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Sam heard his brother stumble in somewhere around four and rolled over, pulling the blanket over his head. The last thing he needed or wanted was to have to listen to Dean's drunken rambling about whatever sexual conquest he had made the night before.

"Sammy, you awake?" Dean's voice was raspy and wet sounding.

When Sam didn't answer, Dean stumbled closer, falling onto the bed behind Sam. "Sammy." His hand touched Sam's arm, and it was hot. Sam rolled onto his back and squinted up at his brother.

He looked like shit, dark circles under his eyes, his face slick with sweat. "You okay, Dean?"

"Don't feel so good Sammy."

Sam lifted his hand to Dean's face. "You're burning up." He sat up. "You should lay down. I'll get you some aspirin."

Dean groaned and laid back onto the bed. Sam went to the bathroom and came back with a glass of water and a bottle of aspirin. He doled out two and handed them to Dean before turning his attention to his brother's shoes.

"My god, Dean, where were you? These are covered in mud." In fact, the mud went nearly to Dean's knees. Sam got the boots off and tossed them toward the door. "Okay, let's get these wet jeans off you." Sam reached for his zipper, and Dean grabbed both of his hands, his grip bruising. Sam looked up.

Dean's eyes were wild, his nostrils flared. "Sam?" His voice was all the rougher, deep in his throat.

"Dean?" Just as suddenly, Dean let go, though he didn't ease back down. "You're sick. Let me help." Sam got him unzipped and pulled the jeans down. His boxers were soaked through, though Sam wasn't sure if it was some sort of water he'd gotten himself into or sweat from the fever. "Okay…these have to go to." He reached a little more cautiously for the boxer's waistband. Dean didn't grab him again, but he kept staring.

Sam eased the boxers down and threw them toward the door with the boots and the jeans. Dean was hard when Sam turned around, his hands cupping his cock. Sam averted his eyes, but that just led them to the bruises on his brother's thighs…bruises and…bite marks? Sam leaned in closer, his finger lifting to trace the outline of what seemed to be human teeth.

The bite nearest him had broken skin and was crusted over with dried blood. "Dean, can you tell me who did this?" Sam looked up at him, but Dean's eyes were nearly shut and he grunted as he pulled on his cock. Sam knocked his hands away and shook him. "Dean, can you hear me?"

Dean growled, grabbing Sam and rolling them so that he was on top, straddling over Sam, his cock digging into Sam's thigh through the thin barrier of his boxers. Sweat dripped from his face and his hands clawed at his shirt trying to get it off. It ripped after a few seconds, exposing Dean's chest. It too was marked with bruises and bites and scratches, like he'd been mauled by an animal…except the teeth seemed human.

"Dean, I need you to listen." Sam could feel his heart racing and he tried to keep his voice calm. "What happened?"

Dean was breathing harshly, through his nose and mouth, his eyes hazy as he ground his hips against Sam. "Fuck." He forced the word out, shaking his head. "Sam." He pulled up, his head back. "Woman…woods…" He shook his head again, like he was fighting to clear it. His hand slid up to a bite mark just over his chest. "Got away…help me Sammy."

Sam nodded, pushing himself up on his elbows. "I'm trying, okay, Dean?"

Dean's fingers scratched at the bite mark, coming away bloody. "They bit me Sammy."

"They?" Sam tried to push himself up, but Dean wasn't budging and all he managed to do was rub his brother's cock with his leg. Dean hissed, moving so that his cock slid under the cotton of Sam's boxers.

"Tried to make me their pet Sammy." Dean's lips curled as he began grinding again, his cock sliding along Sam's leg.

"Dean, stop." Sam pushed on his shoulders as Dean grunted, but his skin was so slick with sweat, Sam's hand slid off him, and Dean pressed down. Sweat dripped from him, slicking Sam's skin. A salty drop splashed onto his lip and Sam renewed his efforts to get Dean off him. Several more drops landed on his face, and Sam slammed his mouth closed after several of them got into his mouth, lacing his tongue with the taste of salt. "Dean!"

His body stiffened and Sam felt a flush of heat bathing his thigh and slipping over to coat the base of his cock. Dean reached between them, cradling his cock as he pulled away, then staring at the mix of come and blood on his hand. "Sammy…" His voice was shattered, his eyes rolling back as he started to fall.

