Dean was glad when Sam finally drifted off to sleep in the passenger seat. He was sure Sam needed the rest, and selfishly, he needed the time to gather his own thoughts about this whole mess. Letting himself "freak out" in private and get over it before they met their Dad. He certainly had a lot to freak out over. The fact that he'd wolfed out last night and Sam had been in the cage with him during most of that time, that was bad enough. But add the hunters that had caught up to them on top of that, Bobby's accusations, and now barely a day and a half till the full moon and they were driving away from the safest most secure place to keep him from hurting anyone during that time… yeah, he had a lot to freak out over.;

He wanted to trust his dad, hell, he did trust his dad. Completely. Dean knew John Winchester had to have a damned good reason for this… he just wished this once the older man had shared his reasons beforehand so he wouldn't be freaking out so much. Maybe. If not, couldn't he have waited a few more days? What was another week? Just to make sure the full moon was done, the change was over, and they had another full month to wait before he wolfed out again…

Not counting the times he seemed to randomly go wolf for no particular reason… fuck…

Sam's hand on his thigh was a comforting weight and after a while he put his own hand over the younger man's just to make sure it stayed there. Kept him grounded. Though he couldn't help but wonder if he would be panicking more or less if Sam wasn't here with him now. If Sam had stayed back at the cabin, Dean wouldn't have to worry about his brother getting caught in the crossfire if chains alone proved not enough to hold him once he wolfed out completely.

The idea that he would wake up after a full moon covered in Sam's blood still gave him nightmares, and probably always would. It was hard to hold onto even the barest shred of hope that their father might have actually learned something about a cure while he was gone, because wouldn't the man have at least told them that much?

These thoughts swirled over and over around in his head and kept him pretty wound up through most of the drive. He knew he wouldn't be able to get any sleep even if he woke Sam up to take over, so Dean just pushed through and let Sam rest. At least one of them should. Sam must have been more tired than Dean thought because the younger man didn't even stir when they stopped for gas.

At least when they finally reached Killington Dean felt mostly centered and ready for whatever Dad needed them here for. They pulled into the parking lot of the motel and easily found the room with his dad's truck parked out front. He reluctantly pushed Sam's hand off his thigh before Bobby could see it and Dean shook his brother awake.

"We're here, Sammy." Dean said as he unbuckled his seat belt and got out of the car. Bobby was already at the motel room door, knocking. By the time Dean joined him the door was opening and in spite of everything Dean found himself breathing a little sigh of relief to see his father ok.

"Come on in." John said, and Dean almost snorted. Their Dad certainly wasn't much for big greetings. Dean started inside but stopped in the doorway when he saw an unfamiliar man already in the room with his father. Who the hell…? That was when the man's scent finally hit Dean and he couldn't contain a little gasp of surprise. He wasn't a man… not completely anyway. The man's eyes fell on him and he saw understanding and maybe even a bit of amusement in the man's eyes to Dean's reaction.

John Winchester obviously noticed Dean's reaction too.

"Sam, Dean, this is David Conall."

“Huh, Dean?” Sam instantly searched for his brother with his hands as he opened his eyes, a frown marring his forehead when Dean pulled away. But as he sat up, he noticed they were in a parking lot and Bobby was outside his truck, and he knew. Resting his head back for one moment, he let out a breath. This could be the last moment of peace for himself and Dean, but his brother was already out of the car.

Wiping his hand over his face, Sam got out and closed the door. He heard his father’s demand they enter, and caught up with the others, maybe crowding Dean a little too much, and then stepping back.

The instant Sam saw the stranger, his gaze whipped to his father’s in question. Then he sensed Dean’s reaction and looked between the man and Dean. Something beyond the visible was going on there. “Dean?”

Then his dad was introducing them, and Sam’s heart soared. A million thoughts raced in his mind. His dad had found the man. If the man had nothing useful, he wouldn’t have dragged him back, right? So maybe there was a cure... it had to be that.

“David,” Sam put his hand out to shake hands with the man who was going to give his brother back to him. The thought that a fully human Dean might reject him had his smile slipping only slightly. “Its really good to meet you. We’ve heard a lot about you. All true?” His gaze went to his dad again, as he released David’s hand.

Dean felt almost frozen in place staring at the man... not man... who his father was introducing.

David Conall. Of course he recognized the guy now from his picture they’d managed to dig up. Though he was a little bit older now. His light blonde hair was more silver now and he had many more age lines on his face. But his blue eyes were definitely the same, as clear as ever, and they looked at Dean way too knowingly for the young man’s liking.

This man was studying him as intently as Dean studied him. This man who was supposed to have the cure. Who had supposedly been bitten by a werewolf and somehow cured himself, but was obviously not human. This was why their dad had brought them here? To meet the man who obviously didn’t have a cure?

What the fuck?!

Dean’s paralysis was finally broken when his brother pushed past him and actually shook the man’s hand. Even though Dean didn’t really sense any aggression or danger from the man, he was by his brother’s side in an instant. Before the other man could respond Dean had taken Sam’s arm and dragged the younger man away from Conall with a low growl.

“Dean!” John admonished sharply but instead of falling in line the way he normally would have, Dean only continued to glare at the other man.

“He’s not human.” The younger man accused, almost daring Conall to deny it.

“Dean...” The elder Winchester said again, warning, but David intervened before the shouting match could begin.

“Its all right, John. I understand. Believe me, I understand.” The man said giving Dean a smile that wasn’t unkind. Dean wasn’t sure if he was more surprised by that or the fact that the man was apparently on a first name basis with his father.

“Please, Dean, sit down. We have a lot to discuss, and unfortunately, not much time.”

Sam wasn’t prepared to be tugged half way across the room and tucked practically behind his brother’s body as his brother growled and accused the other man of being a werewolf. His heart rammed against his heart, afraid Dean was gonna start something. “Dean,” he said softly, but the others spoke over him.

The man, David, seemed to be friendly and non-threatening, even if he wasn’t human. And his dad sure seemed at ease, though he’d been about to lay into Dean before David intervened.

“Dean...” This time he was the one tugging his brother to a chair, and putting his hand on his shoulder, pushing him down. “Let’s listen to what he has to say, alright?” His side pressed into Dean, so his brother could feel the gun he had in his belt. Dean had watched him load it with silver bullets. He left his hand on his brother’s shoulder, knowing his touch would be comforting, squeezing it to make sure he knew he was right there with him on this.

A part of him felt Bobby’s watchful eyes. A muscle twitched in his jaw, but he gave no other sign that anything might be wrong. “Not much time for what?” he asked. Yeah, the full moon was almost on them, but it seemed like they might be talking about something else. He wasn’t sure.

Listen? What the hell was there to listen to?! The whole point of finding this Conall guy was to find a cure for Lycanthropy wasn’t it? If the guy was still a werewolf himself then what was the fucking point?!

But between his father and Sam Dean didn’t really have a choice but to sit down and listen like the guy asked. So he reluctantly sat down in the chair his brother guided him into. Relaxing a little, but not very much, with the younger man beside him and his brother’s hand on his shoulder.

Once again Dean thought Conall’s gaze on him and Sam was a little too knowing. Kind of like Bobby’s watchful eyes, but the guy didn’t give anything away. David nodded a little, acknowledging Sam’s question.

“It will probably be easier if I start from the beginning.” Conall’s eyes turned back to Dean. “You’re right. I am not human, not completely. But I still might have something to offer you if you are willing to listen. I have spoken at great length with your father, but of course the choice is up to you to take what I have to offer you or not.”

Dean’s eyebrows furrowed a little as he glanced at his Dad who gave him a slight nod and Dean sighed softly and forced himself to relax more. He finally looked back at David and nodded and the man smiled slightly.

“I know what you were hoping I could offer you. Believe me, I know exactly how you feel, and I wish I could give you that. A complete cure, but I do not know if one even exists. The curse of the wolf spirit is… complicated. As you may already know about curses, they are difficult, if not impossible, to break.”

David paused for a second but it was obvious he wasn’t really waiting for a response from any of the men, as he continued shortly.

“When I was bitten by a werewolf, I thought my only fate was death or worse. But a very old friend of mine, a Native American Shaman, was able to help me. He told me that the wolf spirit is not necessarily evil. In fact, to become a vessel for the wolf spirit was once considered a great honor. A blessing even. But of course like anything greedy evil men can taint what is holy and the blessing became a curse.”

“I know of no way to remove the wolf spirit. It is a part of your soul now. But I do know of a ritual to purify you and the spirit of the darkness of the curse. To help it return to its true form. From what your father has told me, the spirit within you is very strong. The ritual will help you meld completely with the spirit and you will have a greater chance in fighting off the darkness, helping the spirit to purify itself. But this must happen before the first full moon, before the curse has a chance to corrupt you both. That is what I can offer you. It is up to you to decide.”

Without even knowing it, Sam was kneading Dean’s shoulder as he listened and assimilated the information from this Conall guy. He felt Dean’s suspicion of him, or his unease, and made sure not to keep his gaze too long on the man. He was acting on instinct, maybe clued in by the way Dean had pushed him away from Conall before.

Curses were difficult, he said Dean couldn’t be cured. Not completely. Sam felt the cold in the pit of his stomach spread. He took a couple of breaths, reminding himself that he’d wanted to pursue the pack, to find out how much control they had over the change, to see if that could help Dean. Something less than a full cure... it was... should be acceptable.

But maybe not to Dean. He practically held his breath, waiting for an outburst.

When none came, Sam licked his lips and looked first at his dad, then Conall. “What does that mean, melding with the wolf spirit. I mean... would he be... you’re still a werewolf.” He found it easier to put it in terms of Conall than his brother. “How does it help to meld? Does it mean you have control over the change and ... and your emotions? That you can be allowed free during the full moon?”

Hope flooded through Sam as his grip on Dean tightened. “Does it help you fight the change?”

Dean’s expression hadn’t changed as he listened to Conall speak but his heart fell somewhere down below his stomach. Of course he’d known… all along… that a cure wasn’t possible. He’d known from the very beginning. He’d told Sam and his dad all along… but a part of him had still begun to hope and he was right. That slight hope, now crushed, was worse than no hope at all.

When the other man finally finished speaking he could only stare at him, not really knowing how to respond. How was he supposed to respond? He had no idea what Conall was “offering” him. Not a cure… that much seemed certain enough.

Dean looked towards his father again. Wanting to trust… needing to trust… that his Dad wouldn’t have done all this, brought him here to meet this man, just to be told he would always be a monster…

Finally Sam asked what Dean couldn’t and he looked back at Conall, almost pleading. Needing an explanation he could understand, damn it.

“As I said before, the wolf spirit is not evil by itself. If the ritual works it can be freed from the darkness of the curse, and if the man inside is not evil, then you should be no danger to those around you.” Conall replied.

It wasn’t what Dean had hoped for. It wasn’t a cure. But if it was all he could get…

“Alright…” Dean finally managed to reply, glancing briefly to Sam and then back to David. “Why are we here? Why couldn’t you come to us at the cabin?”

Instead of Conall responding his father did.

