What the... When I opened this chapter it was around 4500 words long and after I finished fixing it they were suddenly ~5800! No wonder it took me fucking forever to work through this. I really hope you guys will enjoy.

They spent the rest of the day being slightly awkward around each other, while also trying to figure out how they were going to make the meeting in the evening work out for the better. Dean insisted on grabbing lunch and dinner, forcing Derek to stay behind and "be safe" in the motel room, even though Derek was rather sure when it came to danger he had a few advantages (like all of them) over the hunter. He complied though because that's what his instincts told him to do: obey. It was really weird having his wolf feeling inclined to follow Dean's orders. Dean – whom he had known only for a short time and who wasn't even a werewolf.

Derek's mother had always been his alpha when she had still been alive, and Laura was a true alpha, which had put her right second in command. Derek had never really experienced a drastic change of pack dynamics – not even when his mom died, as his wolf had already known, accepted and expected Laura to become his alpha someday.

And yeah, he had fantasized about having Dean as a pack mate, even more so after he realized the man truly could be trusted - but this wasn't exactly what he had had in mind. He hadn't even been sure tricking his wolf into accepting a human being as his alpha really worked. Well, it hadn't the first attempt. Dean really overpowering him for a moment seemed to be what had really triggered the phenomenon. Obviously he could have easily gained the upper hand again afterwards, but having a human being shaking him off and consequently pin him down without the aid of any weapon had been surprising enough for him to genuinely be impressed. Dean was brave, strong and loyal. Good qualities for an alpha. Were he to get the bite, he'd probably make a great werewolf.

Too bad the bond they shared right then was gonna vanish rather soon. His wolf side was going to catch on to the fact that Dean was a simple human being. It shamed Derek a little to admit it, but no werewolf truly submitted to anybody of the human race. It was probably their most beastly instinct telling them that they were simply weaker, no matter how powerful their intelligence and weapons could make them. At the end of the day if you took everything away from them, all that was left was soft skin and easily breakable bones. When he was very young, his mother used to tell him to be careful and gentle when playing with his human cousin. It wasn't until he accidentally broke a couple of his ribs by tackling him that he realized what she truly meant. Human beings were fragile.

However, for the time being, the link between him and Dean was almost as strong as the link between two werewolves would be. He already felt stronger and more mentally stable. It was a good feeling having an alpha around again, even if it wasn't a real one. Derek had to think about his sister and wondered if she had noticed their bond slowly fading. He had always kept the memory of her close to his heart, so in a way he had never really considered that wandering around alone for so long would indeed break apart their small pack at some point. He knew he was getting weaker. He knew the absence of an alpha was affecting him in negative ways. He had never thought of himself as an omega before though.

"So, you ready? Are you gonna be fine?" Dean's voice cut through his thoughts.

"I guess so? It's not like we have much of a choice," replied Derek, looking over at the hunter, who was lying on the bed, hastily flickering through TV channels, without actually bothering to check what appeared on the screen. The werewolf could clearly smell the nervousness off him. Could sort of feel it too, now, with their newly established (even if only temporary) pack bond. "I just want you to know that you're not stuck with me...If this doesn't work out the way we planned, I want you to keep up the facade. There's no point in both of us getting killed."

Dean nodded, but Derek heard his heart skip a beat suggesting he was lying. He didn't know if it made him feel better or worse. A little bit of both.

As the time drew closer, they packed their stuff and put everything in Dean's Impala. They didn't really talk, as everything that needed to be discussed, had already been discussed, and now they could only hope luck was on their side.

They drove for an hour and a half until they reached the place where they were supposed to meet the Argents (at least according to the coordinates). Dean parked the car on the huge empty parking area of an abandoned warehouse and turned off the engine. They sat quietly there for a minute, shared one last glance and then got out of the car. Dean unholstered his gun, grabbed Derek by an arm, twisting it behind his back and pushed the gun muzzle against his back, where his heart was beating slightly faster than usual. The cold of the metal bled through Derek's shirt and he shivered, even though he knew Dean was only acting and even though normal bullets couldn't kill him. The werewolf let himself be manhandled all the way into the warehouse, where five people were waiting for them, all of them armed and pointing their weapons at them.

"Winchester! What a pleasure meeting you face-to-face! I cannot say I enjoyed very much having to talk to you through a hedge." Derek immediately recognized the mocking voice with the foreign accent. Then he actually saw whom it belonged to. It was a tall, middle aged man, with a huge scar slicing diagonally across his face. Werewolf claws, realized Derek with a hint of satisfaction. Served the bastard right.

