "It's been a while, but I think I can handle holding some off."
"So we kill as many as we can first," Sam said. "Hopefully there won't be as many left to fight."
"Then hold the ropes so they still look tied and wait for them," Dean said. "If they find you untied you won't have a chance to kill any of them."
Over the next half-hour, Al left through his door, not seeing any point in staying since he knew where Dean was. Sam and Beckett sat in their chairs, holding the ropes over their wrists so they still looked tied if you didn't look too closely. They didn't have much in the way of weapons; they each had a small silver knife, and Sam had retrieved his hidden dagger and had it up his sleeve.
Then the wolves came down- eight of them this time. The three new ones circled Sam and Beckett hungrily, leaning very close to them as if inspecting them. Dean momentarily forgot he was a hologram and tried to attack one of them when he got too close to Sam.
"I'm just impressed you managed to catch them," one of the new ones said.
"They think they're invincible," the woman from before said. "They make stupid decisions."
There was a click as one of the werewolves locked the door at the top of the stairs. "See you in a while boys," he said as he joined the others in a section of the basement that was partially hidden from view by shelves laden with various odds and ends.
After a few minutes, there was silence from the werewolves, save for a bit of light snoring. Sam carefully dropped the rope, his eyes trained on the shelves, waiting for a wolf to come after him. Beckett followed his lead, moving slowly to retrieve his silver knife.
Sam stepped carefully over to the shelves, moving silently. He glanced between the shelves to the other side and saw the werewolves sleeping, piled on one another like a pack of dogs. One twitched in his sleep. Sam knelt to inspect the bottom of the shelving unit, checking to see if it was bolted down.
It wasn't.
Sam leaned his weight into the shelves, and they toppled over, landing heavily on the lycanthropes beneath. As Sam jumped back, he heard yelps and startled scratching as the wolves scrambled to get out from under the shelves. He and Beckett then moved closer, Sam with his silver dagger, Beckett with a silver knife. Sam didn't even hesitate; when he saw one through the wreckage, he stabbed down, hearing a startled cry and then nothing. But then there was growling as the first of them began to turn. One of the young ones, probably no older than seven, jumped at Beckett with his teeth and claws bared. Acting on instinct, Beckett side-stepped, grabbing his attacker by the arm to swing him around and pierce the small chest with his knife. When the small body fell limp, Beckett jumped back, horrified at himself.
But now there were more growls and snarls, and the shelves were being thrown aside so roughly that Sam had to back away to avoid being hit by debris. There were six wolves left; both of the children were already dead. Three leaped at Sam while the other three went for Beckett.
Dean watched, feeling helpless. His eyes never left Sam, who was doing his best to make quick work of the situation, but fighting with a werewolf was like having a wild animal coming after you, which was hard enough when you weren't outnumbered three to one.
For all his confusion, Beckett was a good fighter. He dodged and blocked effectively, getting in a good hit every now and then. He kept a grip on his knife and managed to cut the wolves, even managing to kill one of them, though his face paled when the body fell.
Sam was fighting the three who had shown up especially for the chance to kill the Winchesters, and they were clearly seasoned fighters. Sam was no slouch and even in their wild state they managed to fight effectively against him. One was stabbed and fell, but one gave up on Beckett and jumped at Sam instead, seeming to think he was a better target. Beckett was left fighting the woman, who was vicious and fought dirty with her claws. Beckett was bleeding from a gash on his right arm, but he was ignoring it enough to continue the fight.
Sam had managed to drop another wolf, losing his dagger in the process. He grabbed his knife in time to stab another, but the last one grabbed him from behind, his jaw dangerously close to Sam's neck.
"Sammy!" Dean yelled, running forward even though he knew it was pointless. Sammy was done, again.
Beckett heard Dean and managed to throw the wolf he was fighting aside, running toward Sam. He tackled the wolf that had a grip on Sam, wrapping his arms around him and pulling him away. Beckett landed hard on his back, the wolf on top of him. Sam, recovering quickly, retrieved his dagger from the chest of a dead werewolf and stabbed the one on top of Beckett. Beckett felt the tip of the dagger on his shirtfront, but it didn't cut the fabric.
As Beckett threw the dead wolf aside, the last one rushed at Sam, but Sam was prepared. He turned in time to have the wolf impale herself on the dagger, coughing as she fell to her knees and falling silent as she toppled onto her side.
In the moment of tense silence that followed, Dean wasn't sure if Sam was finished or not. Sam and Beckett looked around the room, still alert and waiting for a threat.
"That's it," Dean said, turning to look around the room.
"Yeah," Sam said, his frame relaxing.
"Are you okay?" Dean asked uncertainly.
Sam ran his hand over his neck, where the wolf's jaw had been. The skin was smooth. A grin spread across his face. "I'm fine," he said with relief.