“One of the ingredients to perform the ritual is… the blood of the werewolf that bit you.” John Winchester stated. Dean couldn’t help gaping a little at him a little, praying that he’d heard wrong, but he knew he hadn’t. Dean tensed even more beneath Sam’s hand without meaning to, but despite his obvious discomfort his father continued, confirming Dean’s unasked question. “The werewolves are here.”

Sam was a bit frustrated by the indirect answer. He rubbed his eyes with two fingers, then pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to keep calm… for both of them. This was important… this was the rest of their lives they were talking about here. “I don’t… I think that’s great, that you can control yourself from being a danger. But ah… what about the change, does it come anyway, or can you prevent it?” That made a whole helluvalot of a difference in whether Dean could go out or would be stuck indoors, if they’d still need to be certain they had shelter. It was doable, definitely doable… but he just needed the information.

Before he hit Conall with yet another question, Dean looked up at him, and broke in with his own very good one. “Yeah,” Sam added, “cause the cabin was nice and secure and this place, it’s too close to…”

That’s when his dad dropped the bombshell. Sam sucked his breath in, tried to remain calm even as Dean’s muscles tensed under his hand, and one look at his expression confirmed Dean was on strained and on edge.

He licked his lips. “Okay, this is… it’s good news.” The unenthusiastic response from the others had him talking faster. “Dad, you and I went in after Dean, we were alone. Now we’ve got Dean and Bobby,” his gaze went to Conall, but he wasn’t going to commit the guy to going on a hunt, not unless the guy volunteered. “And two of us know what Cassandra looks like,” he glanced down at Dean. “You saw her in one of the photos,” he looked back at his dad. “So if you know where they are, we can put the bitch down, no problem.” The last was spoken through gritted teeth. He owed her… for what she put his brother through, Sam owed her.

It was really obvious that Sam wasn’t satisfied with Conall’s answers, and Dean half expected the man to get annoyed with Sam the same way their father usually did when the younger man started digging at him the way his brother was now. But the other man’s expression remained calm and almost way too understanding for Dean’s liking. The man looked genuinely sympathetic with their plight and for some reason it seemed really out of place. The guy didn’t really know them at all, and yet he’d let his father drag him all the way back here where a whole fucking pack of werewolves were apparently camped close by just to help him.

Dean turned to look at Sam as though he’d grown a second head, however, when the younger man went on to say that this was a good thing. Ok, so maybe it was slightly better odds going in with four hunters rather than two but still four hunters against a whole fucking pack of werewolves?!

Cassandra... he would have loved to never see the bitch again for the rest of his life. Though it would be really satisfying pumping about a dozen silver bullets into her carcass, this definitely wasn’t the way he would have wanted to go about it. Going up against ONE werewolf was hard enough, but a whole damned pack? And they couldn’t call in other hunters to help because they wanted HIM dead too!

And they had to do this all before the full moon? Could it get any fucking more complicated? Almost as soon as the thought formed in his father continued speaking and Dean kicked himself. He should have known better to even think that...

“We need her alive. At least until we finish the ritual.” John Winchester explained and Dean mentally groaned. Out of the corner of his eye Dean saw Bobby, who’d been pretty much listening and taking it all in silently, sigh heavily and pull off his ball cap. Running his fingers through his thinning hair, a sign Dean had come to recognize as frustration from the older hunter. They all knew this wasn’t just going to be “not easy” it was going to be nearly fucking impossible.

Finally Conall picked up answering Sam’s original questions.

“I wish I could give you more answers and reassurances, but I can’t. This ritual is known to only a very few and has only been performed a handful of times successfully. Each time the results have varied, all I can tell you is it depends greatly on the strength of the wolf spirit and the strength of the man. But you already know what will happen if the curse is allowed to reach fulfillment...”

Sam felt his brother's reproachful look at his excitement, but it didn't dampen his spirit even a little. So many research projects had slammed up against dead ends. So many hopes had been dashed, each time he thought there might be something that lead to a solution, a cure. And the search for Conall had frankly been like looking for a needle in a haystack. He had to credit his dad, for his skill and perseverance. They might butt heads on a lot of things, but they were both stubborn, and sometimes it paid off. He was so glad he was doing something quite unusual, grinning at his dad, not that the eldest Winchester even noticed.

Then his dad announced Cassandra had to be taken alive. Sam glanced at Dean. He knew it was ridiculous to be jealous, Dean hadn't looked at her twice when she'd said he'd be in heat for her soon. She had to be wrong. She was wrong. Had to be. Still, the blood was pounding at his temples as he desperately tried to think of a way to keep Cassandra away from Dean.

Just as he was about to ask Conall again about what they could expect, the man answered. It certainly wasn't a satisfying answer, not like what Sam had wanted. "So kinda like a drug affects each person differently you don't know in what way the ritual will help Dean." He looked down, then back up, speaking with conviction. "Dean is strong, he'll make it. He's controlledit before," he nodded, having seen Dean's struggle first hand, and its results.

Leaving Dean's side, he moved closer to Conall, inspecting him. "Okay, so... what about you? What did the ritual do for you?" He wanted, no he needed specifics. Yeah he got that everyone reacted differently, but how had Conall benefited, specifically. "What are the pros and cons of your sitch?" Maybe he felt his dad's temperature rising, he wasn't sure, but he didn't care. This was important.

Dean could tell even though Conall’s tolerance of Sam’s questions seemed near infinite, his father was pretty much reaching the end of his patience. Their dad had obviously heard all of this before, decided the risks and benefits were acceptable, and thought they should all just shut up now and go along with the plan because they were wasting time. But Dean… he wasn’t sure… and not because of the reasons why Sam obviously kept needling the man. Wanting to know exactly what the ritual would do for him even though the man said that the results were unpredictable, only favorable. At least, favorable compared to the curse the way it was.

Dean was hesitant to agree to this for a completely different reason. Cassandra… Taking on a whole pack of werewolves days before the full moon where they would be about as strong as they were going to get. Even trying to kill the bitch under those circumstances was approaching on insane. But trying to take her alive?! That was just plain suicidal. Death wasn’t even the worst outcomes. What if they were captured? What if they were bitten? What if they turned…

He wouldn’t… he couldn’t let his father, Sam, and Bobby take that kind of risk for him. He just couldn’t…

“Your father said you were a law student. It shows.” Conall suddenly said and Dean couldn’t contain the snort of amusement that escaped him. Hearing answering bursts of laughter from Bobby and his father. That was probably Conall’s intent, to try to lessen the growing tension in the room. In spite of Dean’s initial reaction to David he decided he liked the guy.

“But I’m sorry, asking the same questions again and again only in a different way will not receive the answers you’re looking for, it will only waste time. I have told you what the ritual has done for me. The wolf spirit and my spirit are now one. I am not evil. The wolf is not evil. I am no danger to those around me.” Conall said to Sam before turning his attention fully onto Dean again. “Do you wish to perform the ritual?”

Dean found himself having to look away from those too knowing eyes, staring down at his hands resting on his knees. Remembering the claws that had sprouted from them, how they had torn into Sam’s flesh. Yeah… he’d done a bang up job controlling it. Despite Sam’s confidence that he was strong enough…

“No.” Dean replied, barely above a whisper. The risks were just too damned great. It would be safer if they just locked him up, put him in a cage, and kept a gun loaded with silver bullets ready to blow his brains out if he got free.

Sam’s jaw tightened. He’d asked the same question because the guy hadn’t answered directly the first time either. He got that the guy wasn’t a danger, but what about the frigging details? Could he resist the change, or did he change but was harmless? How did it feel, was there any pain? He had a lot more questions, but the looks on everyone else's faces said question time was over. Sometimes you had to take things on faith, and he had to believe his dad had gotten the details that they were now no willing to take a few freakin' minutes to share. Yeah... dad had never been over-sharey, especially with him. He was better with Dean.

When Conall finally asked Dean about doing the ritual, Sam turned to look at Dean and then aswered at the same time, "yes."

His eyes widened when his brother's answer contradicted his. "Dean, what do you mean 'no?'" He took a deep breath, reached his brother and put a hand on his shoulder, "You mean 'yes' Dean." His gaze pierced into the very depths of his brothers eyes as he silently questioned, didn't he want any of their dreams to come true? Was he giving up on them, just like that?

Hurt ripped through him. How could Dean even contemplate not doing this? Before Dean could speak, he raised his index finger up, making him pause. "The answer is 'yes' Dean." It was both a plea and an implacable demand. Dean would know that from the set of his face.

Patience wasn’t one of John Winchester’s virtues. He was man enough to admit that, and the fact that they were still here discussing this instead of already out there looking for the werewolf bitch so they could cure his son was quickly wearing down his already thin patience. John tried to tell himself that Sam’s questions were all reasonable, and the very same ones he had asked Conall himself when he’d first found the man. That and then some, in fact. Trying to determine if this really was the best course for his son.

It was. John was absolutely certain of that. If he’d had any doubts, they definitely wouldn’t be here now. The fact that it was their only real option at this point had factored greatly into his decision to drag Conall here even though time was short, their chances were slim, and the man had been rather unwilling at first. But John Winchester was nothing if not persuasive when he wanted to be. He was going to make this work, damn it. He was going to cure his son!

It wasn’t a perfect cure like they might have wanted, but it was still the best option they had. It was for that reason that John had persuaded Conall not to reveal certain... aspects... of the cure to his sons. John honestly wasn’t sure if Dean would go along with it if he knew, and though Conall was very reluctant to go along with such deception even if it was for his son’s own good... again... John could be very persuasive.

Dean refusing to have the ritual performed... that certainly hadn’t been in John’s plan. At first he could only stare agape at the younger man for a moment before he felt the last of his patience snap.

“Dean...” The older man started, but Sam beat him to it.

Dean wasn’t at all taken aback by Sam’s response to his reply. He’d been expecting it, after all. Of course Sam wouldn’t understand his reasons or respect them, but that didn’t stop it from hurting all the same. He didn’t want to argue with Sam over this, damn it. It was hard enough. This was what they’d been looking for, hoping for, but... god damn it, why couldn’t Sam understand...

He definitely didn’t want to do this now, not in front of Dad and Bobby and a complete stranger. His eyes begged Sam to understand, but his brother’s eyes were hard and unyielding. Something in his brother’s eyes telling him that if Dean didn’t do this then Sam wasn’t going to be so forgiving. Would Sam leave him if he didn’t do this? Or would he do something even worse? Like try to go after Cassandra himself?

One look at his father’s face told him that they were going to do this with or without his consent, and he could either help them or let them risk their lives without him. Dean’s shoulders finally sagged in defeat. “Fine.”

Their eyes had locked for a long time, Sam holding his breath, willing Dean to do the right thing. When Dean looked away, Sam thought he was going to refuse again, but then he looked at dad. Of course dad held more power over Dean than Sam ever had, and he apparently agreed for the older man's sake. Yeah, he shouldn't care 'why' Dean agreed, it should be enough that he did.

Still, he couldn't help it if his gaze was a little cool as it slid past Dean, and just nodded at the other men. It was on.

