John ended up taking his boys with him to Maryland the Saturday before Christmas, with a promise to be back at the little apartment by New Years. To be honest, Dean was pretty excited about the werewolf hunt. He'd seen a lot of horror movies in his short life, so he felt like he could actually be some help on this hunt.
"I know all about werewolves, Dad," Dean insisted after Sam had finally fallen asleep in their motel room base camp. "I can help you. I know you gots to shoot them with silver bullets and they only come out on a full moon. So we only got one night to find it and get it. Right Dad?"
"Yeah, Dean," John half smiled. "That's right, but I can't take you with me."
"But Dad," Dean whined. "I can be real good. I can shoot all the cans off the fence posts every time. I'll be a big help. I won't get in the way. I promise."
"Who'll watch Sam while we're out?" John asked tipping his head.
"If we wait til he passes out, then salt and lock the doors," Dean answered wide eyed. "As long as were back before sun up, he'll never know. He sleeps pretty good unless he gets hungry or has a nightmare. But he hasn't had a nightmare in a while. So he'll be fine."
"As brilliant and thought out as that plan sounds," John said sarcastically. "I'm not leaving your brother alone in a motel room overnight."
"Why not?" Dean asked. "You used to leave me alone with Sam in motel rooms all the time when I was his age, even littler, too. Sam can take care of himself for a couple hours without me hovering over him. He's not a baby. He's in second grade. He can feed himself and everything. Please Dad! I just want to help out. Just this once. I was a really good help that one time I went with you. You said so. I can do it again. Please Dad."
"I'll sleep on it," John said watching the hope and light in Dean's eyes. "Decide in the morning. Get ready for bed."
"Alright!" Dean jumped up excitedly and dug through his duffle for his pajamas. He was going to go on this hunt with Dad, he knew it. He was going to show his dad that he was good at something. That he was worth his weight. Dean was going to make his Dad proud.
The next morning Dean did his best to help his dad plot on the map he had taped to the wall. He pressed pins into where the werewolf had attacked, pointing out a pattern and possible kill zone. Together they even found pattern in the kills, and identified a possible location of attack.
"See Dad," Dean smiled. "I'm a good helper. I can help out a lot. You should take me with you."
"I said I'd think about it," John answered. "And I'm thinkin' about it. But you're right, you've been a big help. I'm just not sure what to do with Sammy. It don't feel right leaving him here alone."
"He'll be asleep," Dean coaxed. "He'll be fine. He's not a baby anymore, Dad."
"I'll keep thinking about it," John replied. "We got a few hours yet before we have to leave."
Dean did his best to stay out of the way, making Sam lunch while his brother sat in front of the television. He'd learned the hard way not to ask too many questions. He wasn't a big fan of being yelled at for trying too hard. Sam seemed oblivious to what was going on in the room around him. Dean figured it that this was Sam's normal. The weird maps and symbols all over the walls were as regular to him as front yard flower gardens were to his classmates.
"Would you be upset if I let you have the room to yourself for a couple hours tonight?" John asked while the boys ate macaroni and cheese side by side while watching TV. "If I took Dean out with me for a little bit?"
"Are you going shooting?" Sam asked plastic fork stopping midair between the bowl and his mouth.
John nodded.
"Then I don't care," Sam answered. "I don't like shooting, cuz Uncle Bobby took us shooting that one time, and he wanted us to shoot the animals. So I don't like it. If you're going to the movies or somethin' then it's not fair. But I don't care if you're shooting."
"See!" Dean exclaimed, almost dropping his lunch off his lap with excitement. "Sammy don't care."
"We'll talk about it after dinner," John nodded. "Understand?"
"Yes, sir," Dean smiled nodding. He was definitely going on this hunt. He'd finally have something to show his dad he could be good at; he'd have that smile on this face that he had when Sam brought home report cards and A+ tests. This was going to be Dean's thing.
"You understand the rules?" John asked standing over Sam who sat very still on his bed.
"Yes, sir," Sam nodded.
"What are they?" John asked.
"Don't leave the room, even for ice," Sam stated. "Just stay here and watch TV. Don't touch the salt lines. Don't stay up all night. Don't answer the door for anyone except you or Dean. And don't eat all the ice cream in the little freezer."
"And if Dean and I aren't back in the morning?"
"Call Uncle Bobby," Sam nodded. "But don't freak out, cuz everything's fine."
"Good," John said ruffling Sam's hair. "We'll be back before you wake up, alright. Just behave."
"I will, don't worry," Sam nodded.
"Let's go," John said turning toward Dean as he shouldered the duffle full of guns and silver bullets and headed out the door.
"How much ya wanna bet Sam's still awake when we get back with the ice cream box empty on his lap watching TV?" Dean laughed as he opened the door to the Impala.
"I'd say that has a one hundred percent chance of happening," John chuckled dropping the duffle into the trunk.
John and Dean drove to the outskirts of the town toward a wooded area. The locals liked to hike out there, even if it was December, the manager at the motel they were staying at told John that there were always people hiking and camping out there. John handed Dean a shotgun after loading it, checking that his own was loaded as well and motioned for Dean to follow him.