"I must say I am a little surprised by the dramatic entrance," continued Scarface, gesturing at Derek. "You do realize though that bullets – even the silver ones – cannot kill him, right?"

Dean's grip on Derek's arm tightened and he pushed the muzzle of the gun further into the flesh of his back. He growled: "Wolfsbane bullets can."

"You know about wolfsbane? I thought the Winchesters didn't specialize in shape shifters" remarked another of the hunters surprised, an older, thin woman with short hair. She would have looked like anybody's nice aunt if it weren't for the crossbow grasped in her hands.

"Yes," Dean firmly replied. "Well, honey, you don't know anything about my family."

Scarface looked unimpressed. He stepped closer, circling them and inspecting the view as if he was looking at a mere artifact in a museum.

"You seemed quite intent on keeping this mutt safe… it is very hard for me to believe you are actually handing him over just like that," he offered, coming to a halt right in front of Derek and staring him straight into the eyes. Derek didn't even have to pretend – his eyes flashed blue and his teeth shifted before he growled and snapped his fangs at the man. Dean tugged him back, hesitating for a second too long, before hitting him in the side of the head with the butt of his gun and then pushing its muzzle against his neck. Derek froze, even though they had carefully discussed and taken into consideration the ways they would have to act following certain situation developments.

"I didn't know he was a werewolf when I attacked your men and helped him. I sure as hell wouldn't have interfered if I had known the truth," muttered Dean. It was slightly painful to hear, as he was being sincere. Derek couldn't help but minutely turn his head to look at his face from the corner of his eye and saw him lower his gaze in shame.

"I see, I see," sing-sang Scarface. "So you spent a couple of days in close quarters to a monster and did not even realize it. How does that feel? What do you think your father would have to say about this matter? You are naïve to the point of shaming not only him, but the whole hunter community."

Derek felt Dean tense up behind him. He just hoped Dean stayed clear-headed and ignored all of the provocations.

"Shut up," hissed Dean. "He hides it well."

"Alright, I suppose I have been harsh. These born werewolves can indeed be very convincing when they are concealing themselves." Scarface stepped around them and by the sound of it Derek supposed he was located right behind Dean. He heard him whisper: "Maybe you did not know he was a werewolf, before I said so. And maybe you did not believe me immediately either. But, my sweet boy, you kept him locked up in that motel room for the rest of the day and are unharmed. Surely he would have tried to escape and attacked you, especially after discovering you are a hunter. And now suddenly you have to restrain him and point a wolfsbane loaded gun at him? Something is terribly fishy here, do you not agree?"

Dean shifted, obviously uncomfortable by the proximity of the man.

"He knew I was a hunter from the beginning. And the only reason I'm doing this right now is to keep him from hurting any of you. He's completely docile around me because he thinks I'm his true mate," revealed Dean. A stunned silence followed Dean's words and it would have been comical, hadn't the situation been a rather shitty one.

"True mate…? … Well, I suppose that'd explain a few things," stated a young man who had kept himself in the background so far.

"First falling in love with Kate and then finding a mate in a Winchester... holy fuck you really are one unlucky mutt... and a fag too," chuckled one of the hunters and Derek realized it was one of the two assholes who had attacked him that night. The second asshole beside him looked simply disgusted by the revelation.

It was time for Derek to speak his lines as well.

"Do whatever you need to do with me. I've got nothing left to lose and I won't tell you anything about my sister anyway," he said, using a soft and resigned voice.

"Give us the wolf boy and put your weapons on the ground," ordered Scarface. Derek was pushed into Asshole number one's arms, who proceeded to tightly tie up his wrists with a thick rope. It wasn't until they started burning like hellfire that the werewolf realized it must have been elaborated with wolfsbane. He couldn't help but hiss a little in pain, feeling like it was burning straight into his flesh. He felt Dean's gaze linger on him, as the hunter slowly crouched to place the gun and the knife at his ankle on the floor in front of him, before standing up again and taking a few steps backwards, palms bared.

Scarface hit Derek's face hard with the butt of his shotgun and Derek crashed onto the ground, dazed. The blow would have knocked out cold any human being, but in his case it just caused him a temporary head ache, as the broken bone of his nose was already starting to reshape and heal. This was perfect though. He wriggled around on the floor, until his hands were hidden from the Argents' view and very carefully started to put pressure on the bindings, letting his usually short nails shift into claws.