Bobby asked a couple of questions about where John had tracked the pack to and how likely was it they'd find them quickly enough. Sam paid attention to the details, even though his dad probably thought of everything. It was funny how his dad was more patient with Bobby's questions.

Eventually John told everyone to meet back in the parking lot in an hour. He had to take care of something, and then they'd be on their way. Course that meant if they wanted to eat or drink they had to do it before they left. Since they'd gone through a drive through earlier, Sam wasn't really hungry.

Grabbing the room key his dad gave him, he nodded at hearing they had the room across the hall. Looking at Dean, he walked toward the door. Yeah, he felt Bobby's eyes on him. He did turn his head and met the hunter's eyes, then pulled the door open and walked out.

Opening the door to their room, he walked into the small bedroom, then dropped his duffel bag at the foot of one of the beds. He didn't say much as Dean walked in behind him, he was trying to control his own emotions.

Dean didn’t utter another word as the two older hunters talked but he listened. The pack had been searching for him, apparently. Followed them this far but then lost their trail. It was dangerous for them. Staying in the area like this while they tried to pick his trail back up again. It just went to show how desperate Cassandra was to get him back. What lengths she would go to, risking the life of every one of her pack members, knowing hunters were in the are looking for them, and not caring.

In a really sick twisted way it was kind of flattering.

His dad had somehow figured round about where the pack had holed up. Down route 12 about twenty miles, in the woods somewhere around there. How the hell his father had managed it to track them even that far, was anyone’s guess. His father was definitely one of the best hunter’s out there, hands down. This was just another proof of it, not that Dean had ever had any doubts. No wonder the older man hadn’t picked up his phone for a few days.

Finally his Dad announced they should stow their stuff in their room and get ready to leave. Dean stood up without really looking at his father, following his brother without really looking at Sam either. He could practically feel the frigid air coming off the younger man as Sam gave him the cold shoulder. Not that he could really blame the younger man. He knew he’d pissed Sam off with his initial refusal. Dean wished he could feel hopeful, or something, about this whole possible “cure” but all he felt was anxious.

As they left his father’s room he could feel Bobby’s eyes on him but he didn’t look at the other hunter either. That, Bobby’s suspicions of him and Sam, his accusations of him hurting Sam, was just one more thing in a long list he couldn’t deal with right now. As the door to his father’s room shut he heard John talking to Bobby in more hushed tones about taking Conall to find a place where the ritual could be performed… and for Bobby to keep an eye on him. Dean wasn’t sure what that meant exactly but he didn’t really have much time to contemplate it.

He was alone with his brother and “tense” was an understatement. As Dean finally looked at Sam, who still would not look at him, Dean couldn’t help but feel a cold fear coiling in his gut like writhing snakes. Damn it. This wasn’t the way to do this. It was fucking suicide to just go charging into a werewolf pack, days before the full moon when they were at their strongest. Trying to kidnap their alpha bitch, the bastards would tear them apart piece by piece before they allowed any one of them to put a hand on her. Not to mention they were already on the lookout for hunters, so they wouldn’t be taken by surprise in the first place, like they had been when Sam and Dad had rescued him. Not to mention if from what he heard, it would only be him, Sam, and Dad doing the kidnapping too. Three hunters against a whole werewolf pack?

Dean remembered how afraid he’d been when the werewolves had caught up to them outside of that bar. Seeing Sam in their hands, offering to trade himself, go willingly, if they would let Sam go. So easily… they could have killed Sam so easily then. Snapped his neck before Dean had even gotten outside, or worse, they could have bitten him. He couldn’t go through that again… why couldn’t Sam understand that? Dean knew he wouldn’t be able to convince his dad and brother not to do this. They’d ignore his protests, his pleas, not to put themselves on the line for him. But… maybe he could do something to give them a better edge? A distraction. If he went in alone first… they wouldn’t kill him, in fact, Cassandra would probably be ecstatic to see him crawling back to her as she’d predicted he’d do. Sam and Dad would never go for it. It took Dean less than a minute to make his decision.

He closed the distance between himself and his brother, grabbing Sam by the arm and spinning the younger man around to face him. Not giving his brother a moment to react before he was covering Sam’s mouth with his own and kissing the younger man hard and deep. Pouring all of his love and devotion into the nearly bruising kiss. Needing Sam to know… to always know… how much his brother meant to him no matter what.

“I’m sorry…” Dean whispered softly when he finally let the younger man up for air, panting more than a little himself. He hesitated only a moment then before hitting his brother hard enough the younger man dropped like a stone, knocked out cold. Immediately Dean knelt by the other man’s side, checking Sam over to make sure he hadn’t done any other damage, tears in his eyes as his fingers ghosted over the already forming bruise.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered again, forcing himself to pull away and stand. He only had an hour to do this. Dean left their room and the motel. He didn’t take the Impala. Didn’t want to deprive his father or Sam any weapons at their disposal, and certainly didn’t want to arm the fucking werewolves against his family. He quickly found a car, busted the window, and hotwired it. More concerned about time than finesse. Within minutes he was driving down route 12 in the direction his father said the werewolves were. Dean had no doubt he would find them quickly. If they didn’t find him first.

Sam had a few choice words he wanted to get off his chest, or he knew it would drive him crazy. But before he could even open his mouth, he was pulled around and in Dean's arms as his brother's mouth descended over his. "Dmmm." He wasn't allowed to say a word, and he might have struggled if Dean's kiss hadn't been so desperate, so filled with emotion... with love. Sam's anger lost its grip on him, and suddenly Dean was all there was... all he could think about.

He wrapped his own arms around his brother, kissing him back, tangling his tongue with Dean's, battling... loving... reaffirming this wouldn't change, no matter what. A part of Sam's mind registered that his body was reacting, that he was getting hard, that any moment now, he'd be tugging at Dean's shirt and that this wasn't the time or place. And yet he couldn't bring himself to care enough. With his heightened emotions, this was exactly what he needed, and his brother seemed to know it. Dean... always taking care of his needs, even if he'd been an ass just a few moments ago.

When their mouths parted, Sam was struggling to get some air. His eyes were unfocused, his brother's apology perplexing. "What--"

*

"Dean?" Sam struggled against the blackness that had engulfed him. "What happened." Eyes open but a bit bleary, Sam looked around. His mental haze cleared, and he shot upright, hand going to the side of his head that throbbed like hell. "Dammit... Dean!"

He was out the door and pounding on his dad's a moment later. When the door opened, he didn't give his dad's scowl a second thought. "He's gone. Dean."

He didn't have to say another word, his dad understood from the way he was holding his head and what he'd said.

John told the others to get their stuff and tossed a bag at Sam to take to the car.

As they walked out, Sam's mind was a tangle of thoughts centered on Dean so that he couldn't even wonder how incompetent his dad must be thinking he was at this moment. He barely realized he'd gotten into the truck, Bobby's. Great... just fuckin' great. He glanced at the older hunter, and was surprised by his reassuring look. They'd find Dean, he telegraphed without saying a word. Sam nodded his head in agreement and clicked the seatbelt into place.

They left the dirt lot in a cloud of dust and hit the road, practically tailgating his dad's car. He gripped the 'oh shit' handle and tried to keep his emotions under control. They'd seen the glass in the parking lot and knew Dean had taken a car, so he had a good headstart on them. The question was, what was he doing? Was he going to try to do this alone? He was going to get his ass caught, and then what? All of this for nothing. Sam kicked the floorboard, then appologized to Bobby.

A thousand things could go wrong. Then there was Cassandra. The thought of her getting her claws into Dean. Sam turned his head, looked steadfastly outside. Dean didn't want her, not that way. He'd made it pretty clear. And yet, he was part wolf... what if the wolf recognized a she-wolf... wanted what Sam couldn't give him, couldn't give his wolf side. This time he pressed his forehead against the cool glass. "Remind me to kick his ass, after we get him back."

Dean forced himself to keep his borrowed car within the speed limit even though his instinct was to floor the accelerator. He knew he had to get where he was going as soon as possible. No telling when Sam might wake up and his family would be right on his ass. They knew where he was going after all. But the last thing he needed was to get pulled over by some backwoods cop in a stolen car without even a fake ID on him. He was not about to spend several nights in a jail cell with the full moon so fucking close.

But even though he managed to keep himself from burning rubber all the way down Route 12, he couldn’t stop himself from practically strangling the steering wheel as he drove. His knuckles white and his muscles so tense his shoulders ached. He even felt a drop of sweat down the back of his neck and he knew he had to calm the fuck down really quick before he got where he was going. If he didn’t they were going to smell his tension a mile away and know right away that he wasn’t there of his own free will.

As he drove Dean couldn’t help but take in the surroundings. The little town quickly gave way to mostly wooded area, though a few houses popped up here and there along the way. Too far away to hear your neighbors scream, but close enough to provide adequate… hunting grounds… Dean felt sick to his stomach.

After driving for about twenty minutes, just like his Dad had said, Dean pulled the car over to the side of the road. He took a moment to wipe down his prints and then got out of the car. Swallowing down his fear as he walked straight into the woods, knowing if they were around here like his father suspected he’d find them pretty fast. Either he’d pick up their scent or they’d pick up his.

As he walked, Dean turned his thoughts towards his brother. Not to the memory of Sam lying unconscious on the floor after Dean hit him, but memories of kissing Sam, touching his brother, making love to him. The night Sam had promised to stay with him. The joy he’d felt. The pleasure and love he felt whenever they were together, joined in the most intimate way.

It helped calm him but more than that, it stirred arousal in his body the way thinking of Sam always did. Cassandra was expecting him to be in heat after all. She was expecting a mate… and Dean had to play the part.

Jordan and two others were just finishing covering the mass grave when he lifted his head and sniffed. "That one is here." Pure fury marred his face as he turned and started heading against the direction of the breeze.

The other two men caught up, one of them grabbing his arm and reminding him that Cassandra had made it clear Dean was to be mated with her. Everyone knew Jordan had always had his own sights on the position of the pack alpha male, that he wanted their leader and the power he'd wield as her chosen.

Snarling, he shoved them away. "She said nothing about the condition he needs to be in." They started to move faster, all three of them, splitting up slightly and going from a walk to a dead run, jumping over shrubs and tree roots, fallen branches and the like. As they raced and got closer, Jordan recognized that Dean was in heat. He'd been tortured by similar scents of arousal from Cassandra, but these days all she wanted was three minutes of his time for a quick fuck, and he could tell that when she closed her eyes and ordered him to call her 'bitch'... it was this bastard she was thinking off.

He saw him, walking like he didn't have a fucking care. Yeah, he was coming to take his mate, take his place. Well fuck that. Widening his strides, Jordan changed mid air, his bones shifting, his face painfully rearranging into a snout as he became larger, half human, half wolf, and all-muscle killing machine.

Landing right in front of Dean, he swiped him with his claws, and attacked, the scent of blood driving him near crazy. While several of the pack had learned how to shift at will, they were not tamed by any means. Around the full moon, they all needed blood.... to kill... needed an outlet for their aggression, and on the night of the full moon, every last one of them would turn. They'd hunt in packs. This one... this one should be the prey, he thought, snarling and pouncing on him again.