This hunt was so different from the first one Dean was on. He wasn't just bait this time; he was a vital part of finding the thing.
"Just be careful, alright?" John said as they entered the woods. "Follow me and keep an eye out for anything moving, okay?"
"Yeah," Dean nodded. "I can do that."
"Do not shoot anything unless I tell you to," John warned.
"Yes, sir," Dean said, trying to hide his excitement.
They walked until they found a clearing, where a couple had set up a camper; a still warm fire pit not too far away from the front door.
"This is probably where it'll attack," John whispered to Dean. "What should we be looking for?"
"Well," Dean said thinking back to the werewolf lesson he'd been giving in the car on the way over. "The wolf won't be out until the moon is higher, so we just have to wait a while. And it doesn't look like a real wolf. It looks like a guy, but it acts like a wolf, so we're looking for a person acting weird and wondering around in the dark, with weird eyes. Right?"
"Pretty much," John half smiled. "Good job. Nothing to do but wait."
Dean fell asleep slumped against a tree, waiting was boring, he snapped awake when his dad tapped him on the sole of his boot.
"Wake up," John whispered. "I think we got something."
"Over behind the camper?" Dean asked rubbing sleep from his eyes with one hand while grabbing the shotgun with the other. "The shadow?"
"Yeah," John nodded. "Be quiet and follow me."
Dean did as he was told, sneaking behind, gun raised, mocking his father's movements as they got closer. They moved slowly, to make sure they didn't draw attention to themselves. Dean ended up walking next to his father instead of behind him, John didn't notice until it was almost too late.
Dean stepped on a twig, the snap sounding louder than it should have in the complete silence of the winter woods. The wolf heard them turned quickly, teeth bared, growling, and lunged at Dean.
"Out of the way!" John yelled shoving Dean to the side before firing a shot.
Dean dropped his gun as he held both hand straight out in front of him to break his fall, his left landed hard on a rock taking the brunt of his body weight as he fell. He heard his arm snap as the gunshot echoed off into the distance. He rolled over, gripping his arm and moaning in pain.
"What the hell!" an unfamiliar voice yelled. "Can you not see we're camping here?"
"Sorry," John said quickly. "Got caught up in the hunt!"
"You shouldn't be hunting around here," the camper said. "Too many people around, seriously!"
"Sorry," John answered. "We're leaving; think we scared it off anyway."
A door slammed and Dean tried to push himself up, but his arm was unquestionably broken. He slammed his head back against the frozen ground and pulled his arm across his chest.
"Get up," John sighed.
"I can't," Dean moaned.
"What do you mean you can't," John scoffed. "Get the fuck up."
"I can't my arm hurts," Dean answered.
"You're fine," John sighed. "Get up."
"No, Dad," Dean whined. "I think it's broken. I fell on to a rock when you pushed me out of the way. I can't get up."
John rolled his eyes and walked over, he grabbed Dean's other hand, hauling him to his feet.
"Did you get it?" Dean asked as his father examined his arm. He winced and pulled away.
"No," John answered. "Scared it good, but I didn't kill it. Have to try again tomorrow, maybe next month. But at least it didn't kill anyone tonight."
"Yeah," Dean nodded. "You think it's broken?"
"Gotta take you to the hospital," John sighed. "We'll go get your brother so he doesn't freak out then take you to the ER."
"You can't just fix it?" Dean asked.
"I'm not messing with broken bones, Dean," John sighed as he turned and started out of the woods. "Let's go. Don't forget your gun."
"How do you break your arm shooting tin cans?" Sam asked skeptically as the three of them sat in the cramped office while the doctor looked over Dean's arm.
"I told you," Dean sighed. "I tripped and fell on a rock. It was an accident."
"Could have been hurt a lot worse," The doctor said. "Especially with a gun in your hands. You have to be a lot more careful in the future. Let's get you down to X-ray to check it out."
Dean nodded, holding his arm close to him as he hopped down from the exam table and followed the old man out into the hall down to x-ray.
It turned out that both bone in his forearm had broken, resulting in a dark green cast that went up just past his elbow.
"When you get back home," The doctor told John while Dean showed off the cast to his brother. "Call your pediatrician and set up an appointment to look at his arm. He's going to have to go to the doctor in about three weeks to check on his progress. Just watch him, the rough housing. With boys that age I'm sure that'll be a difficult task."
John chuckled because he was supposed to and looked over at his boys.
"Dean," he sighed like it pained him. "Stop karate chopping Sam with your cast."
"Good luck," the doctor smiled, handing John some paper work. "Eloise in reception will check you out."
"Let's go," John said gesturing to the boys.
Dean grabbed Sam's hand with his free one and pulled him along out of the office. He'd really messed up this time. All he wanted to do was make his dad proud and he messed up everything. The werewolf got away, he'd gotten hurt. His dad was clearly pissed. Dean knew he'd never hear the end of how much he'd screwed up for the next month until his dad could get the werewolf. But what was one more thing for him to feel bad about, he figured.