Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

“Son of a bitch!” Dean cursed and pulled out his gun. Sam, lying on a dirty pavement with a huge monster wolf pressing him down with his front paws placed on his chest, only hoped for Dean’s aim to be precise and if not to kill the creature right away, then at least to hurt it badly. Silver bullets were supposed do the good job even if Dean weren’t that lucky, but still… Being totally in mercy of a bloodthirsty werewolf wasn’t exactly on the top list of Sam’s favorite positions.

“Dean, shoot!” he cried, but his voice came out strangled. He was sure that the glimmer in the beast’s eyes was pure derision. With rising panic was he staring at the monster bending over him and pressing him to the ground; he could smell its breath and see the cruelty in its eyes. This dude knew perfectly well who he was and what he was doing. He wasn’t an innocent person during the day with no idea about the murders he caused at night. He wasn’t like Madison… The truth was, Sam had been thinking about Madison quite often lately, about her horrified expression when she found out what she was, her tears when she allowed Sam to kill her because she didn’t want to hurt anyone else. Now Sam remembered all of that, knowing that this guy was a murderer with his heart and soul. He was the same murderer in the daylight as well as at night. That was why he deserved to die, to suffer, to feel the pain of his victims. But what Sam could see when looked into the werewolf’s eyes – and hell, this one must have been some new kind, because he could fully transform into an animal, incredibly fast and cunning and extremely hard to kill – was intelligence and perfect awareness of what he was up to. He was up to tear Sam’s throat. 

“Dean!” Sam rasped, and finally the shot echoed. The werewolf crouched, still pinning Sam to the ground, and Sam could feel a sharp pain on the side of his neck. Crap! Dean missed and the bullet grazed Sam’s neck… Sam groaned and looked at the werewolf. The monster’s fiery eyes were still fixed on him and Sam recognized the challenge. He forced his sore and exhausted body to move, to fight, and when the second shot echoed, the beast whined and ran away.

Sam was gasping, still lying on the ground. Dean ran to him.

“Are you okay?”

“Peachy,” Sam replied and accepted the offered hand.

“The son of a bitch escaped,” Dean cursed. “He’s injured. He can’t be far. Let’s go.”

Sam sighed. He had enough of hunting for one day… or night. He was exhausted, dirty and sore and he didn’t long for anything else than bed. He went to retrieve his gun lying far away from the place where they were standing. The world in front of his eyes swayed for a moment.  

“Sam? You sure you okay?” Dean’s concerned voice sounded close to him.

“Yeah. I’m fine,” he lied and tried not to trip over his own feet. Dean gave him a mistrustful look, but didn’t say anything. Sam could feel his eyes on him.

“You don’t look fine to me,” Dean said and handed Sam his handkerchief. “Here. Wipe the blood off your face. Don’t forget the neck, too.”

Sam gave his brother a hard look and snatched the handkerchief out of Dean’s hand. He wiped his face at first and then pressed the handkerchief against the wound on his neck.

Dean watched him. “Is that a wound?” he asked.  

“It is,” Sam snapped. “You missed,” he continued reproachfully.

Dean raised an eyebrow. “Did I?” he asked incredulously.

“You missed and scratched my neck. You could kill me!” Sam went on. He was tired and exasperated.

Dean frowned. “Impossible. I mean… It’s dark, but I’m not such a bad shooter…”

Sam didn’t really know why he was so pissed. Okay, Dean missed and could kill him, but Dean was trying to save his life. So yeah, Sam was unfair, but he didn’t care a bit right now.

“Let’s go back,” Dean said in the end, eying Sam suspiciously. Sam nodded, following his brother to the Impala parked a few blocks away. They didn’t talk, but Sam could still feel Dean’s eyes on him. What the heck? He tried not to snap at Dean. He was successful, but only until they got back into their motel room.

“Let me look at the wound,” Dean said when finally there was enough light for him to inspect the damage he supposedly caused to Sam.

Sam’s blood boiled again. “You did enough,” he grunted, taking their first-aid kit, and after he strode right into the bathroom, he slammed the door after himself.

When he came out at last, showered and his wound treated, he was calmer. Dean gave him one very suspicious and very careful look. Sam ignored him and crawled into bed, happy to go to sleep eventually. He turned his back to Dean and closed his eyes. He could hear his brother go into the bathroom. The last thing Sam registered was the sound of closing door, quiet and careful.

*

 When Sam got up in the morning, Dean was still asleep. Sam felt guilty for snapping at him the last night so he brought him a big piece of apple pie together with breakfast and morning coffee.

Dean accepted Sam’s clumsy apology with a silent nod of his head, and while he was slowly chomping on his apple pie, he shot Sam suspicious looks from time to time. Sam was drinking his coffee, feeling stupid under Dean’s scrutiny.

“May I finally look at the wound?” asked Dean when a good half of his breakfast was gone.

Sam grimace and forced himself into a calm tone. “It’s just a scratch, don’t worry. It’ll be okay soon.”

Dean only nodded, throwing one more mistrustful look in Sam’s direction.

*

They went to check the place where they fought the werewolf last night. Sam was looking for any scratch on the pavement, telling him that he had been right… but he couldn’t find any proof of Dean’s missed shot, not talking about the bullet itself.

It was Dean who found a trace of it. A hole in a wall was enough to tell Sam that there was no chance the bullet could have harmed him anyhow.

“Seems you were right after all. I really did miss the second time,” Dean said thoughtfully.

Sam looked at the hole. “Second time…”

“Yeah. I’m pretty sure I hit the son of a bitch with the first shot.”

“Right…” Sam said, chill crawling down his spine.

They spent the rest of the day looking for some trace of the werewolf, but they couldn’t find any.

*

Sam had one of the weirdest dreams that night. He was a big canine looking for something. Or someone. He wasn’t sure until a huge wolf crossed his path. Their eyes met and Sam felt burning hatred. The only thing he could think of was killing the opponent and having his revenge… for what exactly, it stayed a secret.

The fight was bloody and ferocious. Sharp fangs were sinking into flesh with cold cruelty, biting and tearing. Blood was spurting in every direction until Sam’s fangs dug into the sensitive skin on the other canine’s throat. He took a good hold of it and started the true carnage. With the taste of blood in his mouth and the life leaving the other body Sam could finally feel the satisfaction he was looking for. Whatever the wolf had done to him, it was revenged now, and Sam really didn’t need to know what it was. He didn’t care. What counted was the sweetness of his victory mixed with the metallic taste of blood and the smell of death. He tilted his head to the inky sky and howled…

*

 When Sam woke up in the morning, he was alone. He looked around and it seemed as though Dean had left the room in a hurry: his blanket was tossed on the floor, the radio alarm clock was knocked down from the bedside table, the door of the bathroom wide open, and the duffel with their weapons thrown in a corner, unzipped. Sam reached for his phone tucked in the pocket of his jeans lying on the floor only to realize his whole body was sore. His senses woke up immediately into almost painful awareness. The second thing he realized was that he was naked under the blanket. And bruised. And injured. Bitten in several places, but the wounds seemed to be already half-healed. The fading pain wasn’t such a problem – in any case Sam didn’t want to bother with the fact that his muscles were aching as though he had been fighting the whole night. The real problem was the unpleasant chill creeping up his spine, slowly but uncompromisingly.

Sam snatched the phone out from the pocket and looked at the display. Three missed calls from Dean, all of them done during the night. How come Sam hadn’t heard his phone ringing? He checked his voicemail box, finding out there really was a voicemail from Dean: Sam, it’s me. Where on the earth are you? Call me.Sam checked the time. Night hours again.

He sighed and sat up. His head spun and he felt like throwing up. Okay. At first bathroom, then calling Dean. He stood up. His legs felt like jelly and it took him quite some time to cross the distance into the depth of the small bathroom. Luckily, he managed to get there sooner than his stomach decided to crack down on him and made him double over the toilet. Damn, he didn’t remember getting drunk last night. Actually, he didn’t remember drinking any alcohol so he didn’t get why he was as sick as though he had downed half of storage.

After his stomach calmed down a little, he staggered out from the bathroom. Getting dressed took him a lot more time than usual. He was grateful that clothes hid all of his bruises and wounds. Good. What Dean didn’t know about couldn’t harm him. Sam took his phone and dialed Dean’s number.

“Sam? Where the hell are you?” sounded on the other side of the line after the first ring.

“In the motel room,” Sam said, his voice sounding strangely dull.

“I’m right there. Don’t leave the room,” Dean replied and hung up.

Sam sighed. Dean sounded pissed, but he could control his temper. For now. Sam got back in bed and waited.

It didn’t take long and the door of the room swung open and Dean burst in. Sam sat up, feeling a little bit better than a while ago.

“Where have you been the whole night?” Dean barked.

Sam shrugged. “I don’t remember leaving the room,” he said hoarsely.