Dean had been walking through the woods for about a half an hour now and he was beginning to worry who was going to find him first. The werewolves or his family. He knew that was going to depend a lot on just how long Sam had been out for, something he had no way of knowing. At the most Dean knew he had an hour, because if Sam didn’t wake up in that time period his father would have gone banging on “their” door instead and found his brother unconscious. An hour was definitely not long enough to stay ahead of John Winchester. Especially when Dean had made no real effort to cover his tracks.

God damn it. Where were they? Dean knew he was close… he could feel it. He tried to keep his senses focused on the woods around him. Listening… smelling… the last thing he wanted was to be caught by surprise.

It was kind of funny then when that’s exactly what happened. Dean had barely heard the soft rustling of the leaves, a snap of the branch, and finally a viscous growl. The attack had come from upwind. No way he could have known, but Dean still cursed himself as an idiot for not being prepared, or at least he would have if he’d had a split second to think. He didn’t. He barely managed to jump back away from the slashing claws and snapping jaws of the other werewolf. He still felt the bite of pain in his side from those razor sharp claws where they grazed him, but at least they hadn’t gutted him instead.

Dean sidestepped and rolled out of the way of the next pounce. He recognized the scent of the werewolf attacking him. He didn’t remember his name, but he could smell the rage and jealousy pouring off of him. It wasn’t just an attack. It was a challenge. Like a younger wolf would challenge the alpha male for dominance or for a mate. When Dean got back to his feet in a low crouch, he growled back at the other wolf just as viciously. There was no way he was going to allow this pup to take what was his.

His blood, the wolf spirit inside of him, reacted at an instinctual level. The wolf spirit was strong in this pack. That was why so many of them could change at will and not just the full moon. Dean felt his own body shifting. His fingernails growing into wicked sharp blades, his canine teeth lengthening and sharpening, his muscles shifting subtly, growing stronger, as did his senses. It wasn’t a full change. He wasn’t old enough or experienced enough for that. But he didn’t need to be. His father had taught him how to fight since he was four years old. That combined with the strength of the wolf…

Dean wait for the other werewolf to attack him again, he launched himself at the other wolf with a bloodthirsty snarl. Easily avoiding most of the claw swipes from the other werewolf, and the ones he didn’t avoid, were only a little more than superficial cuts anyway. Dean gave far better than he got. His claws swiping the other werewolf down the chest first, then along his back as he dodged a clumsy attack. They snarled at each other. Circling. Attacking and retreating. The other werewolf’s attacks were coming far less however and he was retreating far sooner each time. It was clear that Dean had the upper hand.

He was done playing around. Dean attacked again and this time he did not let the other werewolf retreat. Barreling into the other wolf he sent them both to the ground in a tangle of snapping teeth and swiping claws. The struggle however was surprisingly brief, and Dean quickly had the other wolf pinned. His teeth digging sunk deeply into the other’s neck, threatening to rip out his throat if he did not submit. The other wolf grew still very quickly after that and after another threatening growl, sinking his teeth just a little bit deeper in warning, Dean released the other werewolf and stood. Ready just in case… but the other wolf did not attack him again.

It was then that Dean noticed that they were not alone in the small clearing where their struggle for dominance had taken place. Dean turned glowing yellow eyes to the two other wolves and growled, practically daring them to challenge him as well, but they did not.

“Take me to Cassandra.” Dean finally growled.

The other wolves snarled right back, eyes flashing yellow. Then all three of them started to coral Dean, pointing him in the direction he needed to go. They traveled quickly, one of them running ahead eventually.

They traveled through thick forest terrain and then came onto a clearing in front of a mountainside. Just as they arrived, Cassandra walked out, flanked by several large men, all of them sniffing the air and watching Dean closely.

"Well, well, well," she said, tossing her glossy mane behind her back as she walked toward Dean, "You came back just like I said." Putting one hand on his shoulder, she moved her face near his throat and sniffed. Then smirking, pulled back. "Your pheromones are out of control. They're affecting mine already."

When Dean didn't attack, she nodded at the others to give them some room. She traced the lines of his face with her long scarlet nails. "You need to be prepared, learn what to expect with the full moon. We... your pack will help you," she purred. "And then you and I will mate. We're going to make history, you and I."

*

For a while, she got serious and explanations were given to Dean as to how he'd change, what it would feel like, where to go on his first wolf run. "You'll want to draw blood, need to. Often, you'll crave the blood of someone you love. The one you love best. I think it's a way of cutting off ties with the past," she shrugged her slender shoulder. "I tore my mother apart. She was pregnant with my younger sister." A wistful look crossed her features. "Our pack is cursed with memory. We don't forget what we have done in our werewolf form. But sometimes that's a blessing... we can plan, hide our doings better."

Sitting on some of the chairs that had been brought out for them, she explained some more about their diets, and how they were still trying to swell their ranks by selecting humans for their fighting pits, the way Dean had been. Seeing him tense, she shook her head. "Don't get angry, its a game of survival, just like live. Humans want to survive, we want to...and we procreate by selecting the strongest and best humans. You're not one of them anymore."

His lack of interest in what she was saying irked her. She put her hand on his thigh, stroking up and down, her breath hitching slightly. "Don't forget the benefits. You're strong, and fast, and tireless. You can have, take whatever you want. And you get me." Smirking, she leaned closer.

*

There wasn't a smile among the four men as they tracked Dean. Conall's eyes had gone eerily yellow, reminding Sam of Dean when he was in that 'in between' stage and it was never clear whether Dean understood everything or not, though at times he thought some of what he said got through. In his partial state, the werewolf was better able to follow Dean's scent.

When they'd ditched their cars near the one Dean had left on the roadside, Conall had produced a jar and told everyone to rub its contents on their skin. It would conceal their scent from other wolves, though there was no guaranty. In theory, it would give them the edge of being able to surprise the wolves, if the wolves didn't hear or see them first.

Seeing his dad looking up at the trees, Sam scanned overhead, also looking for scouts, then straight ahead. When they reached an area with torn up ground and clear signs of a scuffle, he grew more somber. "Dean..."

The other men met his gaze, and Bobby thumped him on the back, and they were off again. Walking a little faster, a little more anxiously, but the two seasoned hunters made sure they remained cautious, even when Sam wanted to urge them to move even quicker. His brother was at the mercy of those animals. They'd held him, chained him, poisoned him. If they did any of that to him again...

And then Conall and John were each raising a hand up at the same time. The others fanned out, and hiding behind trees, moved closer until they could hear conversation and see the clearing.

Sam's fingers tightened on the gun in one hand, the fingers of his other hand digging into the bark of the tree he was leaning on as he watched Cassandra practically mauling Dean. Her hand slipped up Dean's chest and she'd thrown one leg over his lap, like she was about to straddle him.

"Sex as humans will be explosive. But when we shapeshift... Dean, no human can imagine how that feels," she said, her mouth nowbrushing his.

They didn’t try to attack him again as they led him back to the rest of the pack, not that Dean had been expecting them to, but he was ready for it just in case. They went further and further into the woods, deeper than Dean had been expecting, and a lot closer to the mountain. Until they finally reached a clearing where the pack had set up a primitive camp in front of an old abandoned mine, easy to pick up and leave at a moment’s notice.

It seemed like the attention of every member of the pack turned to him the second he stepped into the clearing. Some looking at him with curiosity and some with mistrust or hostility, but there were actually very few of those looks. He was one of them now after all…

Dean wasn’t surprised when Cassandra came out of the cave and approached him almost immediately. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end, but he forced himself to remain relaxed. Thinking of Sam to help keep himself calm and still when she approached him and sniffed him. He could smell her as well, and the wolf inside of him recognized her scent as a female wolf in heat.

But despite the fact that the wolf in him knew that she could give him what his current mate could not, potential offspring, Dean was relieved to know that he still felt no interest in her. Perhaps a part of himself fearing, as Sam had, that the wolf would react to her despite Dean’s wishes. He was sure now, more than ever, that it wasn’t just the wolf inside of him that had caused the feelings he had for Sam. It was him, because he loved Sam, and it was as simple as that.

Too bad that realization had to come at a time like this, when he was surrounded by a pack of werewolves that would rip him to pieces if they figured out he wasn’t really “into” their leader. So Dean was relieved when she decided to take care of business before pleasure. He sat and listened to her talk about what he could expect… once he turned.

A part of him was horrified, especially when she talked about how he would probably seek out the blood of his loved ones first. The one he loved most… Sam… Dean tried to remind himself though if everything went according to plan then that wouldn’t happen. He’d be cured and afterwards the bitch that had done this to him would get a nice shiny silver bullet through her brain and heart.

For now however he had a part to play, so when he felt her hand on his thigh he merely smiled rather than flinching away from the touch. When she practically climbed into his lap, he slipped his arms around her slim waist and held her rather than shoving her away. And when her lips brushed his he closed his eyes and imagined it was Sam he was kissing as he devoured her mouth without restraint.

It was one thing seeing Cassandra make a move on Dean, bad enough... but a whole nuther when it was Dean jumping into it with the enthusiasm of a fucking werewolf in heat. Sam’s mouth opened, but suddenly he felt a hand clamped over it. His eyes widened, met Bobby’s fierce look.

His heart raced, anger boiling his blood, and at the same time he was trying to figure out if there was a deeper meaning behind the look in the older hunter’s eyes. He nodded his understanding and was released.

As soon as Bobby moved away, Sam looked again. Cassandra’s hands were all over Dean, his chest, his thighs... then between their bodies. He heard a couple of all too familiar moans and was ready to shoot Dean himself. Clenching his teeth together, he struggled for control, his nostrils flaring.

Pulling back, Cassandra slapped Dean, then leaned in again, claiming his lips, tearing at his clothes. “More, give me more, I know you can,” she snarled in his ear, her hand shifting, fingers and bones cracking, extending. She used the claws to tear his shirt off, shredding it and throwing it off him. “Show me what you got,” she ground her hips over his.

Some of the other wolves went inside the cave. Others watched as history was made for their clan.

Dean had been expecting the aggressiveness. She’d been that way since the first time she’d made her attentions known to him. She’d practically maul him trying to make him react the way she wanted him to, though she never went so far as to try to force him.

He was a little surprised however when she backhanded him hard enough to split his lip, then crushed her lips over his licking away his blood and practically tongue fucking his mouth. When his fingers tangled roughly in her hair, practically breaking the fragile strands with his harsh grip, it was instinct. To push her away from him… but he couldn’t do that.

He was here to distract her. To distract the other wolves, so that Sam and his Father could take them down easier. Some of the werewolves had already left, presumably to give them a little more “privacy” though others continued to watch on.

She wanted more? They wanted a show? Fine. He would give them a show.

