Of Werewolves and Humans

Chapter 3 ~ Protecting What's Mine

Dean sat there for a long while, staring at the young man. Watching the labored breathing, listening to the hectic heartbeat, feeling the heat that was radiating from him.

Sam had opened his eyes for a couple of moments, had muttered something incoherent, his eyes had been caught in a haze of fear and pain.

Whatever it was that bound him to this human … and after not even twenty-four hours … he started to feel like his responsibility. Something Dean Winchester hadn't felt before – for no one. Not even for his pack (his pack wasn't that big of a deal … actually just Bobby, John, Ash, Caleb and Ellen. All the others were dead already – hunted and killed by hunters). Not ever.

Dean backed away towards the bed-end, where he leaned against the engraved wood, watching the man on his bed closely. Actually he would've been a quite handsome guy, wouldn't there've been the bruises and scars and the lack of weight. What brought him to think about the club and what he had seen there. Surely he knew that bastards did exist. He also knew that bad things were happening out there all the time.

He knew about ghosts, ghouls, strighas, witches, shifters, vampires and demons, just to mention a couple of these monsters. He also knew what they were capable of. And he also knew that humans were able to do more cruel things than all of these bastards together. And though … still he wasn't able to make up his mind about HOW someone – no matter if monster or human – was capable of doing THIS to another being.

So his thoughts turned around in an never-ending circle until he drifted off to sleep.

The late mid-october-night was fading slowly, when Dean woke with a start. First he didn't know WHAT had woken him, until he remembered the happenings from last night and why the hell he slept on the end of his bed in an uncomfortable angle like this. What led him to sit up, as he rubbed his neck and glanced at the place where Sam was supposed to be.

… but there was no one.

Dean sat up completely and his look flooded thru the dim darkness of the room. With his wolf-instincts he was able to make out a curled up shape in the furthest corner of the room. Since the wolf didn't sense any different scents – and the smell that was dominating right now belonged to the man they had saved last night – he was pretty sure that the form in the corner was Sam.

The scent of him triggered something inside his mind – but Dean wasn't able to put his finger at it – not yet. It just felt familiar, as if he was supposed to know who it belonged to.

Dean's legs slid from the bed, as he kept watching the man, covered by darkness. He ever so slowly rose, feeling the wary looks on him as he narrowed carefully. Without fast movements or gestures.

About a yard in front of the man, he squat down.

„Hey – it's okay.", he whispered, well aware that he'd wake the other both anyway. Sometimes their senses were a pain in the ass. „I won't hurt you, you know? No one of us." Dean extended an arm, until his fingertips touched bare skin. He felt the man tremble and his heart quicken again. „You're save now. - You got away from them." Dean inched closer. „There's no cage. No collar. No chains. - Nothing." He really tried his best to convince the kid. „Just a usual room with a bed and a closet."

He inched even closer. „I'd like that you come back to bed. - It's chilly out here without clothes, isn't it?" No one ever had heard Dean Winchester talking that soft and gentle to anyone else in the entire world. „Let me take you back to bed."

He narrowed further … inch by inch.

Sam didn't trust him, and he had definitely every right to do so. After all he was one of the guys who had booked him. Even when his purposes had been of a different nature. He knew that. - But Sam didn't. For Sam he probably was just one of these guys that came to take something from him.

„I promise. - I won't touch you if it's not okay with you, Sam." He pulled back his hand, since he was now so close to him, that he was able to feel the younger man's breath on his bare shoulder. „You okay with that?"

„Yes, sir.", a silent answer was heard.

„Fine. - Now come. I'll help you back in." Dean rose and extended his hand again, feeling hesitant long fingers curling around his. A satisfied grin tugged on the wolf's lips, as he helped the human up on his feet, just to save him from breaking down a split moment later.

Sam's legs had given out under him – just like that. He didn't even remember how it came that he ended up in the corner in the first place. He knew he was a screw up. - His father had always told him that. That was probably why he had sold him to these people. That was why his dad hadn't loved him – had drunk his way thru life. Had beaten him up.