“The hell you don’t!”

“I don’t, okay? I remember getting to bed last night and waking up in the same bed this morning with three missed calls and you gone.”

Dean frowned, giving Sam a scrutinizing look.

“You look like crap,” he said after a while.

Sam really wanted to scowl. “I’ve looked into the mirror this morning,” he snapped.

“So… you were like… somnambulant or something?” Dean asked, and his eyes didn’t leave Sam’s face.

“If I really wasn’t here, then I think that’s the only reasonable explanation.”

“Right,” Dean said, but he didn’t sound convinced. Luckily, he decided to skip to another topic. “The dude we hunted last night is dead. His body was found this morning. His throat was torn.”

Sam winced, remembering his strange dream. “He’s dead?” he asked incredulously.

“Yup. Seems like we have another furry fella here.”

Sam’s eyes met Dean’s. “Why do you think?”

“Because a dog would be no match for him. Whoever sent him to the other side had fangs and had to be strong enough to overpower him.”

Sam nodded. It made sense.

“May I have a look at your wound?” Dean asked suddenly.

Sam stiffened. “I told you it was just a scratch. It’ll be fine.” He sighed and lay down. The heaviness of Dean’s gaze was crushing him. “It’s okay, Dean, really.”

Dean shrugged. “Whatever… I’m gonna bring breakfast. Stay here, okay.”

“Mkay,” Sam muttered into the pillow.

He waited until Dean was gone again before he hurried into the bathroom. He tore off the plaster from his neck, revealing the wound. His heart skipped a beat as he was staring at his abused skin. It wasn’t a scratch, he could see it clearly now. It was a bite.

Mist appeared in front of Sam’s eyes and he doubled over the toilet once again that morning.

It couldn’t be true, it couldn’t, couldn’t, couldn’t! He wasn’t a werewolf, he couldn’t have killed the guy. It was just a dream, maybe a premonition, even though Sam didn’t have those in years.

He washed his mouth and ran back into the room. If he remembered right, his gun was still loaded with silver bullets. He took out one of them only to drop it on the floor immediately as it burned his hand. FUCK!

Sam was staring at the bullet. His last hope was shattered into pieces. He felt panic slowly crawling into his mind. He was trying to push it away; there wasn’t time for it now. He needed to decide immediately what to do now. 

He couldn’t tell Dean, of course not. The only way to eliminate a werewolf was to kill it. He couldn’t want that from Dean. It was too cruel and he was sure Dean wouldn’t have done it anyway. He was more likely to get Sam in the car and take him far, far away from any civilization. He would keep an eye on Sam not to hurt anyone. He would waste his own life, looking for a cure instead of saving people’s lives. Sam couldn’t allow that. He knew he had to deal with his problem alone.

He took his gun hesitantly. A bullet in the head and everything would be over…

He shivered, realizing that even thinking of it was scaring crap out of him. When he thought of his death, he was automatically thinking of Hell. Sam would never have admitted it, and he also never did, but he was scared shitless of dying. He wasn’t a good man like Dean. He was just a walking crap in meatsuit with as many issues as he could gather during his life. He was a disappointment to everyone he loved and no matter how hard he was trying to convince himself that he was okay, that the time in Hell was enough of a punishment for his mistakes, no matter how much he believed he was forgiven… that all were just lies weaved by his need to stay sane. He was trying hard to be good, to make it up to Dean and the rest of the world for the time he was soulless and the son of a bitch of the highest category. Sam hated admitting all of this, but he knew it had been just a matter of time when his inner demons would strike.

He glanced at the alarm clock still lying on the floor. If he wanted to spare Dean the revelation (even though Sam believed Dean already anticipated what was really going on, the scrutinizing look Dean had been giving him since Sam had yelled at him for the missed shot didn’t escape his attention) and the cruel duty, it was time to pack his things and leave as soon as possible and as far as he could. He packed his duffel hastily, leaving just a short note on Dean’s bed before he left the room: Don’t look for me. Ever. Sam.

*

When Dean found the room empty, he knew he was right, and the few words Sam had left for him just confirmed it. Hmpf, as if Dean was going to listen to whatever Sam wanted from him. Sam wasn’t himself right now and the sooner Dean found him, the better for him and for the rest of the population. Sam couldn’t solve this alone, even though he obviously thought he could. Which, of course, was bullshit.

He noticed the silver bullet lying on the floor.

“Don’t do anything stupid, Sam,” he said to himself, but it left him with an idea. He quickly packed and left the room. After he signed out from the motel, he headed into the town, looking for the nearest hardware store. It wasn’t so hard to find it. But first things first. Dean pulled out his cell phone and tried to call Sam. As expected, the bitch had turned his phone off. Probably even got rid of it already.

Dean parked the Impala in front of the store. He hoped for at least some lead to Sam.

“What can I do for you?” asked the clerk as Dean walked in.

“I’m looking for a guy. Tall, brown hair, hazel eyes…”

The clerk gave him a knowing look. “A guy like that came here just a half hour ago. Really tall.”

“What did he want?”

“He asked whether we had something made of silver. Silver chains, silver handcuffs… It sounded pretty kinky to me,” the clerk said, giving Dean an amused grin. Dean decided to ignore it for the guy’s own good.

“What did you tell him?”

“That we didn’t sell anything like that. He looked disappointed.”

“Okay,” Dean sighed. “Did he buy anything?”

“Yeah. Actually, he took an iron chain and a few massive padlocks.”

Dean nodded. It was definitely Sam. Looking for something to stop his night errands. Dean was sure that Sam would try again to get something made of silver and powerful enough to weaken a werewolf.

“Have you seen his car?” he asked as though just out of sheer curiosity.

“You mean the junker? Yeah, I’ve seen it,” the clerk said with a scornful smirk, but Dean knew better than that. Sam needed to be as inconspicuous as possible but fast and he wasn’t a dummy to take a car that obviously wouldn’t make it out of the town. It was likely that he would change the car for something else in the next town.

“The junker, yeah,” Dean said and gave the clerk a similar smile. “The guy has a bad taste, but he loves his car.”

The clerk shrugged. “I can get it. Trucks are generally dependable cars. I had one of my own, but I changed it for a nice shiny SUV last year.”

Dean nodded and thanked the clerk. Truck, of course…

*

Sam headed out from the town as fast as the old car allowed him. He still didn’t have anything silver if he didn’t count the few bullets in his gun. He didn’t know how high his chances to get a silver chain were. Probably not much unless he asked someone skilled to forge it for him. There was no time for looking for anyone like that. Sam’s priority was to get from human civilization as far as he could. He wasn’t sure yet where he wanted to go, but as far as he was thinking about it, the endless forests of Canada sounded quiet appealing. He could live the life of a hermit there and bother only bears. But until he got there… he glanced at the thick chain lying on the passenger seat. He definitely needed something silver, too.

With multiplying miles he drove reverted his thoughts to the events of the last night… and to Dean. Would Dean do what Sam asked him for in the note? Sam knew his words were harsh, he meant them to be. He wanted Dean to stay as far as possible from him. It had been hard to write them, even harder to leave them there on Dean’s bed. He was losing the last person he could rely on, about whom he cared and whom he loved. Hell, Sam loved his brother more than anyone else in the world. Dean was everything he had: support and safety, and even though there were so many things between them, Dean never stopped watching over Sam.

But now he had to let go. Sam was dangerous to anyone and everyone and there was nothing Dean could do. Except eliminating the danger. Because that was what hunters did.

Sam controlled the reflection in the rearview mirror every now and then, making sure no one was following him. He reached another town and he decided to try his luck there. The thing in the hardware store repeated – no silver chains for desperate werewolves. No silver chains at all. What more, the clerk gave Sam a weird look as though he thought the guy was some kind of a pervert and he talked to Sam in such a way as well. If Sam hadn’t felt like the greatest freak of the world already, he would have taught the guy to show some respect to his customers, no matter how perverted their demands sounded.

Sam left the hardware store with heavy feeling in his heart. He stole another car, leaving the truck behind, and set off on his journey to nowhere. Nowhere sounded good as long as it was far enough from Dean…

The night found Sam on the road. He parked the car under the protection of a forest. He got to the back seat and locked all four doors. The tiny space in the car was pretty uncomfortable. Sam took the iron chain and the padlocks, studying them for a long time. He didn’t know how far he was from the nearest town and how strong and determined was the vicious creature within him. Sam wound the chain around his hands and legs and locked the loops with the padlocks, hoping they were strong enough to restrain a werewolf. He shoved the keys from the padlocks into the pocket of his jacket. The pocket had a zipper so Sam supposed they were safe there.

He sighed into the seat and tried to get some sleep.

*

The first stop when Dean reached the town was a hardware store. Bad thing was that there were more stores of that kind and he was provided with the information he needed only in the third one. That cost Dean a way too much time, but at least he found out he was right. Sam was heading north.