He smelled the change happening in her, how her scent became more wolf-like. Adrenaline pumped through his veins. Anger, not lust, but it would do. He felt the change in himself, just like he had shifted when the other werewolf had challenged him. Her claws bit into his skin when she tore his shirt off, and he growled viciously in reply. His own claws lengthening as he grabbed her hard and pushed them both out of the chair and onto the ground. He easily pinned her down with his greater strength as he kissed her savagely, his teeth cutting her lips, drawing blood. Again, thinking of Sam as he claimed her in a way… he could never claim his own mate…

The wolf in him knew what she wanted. She was the alpha female of the pack, but if he wanted to be the alpha male, he had to win this challenge just like he’d won the other against the rival male. His claws tore at her clothing, revealing more skin, and he growled deep in his chest as he sunk his teeth hard into her bare shoulder. Marking her… the way he so desperately wanted to mark Sam… like she had marked him…

The blood drained from Sam’s face. He wanted to shout, to rail, to fucking beat the crap out of someone, or both of them. He wanted to shove Bobby away, and Connall, both of them were looking at him, like they knew, or guessed, or worried. He breathed through his mouth, trying to force down the hurt. Last... just last night... he and Dean...

He guessed it didn’t mean much when the werewolf competition appeared. He tasted blood seconds before Connall was next to him, telling him to swallow it... that he could smell it. Sam licked his lips, refusing to look at the man.

“That’s it, yes,” Cassandra growled, arching up off the ground as her clothing fell off her body. “That’s it lover,” her legs went around his waist. Her nails raked his back as she lifted her hips, the sounds she made growing louder and louder.

Sam was so tense, he thought he was gonna snap into two by the time his dad tapped his shoulder. On the count of three.

Jaw clenched tight, he nodded. At his dad’s signal, they walked out the trees, shooting, spreading the bullets, aiming to kill. Howling sounds filled the air, and snarls. There were whimpers as werewolves went down.

Bobby shouted at Sam to drive a parked jeep up to the entrance of the cave. He wanted to go after Cassandra, but his dad and Connall were closer, and he knew what Bobby wanted. As the older hunter covered him, Sam went and got under the dash and finding the wires, got the ignition going. A few seconds later, he gunned the car and hit the brakes hard as he turned the steering wheel hard. As the jeep started to roll, he dove out, crawling out of the way. It came to a halt in front of the cave, making it more difficult for the werewolves inside to come out.

Bobby lit up a couple of homemade Malakoff cocktails and tossed them inside. Then they were fighting to kill the rest of the wolves. Sam fighting to get closer to where Dean and Cassandra were rolling around the ground. A wolf took a swipe at him, claws tearing into his cheek. He didn’t make a sound, but aimed, shot, aimed again, and shot.

The sounds of the gunshots startled him almost as much as the rest of the werewolves. When Dean sat up he snarled before he realized what was happening and a bit of the wildness slipped away. A bit of clarity returning to his thoughts when he saw his dad, and bobby… and Sam…

He felt Cassandra attempting to untangle herself from him. Probably trying to go to the aid of her pack mates… as she probably expected him to do as well… well, the bitch was going to have another surprise coming. With a growl of rage Dean grabbed her and tackled her back to the ground. Her eyes were wild with confusion first, then understanding, and finally a rage to match his own, and of course she fought back.

She was much older than the other werewolf Dean had fought, and much stronger. Dean was barely able to keep a hold of her and keep her from ripping his throat out at the same time. But he had the advantage of being a man with size on his side, and that still meant something. When he had been just a human, she would have beaten him easily. But now that he was one of them, she couldn’t overpower him.

It was with no small amount of satisfaction when he finally managed to get a hold of a large rock, slamming it across her temple hard enough to knock her senseless and she finally went limp in his arms. With many of the werewolves trapped inside of the cave by the truck and fire, the three skilled hunters managed to gun down many of the werewolves that had been left outside.

That was when he saw the werewolf get close enough to Sam to draw blood, and Dean literally saw red. Leaving the unconscious Cassandra on the ground Dean leapt to his feet to go to his brother’s aid. His only thought to help Sam. To keep his brother safe…

Before the wolf could leap onto Sam Dean tackled the beast to the ground. His claws ripping out the werewolf’s throat with one swipe. As it clawed at its own throat, gurgling and choking on its own blood, Dean growled in satisfaction and stood. Or he tried to, but the agonizing pain in his side he hadn’t realized until now, had him falling back to his knees, clutching at his stomach. When he pulled his hands away they were dark red with blood. His own… From the bullet wound in his abdomen…

Anger and outrage at the betrayal fueled Cassandra as she struggled to kill or at least maim her ungrateful chosen. He was strong, stronger than he should, probably because he had been strong for a human. Her hand closed in on his throat, she tried to shift full, to go werewolf, but the instant she wasted seconds of concentration, something heavy hit her in the temple and the lights went out.

One minute Sam was shooting the werewolf attacking him, the next Dean was in the mix. Sam didn’t have time to pull his finger from the trigger or redirect the barrel of his rifle. He knew he’d gotten one or both of them... saw them roll on the ground, and then the werewolf lay still, it’s throat ripped out.

“Dean,” Sam started heading to go to him, eyes wide at the realization he’d shot Dean... he really had. And then hard hands were on his shoulders, and before he pushed the butt of the gun into them, he realized it was his dad, pushing him toward Bobby. He started to push Bobby away, when the hunter told him to let John and Connall make sure Dean was Dean, and to help him with Cassandra, now.

The burning wreck barricading the mouth of the cave was being rocked forward. More wolves would descend soon. Sam stopped arguing and started doing as he was told. Bobby hefted Cassandra up, and Sam took her from him.

He saw that Connall had an arm around Dean and was helping him walk into the forrest, which he guessed made sense, in case Dean did get violent, like the other hunters worried. Still, a part of him wanted to be the one to get Dean out of here, and not to be the one carrying the bitch that started all this. As gentle as he’d been when he ran with Dean on his shoulder when they’d rescued him, he pretty much didn’t care that he was letting Cassandra bang against trees and he didn’t give a damn that Bobby saw it... or that he was giving him a decidedly questioning look. The bitch deserved it, for what she did to Dean, and to others.

Soon he was only following Connall and Dean, with Bobby and John having dropped behind them. Gunshots told him they were being followed and that the two hunters were taking care of it. He started to move faster.

When they reached the cars, his eyes met Dean’s... just for a moment, then he was at Bobby’s truck, securing Cassandra’s arms and legs with silver coated cuffs. Just as he pulled a tarp over her, his dad and Bobby came out of the wood, rushing everyone into the vehicles.

*

They drove for hours, crossing and driving through water several times to make it harder for the werewolves to track them. Sam wasn’t too surprised when they ended up at a large farmhouse instead of the motel. The reason his dad had tossed their stuff in the back of the car now made sense.

They drove the vehicles into the old barn and then moved to the farmhouse itself. Sam stubbornly refused to let Connall be the one who helped Dean walk the distance, putting his shoulder under his brother’s arm and half lifting him. When they were just a little away from the others, he stole a sidelong glance at Dean. “I’m sorry... bout the ....” he let out a breath as his gaze feel to the wound seeping blood down Dean’s bare stomach.

His father was yelling at them to hurry, and Sam obeyed. Inside, he helped Dean to a faded sofa and Bobby kneeled next to him, ready to work the bullet out. Connall secured the still unconscious Cassandra in the same room since they couldn’t afford to let her out of their sight, and then dad was telling Sam to go get cleaned up.

It wasn’t until his dad spoke that Sam realized he had blood all over him, some Dean’s, some his own. So did the others, it had been a hard fought battle. Taking one more look at Dean, he headed to the kitchen and did his best, changing his shirt before he came back to lean against the door, looking out the window, and occasionally at Dean as he was bandaged up by Bobby.

Dean had been shot more times than he really cared to remember, but he swore right now he couldn’t remember it hurting this much. While he’d probably thought that every single time he was shot, this time he thought it might be true. The silver bullet lodged deep in his flesh burning worse than acid pouring through his stomach, but at least the pain had brought him back to his senses a little.

He felt his claws disappear and his teeth return to their normal length. But even as some of his thoughts grew clearer as the wolf inside of him went back to sleep, the pain and blood loss was making it hard for him to understand what was going on around him. He didn’t know the hands that were suddenly grabbing him and dragging him to his feet. He was really too weak to struggle, but he probably still might have if he didn’t smell Sam close by. His brother’s scent reassuring him that everything would be all right. He trusted Sam…

The fact that a part of him knew Sam had been the one to shoot him in the first place didn’t seem to make a difference.

The run through the woods was one big blur. Dean stumbled more times than he could count, and really it was only the surprisingly strong grip on him, urging him on, and Sam that he kept going at all instead of just sinking to the forest floor and not moving. While he knew the shot to his abdomen wouldn’t kill him… at least not right away… the silver bullet inside of him was agony and if it wasn’t removed it probably would eventually kill him. Hell, he’d nearly died once just from stupidly wearing his silver ring and pendant.

Dean was more than ready to stop when the man supporting him leaned him up against the truck, the metal feeling surprisingly warm against his bare back. Or maybe he was just so damned cold… he didn’t realize he was shaking. From shock or blood loss or both. His vision was more than a little fuzzy at that point, but he managed to focus on his brother when Sam ran by and despite the situation just seeing Sam eased his mind. Made the pain a little more tolerable. Then he was being manhandled into his father’s truck across the bench seat in the back, and more than a few choice curses left his lips before he was finally settled.

His father’s concerned expression in the rear view mirror swam in and out of focus as they drove. Sometimes he heard his father talking, ordering him to put pressure on the wound, and he obeyed without thought. He must have still lost consciousness at some point because he was startled awake some unknown time later as he was being dragged out of the truck.

A growl of pain escaped his lips and if he didn’t smell Sam right there, knowing it was his brother’s arms around him supporting him, he probably would have protested the manhandling a lot more. Instead he simply let his brother support his weight and concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other.

Dean only grunted softly in reply to Sam’s words.

He thought he might have blacked out again when he was finally allowed to rest on the couch, but he was awake again instantly with a cry of pain when he felt the digging around in his wound. Dean snarled and nearly knocked Bobby away from him, but his father’s hands on his shoulders and the older man’s voice telling him to stay still, that it was almost over, they needed to get the bullet out, calmed him enough to remain still. Not that it did anything for the pain, but once the bullet was finally out, the flask of hard liquor pressed to his lips as the other hunter bandaged up his stomach helped a little with that.

Once his stomach was bandaged they finally let him lay down on the couch and he was more than grateful for it. His eyes slid closed as he let the liquor do its work in dulling the pain, though really, it felt a hell of a lot better now that the silver was out of him. He knew the wound would probably start to heal quickly now that the bullet was out. It would just take time.

Practically able to feel his brother’s eyes on him, Dean forced his eyes to drag open despite how tired he felt. Looking at the younger man, Dean tried to give Sam a reassuring smile, even though it probably came out as more of a grimace.

Watching over Dean, Sam let out a breath when after maybe a short rest or nap, his brother opened his eyes and gave him what could pass for a smile. He lifted his chin in a nod, silently communicating he was relieved that Dean was... would be fine.

Though the farmhouse was large, the room was entirely too crowded. Dad had just walked in to say there was no sign of being followed and Bobby and Connall were at the dining room table going over something. Course what made the room feel crowded to Sam was Cassandra's presence. Each time a moan escaped her, he tensed. He couldn't help but wonder if there was some sort of 'pheremone exchange' happening between her and Dean. Right... one of them was out cold, and the other might as well be, but he couldn't help wondering. He'd seen more than enough.

