By the time Connal finished with the knife on his chest Dean’s blood felt like it was boiling inside of him. Intense pain radiating from every single cut, even though they were barely deeper than a scratch. Dean grit his teeth. Tried to keep from crying out. He felt dizzy. Sick to his stomach. The sound of the other man’s constant chanting mingling with the pounding of his own blood in his ears.

Connal looked up at the eldest Winchester and John nodded. David stood slowly, his voice never faltering. John Winchester gave his youngest son’s shoulder a light squeeze. Both to offer comfort and a reminder not to touch Dean while he was inside the circle.

John followed Connal over to where Bobby stood with Cassandra. John pulled out a set of pliers from his belt, and the other hunter knew what to do. Grabbing a handful of the werewolf bitch’s hair and yanking her head back. John Winchester grabbed her jaw and yanked out the gag that Sam had shoved between her teeth earlier. Then he shoved the pliers into her mouth.

Dean had no idea what was happening. He could barely hear anything beyond the beating of his own heart loud and hard in his chest, but he heard the pained scream from Cassandra. Dean forced his eyes open and managed to turn his head enough to see his father wrenching out another one of the bitch’s fangs and dropping it into the bowl Connal held.

Bobby shoved her head forward, letting some of the blood, and most surely werewolf venom spill into the bowl as well. Apparently finished with her, John Winchester shoved the gag back into her bloody mouth as Connal began to crush up the hideous mixture as he approached Dean in the circle once more. Kneeling beside Dean’s head as he continued to chant.

John Winchester was the one who spoke to his elder son as Connal lifted the back of Dean’s head and pressed the bowl to his lips.

“You have to drink this, son.” John ordered. If the elder man’s voice was a little strained, Dean chose to ignore it. Dean wasn’t stupid. He knew it was going to be bad. How much that stuff had hurt just from the light scratches in his skin…

Dean’s eyes locked with his brother’s as Connal began to pour it into his mouth. All of it. Then Dean couldn’t see anything through the blinding pain that ripped through him, his body convulsing as he began to scream.

Sam’s nails dug crescents into the post as he watched his brother writhe in pain. He felt his dad’s touch, didn’t look at him, but wondered what worse thing was in store. When the two other men walked away to Cassandra, he was so damned tempted to take Dean’s hand, to squeeze it, run his hand over his face.

Then Cassandra’s scream had him turning, and he didn’t even bat an eyelash at the barbaric treatment of the she-wolf. He was glad when they shut her the hell up again.

Before his Dad and Connal returned, Sam made eye contact with Dean, saw his brother’s eyes were glazed. “Hang in there,” he said quietly, hoping to God this would be over soon.

As Connal passed him, Sam saw the bloody mixture in the bowl. Then his dad was ordering Dean to drink it, but there was a hint of something in his dad’s voice. Regret? Sam’s stomach clenched. He took a small step toward them, eyes glued on his brother, though he was partially shrouded from view by his dad’s body.

Dean’s instantaneous reaction to the liquid being poured down his throat, almost as if it were acid, had Sam in the circle and dropping down onto the ground. “Dean!” There wasn’t a doubt in his mind that his brother’s insides were being ripped apart, shredded by whatever this was, and there wasn’t a damned thing he could do.

Feeling his dad grabbing his arm, Sam knocked his arm away. He wasn’t supposed to touch his brother, he got that. But he was human... he needed to be close, not to be excluded, he needed for Dean to know he was right there.

Please. Please don’t let this be for nothing, let it work. Please. His chest rose and fell as his brother writhed and shouted in sheer agony. Please let it be over. Please.... please let this end. He almost closed his eyes to the torture, but he'd promised Dean he'd be there every step of the way, and lame as this was... watching from the sidelines... he couldn't make it easier on himself.

When it went on and on, his face went up, eyes questioning his father's. Was this right... is this how it should go... were they doing more harm than good here?