The guy in the store turned out to be a true ass, especially when he found out who Dean was looking for. Dean taught him a lesson about respect and left.

As he found out, Sam got rid of the truck and got a new car, but what kind of car it was, he didn’t know. What he could be sure about was that Sam was already miles away from the town. It was already getting dark, but Dean decided to drive even at night. He didn’t need to be a prophet to know that Sam was riding the most deserted roads and that he would have to stop somewhere for the night. Most likely locked in a car parked somewhere near the road, hidden from curious eyes and bound in chains, afraid of the night creature inside him. He just knew his brother too well…

*

Sam was woken up by a sharp pain around his wrists and ankles. The chain was literally digging into his skin, leaving dark bruises. Sam was lying on the floor under the back seat, gazing at the torn ceiling above him. Shreds of thick fabric were hanging from it, pieces of foam were scattered everywhere around. Both the back seat and the front seats were torn. Sam sighed. The wolf must have been raging…

He wanted to reach into the pocket of his jacket… when he realized with a stabbing intensity that what his jacket was before was just a new pile of shreds. All his clothes were completely torn, nothing had survived.

Sam’s breath quickened with rising panic. The keys. He had to find the keys from the padlocks. He had to find them right now. He supposed they were lying on the floor somewhere under him. Sam wanted to sit up, only to find out he was stuck between the seats. Fuck, fuck, fuck! This couldn’t be true! He was close to start hyperventilating. He pulled the chain binding his hands violently, but the loops got only tighter. Sam moaned with pain and sobbed quietly. This was so fucked up.

He was lying still for a while, trying to calm down. He got a better look at his hands and only then realized that one of the padlocks was broken. Sam felt a flicker of hope and he quickly got rid of the padlock and freed his one hand. Blood rushed through his veins again and Sam sighed with relief.

He managed to heave himself from the floor and collapsed heavily on the torn back seat, panting as though he had run a few miles. He was exhausted. Whatever he had been doing during the night, it took its price now.

He looked at the floor, finding the keys from the padlocks. He freed his aching limbs from the grasp of the iron chain, finding out that one more padlock was broken. How strong did the creature he had changed into have to be if it were able to damage two of four strong padlocks? Sam obviously needed to visit a hardware store again. And get something silver if he didn’t want to spend all his money on hardware. And get a new car somewhere along the way because this one was a total mess – and that was quiet conspicuous.

He waited until blood started circulating into his limbs again and then reached for his duffel lying in the passenger’s seat, taking out new clothes. He should buy some of those, too. While he was getting dressed, he noticed many bruises all over his body. God, what was he doing the whole night? He couldn’t remember. He would have freaked out completely if he hadn’t been so tired. He lay down in the back seat again, which was even less comfortable now than before it suffered the damage, and closed his eyes, falling asleep immediately.

*

Dean woke up when the sun was on its half-way to the sky. It had been about midnight when he parked the car on the side of the road to get a few hours of sleep. It wouldn’t have done any good to anybody if he had been driving the whole night, not talking about the fact that finding his brother during the night could have ended with a catastrophic result. Sam had had to stop somewhere for the night, which meant Dean was slowly catching up with him. He wondered how Sam had been doing during the night and how he was doing right now. Was he hurt? Was he safe? Was he on his journey again or was he trying to catch up on sleep? Was he scared? Dean would bet his lost Impala that he was. He had to find his brother as soon as possible. He started the engine and hoped he would find some trace of Sam.

*

When Sam opened the door, he literally fell out from the car. He was lying on the muddy ground, staring at the sky. According to the height of the sun he assumed it was shortly after noon, the time to get behind the wheel and drive to the nearest town to get the stuff he needed and then leave it as fast as he could. It really irritated him that he had to make night breaks, but the fact was that if he hadn’t had to, he would still have been with Dean.

Sam felt a painful stab in his chest. It hurt thinking of his brother. He wondered where Dean was and what he was doing. Was he looking for Sam? As far as Sam knew him, he surely was. A crack of a small smile appeared on his face. This was why he loved his brother so much. Dean never gave up. He kept fighting even if it was futile. This time it was bringing nothing. Sam was a monster and not even Dean could do anything with that. Sam needed Dean far away and safe.

He got up to his feet and after a few stretching exercises he climbed into the driver’s seat and pulled the car on the road again. He still felt tired, but he wasn’t sleepy anymore.

After a couple of hours he reached a town. The first stop was in a hardware store to buy new padlocks. Still no silver chain kept in the store, but this time he was offered to get one forged for him. The problem was the chain would have been available only in a month and Sam hoped he would have reached the endless forests of Canada by the time. Besides, he couldn’t risk Dean to find him. Sam had already left too many tracks.

He barely stepped out from the store when something caught his attention. A sign above the store across the street saying ‘Jewelry’ sounded promising as for Sam’s hunt for silver. He sighed. Desperate times called for desperate measures.

He crossed the street and entered the store. He shuffled to the counters where silver stuff was displayed: chains, rings, pendants… Sam’s eyes stopped on the chains.

“Can I help you?” asked the salesclerk, a tiny girl with a nice smile.

“Um… I’m looking for a silver chain,” Sam said timidly.

The girl smiled and showed him all the chains they had there.

Sam really didn’t feel comfortable there. The girl was twittering about the design of chains and their quality. Sam didn’t care about the design at all. He needed silver that could keep the monster inside him under control in the first place. Finally he chose the thickest chain they had there. Even though it wasn’t much, he hoped it would support enough the strength of the iron chain.

He was about to leave the store as fast as possible, when he noticed a pendant in the shape of letter D under the glass.

Dean.

“Disappointment,” his mouth whispered. Disappointment… That was he.

Dean…

He wanted to leave the store without any second thought, but the pendant didn’t want to get out of his head.

“I’ll take this one, too,” he heard himself saying. The girl behind the counter smiled and in a few minutes the pendant was his. Dean would laugh…

Before he stole a new car and left the old one behind, he bought food supplies. He hoped they were enough for a few days. He didn’t want to stop anywhere soon. He believed that Dean was on his tail, maybe even closer than Sam knew, and that was why Sam needed to confuse him. He didn’t have time to create fake traces and Dean would have recognized them from the true ones anyway so he had to make sure there weren’t any new ones. If he was lucky, a few days without any trace would confuse Dean and it would be easier for Sam to disappear.

Disappear… Another word starting with D…

*

Dean drove through three towns until he was willing to admit that he lost the track of Sam. The bitch still wasn’t picking up his phone and his laptop had become Dean’s possession since he hadn’t taken it with him, although his fake IDs had disappeared. Sam obviously thought that he might have needed them.

The only solution now was to take a map and try to figure out which way Sam might have taken. He needed to eat, therefore he couldn’t avoid towns forever and Dean wasn’t sure whether Sam had found what he was looking for – a silver chain – but he doubted that. It was more likely that Sam improvised and got a silver amulet instead.

The worst thing that could happen was that Dean might have gotten ahead of Sam. Not knowing what Sam’s destination was, it really wasn’t a good thing. He decided to spend the night in a motel and get a good sleep before he continued with his search for Sam.

*

Sam pulled off the road, hiding the car in the shadows of trees. He was tired, but he knew he wasn’t going to get much rest. Especially if he was going to wear the silver chain tonight. Even thinking of it was giving Sam goose bumps. The bruises he got the last night were long gone, proving Sam’s new ability to heal in a short time. He knew that not even steel bullet in the head could harm him now. But silver… Silver was poison. But as long as he wanted to keep this car longer than the previous one without attracting any unwanted attention because of the mess inside, he had to make the monster within him as weak as possible. Sam couldn’t afford leaving the cars with torn insides behind either. They would have been a great lead for Dean.  

This time he was wiser. He took off his clothes before he wound the chain around his hands and ankles, giving his hands only as much freedom as they needed for the activities such as hiding the keys from the padlocks in the pocket of his new jacket folded in the passenger’s seat and pulling out the box with the silver chain. He opened the box and looked at the chain with the pendant.

Sam stopped praying to God and angels long ago. It happened even before he found out that God wasn’t watching over the world anymore and the angels were just dicks, minding their own wars. But now he felt the urge to beg someone who still cared about his little soul for strength and courage. He was staring at the silver D for a long time, his hands shaking and tears rolling down his cheeks when he said:

“Give me your strength to survive this night, Dean,” he whispered as he reached for the chain.