Turning to look out the window, he pressed his lips together, trying to quiet down all the various worries and feelings clamoring inside his head. They... he needed to focus, to get this thing done and over with. Get Dean healed, get him in control over his wolf... or however much control he could get over it, and then see where things stood. He heard Cassandra again, and his hackles rose.

"Son, give me a hand with this."

Sam turned and walked to his dad who had brought additional chains to hold Cassandra. She was waking and started to curse them, then she started to call for Dean.

"Make them stop. They're going to kill you, they hate all of us. Dean you know it's true, Dean, Dean."

Sam jabbed his elbow into her face and forced the material of the shirt he'd taken off into her mouth, even after his dad yelled at him to be careful, afraid he'd be bitten. Then there was the disappointed look, but Sam didn't give a fuck. He didn't want to hear Dean's name from her mouth one more time. Roughly, he secured the material, uncaring that some of her long hair was tied up in the knot.

Once they were done with her, he saw additional chains. HIs gaze went to his father, then to Dean, the back. "He doesn't need them."

Dean frowned a little at Sam’s reaction... or more accurately... lack of reaction. Sam didn’t come over to him, didn’t talk to him, hell, the younger man wasn’t even looking at him right now. He didn’t like it. Not one damned bit. He didn’t like Sam all the way across the room, he wanted Sam here, beside him. He wanted to touch his brother, make sure Sam was all right...

He tried to sit up, tried to go to Sam if Sam wouldn’t come to him. But the pain in his stomach and the way his head started to spin before he even rose two inches from the couch was enough to convince him to just lay still. With a groan, Dean let his head fall back against the arm of the couch with a dull thud.

The sound of his father’s voice drew Dean’s attention and he watched impassively as they handled Cassandra. Chaining her up much like she’d kept him chained up for months. When she started begging him, him, to make them stop what they were doing, going to do, to her, Dean almost laughed. He did not feel the least bit of remorse or pity for her. She was the one who had captured him, forced him into those pit matches where he’d had to kill other men, just like him, in order to stay alive. She was the one who had ordered him beaten, had kept him a prisoner for six fucking months, had starved him and tortured him. Until finally they had pinned him down and she had bitten him, turned him into a monster, no matter how loudly he’d begged her not to.

No, he didn’t feel the least bit of pity for her. A slight smile curved his lips when Sam elbowed the bitch in the face and gagged her. She should feel really fucking lucky that after they used her for that spell Dean planned on killing her rather quickly instead of putting her through even a fraction of what she’d put him through.

Dean felt his eyes beginning to drift closed again, exhaustion pulling him back under even though he fought against it. He almost missed the words being spoken between his father and Sam.

John Winchester sighed as Sam predictably protested them using the same kind of restraints on Dean as they used on Cassandra. He certainly did not want to chain his older son up any more than Sam did, but they could not take the risk.

“He attacked you, Sam. You saw him with...” John didn’t elaborate, merely nodding down at their struggling captive. “You know we can’t take the risk. He’s healing rapidly. This is as much for his protection as ours.”

“We’ve got bigger things to worry about.” Bobby said gravely as he reentered the living room, followed closely by Conall.

“The ritual needs to be done tonight. Tomorrow might be too late. But there is a problem.” Conall began once he had the attention of the other men. “Dean’s injury, it will not kill him, but the silver and the blood loss has weakened him severely and I do not believe he will be fully recovered before the night is over. The ritual is... can be... He may be already too weak to endure it. In his weakened state it might kill him.”

Sam didn’t like the reminder that Dean had knocked him out and run to the wolf pack. To her. His eyes darkened, but he kept his mouth shut, gritting his teeth together.

His dad’s insistence on chains might make sense, if he hadn’t seen Dean come to his defense in the middle of the fight. Then again, he couldn’t deny that Dean was mercurial... he struck him one moment, and then helped him the next. His gaze slid to his brother on the sofa, indecision warring within him.

Then Bobby and Connall came in with their news, could it get any worse? And by his own hand? Fuck...

Running his hand through his hair, he looked at the two men. “Transfusion?” Dammit, that would mean getting Dean to the hospital and... yeah that was out of the question. “Are you sure it can’t wait, that we can’t do it tomorrow, or even after this cycle?”

The look on Connall’s face gave Sam the answer, one he did not like. He slammed his fist into the wall, then shook it out as the welcomed pain reverberated up his arm. After all this, all this... so fucking close and it could all slip away. All his own fault.

“Screw the ritual. We’ll just... once a month, three days, we... I’ll watch over him.” That had been the plan if they couldn’t cure him anyway, and wasn’t it better than risking Dean’s life like that. Deep down, Sam knew what Dean’s choice would be, but he couldn’t face it just yet.

Dean could tell that Sam was upset. Even if he couldn’t clearly see it, he could smell it. To be honest, Dean was rather upset too when their father insisted that they chain him up. Dad thought he was dangerous. Dad thought he was going to hurt Sam. He should know by now, damn it. His father should know that he could never hurt Sammy. Never… he’d rather kill himself than hurt his brother… Sam knew that… didn’t he?

But Sam wasn’t arguing with their dad. He wasn’t insisting that Dean didn’t need to be chained up for ‘his own protection’. Did Sam think he would hurt him? Well… he supposed he had hurt Sam when he’d knocked the younger man out, but he hadn’t wanted to do that. He had only wanted to protect Sam, and Dad, and Bobby. They wouldn’t have just let him go in first if he’d asked nicely. He had to create a distraction, and he had. It had worked, hadn’t it?

He wanted to explain all this to the other men, but he was so damned tired he couldn’t even open his eyes. Damn it. He couldn’t sleep now! He had to explain to Sam…

They were still talking. Something about the ritual. The reason why they’d needed Cassandra in the first place. Weakened… might kill him… it might kill him? Because he was too weak? No… no god damn it! He wasn’t too weak. He’d been prepared before not to do it, because it would have been too dangerous for Dad, Bobby, and Sam. Now they wanted to stop because they thought it would be too dangerous for him?!

“No.” He finally managed to force out weakly, wrenching his eyes open somehow despite the pull of unconsciousness. They didn’t get to decide this for him. It was his life, god damn it. His choice. “No. Doing it.”

All of the men in the room turned toward Dean, as the hunter made his choice. None of them would or could counter it, though none of them were pleased. There just were no good options.

There was silence for a moment, then it was as if all hell broke loose. Connall and Bobby left to prepare the ritual site, with John to follow when he was done. John picked up the chains, and didn't ask his younger son again, instead striding to where Dean lay on the sofa. Sam couldn't hear what his dad said, but he saw Dean complying with his dad's request for his wrists. Slowly, walking with leaden feet he dropped down on the ground next to his brother.

Eyes apologetic, he took Dean's other wrist and locked the cuff loosely around it. By the time he moved to his ankle, he saw his dad check the bracelet, and tighten it, giving him a dark look. His return gaze to his father held no apology.

Then their dad was telling them it would only be a few hours, to hang on, and instructing Sam to watch over Dean. As if he needed that instruction. Once his dad left out the front door, Sam reached for the water, and sat on the sofa, next to Dean's head. Seeing his brother lift up, he moved slightly, so Dean could lay with his head pillowed on Sam's lap.

So many emotions were raging through Sam, he could barely put two words together. When he did, it was to say. "I don't want you to die." His throat felt raw, his eyes stung with unshed tears. His hand slightly shook, so he pressed it flat against the seat of the couch, licking his lips as he wondered whether Dean even heard him.

Dean hadn’t wanted his father to put the chains on him, but he was simply too tired to argue or reason with the older man. He still felt trapped and uneasy the second the metal rings were locked around his wrists. It seemed to always come back to this. Chains. Bars. Imprisonment. Helplessness. It had been his life for six months, perhaps he should have been used to it by now. But he wasn’t.

He was kind of glad when their father left. So he could be alone with Sam… well, as alone as they could be with the bitch in the room with them. Dean could feel her eyes on him but thankfully the gag kept her from saying anything. He just wanted to pretend she wasn’t there.

Dean smiled a little when Sam helped him to put his head in his brother’s lap. He felt much more comfortable this way, even with the chains. Being so close to his brother. He turned his head towards Sam’s stomach and breathed in his brother’s scent deeply. Brother, lover… mate…

At Sam’s words, Dean forced his eyes open again. He hadn’t even realized they’d closed in the first place. He still had trouble focusing but at least he could look at Sam. He wished he could touch Sam too, with his hands, but the cuffs around his wrists wouldn’t let him raise his arms any higher than his waist.

“Not going to die.” Dean managed in a soft whisper, smiling a little in reassurance up at his brother.

Sam tried to smile back, but it was more grimace than smile. What else was Dean supposed to say, anyway? He was Dean, brave to the last. He’d spit into the eyes of the enemy, even with his heart pressed to a barrel. It didn’t make Sam feel better, not now.

“Connall said…” he licked his lips. “Dean if you don’t want to do this, its okay with me, you know? We’d just… this time of the month, take measures. It could work out.” His leg bounced nervously under Dean, and when he realized he was moving like that, he stopped himself. “I’m serious Dean, maybe a sure thing is better than taking a chance.”

He took a couple breaths and looked over at the bitch who’d done this to Dean. Either way, she was going to get her heart cut out. Either way.

Dean couldn’t help being a little pissed off at Sam’s words.

He knew that Sam was just afraid. For him. Just as he would be afraid for his brother if their positions were reversed. Actually, it had been reversed. When they’d first heard what Connall could do for him, when they’d found out they’d need Cassandra for the ritual to take place, when he’d tried to say no because it would be too dangerous for his family… but Sam had made him say yes.

“I didn’t want to do it before… to keep you safe. You wouldn’t let me say no. You don’t get to change your mind now, Sammy…” Dean said wearily, offering the younger man a slight smile though it probably didn’t soften the sting of his words.

Dean tried to lift his hand to touch his brother, but he forgot he was chained and cursed softly under his breath.

“I wanna touch you…”

Sam had expected something else. Reassurance. Maybe some confirmation that Dean knew what he was doing, risking. That he'd rather take the risk than.... But not the sharp words that had him turning away to hide the hurt in his eyes. "You weren't... I hadn't shot you then, you weren't weak," he said softly, wondering why he tried. Ever since they'd left the lodge, something hadn't been quite right between them. Just slightly at odds, different ways of doing things... ideas not quite jibing.

Maybe the reason sat right there in the corner. The moon had an effect on wolves. So did the pack leader. Maybe that's why dad insisted on restraints, because one moment Dean might be totally against her and the next...

Yeah, his mind went to that scene that played out in front of him in the woods. Dean taking a helping of alpha bitch, and it hadn't been any acting, Sam thought he could tell if it had been. More importantly, she would have. His jaw clenched.

Then Dean pushed him over the edge with his request, and Sam snapped. "You sure its not her you want to touch, Dean?" His eyes bore into his brother's greens.

