Thanks denise69
Weeellllll, since you said please,
Here is the next chapter
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Chapter Three: Learn the Hard Way
When Sam and Dean made it back to the motel the rain was still falling in sheets from the sky, unrelenting and depressing as it filled the surface of the graveled parking lot with several large puddles.
By the time the two hunters made it into the safety of the motel room they were both drenched and shivering. Sam quickly walked over to the small radiator and stood with him palms over the heat trying to warm up his sodden body before toeing off his wet boots and letting the warmth from the radiator travel into his cold feet and trough the rest of his body.
Dean was standing at the bottom of his bed pulling off his wet and muddy boots before walking over and dropping them on the floor beside the radiator to dry off.
“Damn is it ever gonna stop rainin?” Dean asked as he walked over to his bed at the same time as looking out the window, or rather, looking at the glass that was being pelted with never ending icicles of rain.
“It’s gotta stop sometime” Sam answered in a sarcastic tone earning himself a glare from Dean which soon turned into a smile and a laugh when Sam tried to warm his hands up faster by setting them on top of the radiator which only caused him to gasp in pain before tearing his hands back and cradling them against his chest.
“Shut up”
“Dude what did you think was gonna happen?” Dean said as he started to pull a pair of boxers, sweats and a grey t-shirt out of his bag, “Well I’m taking a shower…try not to do anything stupid while I’m gone Sammy” Dean said with a smirk
“It’s Sam” was the usual reply before Sam walked over and sat down on one of the motel room chairs that was beside the table and his laptop.
“And don’t use all the hot water” Sam warned, his tone serious. His only reply was the sound of the bathroom door closing.
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One hour later and both Sam and Dean were showered and feeling a lot warmer, Sam also changing into his nighttime attire of sweat pants and a white long sleeved shirt. Sam was sitting at the table going over all the information that they had about the werewolf trying to see if he could find anything else out that would be helpful to them.
Dean was across the room on his own bed, legs stretched out in front of him and flicking through their Dad’s journal. He was reading the entries that their Dad had put in about werewolves, but there wasn’t many. Dean vaguely remembered one of the only werewolf hunts that he had ever been on, he had gotten hurt and their Dad had had to stitch him up in the motel room – it was the first time that Dean had been seriously injured on a hunt and he hadn’t been allowed on another major hunt for almost a month later when Caleb had broken his leg chasing an angry spirit and Dad had needed someone to back him up and no one else was available and he had decided that Dean would have to come with him. Thankfully that hunt, it had been a poltergeist in West Texas, had went as smooth as a hunt could go with only a few cuts and bruises and his Dad had started to take him on the big hunts again. Dean could only remember bits and pieces of the werewolf hunt as he had been mostly out of it and neither Dad nor Sammy had really wanted to talk about it much, and Dean, who was the Jedi Master of avoiding subjects and not talking about things had left them alone with his various questions and eventually forgot about it over time, but now he remembered that hunt as if he were actually there again;
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Sam was twelve years old and was waiting in the front seat of the Impala waiting for his Dad and Dean to get back. They had left about an hour ago into the deep and eerily quiet forest on the outskirts of the town that they had been calling ‘Home’ for the last few weeks. John had gotten information from one of his contacts that there were brutal and vicious murders taking place and that he should come and check it out. They had been researching the old forest and the suspicious deaths that had taken place and had come to the very sturdy conclusion that they were hunting a werewolf.
A few nights ago they had come to take care of the creature and that little trip had resulted in a broken wrist for Sammy after the damn beast had tried to make dinner out of him; luckily Dean had intervened and shot the creature in the shoulder before his little brother could be made into sushi; although little was starting to be a lie as the youngest Winchester was having his growth spurt and was already rivaling his sixteen year old brother in the height department; something that Dean was none too happy about, figuring the kid would outgrow him soon.
So Sam sat waiting patiently, staring blankly out of the front window of the Impala, his Dad had told him that Sam would have to stay behind and that Dean and himself would manage. Sam was sulking, silently cussing his Dad for not letting him come; when would he ever get to see a werewolf again?!? Just as Sam was about to turn the radio on he suddenly heard a rustling noise; quickly grabbing the .45 pistol that sat in the seat beside him he looked out the window, searching in all directions for the source of the noise. When nothing happened for a few minutes Sam was about to caulk it down to a fox or a rabbit when he saw the shadows of two approaching figures, and when they stepped into the light Sam’s heart nearly stopped beating in his chest, the breath stolen from his lungs; John had his arm wrapped around Dean’s waist and Dean’s right arm was strewn across Johns shoulder, and John had a firm yet gentle hold on Dean’s wrist. Sam couldn’t move as he watched the approaching form of his brother and father; Dean’s head was bent forward so Sam wasn’t able to see his face, but what he could see was horrendous; Dean’s t-shirt that had once been gray was now almost black, stained with the blood that was flowing from a slash in his stomach. Sam watched in horror as his Dean was relying on John for support with each step he took; when they were within twenty feet of the Impala Sam came from his trance with a shock and hastily opened the door to the Impala and ran to the aid of his brother.