Sam grabbed at him, taking his sticky hand full in the face. He got Dean safely onto the bed, unconsciously licking his lips as he felt something on them. More salt, and the copper-tang of his brother's blood. "Great. Disgusting." He used his arm to wipe his face and climbed out of bed, over Dean.

Dean was out cold, shivering despite the heat still radiating off his body. Sam pulled the blankets up over him and reached for the phone to call his father. "Dad, it's Sam. Dean's sick. He mumbled something about a woman and woods, but his fever's really high, so he's probably delirious. Call me."

He huffed and headed for the shower, because he was not explaining to his father why he smelled like sex. He knew his father had brought down one werewolf just a few nights before, but he was hunting still because it wasn't a full moon and the news had said there had been another attack anyway.

It had his father baffled.

The victims were all missing their hearts, all of them torn up like a wolf attack, only what was left after the heart was taken looked as though more than one dog had been involved. If this was a werewolf, it wasn't like anything they had ever hunted before.

Which made him worry a little more about Dean. Werewolves turned people by biting. Sam finished his shower fast and went back to the bedroom to pull on pants. Dean was tossing in his sleep, the fever and sweat making his face look ghastly pale.

Sam sat beside him and used the towel he'd brought with him to wipe Dean's face. His eyes opened suddenly, their normal green shot through with amber and gold fire. He sat up, grabbing Sam's face in an iron grip and he looked like he was about to kiss Sam, and not in a friendly, brotherly way.

Dean growled, baring his teeth, making the noise sound almost like a word, almost like a claim of mine. Sam tried to pull away, but Dean's grip was tight, his hands hot. Sam almost felt like the fever in his brother was trying to burn its way into him through his skin.

Behind him, the door crashed open and he could hear his father yelling his name. Dean was startled enough that Sam pulled away, aided by his father's hand on his neck, yanking him back from Dean. "Did he bite you?"

"What?" Sam blinked up at him and shook his head.

"It's important Sam." His father's eyes were filled with fear.

Sam shook his head again. "No…no…he just…he's sick…"

John nodded and pushed Sam out of the room. "I'll deal with him, you go get ready for school."

"School? Dad--"

John strong armed him when Sam tried to push back into the room. "Let me help."

"You can help best by doing what I say." John responded. "I need to check him over, and I need to…" He closed his eyes. "Please Sam. I don't want to argue."

Sam took two steps back and his father closed the door. He stood in the hallway staring for a long time, listening to his father's voice. He was afraid.

John Winchester was afraid. Sam was shaking when he finally made himself move. He went to his father's room and pulled a shirt out of his closet and a pair of socks out of his dresser.

He was just leaving the room when his eyes fell on an envelope. It had Sam's name on thick, ivory stock. The top left corner was filled with a logo. Stanford.

Sam's heart stopped. His hand hovered over the envelope for a minute, then lifted it. Someone had opened it, read it. His father had hidden it.

Sam headed for the kitchen. He put the letter down on the table and made coffee, then got cereal out of the cupboard.

Stanford.

He ran a finger over the envelope. It was stationary quality. The good stuff.

He hadn't told Dean or his father about his applications. He'd agonized over this one. The guidance counselor at the school had helped, insisting that Sam could get in. Sam had figured she was wrong when he hadn't heard from them. He'd already heard from the others he'd applied to.

His father must have picked up the mail the day it came in.

He held the envelope for a long time before pulling out its contents. His hands shook as he opened the paper. His eyes skipped over the cover letter. Accepted. Scholarship. Honor to have such a fine student.

Sam sat to eat, torn between concern for his brother and anger at his father. His eyes darted over the letter repeatedly, his anger and worry mixing and growing.

It was nearly a half hour later that John came into the kitchen, rubbing his face and making for the coffee pot. He sighed as he glanced at Sam. "I sedated him. I need to…research. Need to figure out what this is."

"He said a woman took him into the woods." Sam said, getting up to put his bowl in the sink. "He was really out of it, but he said, 'they bit me' and something about trying to make him their pet."

John sipped at his coffee, his eyes dark. "Some sort of pack." He inhaled. "They behave like werewolves in a lot of ways."

"But you said yourself, it's three days past the full moon."

"I know." He drank from his coffee. "Sam…"

Sam shook his head. "Don't. Dean is going to be okay." He had to be okay.

"No, Son. I don't think he is." His father turned away as he said it. He was quiet then, his back to Sam.