Dean felt the tension leave him. Sammy was okay. He turned to face Beckett. "I guess I should thank you," he said.
Beckett shook his head. "It's what I do," he said.
"No, Dean's right," Sam said. "You saved me."
"You're welcome, then," Beckett said with a half smile. "I guess."
"So you leap when I get back to the waiting room?" Dean asked.
"That's how it goes," Beckett said. "Al will be back to get you, since you need Ziggy to open the door."
"Of course you do," Dean said, but he couldn't bring himself to be annoyed.
"Let's go find the guns they took," Sam said, heading toward the stairs. "Then we torch the place."
"Isn't that extensive?" Beckett asked, following Sam up.
"Just making sure they stay dead," Dean said.
"They have a habit of not staying dead?" Beckett asked, a little freaked out.
"Sometimes," Dean said with a shrug.
"Great," Beckett said.
It didn't take long to find the guns. They had been left on the coffee table in the living room, probably because the silver on their handles burned the werewolves' hands and couldn't be carried for too long.
Sam got the accelerant from the trunk of the Impala and went back into the house to douse as much as he could.
"So this is what you do for a living," Beckett said, checking to make sure the bandage on his arm was snug.
"Glamorous enough for you?" Dean asked.
Beckett laughed. "You know, I think I'll stick with what I do."
"That's probably for the best."
A few minutes later, Sam exited the house. He took out a matchbook and lit one, throwing it onto the trail of accelerant he had made that led into the house. As the fire spread, he made his way back to the car.
The three of them sat there for a while, watching the fire. The farm was at least a mile from the nearest neighbor, so it would be a long time before authorities were notified of the fire, especially since the night was overcast and the smoke blended in with the clouds in the sky.
"Is it sick to say this is peaceful?" Beckett asked.
Sam and Dean laughed. "Maybe you should be a hunter after all," Sam said.
"I don't know about that," Beckett said with a smile.
After a few more minutes of silence, Al reappeared.
"It must have all worked out," he said. "Ziggy says it's time to go home."
"Good," Dean said. "I'd like to be useful again for once."
"I'm glad you're okay kid," Al said to Sam. Sam nodded his thanks and Al took Dean's arm, leading him through a door back to Project Quantum Leap.
"Your guy isn't so bad," Dean told Al as they stepped back into the hallway.
"I guess you mean that as a compliment?" Al asked, but he didn't sound annoyed.
"Yeah, I do," Dean said. "And you aren't so bad yourself, I guess."
They stopped outside the waiting room. "You know, I don't mind you so much either," Al said, a slight smile playing on his lips. "No get back to your brother."
Dean took a deep breath and stepped back into the waiting room. There was a flash of bright white light and suddenly he was back in Oklahoma, leaning against the Impala and watching the farmhouse burn. He looked down at himself and ran his hands over his shirt to make sure it was really his body. His forearm was bandaged, so he figured the injury Beckett had sustained was transferred to him, but considering the circumstances, he didn't mind.
"Dean?" Sam asked.
Dean looked up to see Sam staring at him. "Sammy," he said, relief coloring his voice. He didn't even hesitate before wrapping his brother in a hug. Sam hugged him back, and they gripped each other tight for a minute before pulling away.
"Let's hope that never happens again," Sam said.
"Believe me, I've been hoping that since I woke up in that damn room."
They climbed in the Impala, Dean taking his place behind the wheel.
The next morning, as they were packing their things at the motel, there was a familiar flutter of wings that signaled Cas was back. As soon as Dean saw him, he crossed the room and hugged him. He didn't like to admit it, but after seeing future Cas, he had been afraid that he wouldn't see his Cas again.
Cas pulled back after a moment. "It worked then?"
"Beckett's not wearing my body anymore, is he?" Dean asked.
Cas grinned at him.
"How was Heaven?" Dean asked.
"It's fine, for now," Cas said, pulling Dean close again and savoring the feeling of being together.
Dean heard the door close as Sam left, probably heading to grab a bite to eat as an excuse to give Cas and Dean some privacy. Dean laughed then, though he wasn't sure at what.
"What's so funny?" Cas asked, pulled away slightly so he could look Dean in the eyes.
"Nothing," Dean said, waving the question off. "I'm just glad to be back."
Cas smiled again. "I'm glad you're back," he said, and then he pressed a kiss to Dean's lips.
After the light dissipated, Beckett realized he was sitting at a desk, looking down at a book that was written in Latin.
Looking around, Beckett saw he was in a library in someone's home, a nearby window looking down over a river. There were books with titles in different languages, and when he looked back to the open book in front of him, he recognized the words for 'silver,' 'weakness,' and 'kill.'
He was in another hunter.
"Oh boy," he muttered.