It felt like touching red-hot iron. Sam held his breath and put the chain around his neck. The silver D slid on his sternum. Sam groaned with pain. The silver was burning his skin, it felt like wearing fire around his neck. Sam sobbed, his hands reaching for the chain unconsciously as though he wanted to tear it off from his neck, but the result was burned fingers. Sam’s vision was already too hazy with pain and tears and he could hardly see the burns. He rolled down into the seat, digging his fingers into the covering. This was going to be a long night…

*

The sun was already high and Sam still wasn’t able to move and take off the silver chain. He hadn’t slept all night long, that was why he knew he hadn’t changed. Or he had? The only thing he could remember clearly was the burning pain and the strength leaving his body. He was helpless… totally helpless and maybe going to die, because he wasn’t able to move even a finger, he was that weak. His tired mind was foggy and the only thing he could focus on was Dean… Sam’s big brother looking for him.

Sam gave a quiet, painful groan – just another one in the long series of them. Dean…

Sam knew he couldn’t stay here. Though tired, he knew he had to continue with his journey to north, to Canada, into the endless forests where people wandered only accidentally. That would become Sam’s sanctuary. But at first he had to get there.

Sam moved his hand and his whole body trembled. It felt like a wooden shell, cracking whenever he tried to move his limbs. Sam’s hand was inching its way to the chain hanging around his neck and burning deep marks into his skin.

The sudden sharpness of the rays of the sun sent a new shudder down his spine.

“Let’s look what a nice package we got here,” he heard the words said in a malevolent tone, but he couldn’t recognize the voice. And then: “Sam?” It sounded surprised. Whoever it was, they knew him.

Sam heard mischievous laughter. “Chains, Sammy? Kinky.”

It’s Sam, his mind responded automatically.

“What happened to you? Were you raped and left here like this?”

Some hands touched him… touched the silver chain, the burns it left.

“Crap!”

The chain was removed hastily. Relief flooded Sam’s tired body. He groaned.

“What the hell happened to you, Winchester? You got to the dark side?”

The padlocks were broken and the chain slid from his body with ease.

 “Where’s your brother, Sam? Where is Dean?” The voice sounded close to his ear. It belonged to a woman.

“Dean…” he whispered and his mind went blank. Dean…

*

Dean reached another town, but the result was the same as the day before. No one whom he asked knew anything about Sam. It could be that either Sam didn’t stop there or took another road. None of that sounded hopeful.

While waiting in the town’s diner for his meal to be brought, he was contemplating his next steps. He could hardly ask some officer to help him find his brother or simply hack into the federal database. Anyway, the only thing he would have found out was that both of them were dead, stopped by a brave officer when they tried to escape from jail after they were arrested for multiple murders. Dean sighed. If only he had had his car back! He had to give up the Impala, his precious baby, after the incident with their bad twins. Dean hated those sons of bitches from Purgatory! He promised himself to send them back where they came from. Which wasn’t an easy task, of course. But now his priority was to find Sam. 

While thinking like this, he was watching how an old car was being towed away from the parking lot in front of the diner.

“Your burger, mister,” the waitress said as she brought Dean his lunch. He gave her one of his charming smiles and thanked. She smiled back with a slight nod of her head and glanced outside.

“Finally the old junker will stop spooking here,” she said.

“Spooking?” Dean asked and grinned. “Do old things spook you?”

The waitress shrugged. “It’s more like old, abandoned cars.”

“Tell me more about that,” Dean said, leaning against the backrest and smiling at the waitress again. She was pretty and talking about spooky cars… He was a hunter and this was his job, right?

“There’s not much to say. It’s just what my son told me this morning and… police was here yesterday, asking about some stolen car…”

The words caught Dean’s attention. “What car?”

“I don’t know. I’m not really interested in cars so I can’t tell you what it was. It was… just a usual car, no truck or anything. It was quite old and I heard that when its owner had seen it, he didn’t want it anymore and simply scrapped it.”

“What was wrong with the car?” Dean asked.

“The inside was a complete mess. I heard that it looked like some wild animal had been shut in there. The local kids came with some ghost stories, especially after someone said that a few shreds of clothes had been found there together with a key from a padlock,” the waitress said, giving Dean an apologetic look. “You know, I hate horror stories, but my son loves them and sometimes he comes to me with such stories just to scare me.”

Dean smiled. “Funny kid.”

The waitress nodded and smiled back coyly. “I’m sorry, but I gotta go back to work.”

Dean nodded. “Yes, thanks.”

The waitress walked away quickly, maybe feeling ashamed for admitting her fear of horror stories.

Dean finished his burger quickly and then left the diner. It was time to check the situation.

*

The car was a real mess. Back seat, front seats, ceiling, floor… There was definitely something demonic about it and it was Dean’s job to find out what it was.

It was Sam. Dean was sure about it and after he found a few tiny shreds of a shirt that looked quite familiar, he had no doubts. Although… who said there couldn’t be anyone else who wore the same type of shirts as Sam? But it didn’t matter now. In any case, this looked like a job and Dean was there to solve it. He found out where the car was found and where it was from and followed the track while it was still hot.

*

Sam woke up much later just to find out he was lying on a couch with a warm blanket covering his naked body. He still felt tired and weak and the skin around his neck was stinging like hell, but he didn’t feel like he was being burned alive anymore.

“Awake, pretty boy?” he heard a woman’s voice and turned his head to look at a brunette sitting in an armchair just a few steps away from the couch.

“Meg?”

“Long time no see.” Her voice sounded mockingly as ever, but there was no hatred in it now. Maybe it hadn’t been there even the last time they met, Sam couldn’t remember clearly.

“Where are we?” he asked hoarsely. His throat was dry and burning and he would have appreciated a drop of water. He looked around the place. According to what he saw it looked like some mountain lodge.

“You want to know what this place is or are you asking about your coordinates?”

“The first one is enough,” Sam said and curled up under the blanket. If Meg wanted to hurt him, she would have done it long ago. And maybe it wouldn’t even be so bad if she did…

“We’re in the depth of forests on the east side of Rocky Mountains. South Wyoming, near the borders with Colorado.”

Sam nodded. He needed to cross Montana to get to Canada and disappear from Dean’s radar for good…

“Where are you going, Sam?” This time the voice wasn’t mocking, just curious.

“It’s none of your business,” he grunted nevertheless.

“I think it is since I saved you and brought you here, into my shelter.”

Sam looked at her incredulously. “Saved me? How if I can ask?”

Meg showed him the silver chain with the D-shaped pendant.

“Give it back.”

“Oh, sorry. I didn’t know you were suicidal.” The mocking tone was back.

“Give. It. Back,” Sam growled darkly.

Meg raised an eyebrow and threw the chain to Sam, who caught it but dropped it on the floor immediately.

“What’s up, wolfie? It didn’t burn your tiny paw, did it?”

Sam glared.

“Will you tell me what happened or shall I guess?”

Sam stayed quiet.

“Okay then. You know what I think? I think you messed up a case, got bitten by a werewolf – some kinds of them are really amazing, their bloodlust can be limitless.” The joy of saying that was so obvious in the tone of Meg’s voice that Sam felt an immediate regret that he had left the demon knife to Dean. This bitch deserved the cold steel in her guts. “You became a wolfie yourself and because you weren’t able to stand the idea of hurting your oh so precious brother, you ran away,” she finished and gave Sam a wide smile.

“Shut up,” Sam growled, piercing Meg with a hateful look.

“I believe I’m right. You know what would help you, Sam? I bet you know it too. Silver bullet in your heart. Or head. Depends on what you prefer,” she said and smiled sweetly.

“I said shut up,” Sam said, trying to sound as dangerous as he could.

“Sammy, Sammy,” Meg said and shook her head. “Do you really prefer dying slowly in agony?” she asked, picking up the chain. “D? As in desperate? Because that’s exactly what I can see – a bundle of desperation.”

Sam clenched his teeth. He so wanted to hurt the demon…

“Or is it damned? Because you are that too. Hmm… Or it can be dead. I can help you with that one. All you need to do is ask politely.” She smiled.

“Go to hell,” Sam growled.

“Be nice, Sam, I helped you. You wouldn’t have been able to move and take off that thing for days and days until you would’ve been too weak to even live. What you did was a suicide, Sam, and don’t want me to think that was what you really planned. If you wanted to die, you would’ve done it quick and clean.”

Sam didn’t stop glaring at Meg, but he didn’t even try to say anything this time. Meg was right. He hadn’t wanted to die. He had only wanted to be weak enough to not do any harm. He hadn’t counted with the possibility of not being able to take off the thing of his neck. Maybe he really should thank Meg, but instead of doing that he asked:

“Why did you help me?”

She shrugged. “What would it help me if I killed you? Walking body is always easier to hide than the one unable to move. Besides, your brother would try to avenge you and I really don’t need that now. You can leave and not bother me anymore, or you can stay and help me to hunt down Crowley.”

Sam gave her a surprised look. “You’re after Crowley? Seriously? He’ll toast you the moment he sees you.”