Sam helped John get Dean back to the car where they laid him down on the dirt road that lead to the opening of the forest, and propped him against the car so that John could assess his injuries better. The Sun was fading fast in the sky and the world around them was shrouded in the dark colours of the fast approaching nightfall. John had managed to get Dean’s shredded jacket off of him and handed it to Sam before he crouched down in front of the wounded Winchester,
“Dean…” John asks in a comforting tone; he can never stand to see either of his boys get hurt and yet he was unable to do anything as he watched the beast slash across his eldest’s stomach, not able to block out the howl of pain that Dean emitted; the only consolation being the clip that he burned into that bastards heart.
John watched as Dean slowly lifted his head to Johns command and let in rest against the passenger side door of the Impala; John quickly looked into his sons eyes and saw that pained expression beneath the glossy green surface,
“Okay son, I’m sorry but you know I need to check this” John stated as he looked into Dean’s eyes before he lifted the small scissors out of the first-aid bag that he didn’t even see being put down. Knowing what was going to happen Sam quickly knelt down beside Dean and put his arm around his shoulders, and held his left hand in his own, knowing that he would need to help steady Dean for the onslaught of pain that was coming. John quickly cut open Dean’s t-shirt leaving his bloody and torn apart flesh exposed to the cool night air, Dean unable to hold in the gasp as the wind nipped at his skin,
“Okay son, on three…”John lifted up a small vile that contained holy water, knowing that they needed to purify the wound; the tear would not cause Dean to change into a werewolf as there was no saliva transferred from blood to blood which carried the catalyst of the disease, but the claws could cause an infection that could equally kill the victim, but if washed out thoroughly with holy water they should stop that happening.
John poised the bottle over the tear and looked into Dean’s eyes a final time, wordlessly apologizing for the pain that he was going to have to endure,
“One…” John used the element of surprise and started to pour liberal doses of the holy water onto the wound and watched as smoke began to hiss from the wound. Dean was unprepared for the pain and couldn’t stop the scream of pain that ripped from his lips; Sam had to increase his hold as Dean’s back arched away in pain; which was difficult with his casted wrist but he somehow managed, his grip on Sam’s hand strong yet not strong enough to case any serious pain, because even through the mist and haze of his own torture Dean tried to control his actions, if only slightly, because if he hurt Sammy because he wasn’t able to handle a little pain he would never forgive himself.
After what felt like an eternity John finished pouring the holy water onto the wound, satisfied when it had stopped hissing. Dean’s body took a moment to relax all of the tense muscles before his back fell back against the Impala with a small thud; the metal had been cooled down due to the drop in temperature and his body shivered at the contact. Sam looked at his brothers face and saw that his eyes were shut tight and he was breathing through his nose for a few moments as if to calm himself down before he opened them to the world, glancing around before letting them settle on their father,
“Did ya’ get…” Dean was unable to finish the sentence as another spasm of pain coursed through him, but John knew that he was referring to the hunt, and he raised a gentle hand to Dean’s hair and ruffled it before answering,
“Yeah, we got it sport, ya’ did good”
John then went about the task of applying a gauze pad to the wound and wrapping a bandage around Dean’s middle to keep it secure until they could get it fixed properly. Dean’s t-shirt had been ripped beyond repair and with Sam’s help they managed to get Dean into one of John’s flannel shirts; it was too big for him but it meant that there would be less chance of the material congealing with any over the other small cuts and scrapes that Dean’s body adorned.
Now that John had the supplies all put back into the trunk of the Impala he went back to where Dean and Sam were both sitting, noticing the way Sam kept a tight hold of Dean as his body began to shiver fiercely due to the blood loss.
“’Kay Dean, this is gonna hurt a bit but hang on” John soothed as he gently wrapped his arm around Dean’s waist and with Sammy they both lifted Dean to his feet; the thought on Dean’s mind as they transferred him to a feet was how much of a liar his Dad was because that hurt more than ‘a bit’ it hurt a whole damn lot; unable to stop the groan of pain he alerted his father and his brother too,
“Shh, it’s okay, you’ll be more comfortable in a minute when we get you in the car” John said as he motioned for Sam to open the back door to the Impala before Sam got in so he could help easily slide Dean across the seat.
While this was happening Dean could feel his energy fading and his couldn’t stop the way he rested his head against his fathers chest, his eyes falling shut on their own accord,
“No Dean, you need to stay awake Kido” John whispered into his ear, though loud enough to jolt him back to awareness.