Sam left the envelope and its contents on the table and started out of the kitchen. "Don't go near Dean." John said suddenly.

"My books are in there. I have to return them before I start my English final." Sam said, his voice tight. He didn't wait for his father to respond, just headed down the hall.

He stopped just inside the door. Dean was tied down, tossing, moaning like he was in pain. Sam stepped toward the bed and his eyes snapped open. Dean licked his lips and struggled with the ropes holding him down.

"Dean?" He seemed to settle with the sound of Sam's voice. His eyes closed and when they opened they seemed calmer.

"Sammy…cold."

Sam reached for the blanket over the end of the bed. "Here." He pulled it up over his brother, sitting lightly next to him. "Better?"

Dean nodded, his eyes searching the room. "Dad?"

"Kitchen."

There was fear on Dean's face. "He's going to kill me, Sam."

"No. No." Sam wiped his face. "I won't let him."

"I'm changing Sam. I can feel it. It's inside me. They did something to me."

"It's just the fever Dean. You're sick."

Dean shivered. "Stay with me. He won't kill me if you're here."

"No one's going to kill you Dean. I'm not going anywhere. You need to sleep, okay?" He brushed a hand over his brother's face. Dean turned his head, his lips brushing Sam's wrist.

"Love you Sammy." His eyes were already closing as Sam pulled his hand away.

"I love you too, Dean." Sam shook his head and stood. He grabbed his books and headed out, running into his father who was holding the letter.

"You should go." Sam looked at his father's face as he shoved the letter at Sam.

"What?"

"I called them, explained that the letter got lost. The spot is still yours. You should go."

"Dad--"

His father's cell phone rang and he stepped away to answer it, leaving Sam standing in their dismal living room with the letter…and everything he'd ever wanted offered to him on thick paper, while his brother lay in the room at the end of the hall…probably dying.

 

 

The day dragged by Sam, who alternated between watching the clock and watching his phone surreptitiously under the desk. He was done with his test, but had at least another five minutes before he was allowed to get up. His father hadn't called to tell him how Dean was…and that couldn't be good. They'd been expecting Bobby since the night before. It had been three days and there had been nearly no change in Dean's condition. The only time he seemed coherent was when Sam sat with him.

Sam watched the big hand on the clock click forward and lurched up, grabbing his test and taking it up to the teacher at the front of the room. He bolted from the school, not even stopping at his locker. He ran most of the way home and around the beat up mustang parked in front to burst into the front door of the house.

He could hear voices and followed them to the bedroom.

"No Bobby."

"I ain't saying you gotta be the one, John."

"We don't know."

"Pretty damn good guess. Look at him."

"You are not killing my boy on a guess."

Sam shoved the door open, ending the argument. "How is he?"

"It ain't good." Bobby said after a few minutes of silence.

"Do you know what did it?" Sam's eyes raked over Dean on the bed. The fever seemed to have gone. He was sleeping restfully.

"It's a werewolf Sam…a rare breed of wolf." Bobby set a hand on his shoulder. "Took me two damn days to find the references."

Sam shook his head. "You're wrong." He pushed through them. "If it were a wolf…" He shook his head again. "You're wrong."

"Wish I was, kid." Bobby responded, though he didn't pull Sam back when he went to the bed.

"He's better." Sam said, touching Dean's hand. "Fever's gone."

"This breed forms packs. Usually one alpha male to five or so wolves. The alpha eats the heart. The rest of the pack takes what they can get when he's done."

"Bobby thinks the first one I killed was their alpha." John said. "He thinks the rest of the pack did this to Dean."

"They didn't kill him." Sam frowned up at his father.

"I think they were making him their new alpha, Sam." Bobby sighed and rubbed over his beard with one hand. "The references are obscure, and hard to translate. The alpha can make new wolves, but an alpha can only be made by the pack."

Sam turned to look up at him. "How?"

Bobby shrugged. "Don't know exactly. The one book I have isn't exactly forthcoming with the details. I know one bite doesn't do it."

Sam closed his eyes. He didn't want to hear any more. Dean's body was covered in bite marks. At least ten of them. He wouldn't believe it. "So what you're saying is that you don't know anything for sure." Sam stood, his face flushing with anger. "You don't know how they turn, you don't know if they turned him. You don't know anything."

"I know that silver puts them down, just like other shifters." Bobby said, his face flushed too. "I know that you do not want to be in this room when the wolf comes tearing through his skin."