Sam was a screw up – that was why he didn't deserve better. Deserved to be treated like a whore. Just like his father had said to him before the men took him away.

Despite his weakness, Sam tried to get back on his feet all by himself. Tried to hold at least his own weight. This man wasn't supposed to help him. Wasn't supposed to carry him.

„I'm sorry, sir.", he muttered, trying to show that he wasn't weak, was able to hold himself up right. - Besides he didn't want to get beaten all over again for being what he was. And he would've lied if he would've said that he didn't prefer a bed instead of the floor either.

Dean kept his arm around the younger man's waist, despite the fact that he obviously wanted to try to make the couple of feet towards the bed all on his own. And he failed – miserably …

Dean tightened his hold around the young man further, as his knees went out below him again. There was no use. He wouldn't make it to the bed that way. - Not in a hundred years. Not as much as he probably wanted to.

So he decided for Sam. Just like that. And lifted him up in his arms. Sam tensed in the wolf's hold, pulling his arms tight against his front and slammed his eyes closed.

Dean made a couple of steps towards the bed and lowered him back onto the comforter carefully.

„It's okay, you know?", he whispered softly, brushing a bang out of Sam's face. „I'm not going to hurt you in any way. - I promised, do you remember?" Dean tried to give him one of his most charming smiles, but failed.

The man below him avoided his gaze, even as he opened his eyes. He looked everywhere else except Dean's bright green circles.

A „Thank you, sir." followed and Sam immediately curled up on his side. No matter how much the gashes on his back tore, how immense the bruises hurt – this was the only way he would feel safe, was able to feel comfort. Even when it might looked stupid to everyone else. Even when it hurt him more than any other position would do.

Dean drew the blanket back over the man and headed back to the place where he had fallen asleep before. He shook his head and laid back on the end of the bed, slipping with his legs under the comforter.

Despite his sleepiness he didn't let himself drift off. He stayed awake, high alert – thinking – until the first warming sunbeams illuminated the room.

He felt responsible for HIM. He couldn't help himself, and he knew that it was damn stupid to feel that way for a stranger. - For a human.

Dean kept watch until the door to his bedroom cracked open. A low rumble left the depths of his throat by instinct, as he glared dangerously at the invader. - John Winchester. The tense expression on the young man's face faded in an instant as he recognised who the spy was and cocked an eyebrow as if he was asking what his father wanted from him.

John eyed his son for a moment, but then gave him a sign to follow. So Dean crawled from the bed carefully, not to wake the sleeping human, and followed the unspoken order. He let the door wide open, as he followed John across the living room into the kitchen.

Bobby sat at the table, turning a bottle of beer in his hand and looked up as his both friends entered. „How's he?"

Dean sighed and slumped down in the chair on the other side of the table, looking tired at the older man. „Sam's asleep. - Woke up once. Was completely out of it ...", he explained hoarsely and sighed. „Did Jody say when Ellen's comin' around?"

John sat down at the table with two mugs of coffee and shook his head. „Guess as soon as the sheriff thinks that it's safe enough." He watched his son curiously over the edge of his mug and shoved the other one towards him. „Did he say something?"

Dean huffed and reached for his coffee, taking a long sip from it. „Hell no. - Nothing besides yes sir and thank you sir." He shook his head and his gaze fell. „I guess he's following orders. I'm not even sure if he's got his own will anymore." A sad expression settled over his features and a lost look traveled over his hands. „Humans are so damn vulnerable, aren't they?" Now he looked up frowning.

Bobby and John shared a glance. „Did you hit your head?", John asked then in disbelieve.

Dean's frown deepened and cocked an eyebrow - questioning. „Not that I could remember … why?"

„Because I'm damn sure something's wrong with you. - Do you feel sick? Are you feeling like gettin' a fever, boy?" Bobby took him in closely.

„Because snarling at your pack-leader is usually not a common thing.", John added – looking kind of wary.