“We’ll see,” Meg said hatefully. “I’m not alone, Sam. There are more of us who want him dead. We heard that he wanted to enter into an alliance with Dick, and most of demons don’t appreciate that.”

“Why not?”

“It’s none of your business, Sam, unless you want to help. What’s holding you back? You’re not on the good side anymore, you’ve become a monster just like me, just like the one who bit you…”   

“Shut up!” Sam cried, shaking with rage. “You know nothing so shut up!”

Meg’s lips curled into a pitying smile. “Sam, it’s you who doesn’t know anything. In general werewolves are known for their bloodlust. You can try to restrain yourself, but either you die or kill someone in the least appropriate time. You need to feed your hunger for blood to stay strong and sane. Here!” Meg threw Sam’s duffel on the couch. “Get dressed. You still have a few hours until the change.”

Sam grumbled under his breath and scowled at Meg. “Can you leave me alone for a while?”

Meg rolled her eyes. “It’s not like I’ve never seen you naked…” But she walked out from the lodge anyway, giving Sam some privacy.

Sam sighed and pulled on his jeans and shirt. He noticed bruises around his wrists and ankles and he guessed that his weakened body wasn’t going to deal with them in such a short time than with the ones from before when he didn’t have the silver chain. Then he took a dirty T-shirt from the duffel and picked up the chain from the floor, curling it into the fabric.

When he was dressed and his things packed, he moved to the door. He barely had time to touch the handle, when the door opened and Meg was standing in the doorway.

“Hey, what’s up?”

“I’m leaving. Where’s my car?”

Meg gave Sam a mocking smile. “First thing, it’s not your car. Second thing, you should stay until tomorrow. It’s late, you won’t get far and it’d be better if you just… let go for one night…” she said sweetly, her fingers trailing a line up Sam’s arm. “No one is here. It’s just you, me and the forest. You can change and go out and you won’t hurt anyone.” Her voice was silky… tempting… “No chains and no silver tonight and tomorrow you can continue with your journey, strong and rested.”

Sam looked at Meg and shivered. No one was here… he could stay and rest… he didn’t need to torture himself with silver…

“You won’t get too far if you are barely able to move. Dean will find you.”

Sam took a deep breath.

“Okay. One night,” he said as though it was he doing Meg a favor and not the other way round. He returned back on the couch. He could at least get some more sleep. He still wasn’t quite fine.

Meg smiled. “You’ll feel much, much better.”

*

Dean had enough of tracks that appeared and disappeared again. He visited the town where the car had been stolen, he was in the hardware store just to find out that the result of Sam’s effort to get a silver chain was the same as in the previous two, but this time he found out something that didn’t please him much but at least gave him an idea how Sam was doing. As he walked out from the hardware store, the sign ‘Jewelry’ above the entrance of the store across the road caught his attention. He went there just out of curiosity. Sam could be a great sap and if he had been desperate, why not to visit such a store, right?

Finding out that he had been right didn’t calm him down very much. Sam’s masochistic tendencies whenever he thought he was saving the world with them were unnerving. Dean was so going to kick the kid’s ass when he found him! His brother should finally learn that running away was never going to solve anything. 

The more Dean was thinking about it, the more pissed he was.

“Bitch,” he growled as he opened the door of some random car, looking as inconspicuous as possible, and he drove out from the town, ignoring the speed limit. He doubted that Sam got too far considering his inability to drive at night. But one thing was knowing Sam was close, another guessing where exactly he was.

*

Sam woke up with a weird feeling of satisfaction. He was staring at the ceiling for a long while, trying to recall the events of the last night. His muscles were aching and his left side stinging. The only thing he remembered was believing Meg they were alone in this godforsaken land (he could kind of smell the solitude in the air) and not using the silver chain, even though he had still bound his hands and legs with the iron chain. But today… he felt light and free. Maybe because there was no chain restraining him anymore.

Sam winced and sat up. The thick blanket that was covering his naked body slid down his chest, revealing many healing scratches and minor wounds, not talking about big bloody smudges all over his body. Sam shivered. What the hell was he doing the whole night? He looked at his stinging side with a heavy feeling in his heart. Four long and bloody red stripes decorated his body. The wounds must have been deep and under normal circumstances they would surely have been mortal, but Sam could call himself lucky for his (almost) immortality and incredible healing speed. It still didn’t calm him down, especially when he noticed the iron chain lying on the floor in two pieces. Sam was taken aback by the force that caused such damage, realizing it was himself who had done that.

He took a deep breath. It was a good thing to run away. He could have broken Dean’s neck so easily…

The door of the lodge opened and Meg stepped in.

“You finally awake, pretty boy?” she said in that mocking tone of hers, her eyes wandering over Sam’s body appreciatively. “How is your side?”

Sam wriggled a bit and pulled the blanket higher unconsciously. “Healing. Why… why am I injured? What was I doing?”

Meg smiled. “Seems a grizzly didn’t make it.” She laughed cheerfully. “You should take a shower, you smell like a wet dog. We’ll talk later.”

“Is there something we should talk about?” he asked as he stood up with the blanket still wound around himself. He reached for his duffel where his clothes were folded in a neat pile.

“I guess,” Meg said and walked into the kitchenette where she started making coffee.

When Sam joined her at the table in the end, sipping from the steaming beverage, getting a confident smile from her, he really didn’t know what to make out of it.

“How do you feel?” she asked, the smile never leaving her lips.

He shrugged. “Good,” he said evasively. In fact, he felt much better than any time since the moment he had become what he had become, and that scared hell out of him.

Meg’s smile widened. “You wonder why you don’t feel so tired anymore, don’t you?”

He stayed quiet. She knew it anyway, so why to bother with answering?

“It’s the kill. The taste of blood calmed down the wolf inside you. The rage that you were trying to suppress so hard was allowed to come out. It’s possible that the kill calmed the wolf enough and he won’t bother you for a few nights.”

Sam lifted his head, gazing at Meg, confused.

“What does it mean?” he asked.

She shrugged. “It means that you probably won’t change for a couple nights. But it’s just a guess. Anyway, you should use the time and have a proper rest…”

Sam frowned. “I have to go.”

Meg gave him a regretful look. “You don’t need to go, Sam. You can stay and help us to get Crowley… and maybe even Dick afterwards. Dean won’t find you…” She reached out and touched Sam’s hand lightly. He didn’t pull away, gazing at their hands absent-mindedly, lost in his own thoughts.

He was a monster, he fitted into the company of demons perfectly. He was unbelievably strong and he never was the slowest. He was practically immortal unless a silver bullet got him right. His healing speed was incredible and he could get used to the feeling of satisfaction after a kill easily. He would have been free. But…

What really troubled Sam was the fact that he wasn’t sure whether calling for blood in general was stronger than calling for human blood only. He knew that humans were a werewolf’s most natural prey. He didn’t know how strong he was ignoring that call despite the prospect of killing as many evil creatures as he could. Besides, hunting always required being close to people and Sam couldn’t just wander among his possible preys in case he wasn’t able to resist.

“No,” he said in the end and pulled his hand away. “I can’t stay. I have to go.”

“What are you afraid of, Sam? You’re strong, swift, cunning… and you need this.”

“No.” He stood up from the table. “Where’s my car?”

Meg sighed. “You’re giving me a headache.”

He would have laughed if he hadn’t felt so frustrated. He knew he was going to use the silver chain again, especially if the iron one wasn’t of much use anymore. As for the padlocks, there was only one left that wasn’t broken yet, but it was just a matter of time until it would give in, too.

“The car is outside,” Meg said, and this time she sounded pissed. “You could stay. We would take care of you.”

“How? You would feed me with grizzly blood?” he said sarcastically, moving to the door.

“If we needed to,” Meg said indifferently and shrugged.

“Thanks, but no thanks,” Sam said and walked out from the lodge. The sun was high already. It was time to continue in the journey.

“Where do you want to go?” Meg asked as he threw his duffel in the back seat.

He shrugged. “I don’t know yet. North.” He sniffed the air as if it could tell him where to go. “You don’t need my company anymore. Your friend’s returned,” he said suddenly and got in the car.

Meg glanced at the trees behind the lodge and nodded. “You’re good.”

“I’m not. The wind changed.” He shut the door and started the car. He wanted to be on the road as soon as possible.

A demon walked out from among the trees.

“You shouldn’t have let him go,” he said to Meg.

“I couldn’t make him stay. He’s strong, stronger than any time before… Besides, it would be more beneficial if he were back by his brother’s side. I’m going to find Dean and tell him about Sam. If Dean hurries up, he’ll catch up with him easily. Something new about Crowley?”

The demon shook his head. “Nothing yet, but there was an activity in South Dakota. Maybe we should check it out.”

“Get Zack and Greg and go. I’ll meet you later,” Meg said and strode among the trees herself.

*

“Holly crap!” Dean yelled as he hit the brake. The woman standing on the road just smiled at him and got in the passenger’s seat.