Dean sighed heavily when Sam was predictably obtuse and completely missing his point. He wondered if his brother really didn’t get it or if he was just being a pain in the ass. Telling him it was different before because he hadn’t been shot. Because he wasn’t weak. Now that he was the one in danger, Sam didn’t want to go through the ritual. Because of course Sam didn’t even consider his father or himself getting bitten or ripped apart by a pack of werewolves a good enough reason not to do the ritual...

Whatever. It didn’t matter. They were doing it. No one had tried to stop him or tried to talk him out of it when he said he was still going to go through with the ritual. Soon it would all be over...

Sam’s sudden angry retort surprised Dean however, and his eyes widened as he stared up into his brother’s eyes. The younger man glaring down at him like he was trying to drill holes through his skull with his gaze alone.

Maybe any other time Sam acting like a friggen jealous girlfriend would have amused or only irritated him. Right now it was like a punch to the gut though. He couldn’t believe that Sam was actually jealous of that bitch. Hadn’t he already proved to Sam enough that he was the only one he wanted? God damn it.

“No. I’ve never wanted her. Love you. You should know that.” Dean finally replied quietly, too drained to even try to hide the hurt in his voice or his expression that Sam’s doubt in him caused. “Only did it to keep you safe. Only went there... distraction... knew you wouldn’t understand...”

Dean tried to explain but he was just too tired, he could barely string any words together without slurring, and he would probably only piss Sam off more if he tried to explain. He let out a weary sigh and finally turned his eyes away from Sam. Staring blankly up at the ceiling above, his eyes growing heavier by the second and he finally stopped trying to fight against them closing.

“Then maybe you should have talked to me about it instead of knocking me the fuck out and then...” he waved his hand in the air, gesturing even as anger crept through his veins at the though of Dean and that bitch moving over each other like eels in heat. Not eels, wolves. His gut clenched so hard, he thought he might throw up. That was when he saw Cassandra’s eyes on him.

He stared right back, his eyes narrowing, his nostrils flaring as he realized she was silently claiming Dean as hers, and that he wouldn’t let her. He dropped his hand, almost roughly onto Dean’s chest, over his heart, fingers digging slightly into his flesh. He lifted his chin... wouldn’t have been surprised if a snarl broke from him.

In that moment, Sam went from being pawn to enemy, as far as Cassandra was concerned. Oh she was tied up, and might not be able to do much at the moment, but she was sure what was left of her pack would come for her, or she’d break free... or she’d exercise more power over her mate as night fell. And that one there, the one who dared think he could take her place, he would die.

Dean had fallen into an uneasy sleep. He found no peace from the fears and worries that plagued him when he was awake, they followed him right into his dreams.

Sam was angry with him. Furious even. He supposed Sam had every reason to be. He’d tried to tell Sam… but his brother wasn’t listening and Sam’s doubt of his love for him hurt. But the fact that Sam didn’t want to even touch him… that Dean could die tonight, and Sam would rather be angry with him than touch or kiss him… that hurt even worse.

He was afraid, damned afraid, of what might happen tonight. He was afraid of dying, sure, but he was more afraid of the ritual not working at all. If it didn’t work… he would turn tonight. Turn completely. What if he went after his brother, his father, or Bobby? What if they couldn’t stop him? Couldn’t keep him contained? What if he hurt… or killed… one of them…

Fuck, he was so damned afraid. But Sam had denied him any form of comfort and Dean slept fitfully. His brow furrowed and moaning softly in his sleep.

“Dean, you alright?” Sam whispered, feeling the way Dean was restless, making sounds in his sleep... not happy ones. “Dean?” His brother didn’t open his eyes, and Sam didn’t insist, but he smoothed his forehead, checking for fever, and then just stroking him.

Her gaze. It was always on him. Wild. Angry. Knowing. Possessive.

No dammit, Dean wasn’t hers. He fought off the images that continued to sow doubts in his mind. He knew, deep down he knew what Dean had said, what he wanted. But could he fight nature?

Almost rebelliously, he leaned down to kiss Dean just when the door opened. His lips grazed his brother’s forehead, and he got up. “No temperature,” he said, feeling a flush stealing up his cheeks. Dad AND Bobby. Just great.

Sam gave them his most innocent look, but Dean was the one better at that. “What’s...”

“It’s time, son. We’ll get her outside, you bring Dean. He alright?”

Sam knew by his dad’s body language that their dad meant ‘under control’ in addition to inquiring about his health. “Yeah, he’s fine. I’ll bring him.”

His dad came over, undid the chain but left the cuffs on and walked out, letting the door bang behind him.

“Dean,” Sam shook him again, then cupped his face. “It’s... it’s time...” his voice shook, though he tried to keep it together. “Don’t you forget your promise Dean, I need you,” he said, Goddamned tears pricking his eyes when he needed them the least.

Dean wasn’t sure how long he’d slept, but he found himself woken rather abruptly when his ‘pillow’ suddenly abruptly removed itself from underneath his head. The string of tired curses he muttered as his head thumped back against the lumpy arm of the couch drowned out by the sound of his father’s and brother’s voices, then the sounds of a scuffle, and the slamming of a door.

He blinked his eyes open when he felt the light touch to his cheek, confusion flickering in their depths as he struggled to focus on Sam. His head not feeling a whole hell of a lot clearer than it had before. Though his stomach didn’t hurt quite as badly as he remembered, he was still exhausted as hell and wanted nothing more than to go back to sleep. Then, remembering his dreams… filled with Sam’s blood and his brother’s eyes both accusing and angry while Dean gutted him… he decided sleep was probably the last thing he really wanted despite what his body might think otherwise.

Dean blinked up at Sam, still a little confused, recent memories still a little slow swimming into focus, before he finally remembered. The ritual. It was time? Already? Dean’s eyes flickered away from his brother’s face briefly towards the window. From the angle of the light he could tell it was nearly sunset… he’d been asleep for a few hours at least then… it wouldn’t be long before the sun went down. Before the moon would rise… he could feel it…

Dean swallowed hard, his gut clenching with fear, but he tried to hide that fear from his brother as he turned his face back to Sam’s. He could see the same fear he felt in Sam’s eyes, could hear it in the way his brother’s voice shook. Sam was barely holding it together, so that meant Dean had to. He tried to offer his brother a reassuring smile. He was just glad that Sam wasn’t looking at him hard angry eyes anymore. Dean knew he couldn’t bear it if those angry words and looks were the last moments they shared together.

“I’m not going anywhere.” He whispered softly, raising his hands, even though they were still chained together at least they weren’t connected to the ankle chains anymore and he could touch Sam. He needed to touch Sam. Dean brushed his fingers gently over his brother’s cheek.

“I’m sorry…” Dean whispered, his fingers lingering a little on the bruise he’d given Sam when he’d knocked his brother out. “I love you, Sammy. Only you. I promise. Please don’t forget that. Promise me… if it doesn’t work… If I turn and… you won’t hesitate to pull the trigger.”

Not going anywhere. The words echoed in Sam's mind, over and over as he tried to believe them. Tried to tell himself they'd been through so much already, there was only a little ways to go, and it would be fine. When Dean touched his cheek, Sam's eyes fluttered closed. He thought Dean was gonna kiss him. Right there. And he wanted it too, even if it would be foolish as hell. Dad. Bobby. Connal...

He licked his lips, slowly opening his eyes when the kiss never came. Instead his brother was trying to smooth away the bruises. He didn't get that the bruises didn't count, it was the pain in his heart, in his gut that gave Sam the most trouble.

A lump rose in his throat as Dean assured him of his love. Yeah, he knew Dean loved him, knew it. It wasn't his love he'd really doubted, just nature. But this would take care of that, right? Probably. "Won't forget, Dean, love you too," he whispered desperately, pulling Dean close and stepping back against the wall, between the door and window where they wouldn't be seen, so long as no one walked in. He felt his brother's body collide against his. Felt his warmth seeping through his clothes. Knew he should appologize for not having minded his injury, but right now... it was secondary.

Dean's request had Sam looking down for a moment, then back. "Dean you're not going to hurt me. I promise you, you're not," he said, tilting his head slightly, almost grimacing at the thought of Dean asking him to. "Look, you're not gonna, Dean. But if something happens... if... I'll protect myself," he nodded, jaw clenched tight. "I think... I think this is the part where you kiss me." He didn't want any more talk, which was strange for him, but he couldn't go out there an emotional basketcase. "Love you Dean... whatever happens. I love you," he started to pull Dean even closer, gaze locked on his mouth."

Dean grunted in discomfort when Sam hauled him to his feet, and while he had to lean heavily on the younger man to remain standing, the pain definitely wasn’t as bad as it could have been. Whatever pain he was feeling though was nothing compared to the fear and desperation in his brother’s eyes.

When Sam drew him close, away from the doors and windows, Dean certainly didn’t care about the almost rough movement. He only cared that Sam was pulling him close, not pushing him away. Hearing his brother promise he wouldn’t forget. Hearing Sam say he loved him… It was all he wanted, all he needed to hear.

Well, that and Sam’s promise that he wouldn’t let Dean hurt him, no matter what. When his brother finally gave it, Dean sighed and looped his chained arms around the younger man’s neck. Letting Sam draw him in even closer.

“Yeah, it is.” He agreed, pressing his lips to Sam’s. Softly at first but quickly deepening their kiss till it was nearly bruising. Desperately twining his tongue with his brother’s and clutching at the younger man till they were both breathless.

The light touch of Dean’s lips wasn’t enough, but when his brother pushed his tongue inside his mouth and deepened it, Sam groaned softly, arms tightening around Dean’s shoulders. Opening his mouth, he tangled his tongue with Dean’s, sensing and echoing Dean’s desperation.

No matter how much Sam tried to shut it out of his mind, he knew… knew this could be the last time… that he could lose his brother, not in just one way but in may. Dean might not be able to withstand the harshness of the ritual, or it might not work and things could play out with a deadly end even if Sam did everything in his power to prevent that, or Dean could come out of this different… no one knew what would happen. And then if everything did go right, if the ritual somehow went so far as to cleanse Dean of every aspect of him affected by the werewolf he was becoming, then there was a damned good chance Dean’s feelings would be reset. Brother he might handle, lover might disgust him.

Fear for Dean, and for this strange love they’d found clenched around Sam’s heart. He held onto Dean that much tighter, kissing him with everything he had, wanting… willing him to remember, to want to live for this, to want to come back… to this.

When he heard the crunch of footsteps from outside, he broke the kiss and started pulling Dean toward the door. His eyes slid over his brother’s slightly swollen lips, and he licked his own, tasting Dean. He had to fight the crazy idea of taking his brother, just making him get in the car and disappearing with him. Sliding his hand into Dean’s for a sec, he squeezed, then opened the door and helped Dean outside, hoping the darkness would cover any signs of their reddened lips.

His breaths were still a little labored as they approached their dad. Sam looked down, but he’d already caught his dad’s scowl. Nothing new there. He looked up into the nights sky... moon wasn't up yet, but it would be pretty soon. He turned his head toward Dean to see if he was feeling any effects, like the other night, when he'd gone to some place between the two states, but he looked okay. “You alright?” Then their father was on Dean’s other side, and Sam couldn’t help thinking it was because the elder Winchester expected trouble.