„Do we even have a leader?" A cocky grin formed on Dean's lips and a challenging glint lit up in his emerald-green circles.

John's expression hardened. „Don't tempt me, boy."

And with this the staring-contest had started …

Ten minutes later – and no one of the both of them seemed to want to give in.

„Okay, guys. - Stop it." Bobby slammed his flat palm on the table before him, and the two Winchesters jolted out of their trance. „Since when do we discuss about leading a pack? - Are we even a pack?"

Both Winchesters glared at the oldest among them.

„Fine. - Now back to business. Of what John told me about the wolf in the club. - He was probably a turned one." Robert Singer's look morphed into a concerned expression. „So since they're usually loners I don't think that there'll be others." He cleared his throat. „What bothers me is the fact that they seemed to know that the police had been called. - What leads to the question how they could possibly know that there'd be a razzia – before I even thought about calling the sheriff - and why they killed those people."

John ran a hand thru his salt and pepper hair and sighed. „Actually it's not our business anymore. You know that. - Our business for now is the human behind door number two until Jody knows where to give him."

Dean looked up from his mug and frowned. - Where to give him? What the hell?" Hot red anger started to build up inside him. „Giving him … like where?" He couldn't control the flaring rage in his voice.

Both men eyed him confused.

„Like a psychiatric ward maybe?" John rose both eyebrows, while he spoke calmly. „It's crystal clear that he won't be able to manage his life on his own for quiet some time."

Dean's eyebrows furrowed. A low rumble came over his lips. „Sam's not going anywhere." … and that was a fact. There was no doubt that Dean was considering anything else right now. He wouldn't give him away. Not to strangers. Not to people who didn't know how to handle him. Dean knew that he didn't know it either … and though … he had the feeling that it would be the wrong choice.

Dean rose from his chair, wood scraping over wood.

Again – both men stared up at him in confusion.

„Dean. - WHAT THE HELL'S WRONG WITH YOU BOY?" John shook his head. „Since when do you care about humans. - About a wounded nutcase anyway?"

Bobby laid a calming hand over John's forearm as the older Winchester attempted to rise from his seat – holding him back. A knowing look settled over the oldest of them.
„It's okay, Dean. Sam can stay as long as you think that you can take care of him." With that Bobby rose and went to the fridge, opening it.

„Do I have a say in this IN MY HOUSE? - Because after all I think that's what it is: MY HOUSE." John huffed in disbelieve.

„Fine. - I'll go and get Sam to Bobby's if you're uncomfortable with a human in YOUR HOUSE." Dean rose both eyebrows and stared at John – AGAIN.

Confusion was written all over the oldest Winchester's face and concern settled in his eyes. „I didn't say that I don't want him here. - I'm just confused by the fact that YOU – mister i-hate-humans-more-than-the-pest – wants to take care of one of them."

„Okay – I've scrambled eggs, bacon and everything for waffles. What's it gonna be?", Bobby asked as he stared into the fridge.

„Well – maybe I think different now.", Dean gave back, ignoring Bobby completely. His body went into a defensive position, his voice sharpened.

„How comes that you changed your opinion about humans that fast?" The oldest Winchester just wouldn't let go. „Is he your type?"

„Maybe I can try to get pancakes done too?" Bobby muttered into his beard and sniffed at the strawberries in his hand.

„Screw you, dad. - I just don't want Sam to get locked away in a loony bin full of weirdos." Dean's voice grew louder.

„Dean – what would you say? 's Sam more the type of salt and spicy or sugar and sweet?" Bobby turned around, giving Dean a questioning look.

„What the hell, Bobby?", John barked out and turned around to face the old man.

„Sugar and sweet.", Dean answered a split second later, not even thinking about it further.

The three men glanced at each other alternating. While Bobby grinned, John's eyes widened and he stepped back from the table, throwing his hand over his mouth. Dean was as stuttered as his father, trying to get his racing thoughts back under control.

„Then I guess we're going to have breakfast, don't we?" Bobby's grin widened as he turned back towards the fridge.

…... to be continued

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