"Bobby!" John grabbed at him, pulling him away from Sam.

"I'm sorry, John." Bobby turned on his heel and left the room. Sam stared at his father until he too turned and left the room.

Sam sat back down on the bed, surprised to find Dean's eyes open and looking at him, calm and green and normal. "Dean?"

He smiled and nodded. "Yeah. You okay?"

Sam shook his head. "Me?"

"You know Bobby's right."

Sam felt tears burn in the corner of his eyes. "No. I don't."

"I do." Dean's fingers rubbed on Sam's hand. "I know what I am, Sam." He swallowed and looked away. "I can feel what it wants. I…I want it too."

Sam took his hand, swallowing hard. "You're better already Dean. The fever's gone."

"The fever was my body fighting the infection. The fever's gone because it lost the fight."

"Don't say that." Sam looked up at him.

"You're going to have to let me go."

"No."

"You wouldn't say that if you knew what it wanted." Dean looked away, a flush of shame creeping over his face. "It wants you Sam. It wants to own you. It wants to make you belong to us." Dean was looking at him now, his eyes starting to turn gold. "I can smell me on you…I'm inside you Sam. It wants me to finish the job…wants me to rip these ropes and force myself inside you, wants me to fuck you Sam…bite you, kiss you…mark you…make you a part of my pack."

Sam sat back, pulling his hand away. He stood, his whole body trembling. "Dean stop."

There was a tearing sound and Sam whirled, just in time to be pressed into the wall by Dean. A low growl rumbled through him, his teeth barred as one hand grabbed Sam's throat. His mouth closed over Sam's in a brutal kiss.

Sam's entire body thrummed with fear and arousal and shame at both and he pushed at Dean ineffectually. "Tell me you don't want me to do it, Sam." Dean's voice rasped in his ear. "Tell me you don't want this."

"Dean, please." Tears slid down his face and Dean leaned in, licking them up.

The door burst open and Dean roared in fury. "You're mine Sam. Mine." Dean let go of him then, charging at the door. He knocked Bobby backward and shoved past their father, his body shifting as he ran.

Glass broke somewhere and Sam sank to the floor, shaking. His brother was gone.

 

 

 

 

He left the library juggling more books than he'd had when he come in, trying to get them all to fit in his backpack. He didn't look up until he was nearly at the bottom of the stairs and when he did, he stopped, blinking several times.

His father looked a lot older than three years should have made him. His hair was shot through with gray and his eyes were dark, tired looking. He smiled vaguely at Sam and lifted a hand as he stood up from where he'd been leaning against a black truck that had seen better days.

Sam didn't know how to react. The last time he had seen John Winchester, it had been over the barrel of a gun.

"You're looking good, Sam."

Sam took a deep breath and swallowed the knot of bile and fear that was rising on him. "Dad." He took a few steps, squinting in the late afternoon light. There were scars, a long slash on his forehead, three claw marks down over his left eye and nose. "You look like shit."

He nodded wearily. "I know."

Icy dread filled him when his father looked away. Dean was dead. His father had come to tell him he had finally found him and put him down. He shifted nervously.

"Get in." John hooked his thumb at the truck, but Sam didn't budge.

"No." He shook his head when his father looked up at him. When John stopped and turned back, Sam shifted his backpack. "I have studying to do."

"It's about your brother. Get in."

His father didn't look this time to see if Sam did as he was told, just got into the truck. Sam contemplated not getting in, but exhaled heavily and opened the door. The engine roared to life and his father pulled away from the curb as Sam shut the door.

"So…how's school?"

Sam sighed and looked at his father. "Fine. I thought this was about Dean."

He nodded. "Yeah." His hands tightened on the steering wheel.

"Is he dead?"

The truck was silent for a long time, then John sighed and shook his head. "No, Sam. He isn't." The truck turned down a tree lined street and stopped outside the apartment Sam was sharing with his girlfriend.

Sam was a little surprised that his father knew where he lived. "He's here, in the area."

Sam frowned. "Why?"

"He stole my car, and he found out that you came here from paperwork he found in the trunk. He's looking for you."

"Me?" He was starting to feel very behind. "I thought you and Bobby were going to "handle him"…and he was never going to know where I was because if was too dangerous and how the fuck do you know where I live?"

"Calm down."