Breaking their kiss was the last thing Dean wanted to do. Damn the others waiting for them. Damn anyone who might see them. Damn the rising moon he could feel tugging something deep and primal inside him. All he wanted to do was keep touching Sam, keep holding Sam, and never let him go… He knew his wish was foolish and stupid. This wasn’t some fairy tale where all their problems would magically vanish as long as they just loved each other enough. Everything had been leading up to this moment, and now it was time to face the conclusion, whatever it may be…

He let Sam pull away from him and lead him to the door, not that his brother gave him much of a choice in the matter. Dean leaned into his brother’s weight, letting the younger man support him so he could conserve his strength. If what Connal said was true, then he was going to need it.

Sam’s fingers finding his and squeezing in encouragement had him smiling, just a little, however his smile slipped from his face instantly once they were outside. John Winchester waiting on them, and not looking pleased that he’d had to come back for them.

For a moment their father met his eyes and he saw fear in them. Perhaps fearing, as Sam did, that what Connal said was true. He might be too weak to endure the ritual and he was about to watch his son die. But before Dean could even think of something to say that might reassure the older man, even if it didn’t reassure himself, determination replaced the look in his father’s eyes and the older man merely moved to his other side to help support him.

He gave his brother a small nod in answer to his question he wasn’t even sure if the younger man could see. The sun had sunk down into the horizon, leaving only the darkening purple sky above, the stars alone certainly not enough light to see by. At least, it wouldn’t be for Sam and his father, Dean knew. He could see quite clearly however.

John didn’t lead them far into the surrounding woods, but it was just far enough to make the night seem even darker somehow. The light of the small fire in the middle of the clearing seemed overly bright by comparison. Everything was already set up. Dean could see Cassandra kneeling, still in chains, at the edge of the clearing. Bobby had a gun pressed to the back of her head, silver bullets, Dean had little doubt.

Connal was kneeling in front of an intricately drawn design on the forest floor. The symbols Dean didn’t recognize, but somehow just looking at them made his stomach churn in discomfort. Four large stakes were driven deep into the edges of the circle, more chains attached to them. His muscles tensed. A cold fear coiling in his gut. An instinctual fight or flight instinct. His father seemed to have anticipated this and held onto him a little tighter. Like Dean could possibly run with the chains binding his ankles.

“It’s alright son.” John Winchester tried to reassure, trying to move Dean forward, and Dean tried to relax, tried to move, but his muscles all froze in fear. When his father tried to pull on him again, Dean began to struggle. His heart rate and breathing speeding up. Panicked.

“No!” He shouted, trying to break his father’s grip on him, but his weakness and the chains prevented him. Dean didn’t know why he was afraid… no terrified… but he was.

“Sam, help me get him into the circle!” John said, trying to drag his resisting son forward.

By the time they neared the clearing, Sam had gotten a hold of his emotions. He wasn't going to fail Dean, not now, not when it counted. The sight of Cassandra on her knees and with Bobby ready to execute her if she gave him trouble should have warmed his heart. It didn't.

Instead, his eyes were on the chains tied to the four stakes. If that wasn't for Cassandra… if that was for Dean… If he was going to be spread-eagled. The possibility had Sam reeling. He remembered how Dean had reacted to just cuffs, how he'd initially reacted to the cage at the cabin, he knew how much Dean hated even the chains he was wearing now. His brother submitted because he wanted them to be safe, but months of imprisonment by that bitch right there… months of being chained up like an animal had left its scar on his psyche, and his first instinct was to reject and get the hell away from more chains.

Dean must have realized at the same moment what the chains meant because he suddenly stopped. Dad tried to get him to keep going, and got the opposite result. Dean was fighting to get away. One look at his face and Sam could read the panic in his eyes. "Dean… Dean…" His brother was still fighting their dad, trying to pull away.

"Dad, let him go." Sam linked his arm through Dean's, wrapping his around Dean's and holding his upper arm firmly, but moving to stand so he was almost facing him. "Dad, please," he insisted, eyes drilling into his father's who reluctantly released Dean. Now it was Sam holding Dean in place.

"Dean, look at me. Dean, look at me." When their gazes locked, he spoke in a low, calm voice. "You wanted this, the ritual. If we're gonna do it, it's now. Now or never Dean, and if you say we walk away, then we walk away." He practically sensed his dad's hackles rising, but didn't give a damn. "But if its what you want, then I'm coming with you. I'll put the chains on, no one else Dean. And I'll take them off when it's over, you can trust me. Trust me, Dean." Under his breath, he whispered, love you.

Cassandra's head reared up, her eyes filled with violence as she stared at them.

John Winchester hadn’t wanted to let go of his son, Dean was damned strong, even when he was injured and supposedly ‘weak’. He’d barely been able to hold onto the struggling young man. But the fear that his son might hurt himself, break open his wound and start bleeding all over again, and Sam’s insistence finally had him complying.

Once the older man had released his struggling son, once it was only Sam holding onto him, talking to him, Dean began to calm almost instantly. His eyes were still wide with fear and his body so tense he was shaking, but he wasn’t fighting anymore. A little clarity beginning to push its way through the irrational panic that had gripped Dean.

John had to admit, he hadn’t wanted that particular precaution, but Connal had insisted upon it. Dean couldn’t leave the circle, for any reason, until the ritual was complete. Those chains were as much for Dean’s protection as it was for theirs.

Hearing Sam promise to Dean that if he’d changed his mind now that they would stop certainly didn’t sit too well with the older Winchester. They really didn’t have time for this. They were pushing the envelope. If they didn’t start now they might not be able to finish it in time… and what if Dean refused now?

But Dean didn’t refuse. He took a deep shuddering breath and nodded to his brother. Agreeing to let the younger man put him into the chains.

“Alright.” Dean finally whispered.

“Alright,” Sam echoed, gently leading Dean to the center of the circle. “Okay Dean, sit down,” he said, grabbing Dean in a bearhug when he saw the fear spike up again in his eyes. “I’m right here with you. Right here, Dean. We just gotta get over this hurdle, and then we’re home free, okay?”

Once Dean did as he asked, Sam crawled to one post, got the cuff and put it around Dean’s ankle, then the other. When he came back to cuff his wrist, it was ten times harder. He swallowed over the lump in his throat, then closed the metal around Dean’s wrist. His fingers caressed his brother’s inner arm, over the bracelet. “It’ll be over soon, it’s not like the last time,” he whispered.

Then he had the second cuff on, and he thought he wanted to throw up. Just like at the cabin, when he couldn’t leave Dean inside the cage alone, he didn’t want to leave him alone inside this circle. Wouldn’t unless he was forced to. Brushing Dean’s hair back, he rocked onto his heels and looked at the others.

Dean nodded shakily, but the fear did not leave his eyes even as he let his brother pull him forward towards the circle. He had to do this. He had to do this for Sam. His brother was right. It was now or never. He kept his eyes on Sam and not on the circle or the chains he was about to be bound in. He knew how helpless he was going to be in those chains… there was no way he’d be able to gain enough leverage to pull himself free of them, or even struggle. He would be utterly defenseless… but he trusted Sam. As long as his brother was with him, he could do this.

The tight hug his brother gave him helped him calm down enough to lie down in the circle like Sam wanted him to. He remained still when the chains around his ankles were removed and then the new ones were locked in place. His heart began to speed up again in spite of himself when Sam moved to chain his wrists to the stakes. His fingers clenched and it was all he could do to keep still and not pull on the chains binding him, trying to get free even though he knew he couldn’t.

He looked up into Sam’s eyes, trying to focus on his brother’s comforting touch to keep himself from completely going off the deep end. It would all be over soon, once it was done, Sam would take off the chains and his brother wouldn’t be in danger from him anymore. Dean repeated that over and over in his head.

David Connal stood up slowly and approached the bound man inside the circle. He gave them both a sympathetic look before turning to Sam.

“I’m sorry. You’ll have to step back now.” Connal said, and Dean tensed immediately, but he gave his brother a shaky nod. Trying to tell the younger man without words that it was going to be ok, even if he couldn’t bring himself to believe it himself right now.

Connal had a wooden bowl in one hand and a knife in the other. As soon as Sam moved out of the circle, he began to speak softly. Though the foreign words pouring from his lips sounded like a strange mixture between chanting and singing. Dean’s gut clenched hard when the other man brought the knife close to him and sliced up the front of his shirt, exposing his chest.

When the other man dipped the blade into the bowl he was holding Dean realized that the bowl wasn’t empty. An odd smelly black mixture coated the blade and Dean couldn’t stop himself from flinching when Connal brought it close to his skin again. The blade barely scratched the flesh of his chest, but it still felt like fire or acid carving into him and Dean couldn’t stop himself from jerking and crying out in pain. Connal seemed to expect the reaction, because his words never faltered and the blade never stopped moving.

Dean’s fingers curled into fists and he jerked in the chains but they didn’t budge, he couldn’t escape the blade carving lines of fire into his flesh.

When Connal told him he had to step away, Sam’s first instinct was to ask why, and was it really necessary or was it just a convenience. But before his questions left his lips, Dean was nodding at him to back off. He might have gone on and asked his questions, but he was afraid to rile up Dean when he appeared to at least be calm. Closing his mouth, Sam nodded, and slowly moved just outside the circle, one hand gripping the post.

He watched the ritual like a hawk, wishing that despite his dad’s clear impatience with him earlier, he had asked more questions... that he knew what to expect. Instead it was all unfolding in front of him, and he was being asked to trust a stranger. Sure he’d been ready to trust the stranger when they were looking for him, and even when they’d found him. But right now... here... when his brother was tied up like that, it was just a little harder to be that positive that things would work out.

As Dean started to jerk and gave a cry of pain, it was as if his father knew he’d step in that circle again, and Sam felt a heavy hand on his shoulder and arm. His nostrils flared, his jaw clenched as he watched Connal drawing all over Dean’s chest, making him hurt like he was using silver or something. Again he involuntarily moved toward his brother, and his dad stopped him. Sam’s hand tightened on the post, his knuckles whitening, his breaths coming our harshly as he watched his brother writhe in pain.

He’d promised... promised Dean it would be okay. This wasn’t Dean okay. Yet they’d both been told it would be a difficult ritual. He felt so fucking impotent right now. If he could take the pain for Dean, if he could just shoulder some of it. His gaze focused on Dean’s clenched fists, then his pained expression, and his gut just clenched for his brother. Let it be over fast... just let it be finished and over fast.

Across the way, Cassandra tested Bobby’s will to hold her there, and had the butt of his gun knocked into her forehead, bleeding. Maybe her blood would tinge the wind... maybe her pack would be able to find her. Maybe they could stop this... this ritual. She didn’t believe in it, there was nothing that could reverse a werewolf’s bite, nothing. This Connal, he smelled like a wolf... so if he hadn’t been cured, then why should her mate.

Her gaze narrowed on Sam. If she didn’t die tonight, that mate stealer would.