John carefully placed Dean into the back of the Impala where Sammy gently, but with skill that a twelve year old should not possess, pulled Dean’s head and shoulders into his lap while Dean’s legs were placed in an elevated position on the seats to make him more comfortable.
Sam took this opportunity to look at his brothers face properly for the first time since he saw them coming out of the clearing; there was a gash of about two inches above his eyebrow and the beginning of a nasty looking bruise on his cheekbone, but the feature that startled Sam the most was the deathly pallor of his older brothers skin, how it looked almost translucent against his dark eyelashes that lay against his cheeks…………………
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Dean came back to himself with a gasp the events of that night playing through his minds eye in supreme Technicolor and Surround sound. He had never remembered that night being so blood filled and terrifying, but he guessed at the time he had had more pressing issues, such as not bleeding to death all over his little brothers lap.
Dean brought his eyes back to the pages in front of him. He tried to read over the information but he found that his eyes wouldn’t focus on the words in front of him, his eyes dropping closed and his head dipping towards his chest. When his eyes slipped closed for the tenth time and it took an enormous effort to get them to open again, he decided that this one was fight that he wasn’t going to win.
Glancing over to the table where Sam was sitting he saw the huge smirk on Sam’s face,
“Shut up” Dean said, trying to force anger into his words but not being able to stop the small smile that graced his own lips,
“Seriously man, I thought you were gonna give yourself whiplash the way your head was snapping about” Sam laughed right before a yawn escaped his own mouth. Now it was Dean’s turn to laugh at the look of surprise that marred Sam’s features,
“That’s right, laugh it up” Sam retorted as he decided that it was probably time to call it a night and go to bed.
Dean carefully put the journal back into his bag before he climbed into his bed. He lay down on his stomach, his hand instinctively going under his pillow and seeking purchase in the hunting knife that he kept there.
Sam too got under the covers of his own bed, laying down on his back and resting his hands on his chest after turning off the light.
“Night Dean”
“Night Sammy”
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The next morning both boys had woken early. They had showered and dressed before heading out the local diner where they discussed their recent hunt and the best way to go about it over breakfast.
They had decided that the best plan of action would be to wait until nightfall and try and find the werewolf before ending the string of deaths that had taken place over the past weeks.
Dean spent the remainder of daylight cleaning his weapons and checking that they had all of the supplies they would need.
It was now only a matter of hours before midnight and Dean was sitting on the edge of his bed, cleaning his favorite gun, a 45. pistol with pearl grip, while sitting in front of the window watching as the sky of Baton Rouge once again opened up to pour endless torrents of rain down onto the world below.
Dean let out a sigh. Just his luck.
Sam came out of the bathroom and laughed when he saw the look on Dean’s face. He looked so much like a five year old Sam wanted to go over and take the gun off of him…then again he was a Winchester so by the age five he should have upgraded to a small shotgun. Sam shook his head to clear his mind of the bitter thoughts of their upbringing. Now was not the time, they had a hunt to do, and even if they didn’t, nothing that he did or said was going to change the past so their was no point in wallowing.
“So ya’ all ready for the hunt man?” Sam asked as he went over to his own bed and quickly took an inventory of the supplies in his duffle,
“Yeah. Man this is gonna be great” Dean replied with a grin on his face, the rain long forgotten.
“Dude seriously - you need to get out more” Sam said as he watched Dean shoot him a glare before placing the gun he was cleaning back into his own duffel.
“Ready?”
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Dean steered the muscle car into the clearing that they had visited the previous day. The windshield wipers were working overtime to try and keep the window clear enough so that Dean could see through it. Dean turned the key and cut the engine, watching as the windshield once again became a waterfall of rain, masking the car in a cocoon of wet and coldness.
“Well lets get a move on” Dean announced, his tone stating that he was in hunter mode and he was ready to hunt this bitch down and put a silver bullet straight in its heart. Dean opened the door and climbed out quickly into the soaking rain, making sure not to get any water onto the leather seats, cause that would just completely ruin his night.
Sam quickly followed suit, clambering into the downpour as he prepared to hunt the beastie down. He quickly followed Dean to the trunk and together they pulled out the duffel bag and they each pulled out their own guns – Dean his favorite sawed-off shotgun and Sam his rifle.
“Lets go” Dean said as he slammed the trunk shut.
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By the time Sam and Dean made it to the site where they were certain the werewolf would be, they were both drenched through.
“We just need to wait now and eventually the mutt ‘ill have to come ‘Home Sweet Home’” Dean said in a sarcastic voice, Sam shaking his head in amusement.
They waited in the pouring rain for almost thirty minutes before they heard the first snap of a twig quickly following by the sounds of guttural growling.
Dean was hiding near the entrance of the clearing behind some bushes, while Sam was hiding at the opposite end of the clearing behind another set of bushes; they were carefully placed so they would be able to attack the werewolf from both sides. The Mississippi river stood to the right of them, its icy cold waters flowing along as they had yet to ice over for winter, creating an eerier atmosphere as the silence prevailed.