"I am glad you made the right choice, Dean. I dare not imagine what would have happened if you had decided to protect the rabid dog instead. The conflicts it would have created between our families would have been devastating. I think merely in size your family would not have stood much of a chance. How many are there of you? Oh, yes. Your mother was killed if I remember correctly. So just your father and his two boys then. You and your younger brother… Sam, was it?" Scarface taunted. From the weird angle on the floor, Derek watched Dean's nostrils flare and listened to his frenzied breathing and heartbeat. He was getting worked up.

"Do you feel the mate bond?" asked the thin elderly woman curiously.

"...What? I... dunno? I guess... not?" answered Dean, sounding just as uncomfortable as he was probably feeling for real.

"Did you consummate it?" butted in Asshole number two, clearly still grossed out. Derek tried to ignore the conversation in favor of focusing on cutting through the bindings with his claws instead. The pain was starting to get really intense with the way he kept rubbing and pushing against the rope. He could have sworn is skin had dissolved wherever the bindings touched it and they were cutting right into his flesh at this point.

"What do you mean?" Dean asked the Argent, honestly confused.

"He means, did you fucking screw him or not," harshly clarified Asshole number one.

The rope finally fell apart and Derek released a sigh of relief. The skin wasn't healing since the flesh was too infected with whatever combination of wolfsbane it had been elaborated with, but the sharp pain had stopped at least. Now all that was left was the slight burning feeling of raw skin.

"Dude, the hell… Of course I freaking didn't!"

Derek studied the positions they were in. He was lying in front of the Argents, with his back towards Dean. It had given him the advantage of freeing himself without his hands being seen, but now it was an issue, as he couldn't do anything else without immediately being stopped. It was Dean's turn to act and he hoped he realized it. The hunter seemed to be too distracted (and freaked out) by the questions the Argents were asking him about their "mating", after all. Derek wondered if he should have taught Dean more about true mates, but to be honest he didn't know a lot about it either. His mother had never really told him much about it, having assumed like everyone else they had plenty of time left for that. True mates finding each other was very rare anyway, so it's not like it had seemed very important.

Right now, it was awkward as hell for everyone involved, but hey – at least their plan had worked so far. The Argents accused other hunters of being naive, but they sure were naive themselves, Derek smugly thought.

"What are you gonna do to him?" Dean changed topic, taking a few slow steps around the werewolf on the ground as if all he wanted to do was see his face better. He bared his palms once again as he stepped over his weapons and came to a halt right next to Scarface. "If you're gonna kill him, do it quickly. He might be a werewolf, but he's still a kid too..."

"It is none of your business what happens to him from this point on. You did the right thing by handing him over and my family appreciates it. The Winchesters will be seen in a good light in the future."

Dean nodded, face solemn. And then surprised everyone, even Derek a little, by swinging his fist into the man's head, who fell to the ground unconscious, temple bleeding heavily. Derek used everyone's shock to his advantage and rolled into a standing position. He shifted into his beta form and pounced on the nearest guy, who happened to be Asshole number one. Dean had told him not to kill anybody, so Derek held back his rage and just knocked him out by hitting him really hard in the face. Asshole number two, who was standing nearby, was still confused enough that the werewolf easily got to do the same to him. But the surprise effect was over and the other two remaining hunters sprang into action, the woman shooting a wolfsbane laced arrow at Derek which he effortlessly dodged. He easily dodged the bullet coming from the young Argent too and distracted him long enough for Dean to walk up to him from behind and punch him in the side of the head. Derek realized the hunter was wearing a knuckleduster. No wonder his hits were being so effective.

Derek dodged another bolt, growled, as this one had come clearly closer to actually hitting him, and after jumping out of the way of other two arrows, finally got close enough to the woman to kick the crossbow out of her hands. One swing and she was down too.

"Derek, watch out!"

A shot was fired and the werewolf instinctively rolled to the side, barely missing the bullet which grazed his ribs. He crouched, twisted around to see who the hell had shot (hadn't they knocked out everyone?!) and saw Asshole number one aiming at him from a lying position on the ground. Another shot was fired and Derek ducked, flattening himself against the ground.

"You son of a bitch!" Dean shouted as he lunged at the Argent, trying to rip the shotgun out of his hands without getting shot himself.

"I should've known you little fags were playing all along!" hissed the man, kicking Dean in the stomach. The latter grunted, but didn't let himself be budged.