"Calm down? Is that all you've got for me?" Sam opened the door of the trunk. "Thanks for the ride. Go to hell."

John was out the other side and circling before Sam even got half way up the sidewalk. "Listen to me Sam, this isn't like any werewolf you've ever read about, Okay? He's single minded and territorial and he's smart."

"He's Dean, Dad. Of course he's all of that."

"You don't understand."

"Then fucking explain it to me."

"I'm trying."

"Yeah well, don't quit your day job. You suck at this." Sam pushed past him but stopped short when his father reverted to Marine voice.

"Samuel Winchester would you stop and listen to me for once in your goddamn life?"

Sam turned, dropping his back pack to the ground.

"Can I come in? I'll tell you everything I know."

He wanted to say no. He wanted his father to leave and never have to know what his brother had become. "Fine. But Jessica's here. Not a word until she leaves for class."

He went to the door, opening it slowly. "Jess, hon. I'm back."

"With half the library I imagine." Jess came out of the living room, all smiles, kissing his cheek. "You have company."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Yeah, um Jess, this is my Dad."

Her eyes widened and she glanced back into the living room. "Ah, no, I meant…your brother is in the living room."

Sam jumped toward the living room. Dean stood from the couch, smiling. "Hey Sammy, did you miss me?"

Their father was right behind him, a gun in shaking hands. Dean held up his hands, his eyes darting from Sam to John to Jessica. "Whoa there, Dad. Just came to visit my baby brother."

"I know why you're here Dean." John replied, the gun wavering.

Sam turned to Jessica, turning her back toward the kitchen. "Just…family stuff, Jess."

"Your father—"

"He's just grumpy. Why don't you…get out of here, let me sort this out."

"But he has a gun, Sam."

"I know. He won't use it though. It's going to be fine." He kissed her cheek. "I'll see you after your class, okay?"

He watched her go, though she looked spooked. He came back to the living room. Neither of them moved. "I figure we've got a fifty fifty chance she calls the cops."

John and Dean stared at each other.

"Nice girl you got there, Sammy." Dean said as Sam moved past their father into the room.

"It's Sam, and you just keep your distance from her."

"Oh, I see I'm not the only territorial one in the family." Dean flicked his eyes at Sam, a hint of gold in their green. "I didn't know you got into Stanford Sam, I'm proud of you."

"I didn't know you were still alive, I'm surprised."

"Not that the old man hasn't tried, right Dad?" Dean said, grinning. "Him and Bobby both. Nearly had me in Tennessee couple months back. That's when I found out you were here. Decided to come visit."

"Dad, put the gun down." Sam shook his head. "You're not killing him. Not here, not today."

"He's a fucking werewolf, Sam."

Sam stepped between them. "Yes and you’re an asshole, Dad. Put the gun down."

"He's killed innocent people."

"No, I haven't." Dean interjected.

Sam pushed the gun down.

"I've seen the bodies." John stared at Dean. "I've seen what you and your pack leave behind."

"What pack? You killed all of them." Dean was bristling with anger, his eyes flashing. "Talk about killing the innocent."

John snorted. "Innocent? That's rich. I've seen—"

"Have you?" Dean took a step closer. "Have you really? They were good people, Dad. They were victims and I gave them the power to strike back." Dean's eyes were filling with gold and he looked at Sam. "The last guy, the one in Tennessee? He was a rapist. He preyed on young women, tortured them, sodomized them, forced them to do things to one another. When we found him, he was already kidnapping another one."

"He was human." John countered, though his resolve seemed less concrete than it had been a moment before.

"Was he?" Dean shook his head. "He was a monster."

Sam stood between them, not sure what to say or do.

"And so am I. I get that." Dean turned his back to both of them and walked back toward the couch. "I am everything you've learned to hate since Mom died."

"I don't…" John shook his head.

"I just wanted to see Sam." Dean said softly. "I miss you. I…I'm alone. And I just…"

Sam turned to their father. His hand slid down John's arm to the gun in his hand, taking it from him. "I'll be fine. Go on. I want to talk to him."

John shook his head. "You don't know what he is."

"I'm going to have him tell me. I'll keep the gun. Dean won't hurt me, right Dean?"

Dean turned around and Sam could swear there were tears in his eyes. "You have my word. I won't lay a finger on him."

The weight of the gun filled his hand and Sam nodded. His father's eyes met his. "I won't be far away."