John Winchester saw his youngest son practically dive for his eldest when Dean started screaming. He knew that Sam couldn’t touch Dean while he was in the circle, but it still took the older man a few seconds to move. His attempt to pull the young man back away from Dean half hearted at best, and he didn’t even bother trying again when Sam shrugged him off.

Dean... oh god... Dean...

Dean’s entire body was coated in sweat, but his face was pale as a ghost. His body jerked so hard against the chains holding him that his wrists had begun to bleed. The posts and chains held, but now John was afraid that Dean’s bones might actually give and snap before the restraints would. Connal had warned them all that it would be bad... had told them that Dean might be too weak to endure it... John had gone into this knowing that his son might die tonight, but... Now as John watched his son’s body writhe like it was trying to tear itself apart, listening to Dean howl in agony like a wounded animal...

The gift and the curse was intertwined, Connal had told him. The spirit and the demon so tightly woven together that one could not be distinguished from the other. The ritual was meant to literally rip the two apart and, if the wolf spirit was strong enough, let it kill its cursed half. And the battle was being waged inside of his son’s body...

John watched, feeling as helpless as the night he’d watched his beloved wife burn to death on the ceiling of Sam’s nursery. His son was dying... he was dying and John was just standing there, letting it happen, letting this man torture his son...

When Dean screamed again, blood welled up from his mouth, a horrible gurgling choking sound, but it was the flash of long fangs that had John Winchester’s blood running cold. Dean’s eyes when they rolled back in his head were yellow. His hands clenched into fists were also bleeding and John knew it was because of the sharp claws that had grown from his son’s fingers. No... no... no... NO!

John’s eyes went frantically to the sky. Saw the moon... huge and full and red like blood... rising through the trees. It had to be done before the full moon... no... please... this can’t be all for nothing!

The vicious growl the elder man heard had his blood running cold before he realized it hadn’t come from Dean. Dean was making choked, half whimpering, gurgling sounds of pain, his face twisted in agony, but his body jerking weaker and weaker now... the sound had come from behind him... John turned when he heard the gun shot like thunder through the clearing in time to see Bobby being knocked away from the werewolf bitch by another wolf. The silver bullet had managed to find its mark in the heard of the werewolf before its teeth could find their way into Bobby’s throat, but there were more of them, and with the bitch no longer held at gun point...

“Sam!” John Winchester yelled as he pulled out his gun and shot the next wolf that charged through the trees between the eyes.

Sam had seen Dean's eyes go yellow before, he'd also seen claws on his hands. He'd never seen Dean's hands bleed like this though. And the blood coming from his mouth, streaming out the corners. He heard the shouting, almost through a haze, and realized he was shouting his brother's name even as Dean was making sounds that were more wolf than human... but the sound of pain was universal and unmistakeable. Come on... come on Dean, pull through. Fight it... let this work... let it... let it work.


Close to tears, Sam was choking, biting back his own screams... his demands that Connal do something, fighting his natural insticts to pick Dean up, hold him close, to tell him it would be okay... that he didn't fucking care if Dean was a werewolf... they'd deal with it. He didn't want this, not for his brother, this sort of pain. If there was a way to take some of it on himself...

A shot rang out. Almost as if in slow motion, Sam dragged his eyes away from his brother, looking over his shoulder to see a werewolf drop to the ground. His dad had nailed it, but there were others. And he knew, knew they couldn't be allowed to disrupt the ritual.

Reaching around behind him, he pulled his gun out of his waistband and moved around to protect Connal and Dean from the other side. Aiming, he shot at one of the snarling wolves, missed, and shot again. There was no room for error, not with his brother tied up like this.

Cassandra snarled in victory. Her pack hadn't let her down. She held still as one of them kept the hunter, Bobby busy, and another freed her from the chains. She spit out blood, from having been brutally defanged. They would die, all but her mate would die for this days work.

Howling her command that they keep everyone but Sam busy, she cirled around, sniffing the air. That one had to die. Turning wasn't an option, not for him... not for the usurper. She was Dean's mate, not that one... and once he was dead, her mate would come back to his senses. This... this witchery wouldn't work, everyone knew nothing could turn back the clock once a werewolf bit you, nothing.