As they struggled, another shot went off, luckily hitting nobody, but Derek still panicked, afraid Dean was going to get seriously hurt. He hurried over to the two fighting men just in time to observe Asshole number one giving up on the rifle and reaching for the knife bound to his thigh instead. When he stroke out, about to bury it in Dean's chest, the werewolf forgot about his promise and just pounced. He heard and felt the man's arm break in his hands, as he kept it from descending upon his temporary alpha and pinned it against the ground instead. The Argent uttered a scream of pain, which was abruptly cut off when Derek crushed his windpipe with his fangs. The body beneath his twitched a few times, before slowly relaxing. It was only then that he released the man and pulled back, realizing with rising horror what he had just done.

It was one thing imagining to kill someone and another to actually do it. He quickly shifted back to his human appearance and raised his eyes, desperately seeking Dean's. An expression of shock and unbelief was on the hunter's face.

And then, there was a low whistling sound and a bullet lodged itself into Derek's abdomen. Their gaze shifted from each other to the werewolf's midsection, where a small dark red patch was quickly growing in size on the grey Henley.

"No," whispered Dean, shaking his head. He looked terrified, even more so than just a few seconds ago when they realized Derek had just killed a person. Through the fog slowly building itself around the werewolf's mind, he watched how Dean hastily grabbed the abandoned shotgun, aimed somewhere in the upper floor of the warehouse and shot a couple of times in a row.

Of course. Snipers, right?

Derek slowly crumpled to the side, feeling little relief when his hot face touched the cold tiles of the floor.

"Derek," pleaded somebody and the werewolf was gently turned onto his back. He raised his gaze and met Dean's wide open eyes with his own half-lidded ones. Two hands started pushing against the wound, trying to slow down the blood flow. All they did for him was making him notice he was in an awful lot of pain. "Derek, damn it, what do I do…?"

The werewolf tried to reply, but something caught in his throat and he coughed lightly, tasting blood and feeling it drip down his chin.

"Wolfsbane... bullet... need one," he weakly instructed, spasmodically moving a hand to join Dean's which were still pressing against his abdomen. Despite the pain they caused him, he immediately started missing the comfort they seemed to have been giving him as well, once they were gone.

Dean fiddled around with the shotgun he had used to put out of action the sniper and Derek's eyes slipped closed. It was becoming harder to remain conscious, with all the blood he was losing and the wolfsbane in his system. The wound was throbbing in the faint rhythm of his heartbeat and each shallow breath he took was making him feel like a million little pins were piercing through every single inch of him.

"Shit, shit, shit, I used them all, wait," he heard the hunter babble. Then the rustling of clothes, fast-paced steps, the clicking sounds of a gun being unloaded and then more fast-paced steps.

"Okay, I got some, what now?! DEREK!" Dean lightly slapped his face and Derek's eyes popped open again. Once his vision wasn't blurry anymore, he could see that Dean was kneeling beside him, wolfsbane bullets in one hand and the other hovering over Derek's own which was still lying on his abdomen.

"Open it... inside. Burn it..." Derek managed to gasp out, but found himself choking on another mouthful of blood. He curled a little to his side to spit it on the floor. Then he went slack.

"No, c'mon, look at me," ordered Dean, voice small. The werewolf couldn't help it when his eyes slipped closed once more instead. He was afraid this time a slap wouldn't be enough to make him open them again. He felt Dean's cold and clammy hands push his own out of the way and graze his skin as he fumbled at his shirt, pushing it up. There were sounds of a bullet being screwed open and a zippo being lighted. Then the distinct smell of gasoline mixed up with the sweetish smell of burned wolfsbane.

"God, what now? Do I have to put this on the wound? DEREK!" Dean shook him harshly and Derek just grunted and nodded, his face scrunching up in pain from the rattling movements.

Something hot was placed on his abdomen and the pain seemed to intensify to the point he had to cry out, before slowly starting to fade. Afterwards, Derek lay quietly, trying to catch his breath and clear his mind. It took a while.

"Derek...?" Hands moved over his bare tummy, probably checking for further damage, before coming up to settle on his cheeks.

Derek's eyes snapped open and he bolted into a sitting position, pushing Dean away from himself. He bent over and proceeded to puke a hell ton of black, sticky fluid. He heaved and heaved until all of it was out of his body and then shakily settled back, glancing over at Dean. The hunter looked traumatized and about to puke himself. He was white like a sheet.