Sam pressed his lips together. "Go."

John backed out of the room, not turning until he was nearly to the front door. Sam exhaled and turned to Dean. "That's quite the act."

Dean wiped his eyes and shrugged. "Meant every word."

He sat on the edge of the couch, his eyes on Sam.

"The last time I saw you, you tried to kill me." Sam moved to the chair. He sat a little uneasily, the gun on his knee.

"No…it wasn't about killing you." Dean shook his head.

Sam raised an eyebrow. "What then?"

Dean fidgeted a little. "I was trying to…" He exhaled. "Mate…with you."

"What?" Sam jumped up again, frowning so hard his face hurt. "You were serious about that? I thought you were trying to scare me."

He remembered the way Dean looked at him, how his words burned inside him. He remembered how his body wanted what Dean was going to take. His face flushed. "You wanted to scare me enough that I'd be okay when Dad—"

"No, Sam." Dean didn't move, and his voice was low, but Sam could feel him as if he were right there, just like then, pressing into Sam. "I…when I came home, I was already changing. It was already inside of me and I was acting on its instincts, not mine. I marked you."

Sam swallowed as he felt it again, the slide of his brother's cock against his skin, the flush of his come. "Remember, Sam? You tasted me." Dean's voice was lower still, husky and deep.

Sam remembered the salt of his sweat on his tongue, the taste of copper and come from his hand. He brushed a finger over his lips. "You kissed me."

Dean nodded. "Marked you. Blood, sweat, come, spit."

Sam shook himself out of the memory. "I remember it was disgusting." He paced, watching Dean out of the corner of his eye. He wouldn't admit that it was arousing too…that he sometimes dreamed about where it might have gone. "I remember being scared for you. I remember being scared of you."

Dean jumped up, crossing the room fast, crowding Sam into the wall. "No, never be afraid of me Sam. I'd never…just no."

"You're doing a pretty good job of scaring me right now." Sam held the gun between them, his hands shaking. Dean grabbed the barrel of the gun and held it to his chest.

"Here, right here. Nice and close. It'll be over." Dean closed his eyes, holding the gun tight to him.

"Stop."

"No, do it." Dean opened his eyes, stared into Sam. The gold flecks grew, slowly taking over his eyes. His nostrils flared. His mouth opened. "You smell like her. She's all over you." He leaned closer still, the gun pressing into him as he sniffed up Sam's neck.

Abruptly, he took a step back. He ran a hand over his face and pressed the other to his groin, like he was trying to contain an erection. "I'm sorry." He walked away. "Maybe I should go. I came so I could explain."

"Don't." Sam exhaled and stepped away from the wall. His whole body rang with need, with want, with the sense of Dean that filled the room. "I…I want to hear it from you. Not Dad."

At first he didn't think Dean would stay, but he nodded slowly and went back to the couch. "Okay. The first thing you should know is that Bobby was right, I'm not like…other werewolves, the ones Dad's hunted before. I don't need the full moon to change, I can control it…somewhat. Though the full moon makes it harder and pain sometimes brings it on. When Bobby got a shot into me in Reno, that got ugly. Barely got out of sight before it happened."

Sam moved back to the chair and sat, crossing his legs and hoping Dean hadn't seen the reaction his desire had had on him. "Bobby shot you?"

Dean shrugged as he sat back. "We sort of bumped into one another…hunting the same bastard I think. He wasn't packing silver, thankfully. I got away with a through and through in my thigh."

"Hunting?"

Dean made a face at him like he was an idiot. "What? You think I'd stop hunting just because a bunch of whack jobs jumped me in the woods one night?" He shook his head. "So…we come from a line of wolves that originated in the arctic. The story's a little fuzzy, and the reasons for the differences aren't clear. We tend to run in packs, small ones. Live mostly normal lives, though there's the need for…feeding." He looked disgusted at the thought and wiped his hands on his thighs as if it were distasteful. "And…the alpha of the pack needs…a partner."

"A mate?" Sam asked, tightening his grip on the gun again.

Dean nodded. "When I had the pack, the need wasn't as bad. I could…you know…with them." He smirked a little. "See now, there's some fun…five little minxes, and the…" He looked up at Sam. "Sorry. It took the edge off."

"But your pack is gone." Sam said. "Dad killed them?"