The other wolves snapped to follow their leader's command, moving quickly, dodging bullets and targetting John and Bobby, and threatening Connal... though they were a bit leery of him.

Seeing the elder hunters being attacked, Sam turned again, dropped on his knees as a werewolf leaped through the air in tandem with another one toward his father. This time his aim was true, and the howling creature dropped to the ground, foam coming out of it's mouth.

"Bobby!" Sam shouted, backing away from his position and starting to run toward the other hunter.

Cassandra balanced on the thick branch of the tree, crouched... waited for the right moment, then sprang off, claws spread out, teeth gnashing, her target ... a dead man walking.

Dean couldn’t hear his brother’s shouts. He couldn’t see the younger man’s anguished face. However he could smell his lover’s terror. Utter terror. Beyond the unimaginable pain that felt like his own body was ripping itself apart, beyond his own fear that he could feel his life slipping away with every thundering beat of his heart, he could still smell his mate’s fear.

He could smell the other wolves. Their rage. Their hunger. Their intent to kill… slaughter… everything he held dear. Everything he loved… Sam… his father… Bobby… SAM!

He could not die! Damn it. He would not die! His brother needed him. His lover was in danger. His mate… SAM!

Dean’s eyes snapped open and the first thing he saw was the full red moon rising above them all. Then he could see Connal, still kneeling beside him even as chaos erupted around them. Gunshots and vicious snarls and howls coming from every direction it seemed. Dean barely heard his own enraged growl join them. He barely felt the way his very bones seemed to shift beneath his skin, breaking and rearranging themselves under his flesh. Changing… He didn’t really register when the chains binding him fell away, or that Connal was the one to remove them. He was too busy searching, seeking… finding…

Sam…

Dean, free, rolled over. Pushed himself up. Ripping at the clothes with sharp claws that tried to bind him in place. He was still weak, in pain, but he didn’t care. All he cared was that Sam was in danger. He saw the bitch watching his mate. Readying to attack. Dean reacted without thought to protect what was his.

*

John Winchester heard Sam’s shout. He managed to dodge the swipe of claws from the werewolf intent on gutting him and shot it in the face. He turned to help Bobby. To help Sam. He saw the werewolf leaping for his son from the tree and raised his gun again… however before he could fire he heard another enraged growl and saw a large black shape barrel into the werewolf, knocking it away from Sam in mid air.

A huge black dog… No... A WOLF was attacking the werewolf, the two snarling and biting at each other as they rolled on the ground. John’s eyes snapped over to the circle only to find the chains that had been binding his son inside of it empty. Connal was nowhere to be seen.

Dean…

The huge black wolf managed to finally gain the upper hand, latching its powerful jaws onto the werewolf’s neck.

Cassandra's triumph was stolen practically from her jaws by the unexpected attack that came like a torpedo out of nowhere. The alpha werewolf snarled and howled in pain and rage, rolling on the ground with the attacking wolf, her eyes flicking to her intended victim and then she was fighting for her life. She didn't know how it was possible, but Dean... her intended... he'd achieved a complete change. She'd heard there were some that could do that, and how how glorious would it be if they mated and brought...

Her dreams came crashing to an end when before she could order the others to focus on Sam as a means of stopping Dean, Dean's powerful jaws clamped down on her neck and throat. This was not how it would end. Even as she gave a determined push, sharp, deadly teeth sank into her throat, cutting off her air.

The wind and sound of the bodies clashing mid air had knocked Sam onto the ground on his ass, even as he raised his gun to shoot. He knew Cassandra... but what was that other wolf... a gigantic real wolf doing protecting him. His first thought was that it was Connal, but as the seconds passed, and he saw the chains loose on the ground, he shouted. "Dean! It's Dean," that was for his dad's benefit, he wanted to be sure no one shot the wolf... his wolf.

Even though other werewolves were circling, and he should be helping dad and Bobby to shoot them, Sam was practically mesmerized. Glued in place. He trained his gun on Cassandra, but knew he could as easily shoot Dean so he never pulled the trigger.