“Hey, Dean. Long time no see.”

Dean frowned. “What are you doing here, Meg? Looking for a shortcut to Hell?”

Meg tsked and shook her head. “Actually… I heard you’re looking for your brother. Any luck?” Her smile widened.

Dean glared, but something told him not to kill the bitch right away. She looked pretty smug, maybe she knew something.

“What do you want?” he asked with hostility.

She smiled sweetly. “Come on, Dean. We used to be friends…”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Don’t want me to laugh.”

“Okay,” Meg said finally, and her expression became serious for once. “I came to tell you that if you step on the gas instead of hitting the brake and go down this road, you have a good chance to find Sam.”

Dean put his both hands on the steering wheel, looking at the road in front of him, tension building up in his guts. “What do you know about Sam?”

“He’s okay for now,” Meg said matter-of-factly.

“What does it mean?”

“That his hunger for blood is satisfied for the time being, but sooner or later he’ll need to kill again.”

Dean stared at Meg. “Wait! What do you mean by ‘kill again’?”

Meg chuckled. “Do you wanna see what he’s done to that poor bear?”

“He killed a bear?” Huh… What happened to the silver chain?

“Look, I didn’t come to make fun of you,” Meg said, and now she was serious. “Sam is afraid of himself and he’s trying to keep as much of him under control as he can. But he’s wrong. Torturing himself with silver is not a way.”

Dean frowned. “What would you recommend him to do, then?” he asked coldly.

“He’s a killer. He needs to kill or he’ll go insane,” Meg said and then shrugged. “… or he needs a good fuck,” she added with a smirk, glancing at Dean. “Would you let your Sammy fuck you in order to stop him from killing people?”

She barely said that and there was a knife pressed to her throat.

“One more word and I’ll slit your throat,” Dean threatened, but the demon just smiled.

“I just offered you a way to keep Sam sane and as much human as possible,” Meg said as though she didn’t even care that the knife Dean was pressing against her skin could kill her easily. “You should hurry. Time is ticking off and the sun will set early. Sam would use his silver chain again and there would be no one to take it off for him this time.”

Dean pulled the knife away hesitantly. “When was the last time you’ve seen Sam?”

“This morning.”

“How far can he be?”

Meg shrugged. “Depends. In any case, you should find him till the sunset.”

Dean nodded. “Now get out of my car.”

Meg smirked. “It’s not your car.” But she was already opening the door. She slid out from the vehicle like a cat and looked at Dean one more time. “You’re welcome.” She chuckled.

Dean grunted something unintelligible and started the engine. There were more important things to do than thanking a demon.

*

Sam parked the car in the shadows of high trees. He assumed that he was out of the reach of Dean’s radar finally, so he wanted to indulge in the sight of the setting sun. Maybe he was being sentimental, but there was something about the beauty of the day turning into the night that could bring peace to Sam’s troubled mind. He thought of the times when he could watch the red, dying rays reflecting from the Impala’s black hood. He and Dean would lean against her frame and drink beer in pleasant quietness, never voicing how much they valued such moments when the only thing that mattered was that they could be together. No heated words, no fights and no running away – just two of them sharing the joys and fears the life brought upon them.

They got stuck together after Sam left Stanford and none of them ever complained. They learned to be a team, two parts of one body. They became brothers again.

And then Sam fucked up everything by teaming up with a demon and bringing Apocalypse on their heads…

They had to start from the beginning. If there was God somewhere, only he knew how much effort it took.

And now things got messed up one more time and there was no going back to what they were once and always wanted to be. Dean would hate him, but it was okay as long as it kept him away. Sam loved his brother more than anyone and anything and he didn’t want to see his disappointed face ever again. Sam disappointed him too many times by now. He did the right thing when he left; it was better like this. For both of them.

If Sam hadn’t been so deep in thoughts, he would have noticed a car storming down the road a lot earlier. He stepped back into the shadows of the trees, but the brakes were already screeching and the car skidded to a halt on the side of the road and one very pissed Dean got out.

Sam’s eyes widened and he made another step back.

Dean… He was striding to Sam swiftly and he was the true embodiment of the God of Wrath.

“Dean,” Sam said and gulped as Dean stood in front of him with his fists clenched. He seemed he wanted to say something, but Sam was quicker:

“What are you doing here? You shouldn’t have come…”

A sharp pain made him see shooting stars and he lost his balance. As the punch sent him backwards, he hit the car behind his back (fuck, he hadn’t realized how close to the road he had parked) and landed hard on his ass. He groaned quietly and glanced at his brother. Dean was rubbing the knuckles that had collided with Sam’s jaw just a while ago with his other hand, but his eyes were still fixed on Sam.

“That felt good,” he said finally. “Take your things and get into my car.”

Sam stood up slowly. He knew the pain would be over soon, not talking about the bruise. By the time of his change there would be no evidence of Dean’s anger on his body.

“No,” he said, eying his brother intently.

Dean glowered. “You’ll do what I say or I’ll punch you again. And if it doesn’t help, I’ll repeat it gladly in order to beat some sense into that empty head of yours.”

Dean may have been shorter, but when he was pissed, especially pissed like this, he always looked like he had grown up a whole foot and Sam was just a little kid not even reaching his waist. And pissing Dean more in such a state was never a good idea.

Sam retrieved his duffel and followed Dean to the mentioned car wordlessly. They got in and Dean started the engine.

There was awkward silence for a long time until Sam spoke in a low voice:

“You shouldn’t have followed me.”

“Shut up,” Dean snapped, and that was the end of their conversation.

They got into a town. Dean parked in front of a motel and was about to get out when Sam spoke to him again:

“Dude, you must be kidding!”

“Do I laugh?” asked Dean, his expression dead serious. “Wait here. No running away unless you want me to pacify you with a silver bullet, understood?” And that sounded dead serious as well.

Sam nodded, saying nothing.

“Good,” Dean said and walked into the motel.

He returned in a while, not saying anything to Sam, just pulling the car in front of their room.

They were still silent even when they got in. Sam sat down on his bed, waiting for Dean to say something, but Dean didn’t seem to pay him any attention – as if Sam wasn’t even there. He took out a laptop, putting it on a table and starting it. Since Sam had left it behind, it counted as Dean’s possession.

Sam was watching him with curious eyes, but was afraid to say anything. Minutes were going by one by one and Sam got the feeling that the silence lasted too long already. The sky outside was turning gray, and the old, unpleasant chill started crawling up Sam’s spine. He reached for his duffel and started rummaging through the things he got there until he found the silver chain wrapped in a piece of cloth. He glanced at the darkening sky behind the window and noticed Dean watching him.

“It’s silver, isn’t it?” Dean asked, his voice sounding calmer, but still as cold as ice.

Sam nodded silently.

“Bring it here.”

Sam raised his eyes from the cloth in his hand and looked at Dean.

“Bring it here,” Dean repeated more strictly.

Sam stood up and walked to the table. He put the cloth next to the laptop. Dean reached for it immediately, taking the silver chain out from its safety as though he wanted to make sure it really was the thing Sam told him it was. The D-shaped pendant glistened in the orange sunlight penetrating inside. Dean raised an eyebrow.

“Your name doesn’t start with D,” he said, the edge in his voice forgotten for a moment. “Does it stand for dumbass? It would make sense in that case.”

Sam frowned and wanted to snatch the chain out from Dean’s hand, not caring that it would burn his hand. He was going to wear it in a few minutes, anyway.

Dean was faster and pulled the chain out of Sam’s reach.

“I’m confiscating it,” he said in that calm but icy voice of his.

Sam froze. “What? You can’t!”

“I can and I do. Get over it.”

“Dean, it’s…” Desperation crept into Sam’s voice and his eyes never left the silver pendant hanging from the damn chain. “It’s the only thing that can hold me back.” He stifled a sob. Dean would never have forgiven him if he had started weeping like a girl now.

Dean frowned. “I still have my gun loaded with silver bullets if that’s what you miss,” he said. “Now pull yourself together, we’re going out.”

Sam’s eyes widened and he gave Dean a look that said he had doubts about his brother’s sanity. “You can’t be serious.”

Dean quirked his eyebrows as he was already standing at the door. “Can’t I?” It sounded dangerous and there was an obvious warning for Sam not to tell Dean what he could or couldn’t be or do.

“What if I…” Sam started, only hesitantly following Dean out from the room.

“You won’t,” Dean said, and there was so much conviction in his voice that Sam wondered whether Dean had found a way out from Sam’s situation.

“Where are we going?” he asked curiously after he joined Dean in the car, and they moved on the road.

Dean shrugged indifferently. “To a brothel.”

Sam almost choked. “What?”