"You okay now?" he asked - more like squeaked. Derek nodded weakly, too tired to talk, before slowly leaning forward into Dean's personal space. Luckily for him, Dean seemed to catch on to what he was silently begging for and shifted closer. He gingerly enclosed an arm around the werewolf's shoulders and brought him closer to himself, not caring about the blood and vomit, as it seemed. His free hand gently brushed the hair sticking to his sweaty brow out of his face.

"Can you stand?" Dean quietly asked him. "We need to get the hell away from here, before they wake up or somebody comes,"

"Probably not…" admitted Derek. His voice was croaky and he could still taste his own blood.

"It's gonna be okay," promised the hunter.

They struggled into a standing position - Dean, because he had to lift most of Derek's weight and Derek, because he could indeed barely stand on his feet without his legs buckling under him. The older male pretty much carried him over to the Impala and gently guided him into the passenger seat, before running back into the warehouse. When he came back, he had a bag with him.

"We freaking killed two of them, Derek. Fuck..." he mumbled, clearly upset. He threw the bag into the backseat of the Impala. "I tied them up and took their weapons, car keys and mobile phones, which will probably give us some time, but we are so screwed nonetheless."

"I'm sorry, Dean... if it weren't for me, you would have never been dragged into this mess," apologized the werewolf. He was starting to feel a little better already, as his healing capabilities kicked in full-power.

"We need to get outta the state," was Dean's only answer.

They did so. The hunter drove for the whole night. Derek offered to take turns, as soon as he felt like he wouldn't pass out on the steering wheel, but Dean declined, saying nobody got to drive his baby but him. They didn't talk otherwise. Derek could feel the tension in the car, could smell Dean's distress and hear his slightly too quick breathing and heartbeat pattern. The fact that his wolf felt bound to him - because it still recognized Dean as its alpha, made Derek feel distressed and nervous as well. Strangely, apart from the emotions the hunter was evoking in him, he felt just numb and tired.

"I'd probably be dead now," remarked Derek at some point. Dean questioningly glanced over at him, but otherwise didn't react. "Without that trick we pulled off. You know, the alpha thing. I was really fast and able to dodge a lot of attacks I'm not so sure I would have managed to dodge otherwise. And… that bullet hit me in a quite bad place. The wolfsbane was travelling rather fast through my system, but I held on long enough."

"Is this stuff supposed to make me feel better?" asked Dean with a hint of cynicism. Derek cringed.

"I guess not... I'm just saying, I'm glad we... did that. You know. Became pack for a while. It helped."

Dean snorted but the tension seemed to bleed slightly out of him. AC/DC was playing quietly from the audio equipment and Derek listened to it for a while, trying to clear his head. Everything was so messed up. Meeting Dean, starting to travel with him. Submitting to him as if he were an alpha, even though he was just a human being. Fighting the Argents, almost getting killed in the process... He had probably never been injured so often and so badly in such a short period of time. And then there was Dean getting involved in the whole drama for him. Killing another human being for him - a werewolf. Saving his life.

He had no clue where this was going. He couldn't keep following Dean forever, it was obviously putting the hunter in too much danger. But just the thought of being alone again hurt. Especially now while he was still under the influence of their pack bond. In general, he didn't want to be an omega. He wished Dean could be his alpha for real...

Derek didn't know how long they had been on the road (the sun was already starting to rise though - so long enough), when Dean suddenly drove into the highway's shoulder, slowly coming to a halt.

"I need a break," the hunter declared. He turned off the engine of the Impala and then opened the door to get outside. Derek sat awkwardly in his seat for a few seconds, before deciding to follow. He could finally stand and walk normally again, so he carefully joined Dean, who was leaning against the hood of the Impala and sipping from a bottle of water he had grabbed from the trunk before. He smelled even more miserable than he had in the car (and considering they sat in it for several hours where the smell had gotten really thick, it truly meant something).

"Want some?" offered Dean and Derek nodded, longing for the cool fluid to soothe his raw throat. Almost dying could leave one hell of a bad taste in one's mouth.

"Sorry about hitting you," Dean casually apologized. He sighed softly and then continued in a softer voice: "Sorry for... sorry for not stopping them, when they were hurting you..."

"It was part of the plan," Derek just shrugged it off. He wiped the rim of the bottle with a part of his shirt which was more or less clean, before screwing it closed. "What you did was dangerous though. Attacking that scarred asshole out of nowhere. I was the one supposed to attack first, remember? You could've gotten killed."