Once Dean was ripping her head off, and Sam could hear her last whimpers, he didn't heed his dad's shouts to keep away. Instead he walked right up to them, aimed, and shot the already dead or dying werewolf in the temple. The sounds of snarling didn't stop. He took a half step back. "Dean?"

It was a fight to the death, not for dominance, not for food, but to protect the life of his mate.

He felt the sharp deadly claws raking into him as the she-wolf tried in vain to push him away, but he held on. His jaws tightening ruthlessly, teeth sinking deeply into fragile vulnerable flesh. Blood. So much blood pouring into his mouth but he didn’t stop. Biting harder. Ripping and tearing without mercy as he shook his head from side to side.

Soon the struggling body beneath him began to still. The heart pumping blood like a fountain through the gaping wound in his enemies throat was slowing. Pained pleading whimpers replacing the vicious snarls of the she-wolf.

He finally released the dying she-wolf. Licking his bloodied jaws as his glowing yellow eyes scanned the darkness. The remains of the pack were circling the clearing warily. He knew they had seen him kill their alpha and they wanted revenge, but their numbers were already so depleted they really had no choice but to retreat. He growled low and dangerously, a warning.

The final gunshot so close to him made him turn and snarl.

The whimpers of the dying she-wolf had stopped.

He could smell the remainder of the pack withdrawing back into the woods.

He turned his eyes to the man holding the smoking gun. The man that had killed the she-wolf. He growled softly. A warning. Another man was shouting and his growl deepened. He might be injured and in pain but he could still fight. He would fight. He would never stop fighting to protect… his…

The man took a step away from him. Retreating. The man’s scent spoke of fear… his scent… his mate’s scent… as recognition dawned his growls softened, a soft whine escaping his throat instead. Dean… yes… that was his name. Sam… He approached his mate slowly, favoring his wounded leg, and whining again at the young man.

Sam's heart knocked against his chest at the large wolf... Dean growled again, a clear warning. His head jerked up to see his father approaching slowly, his finger on the trigger. "No, no dad... it's fine," he said, shifting so that he was in front of the wolf, though only a little change in his dad's position could expose the wolf again to the possibility of being fired on.

"Dean, it's me... Sam." Licking his lips, he put his hands out, showing him the backs of his hands, his eyes downcast, making sure not to show any teeth at all. From all he'd read, these were the signs of submission. The last thing he needed was for Dean to think he was being challenged. "It's alright... its over. Can I..."

His father's sharp shout for him not to get closer went ignored.

"He knows me," he said softly. "He knows me." As soon as the wolf reached him and circled once around his legs, Sam dropped down and put his hand on the animal's back, stroking its luxurious fur. "Thanks Dean," he kept saying his brother's name, wanting it to penetrate through to the wolf he'd changed into. "For saving me. Your leg... it's hurt." He made sure not to touch it. "We'll take care of it, alright? I'll take care of it." Dropping his head down, he kissed the top of the wolf's head and could sense the fear and anger roiling off his dad behind him. "Love you," he whispered so low, only his wolfmate could hear him.

Even seeing with his own eyes John Winchester could barely believe it. Even remembering Connal’s warnings to him how Dean might change due to the ritual, it was difficult for the older man to believe that the black wolf he was staring at was actually his son. But Connal himself was gone and Dean… who else, what else, could it be?

John’s eyes quickly scanned the surrounding darkness. The remaining werewolves had retreated. Though John and Bobby still trained their guns towards the dark tree line for any signs of movement, ready to shoot without hesitation, he was certain they would not attack again. The elder Winchester turned his attention back to his son… his sons… Sam approaching the wolf… his brother…

“Sam! Stay back!” The older man shouted the warning to his younger son. Even with Connal’s earlier reassurances that Dean would be no danger, John wasn’t willing to risk it. Not until they knew for sure. The wolf… Dean… those glowing yellow eyes were wild, like a real wolf. They did not seem to hold any recognition. In fact, the animal was growling, either in anger or fear, and if it could overpower a werewolf it could easily kill a man as well.