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It was several more minutes before the werewolf prowled into the clearing. It was a vast creature with jet black fur coating it from head to tail, the water from the ever persistent rain dripping off like dark blood. It moved slowly but deliberately, eyes scanning around the area, snout in the air. The giant teeth shone in the moonlight, saliva and a darker substance that both Winchester’s thought was most likely blood, dripped to the ground, leaving a trail everywhere the beast moved.
The werewolf was in the clearing, unknowingly pointed towards the direction that Sam was seeking cover, when it lifted its snout into the air, taking in a deep breath followed by a growl deep in his chest as it crouched low to the ground, its large paws and claws grabbing at the earth below.
Dean knew that the werewolf was getting ready to attack and he immediately went into protective big brother mode. The last thing he saw before he jumped to his feet and moving out from his hiding place was the corner of Sam’s jacket as he obviously tried to move away, yet this was only making the werewolf more apprehensive of the hunt – adrenaline coursing through its blood at the thought of a game of cat and mouse before it caught its prey.
“Hey Bitch! You want some!” Dean shouted the first thing that came into his head, and although it wasn’t exactly the most poetic thing in the world, it did the trick. The werewolf quickly stopped his advance of Sam and spun around, opening its mouth and emitting a loud and feral growl that vibrated through the air.
Dean didn’t even have time to press the trigger of his gun as the werewolf took a giant leap through the air, its powerful hind legs closing the distance between itself and Dean in only a matter of seconds.
The werewolf was on top of Dean in the blink of an eye, causing the air to rush from his lungs as the gigantic weight of the wolf-like body pressed down onto Dean, making him loose hold of his gun and sending it sprawling away and under the cover of the tall grass.
“Aaahhhh!” Dean let out a pain filled scream as the claws dug deep into his abdomen as the werewolf tried to eviscerate him, blood instantly swelling to the surface and pooling beneath his trapped body.
Sam watched in horror as he brother was brutally attacked mere yards from where he stood. Suddenly images of a hunt past came to the front of his mind and froze him in his tracks. He stared uncomprehendingly at the scene before him; the sound of Dean’s pain filled scream filling his ears and bringing him out of his fear induced trance and he quickly aimed his gun.
Unaware of Sam’s predicament Dean was trying to free himself from under the werewolf. So far he had only managed to get a set of claws sweep across his face and arms as he tried to force the muzzle and dangerously sharp teeth away from him. Suddenly Dean managed to get his legs free and he used the opportunity to shove them into the werewolf’s chest, sending it hurtling backwards. At the same time a shot wrung out through the crisp air, and Dean watched as a bullet tore through the things shoulder.
Fortunately for Dean this momentarily stunned the creature giving him the opportunity to stumble to his feet where he swayed unsteadily, the blood loss already affecting him as he felt the darkness pulling at the edges of his vision; that was why he wasn’t able to interpret what happened next…
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Sam watched as the bullet he fired tore threw its shoulder, causing blood and fur to spray to the ground. He watched as the werewolf stumbled back before crouching low to the ground again, getting ready to pounce.
Sam was getting ready to aim a second bullet – and hopefully the fatal bullet when he caught sight of Dean.
Dean was standing – or rather swaying – on unsteady feet. His skin was deathly pale, his eyes glassy and unfocused as he blinked sluggishly. He was also covered in blood from head to toe, the rain making it look one hundred times worse – it matted his hair from a large gash that ran from his hairline on the right side of his head, to through his right eyebrow, causing the blood to run in a lazy trail down the side of his nose. From what Sam could see of his arms, which were laid protectively across his stomach, were also covered in several large gashes, bleeding freely – Sam knew Dean would be glad that he hadn’t wore he treasured leather jacket which he had got from their father and got it tore to shreds like the one he wore now, instead of worrying about the fact that he was torn to shreds. The worst of all though was the gash that ran across Dean’s stomach, bleeding steadily – Sam could see the pool of blood that was congealed on the ground from where Dean had previously lay.
Sam already had his finger on the trigger, the pressure almost enough to send the bullet careening through the expanse and exploding in the heart of the beast, bringing an end to this nightmare when something that Sam never could have expected happened.
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Suddenly the werewolf was leaping at Dean and before either Sam or Dean could blink let alone react to what had just happened, the werewolf bit down hard, its teeth digging deep into Dean’s side, releasing the poisonous curse and sending it coursing through Dean’s veins – an automatic death sentence.
Sam didn’t waste a milli-second as he pulled the trigger sending the werewolf to its end. Sam watched as the teeth that were clamped around Dean tightened unconsciously, pulling him viciously with the wolf, with a strangled cry, into the icy cold water of the Mississippi river with an almighty crash,
“DEAN!!”
Blood and Connections
