—SNS-SNS—Chapter Four-SNS-SNS-

Sam was pretty certain Dean was in the middle of the commotion he was hearing. He tried to stay out of sight as he rounded the corner into what turned out to be a multi-purpose kitchen/dining/living area. He need not have bothered, as all the attention of the three large men in the room was focused on raining blows on someone on the floor.

"Hey!" Sam called, stepping out into the open with his gun steadily pointed at the center guy who appeared to be the ring-leader. All three stopped and swung to face him - a mistake, the guy to his right quickly learned as his seemingly out-of-commission brother shot up and knocked him out with a beautiful right cross. This brought the attention of the other two back to him, but Sam shouted "hey" again and they tried to divide their attention between both attackers. Looking past them at Dean, Sam was concerned by the subtle way he was holding himself…not noticeable to the average joe, but for someone who knew his mannerisms as well as his own he could tell Dean was clearly hurting. Great, now we're both compromised. We need to end this quickly. At that moment a howl sounded from somewhere outside, and the men in front of them quickly began to shift forms in response. Sam and Dean shared a quick mutual glance of "oh shit" and then Sam took aim and fired at the werewolf closest to him, even as he reached to swipe at him. There was no missing at such close quarters, but it also meant there was not enough time to adjust his aim before the second werewolf was on him.

"Sam!" Dean cried even as he scrambled for his weapon, which had fallen to the wayside when he'd been discovered and subsequently pummeled. Finally his fingers grasped the gun grip and he swung it around to find Sam down on the floor and a fully changed werewolf about to sink his teeth in. "Hell, no!" he cried, even as he fired. The angle was wrong, so the bullet merely distracted and annoyed the creature, but it was enough to take his attention away from his brother, so Dean would take the win. He aimed again, even as the werewolf started to charge him, and added several silver bullets to its center mass. It dropped dead, even as something hit him solidly from behind and sent him flying into the incredibly solid kitchen island, and everything ceased to matter for a while.

Sam meanwhile, had struggled to a sitting position and had just retrieved his own weapon when he saw Stacey barrel into Dean. There was no time to warn him, and he winced as he heard Dean collide with the center island. Wanting to check on his brother, he knew he needed to eliminate the threat first and started to raise his gun even as another gun went off in close quarters and he flinched, looking down at himself but seeing no holes, then back up at Stacey. She snarled, then slowly dropped face-first to the floor, a stain of blood spreading out from her back. Sam looked beyond her to see Victor, breathing heavily and bleeding but upright.

Sam nodded his thanks to Victor, then gingerly scooted over to check on Dean. His pulse was steady, but he had a head wound that was bleeding. Knowing how even the most simple of head wounds could bleed profusely, however, Sam did not immediately panic. He gently shook him, murmuring his name, and sighed gratefully when Dean stirred under his hands. Feeling the damage knowingly, he batted Dean's hand away and continued to check the rest of his brother for injury. A grunt told him the ribs were bruised, but thankfully not broken, and it didn't appear that there was any other damage besides bruising from the beating. Sam's own vision wavered and he blinked, finding a towel thrust in his face when he reopened his eyes.

"Here." Victor said gruffly. "You guys are wound magnets, you know that?"

"Are not." came the weak retort from Dean, eyes still closed. Sam just smirked slightly and pressed the towel down on Dean's head. "Ow!"

"Don't be a baby."

"You're the baby, Sammy boy."

"Whatever jerk."

"Bitch."

"When you children are finished…" Sam looked up to see Victor smiling, in spite of the annoyed voice. "I think we probably got them all, so we just need to deal with the remains."

"I hate that Stacey…" Sam said, trailing off sadly.

"I know." Dean commiserated. He found it fairly easy to shrug these things off, but Sam felt their losses a bit more.

"Stay put, hold that." Sam ordered, placing Dean's hand on the towel. He struggled to his feet, grabbing the counter as his equilibrium righted itself, and then walked over to check on Victor, who in spite of the firmness in his voice was leaning rather heavily on the other counter. "Let me see." Initially Henriksen refused, but was fairly quickly reminded of the stubborn streak that ran through this family, so relented. Sam carefully checked him, sighing silently in relief when he found all the damage to be on his arms and no sign of any bite marks. Stacey had merely fought him as she changed and scratched him up really good with her claws. "You'll live." Sam pronounced, smiling. "I think if we can, we should all try to get back to your cabin and first aid supplies, and we can return tomorrow to deal with the mess."

"I'm good with that. Do you think Dean can walk?"

"Right here. Of course I can." was his response, reaching a hand out to each man for help. They grasped his hands and pulled, gripping his arms tightly as the world tilted and swam. Finally seeming stable, he waved his arm generically towards the front of the cabin and mumbled, "Lead the way." Victor and Sam exchanged glances, but Victor started forward, Sam glued to Dean's side as they followed him out the door and back down the path.