Dean nodded. "The pack that turned me…they were worthless. The guy Dad killed was a moron. He turned hot chicks so he could bang them. They were gone fast. Dad, some other hunter when we hit Las Vegas. By the time I got to Texas, I was alone again."

"So you built your own?"

Dean stood, his turn to pace. "I found a girl. She was a runaway, seventeen. She'd been beaten, raped, thrown away. The guy she was with pimped her out and I found her crying in an alley. She was my first."

"You killed the pimp?" Sam didn't look up from the gun, afraid of what he would see when Dean answered the question.

"Yeah. We did." Dean stood near the bookshelf, running his finger along the tops of pictures of Jessica and Sam. "Andi…she was a good kid, Sam. She just never got a break. Once we were away from there, she just shined. She was smart, focused. She found us the next one. Adam…" Dean scratched at his head. "He was trapped, his father hurt him, his brother gave him drugs."

Every line of Dean's body was taut with anger. Sam could feel it from across the room. "Then came the one in Tennessee. She was the victim of a serial rapist. The police knew who he was, but couldn't touch him because he never left any evidence. He trapped the girls, tortured them for weeks, raping them over and over when he wasn't cutting into them or beating them…and when he was done, he just dumped them in some park. Most of them died after he let them go."

Dean turned around. The gold was rising in his eyes again. "We killed that son-of-a-bitch cold. That's when Dad caught up to us again. Took Adam first. We scattered."

He closed his eyes. "By the time I found my way back to the girls, he'd plugged them both with silver. I tracked him down…well the car anyway. Always did want the car. I took it. Two states later I was rummaging through it and found a box with your acceptance letter and your address scribbled on a note."

"And here you are." Sam licked his lips as Dean took a few steps toward him. "Why?"

"Can't a man just want to see his brother?"

"A man? Yeah. I'm not sure you qualify." He cringed inwardly. He didn't really mean the barb…the anger wasn't fully justified. None of this was Dean's fault.

Dean inhaled and nodded. "You're probably right. I should go."

Sam wasn't sure he wanted him to go. He wasn't sure of anything right that minute. He wanted his brother back and he wanted his quiet, normal life. And he was pretty sure that he was never getting either. "You said you…were trying to mate…that you need one."

"Like I said, an alpha with a pack can get by without one, but the urge is strong, especially when the pack is gone."

"Right now?" Sam shifted uneasily, the feeling of his brother pushing him into the wall flooding him, the desire that welling up in his stomach.

"I'd be lying if I said no." Dean admitted.

"I'm still your brother." Though Sam was beginning to wonder if that would really matter, if Dean chose to push. "And last I knew, you weren't gay."

"I'm not sure the wolf cares. From what I can tell it wants someone strong, someone my equal physically, someone who can help guide the pack." He smiled wryly. "You gotta admit Sam, that's you."

Dean walked away again. "I'm not saying it's right, and I know you don't want it and believe me if I could walk away I would. But I had to see you. I felt…something that day…when I had you against the wall. I needed to know if I was right."

Sam felt his stomach tighten. It was all too much to take in all at once. He pushed himself up out of the chair and crossed to Dean, looking into his eyes. He searched them for truth, for a sign Dean was spinning him. He didn't find anything staring back at him but his brother. "I need you to leave. You found me. You told me your story. And I need some time to think about it before I know what I feel."

Dean nodded slowly and pulled something from his pocket. "I trust you Sam. I'm giving you the address where I'll be. If you give this to Dad, he'll come kill me in my sleep. Hell, for all I know you will. But if I'm going down, I'd rather it was one of you. I'll be there a few days. My phone number's on there too."

Sam took the paper and tucked it in his own pocket. "You know he's out front waiting."

Dean grinned. "I'm fast." Suddenly his eyes shimmered gold and his body changed. Where Dean had stood was a large white wolf with gold eyes and huge teeth, and he still managed to seem to grin up at Sam before he ran to the door.

Sam heard shouting and then his father was slamming into the apartment. Sam held up both hands. "You just let him go?" John asked, his tone filled with accusation.

"What did you expect?" Sam held the gun up. "I wasn't going to kill him."

"One of us has to."

Sam exhaled and rubbed his forehead. "Maybe."

"Maybe? What the hell is wrong with you? I raised you better than that."

Sam shoved the gun at him. "Dean raised me Dad. You just hauled us around from place to place."

His father gaped at him for a few minutes before Sam sighed. "Besides, you're the one who said I wasn't a hunter. You're the one who sent me away and told me not to look back."