"If I hadn't done that, you would've gotten killed. Well... not like that didn't almost happen anyway. God. I'm… I'm sorry I couldn't keep you safe." The hunter's eyes fell to the ground, his face wearing an expression of frustration and shame. Derek shifted a little closer, the way they were basically leaning against each other and enjoyed the way his wolf seemed to rejoice at the closeness to his temporary alpha. He wanted so much… if only this could last.

"You saved my life. Twice, already. I think I owe you more than I could ever give you," he earnestly said. Dean glanced at him and Derek made sure to catch his gaze. They studied each other quietly for a while. Maybe it was because of all the blood he had lost, maybe it was the aftermath of nearly dying, maybe it was because the whole day had been a fucking nightmare to begin with - but in that instant, the werewolf found it hard to remember why he wasn't supposed to dwell on how attractive Dean was. Because he was. He was so damn handsome, with the sun right behind him, making his contours shine as if he were some kind of divine creature. He was so damn handsome with his emerald green eyes staring straight into his own. And they actually weren't like Kate's at all. He didn't know why he had ever even compared them. Dean's were warm, kind. He was warm, kind... Dean was the best thing that happened to him since the fire...

The hunter's hand slowly came up and Derek snapped out of it, rather embarrassed and a little astonished by his own trains of thought. The hand hesitantly cupped the werewolf's cheek, who was so taken aback by the intimate touch that he flinched slightly, eyes wide. His heartbeat quickened, feelings of hope and fear battling each other. But all Dean did, was roughly rub his thumb over his chin, as if wiping away dirt.

"We should stop at the next gas station... you need to get cleaned up. We both do. But you look like you ripped somebody's throat... never mind."

"Yeah," Derek nodded, feeling like an idiot. Dean removed his hand, looked at it and grimaced at the crumbles of dry blood sticking to it. As if his hands hadn't already been bloodied, even if he had tried to wipe them clean on an old t-shirt at some point during the car ride...

"Gross," he muttered, but then offered the werewolf a little smirk. Derek tried to return the smirk. Then, they silently stood next to each other for a while, watching the sun rise.

"I just don't want them to go after my family because of something I did," Dean suddenly revealed out of the blue. "You know, that Mafia theory I had about you in the beginning isn't that wrong. Because I don't know much about the Argents, but they sure work like Mafia. Their family is their family and nothing gets outta it or comes into it without careful consideration. Which is why we other hunters know so little about them. It sucks, I mean, all that stuff about wolfsbane, mistletoe and mountain ash you told me about? They know - but they don't share. It's not okay, because we could really use information like that."

Derek slightly tensed up at the last part and glared at Dean.

"Dean, I told you about this stuff because you needed to know for what was expecting us. But I don't want you to tell other hunters. I don't want you to use it against me or other werewolves," he warned. Then, after a short moment of rethinking it: "Unless... there's no choice. If the werewolf we're talking about is completely feral or hurting innocent people."

"I'm not gonna hurt you," replied Dean, sounding offended.

"What about other werewolves?"

Dean just shrugged and his heart skipped a beat. Anger rose in Derek. He moved fast, grabbed Dean by his upper arms and pressed him firmer against the hood of the Impala. "Promise me you're not going to use it against other werewolves. I told you about it because I trust you!"

Dean frowned at Derek, but didn't push him away.

"Dude, I've never heard of a werewolf that wasn't a huge bloodthirsty son of a bitch apart from you. I'm having a few doubts this is gonna change in the future." He sighed. "But I guess. I guess, if there are others like you. Who don't hurt innocent people."

Derek relaxed a little, hands slowly slipping down Dean's arms. He nodded satisfied, because this time, Dean was being sincere.

"We should move on," muttered the hunter, gently freeing himself from Derek's hold. He maneuvered himself around him and got back into the car. The werewolf felt slightly mortified for having disrespected who his wolf considered to be his alpha at the moment, but then reminded himself that Dean probably didn't care as much as a real werewolf alpha would. He was still subdued when he climbed into the passenger seat though.

"Next motel we come across, we're catching a few hours of sleep," announced Dean, as the Impala emitted a roar.

This is the end of the first part of this story you could say. I hope you liked how stuff turned out?

And now I have bad news. Basically everything you have read so far was written like two years ago. It's over now. Which means, I have to start writing again. I don0t know how that's gonna turn out. O.o

If you feel like it, let me know what you thought of the first part of this fanfiction. Thanks so much for sticking around for so long! You may not have noticed but these have been almost 50 pages already. And they didn't even kiss yet - wtf... Talk about slow-paced story. xD Anyway, bye, sweeties. :)