“I talked to Meg…” Dean admitted sheepishly, not looking at Sam. “She told me that you need a kill or a good fuck. The first one is not an option…”

“… so you decided I’m getting laid tonight,” Sam finished, and this time it was his turn to be pissed.

Dean glanced at Sam. “Let’s give it a shot, okay?”

“I don’t want to give it a shot,” Sam snapped. “Crap, Dean. What a stupid idea! I’m so scared I can hurt someone that I doubt I’ll even get hard. You could let me have the chain and get through the night somehow. Would be safer.”

Dean’s frown was enough of an answer. “If you hadn’t run away, we could’ve figured out something by now. Something else than silver chain,” he spat. “Now put up with the fact that we don’t have any time to waste right now and we have to try what we are offered. We’ll go there, I’ll pay for the best girl, and you’ll have your happy hour. I’ll be waiting outside the room with my gun prepared if something went wrong. Then we’ll go back, you’ll go to sleep and I’ll stay awake to keep an eye on you.”

Sam huffed and frowned at the road in front of them. “I still don’t like the idea.”

“You should’ve thought about it earlier.”   

They spent the rest of the short ride in silence. Sam was frowning, and Dean hoped that what they were going to do would keep them out of trouble for one night. He parked in front of a house with a neon red rose shining above the entrance. He gave Sam a small smile, but Sam just glared, getting out from the car nevertheless.

*

Dean walked into the building and only when he was inside, he realized how close behind him Sam was, looking around warily and… yeah, he was sniffing the air. There was an obvious tension in his shoulders and he reminded Dean of a frightened animal watching out for danger. For a half-second Dean felt something like sympathy for Sam, but it was over as soon as it came. They were on a mission here and if Sam didn’t get laid, only God knew what he might have done. On the other hand, demons lied and Dean didn’t have time to verify the truth. Anyway, who would complain when they had a chance to have sex? Obviously, Sam would. Even if he kept his mouth shut, his body was sending a clear massage to anyone who paid attention.

“Stop it,” Dean hissed. “Be natural.”

The look Sam gave him was nothing of Dean’s little brother. He was scared and unsure, but there was also deep trust in his eyes Dean had never seen before and he wondered whether it was only he having been too ignorant or the animal within Sam that made his brother an open book to anyone who looked closely.

“It will be fine, okay?” he said. Sam’s reply was a small nod, but he didn’t stop looking tense and prepared to defend himself if someone jumped him.

Dean sighed and walked to the bar.

“The way to heaven?” he asked with a broad smile and the bartender only beckoned to the door near the bar.

“Thanks,” Dean said and patted Sam’s arm. Even through a few layers of fabric could he feel how hard Sam’s muscles were.

“Easy,” Dean whispered and led Sam through the door.

The room they entered wasn’t any different from the one they had just left except the half-naked girls occupying it. Dean smiled contentedly and walked over to the counter where an elderly but good looking woman sat and was checking something in a big notebook in front of her.

“Hey,” Dean said, giving her the charming smile he usually used on people (women) when he wanted something from them. He felt Sam close behind him – well, the rub of his chest on Dean’s back was hard to not notice.

The woman looked up from her notebook, waiting for Dean to continue.

“I want the best girl you have here to teach the Sasquatch some useful things,” he said, grabbing Sam’s arm and pulling him out from his hiding place behind Dean’s back.

The woman sized Sam up and then looked back at Dean.

“Sally’s with a customer now,” she said indifferently.

“Dean, let’s go back,” Sam whispered next to him.

“Shut up,” Dean hissed and smiled at the woman again, pulling out a roll of notes, putting them on the counter. “She’ll surely find some time for the big boy here.”

The woman looked at the money with interest.

“Maybe she could blow him…”

Dean sighed and pulled out a few more notes, only vaguely registering Sam stepping nervously beside him. The woman raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. Dean frowned and put a new roll beside the first one. The woman snatched the money from the counter immediately and started counting them. Then she nodded.

“One hour of full service. No extras.”

Dean grinned. “Perfect.”

The woman stood up and led them up a staircase to the first floor. Sam seemed to want to say something, but one warning glance from Dean prevented him from opening his mouth. His body language was enough, anyway.

They followed the brothel keeper into a corridor with many doors. Sounds of pleasure were echoing from every direction. Dean was avoiding looking at Sam the whole time, but it was hard ignoring him when Sam was walking so close behind him that Dean could literally feel his warm breath on the nape of his neck.

The woman stopped in front of one room. She glanced at the brothers, her look surprised and curious, but then she burst into the room without knocking.

“Your time’s up, mister.”

Dean peeped into the room. A tiny brunette was kneeling in front of a naked bulky guy with his cock of a respectable size pointing to heavens. Dean assumed it wasn’t the best time to burst in, but whatever. Sam was getting laid. Soon. That was all that mattered.

“I don’t like this,” he heard Sam very close to his ear.

“The girl seems skilled. Give her a chance, Sammy,” he said, and his voice sounded shallow even to him.

Sam stayed quiet, but he was still too close to Dean, still scared and tense and trusting.

“You’ll feel better,” Dean said, and yes, he believed that. Who wouldn’t have felt good after sex? Only a fool who couldn’t (or didn’t want to) enjoy it. Though, Dean was kind of sure Sam belonged into the latter category, because he surely didn’t look like someone who could enjoy anything right now, maybe except a strong drink. And maybe not even that.

The guy in the room got dressed, cursing and complaining. Dean gave him an innocent smile and while the brothel keeper took care of the guy, he finally found the courage to face Sam’s puppy eyes. Hell, if Sam ruled in something, it was definitely his puppy look. Even cold-hearted bastards would melt…

Dean took a deep breath and patted Sam’s shoulder, giving him a broad but fake smile. He knew Sam would recognize it right away, but Dean didn’t care. “Enjoy your happy hour. I’ll be outside in case something went wrong, okay?”

“Silver bullets?” Sam asked, not moving from his spot.

Dean rolled his eyes. “My gun is fully loaded with them. Now stop worrying and go in. The girl is waiting for you and she’s hot.” He winked and pushed Sam forward into the room. He saw Sam giving him the last pleading look before the door was shut behind his back.

Dean sighed. He leaned against the wall next to the door and listened to the sounds from inside. Not that he really could hear something thanks to the loud expressions of pleasure coming from the door across the corridor. Dean grinned for himself, regretting a bit he couldn’t have his own ‘happy hour’.

A blonde girl, coming out from one door, caught his attention. He smiled at her, she smiled back, he waved at her, and she came to him.

“Hey,” she greeted him with a sweet smile.

“Hey,” he said back, smiling as well.

“What are you doing?”

“My brother is inside, I’m waiting for him.”

The girl smiled coquettishly. “Why? Don’t you want to have fun of your own?”

Dean laughed. “You have no idea,” he said. “But I promised him to stay here. He’s a virgin and he’s afraid he could mess up something.” He smiled.

The girl raised an eyebrow. “A caring brother? Nice. Who is taking care of him?”

“Sally, I guess.”

She smiled again. “He’s in good hands, then. Don’t worry, Sally will make a champ out of him. And you…” She leaned closer. Dean could smell a mint chewing gum and a cheap perfume.

“I’d love, really, but you know… The kid would give me a hell of time if he found out I betrayed his trust.”

“That’s a shame,” the girl said. “I could make you feel good.”

“I don’t doubt that,” Dean said, and that was when the door opened abruptly and Sam stormed out, pulling his jacket on.

“I can’t do this,” he said hastily, hurrying down the corridor.

“Wait, Sam!” Dean grabbed his arm. “What happened?”

The puppy face was there again. “I’m sorry, Dean, I can’t.”

“Sam!” Dean called after him as they both ran down the stairs and burst out from the Red Rose into the dusk. “Tell me what happened.”

“Nothing happened,” Sam said, and he sounded broken. “She… she didn’t even touch me and I freaked out. When I imagined her putting her hands on me, I felt like throwing up. I’m sorry…”

“Get in the car,” Dean said, defeated. “We’re going back.”

Sam obeyed but he didn’t look relieved that his request was finally heard. “She smelled awfully,” he said as though he needed to excuse himself.

“What do you mean?” Dean asked as he started the car and pulled on the road.

“She reeked of the man she had been with and she tried to mask that with the smell of a rose perfume, but it was so strong that it made me sick. I’m really sorry.”

Dean sighed. “It’s okay. You tried, it didn’t work.” He shrugged. He felt Sam’s eyes on him, but he didn’t look at his brother.

“Thank you,” he heard the words spoken in a low voice. Dean stayed silent, driving back to the motel.

They didn’t talk even when they got into the room. Dean brought a bottle of whiskey and two glasses, pouring the golden liquid into them. He handed one glass to Sam, who looked like he was going to turn in every minute.

“I don’t want,” Sam said quietly as though he was afraid he could make Dean angry.