Of course, Sam completely unheeded his warnings.

Though it made him sick to his stomach he pointed the gun at the wolf that was probably his son. If he had to shoot to protect Sam… But then Sam was standing in his way, blocking his shot and the older man felt his stomach twist even more in fear. God damn that stubborn boy! Did he want to get himself killed?!

“Sam!”

But the wolf’s growls softened as it approached Sam. The large animal sniffing at the young man as it limped around him. When Sam knelt down and touched the wolf, petting it, John swore he saw the tail beginning to wag and John didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

“Well I’ll be damned.” He heard Bobby say from beside him, the other man obviously as shocked by everything as he was. When the wolf licked Sam’s face, John finally lowered the gun and his heart began to beat a little easier.

The men behind him weren't the only ones shocked. The sudden stroke of the wolf's wet tongue across practically his whole face had Sam jerking back until he realized it was a good sign and started to chuckle. "Somebody get a picture of this," he said, laughter and happiness bubbling up in his voice as he put both arms around the wolf's large body and pulled it close in a hug. "You're very cute in wolf form. I think I'm going to get you a diamond studded collar," he teased, not knowing how much Dean would understand, but knowing full well he was going to store up a lot of wolf jokes and start using them, once it... this whole change thing was no longer a sore point for his brother.

"Where's Connal," he asked over his shoulder. "Don't we need him to show Dean how to... you know, change back?" Sam's fingers were still curled tightly around thick fur, his face close to his wolf's, not a shred of fear or tension remaining in his body.

His dad's shrug and Bobby's gesture of looking toward the woods told Sam they were on their own with this. "Okay Dean, let's go inside, alright? Then we're gonna have to find a way to..." he gestured withj his hand, as if the wolf would just 'get' that he meant go back to human form. He pulled up to his full height, kept on hand on the back of the wolf's neck, and meeting his Dad's gaze, gave him a genuine smile as he started to walk in the direction of the cabin.

John couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him as he watched the slobbery kiss the wolf gave to Sam. In fact, he felt almost giddy with relief. As some of the fear and anxiety that had been gripping him ever since Dean had been lost all those months ago, ever since they had found Dean and discovered the bite mark on his son, finally began to bleed away. Leaving him feel almost weak and so tired he felt he could sleep for a whole month straight.

Damn, he was getting old.

He almost wished he did have a camera to take a picture of this. If only for blackmail material later, he could only imagine the look on Dean’s face when he told his son later how he’d been wagging his tail like an excited puppy. Even though John was a little worried by the fact that Dean didn’t seem to be all there, or at least not completely aware of what he was doing, Sam was right. It was obvious that the wolf Dean had become knew his brother, knew them, on some level. Maybe Dean would eventually learn to be more in control, more of himself, when he changed. He could only hope.

John exchanged a look with Bobby when Sam asked where Connal was. The other hunter shook his head and John sighed a little as he looked out towards the dark woods. If Connal had changed like Dean he could be anywhere right now and there was no way they would find him. Especially if he didn’t want to be found. The fact that John Winchester hadn’t exactly brought the other man here of his free will it was probably a good bed he didn’t want to be found.

At least the other man had kept up his end of the bargain. He had helped his son. John Winchester would keep up his end, and not look for Connal again. Nor would he tell anyone about Connal’s knowledge of the ‘cure’. But that didn’t mean that he and Bobby couldn’t research it further. See if there was a way, perhaps, to help those that had already changed return to normal permanently. It was a long shot but if they didn’t have to kill people who’d been bitten by a werewolf, that would be a good thing.

“He’ll probably change back in the morning, when the moon sets.” John said. Watching Sam and Dean, the way the wolf looked at his brother there was a definite intensity to that gaze, and an unmistakable intelligence. The way the animal cocked its head to the side as Sam spoke, and immediately got up to follow Sam indoors when the young man mentioned it. It was definitely Dean in there.

John returned Sam’s smile easily, following after his sons back to the cabin.