Dean didn’t get angry. He shrugged and drank down his own shot before he put Sam’s glass on the table.

“Maybe later,” he said and sat down. “Go to the shower, I’ll go after you.”

Sam nodded, not arguing this time, and in a few minutes he disappeared in the bathroom. Dean was staring at the door long after it was closed behind his brother.

When Sam was finally out from the bathroom after some time, dressed only in a T-shirt and clean boxers with wet hair and dark circles under his eyes, Dean couldn’t prevent himself from feeling protective. Sam reminded him of the kid he had been once and Dean was taking care of. But that was long ago…

Dean reached for the whiskey and poured himself another shot.

“Go to sleep. You look like an advert for sleeping pills.”

Instead of going to bed Sam took a seat at the table.

“I was thinking…” he started, and Dean only thought Oh God. If Sam started a sentence like this, there surely was coming something Dean didn’t want to hear.

“You think too much,” he growled, taking a sip from his glass.

Sam fidgeted in his chair before he continued. “I always changed while I was sleeping. Maybe if I stayed awake…”

“Go to sleep, Sam,” Dean said more sharply than he really intended to.

Sam didn’t move, his eyes were fixed on Dean.

“You look like you haven’t slept for a few nights. Sleep while you can. I’ll stay awake to keep an eye on you,” Dean said in a milder tone. He hoped Sam wouldn’t try to argue. Even though Sam didn’t say anything, he still didn’t leave his chair.

Dean stood up and went for his gun lying on a bedside table where he had put it when they got back. He returned to the table and put the gun on it.

“Loaded with silver. You can check if you want.”

Sam looked at Dean and shook his head. He reached for the glass of whiskey Dean offered him before and drank it down.

“You should give me the chain…” he started.

“Forget it.”

Sam said nothing more. He stood up and went to bed, turning his back to Dean as he lay down.

Dean suppressed a sigh. He was watching his brother lying in bed; he could still see the tension in his shoulders, could hear the soft sound of his quick breathing. Sam appeared vulnerable at the moment and Dean hated that. Hated that even more when he knew how strong Sam was and how easily he could kill Dean if he wanted to. Even now. Maybe he should feel intimidated, but this was Sammy and Sammy wasn’t a monster. Even when he had been turned into one.

Minutes were passing by lazily and Dean exchanged the glass for the bottle. He could see that Sam was still awake, maybe trying not to fall asleep and maybe just not being able to. Dean went to switch the lights off and then returned to the table. The laptop was still lying there as he had left it, and Dean turned the thing on. He heard a soft rustle of sheets. Sam turned around, giving his brother a curious look.

“What are you doing?”

“Sleep,” Dean said and took another swig from the bottle. Sam didn’t reply, but Dean still could feel his eyes on himself. He decided to ignore it.

While he was on the guard, he could at least use the time and do some research. Most of the things he already knew, he and Sam had gone through them while they had been hunting the son of a bitch that dared to lay his dirty paw on Dean’s little brother, but the things they had found out were too general. Dean hoped he would find something more specific.

The thing they had hunted and the thing Sam had become was some kind of a European cousin of the werewolves they had met so far. Lycanthropos, varkolak, kurtadam, volkodlak, vlkolak, libahunt, lupo mannaro…

Lycanthropes. Could turn into a hybrid between a man and a wolf or get through the whole transformation just like skinwalkers. Maybe the thing they had dealt with was something between those two types…

The bed squeaked quietly as Sam stood up.

“Sam,” Dean addressed him in an authoritative voice of an older brother.

“I can’t sleep,” Sam said and sat down at the table in front of Dean.

“There are sleeping pills in my duffel…”

“I don’t want any,” Sam said stubbornly, but he could hardly hide the tiredness in his voice.

Dean reached for the bottle again. “Whatever…”

Sam took a deep breath and Dean knew what was coming. He gave Sam a sharp look. “Go to sleep or shut up.”

“But…”

“Not now, Sam. I don’t wanna talk about it right now, okay?”

Sam nodded. Obviously, he was too tired even to argue. Dean tried to ignore him, but it was hard when those sleepy eyes were fixed on him. He shut the laptop. Sam’s look turned from sleepy to wary.

“I was trying to find out something useful.”

Sam didn’t need to say anything for Dean to know that he understood what that meant.

“Go to bed, Sammy,” Dean said more gently. He was still pissed, but anger was not getting them anywhere. And Sam needed to rest even though the bastard was as stubborn as a mule and scared on the top of that so that made him even more persistent.

“I’m not a kid, Dean.”

“Yeah? You act like one.”

Sam straightened up in his chair, a strange sparkle flashed in his eyes. Before he could say anything, Dean stopped him with his own words:

“Have you had a good look at yourself in a mirror lately? You look like crap.”

The sparkle disappeared and the circles under Sam’s eyes darkened even more. “I can’t sleep,” he whispered.

You’re too scared to fall asleep, Dean thought. He understood Sam. He understood his fear of hurting someone (he went through the same when he had been turned into a vampire), but torturing himself to slow death was hardly a solution. Apparently, talking some sense into Sam right now was a futile effort and Dean really didn’t feel like arguing.

“Okay, stay awake,” he said, but it didn’t mean he gave up. He stood up and brought Sam a comforter. Maybe if he could make his brother feel as comfortable as possible, Sam would fall asleep eventually even if he didn’t intend to. Dean hoped that Sam’s tiredness was bigger than his stubbornness. He was given a puzzled look, but this time Dean’s brother didn’t try to object and wrapped himself into the comforter.

Dean returned in his seat and opened the laptop again, not caring about Sam anymore.

Back to the research: Lycanthropes could transform a) on the full moon (but in the past year they had already seen a werewolf shifting on the half-moon as well) b) under the influence of their mental and emotional state. They already knew that b) was right in this case, which unsettled Dean even more. 

All the types shared the super strength and the mortal vulnerability to silver. Note: Don’t piss Sam and don’t let him come near anything silver.

He glanced at his brother over the screen. Sam was still fighting his sleepiness, watching Dean from under the heavy eyelids. Hmpf, stubborn kid…

Time was going by without Dean realizing how late (or early?) it already was when he glanced at Sam again. Sam’s head was hanging down and his breathing was slow and too regular for someone who was still awake. Dean smiled and moved his attention back to the screen. He was trying to find some cure or anything that would prevent Sam from shifting (or at least shifting too often), but the only thing he could find was just the various ways to kill a werewolf. Various ways, but the basic was the same: the use of silver. The lore about European werewolves also varied from culture to culture. According to some legends, werewolves were vampires who woke up from their grave and drank the blood of their victims while in a wolf form.

“Which one of those sons of bitches are you, Sammy?” he muttered as he looked through a few more web sites.

There was another legend, talking about good werewolves killing evil witches in order to protect people. From everything Dean had read that night this was the most hopeful thing he could find. If Sam needed to kill, than letting him take care of the evil they were hunting was probably the best solution for the time being until Dean found the cure. If there was any at all…

He stood up and came up to the window. The sky was already colored in pink and light orange as the sun was coming out from behind the buildings. Dean turned around and looked at Sam. It was time to get him to bed and hopefully the kid wouldn’t be bitching anymore.

He walked to Sam and touched his shoulder lightly. “Sam. Sammy.”

Sam flinched and looked at Dean with frightened eyes. “I… Did I…?”

“No, you didn’t.” And that left Dean with a few questions. “It’s morning. Go to bed.”

Sam rubbed his eyes and stood up, the comforter slid from his shoulders. Dean picked it up as it fell down on the floor. Sam didn’t seem to notice. He fell on his bed, drifting off immediately. Dean sighed and cast the comforter over his brother’s big body. Sam gave a strange sound, something between a whine and a growl, but he didn’t wake up.

Dean sat down on his own bed, thinking. The fact that Sam hadn’t transformed that night could prove either that he had been right and he really was shifting only while he was blissfully unconscious or that Meg had been right and Sam really needed to kill someone or something to keep the wolf within him under control. Which one was it, then? Dean only knew he couldn’t let Sam get exhausted to death… which the idiot was obviously trying to do.

While Sam was sleeping, Dean decided to use the time and get some sleep as well. But first things first. He dug handcuffs from his duffel bag (one never knew when he could need them) and cuffed Sam to the bed. Job done, he could go to sleep now.

Sam breathed in and lifted his head. “What…?”

Dean gave him a sweet smile. “I’m gonna take a nap so I needed to make sure you wouldn’t get any funny ideas meanwhile. Like running away for example.”

“That’s stupid,” Sam huffed into the pillow. “You know the cuffs won’t hold me back.”  

That was true.

“Then I’ll have to trust you,” Dean replied, getting into his own bed. Their looks met, but then his brother exhaled slowly and closed his eyes. Dean waited until Sam’s breathing evened and only then allowed himself to doze off as well.