"That was before I knew he would come for you." John reached out for him, but Sam pulled away. "Sam, he wants to turn you."

"I know." Sam crossed his arms, suddenly cold. "He told me." He wasn't about to tell his father everything Dean said. If John Winchester wanted to kill his oldest son now, it would only be worse if he knew. "I've known that since that day, when he turned."

"I've already lost him. I don't want to lose you too."

"I'm not going anywhere. Except to my room to study. Finals are coming. You're welcome to the couch." Except for how he'd have to explain suddenly having family to Jessica.

"What about Dean?"

"I told him to go. He left. What more do you want from me?"

"What if he comes back?"

Sam shook his head. "Honestly, I don't know. Beer's in the fridge, help yourself." Sam grabbed his backpack off the kitchen floor and headed into the bedroom he shared with Jessica.

He dropped his backpack on the bed and groaned. He'd come so close to normal he could taste it. He crossed to the dresser and opened a drawer, pulling out a ball of socks. He pulled the small box out of it and sighed. He'd had it for weeks now, looking for the right time to ask. And sure, they still had a year of school left, more if Sam got into the law school. But he could see his life with her. A home, a job, kids.

Sam put the ring back into the sock and shoved it back into the drawer. Suddenly that life seemed so far away it almost didn't matter.

 

 

The next three days, however, were the epitome of normal, aside from the presence of his father. There were no sudden, unexplained deaths, no animal maulings, nothing out of the ordinary.

Dean didn't try to call or see him.

"Maybe he left." Sam said at breakfast that morning. "Full moon's tonight. He said it was harder to control then."

Jessica breezed through, grabbing her travel mug of coffee from the table and kissing the top of Sam's head. "Don't forget, we're meeting everyone at the club at seven."

Sam smiled at her. "I'll be there."

They waited until she was gone, then his father sighed. "I don't think he'd give up that easy."

"I know you don't believe me, but I think he was telling the truth, Dad. He controls it the best he can. He doesn't want to hurt me."

John put his fork down and looked at him. "You know that isn't how it works. Dean may believe that, but you and I both know that he's not the same."

Sam was tired of the conversation. He was tired of thinking about it, of worrying about Dean, about his father. He got up to refill his coffee and jumped when his father's phone rang.

"Bobby." John said, standing and heading into the living room with the phone. Sam shook his head and sipped at his coffee. John came back into the room with his duffle bag in hand. He huffed and reached for his coffee cup. "Got a heads up on a werewolf attack just north of here."

He didn't have to say that they assumed it was Dean. Sam didn't ask, just stood and watched him finish his coffee. "I'll swing back by…when I'm done." John didn't look at him.

Sam considered it for a minute, then put his coffee cup down on the counter. "Don't bother." If it was Dean and their father killed him, Sam didn't want to know. If it wasn't…well, Sam didn't want to know that either. He walked with his father to the door. "I'm going to ask her to marry me." Sam said as they stood there awkwardly for a minute.

His father's face broke into a smile. "That's good, Sam. She's a special girl."

Sam nodded and exhaled. He let John pull him into a hug. "You take care, Son."

"I will Dad. Goodbye."

Sam watched him go until he couldn't see the truck anymore. He breathed in and let it out slowly. The feeling of normal settled around him. He closed the door and headed for the shower. Normal meant classes and meeting up with Jessica just off campus tonight for her best friend's birthday.

 

 

Jessica slid into his lap, her smile devious, her face flushed from alcohol and laughter. Her mouth closed over his, her tongue sliding into his mouth. "You're too quiet."

"Am I?" Sam lifted his beer and drank, then set it aside on the table, so her could put both hands on her hips. "Maybe I'm just thinking about all the ways I could ravage you…right here, in this bar…without anyone knowing." The smell of her was intoxicating and Sam pressed his face into her neck, breathing deep.

"I didn't know you were that kinky," she whispered in his ear, her hand sliding between them to rub at his cock through his jeans.

"Mmmm…keep doing that and I'll show you how kinky." Sam nipped at her ear as his cock hardened and she squirmed against him.

"Hey, Jess, quit molesting Sam, it's your shot." Josh called from the pool table.

Jessica kissed him deeply, giggling as she pulled away and headed for the pool table.

Sam grabbed his beer and sat back to watch her play. Her eyes darted to him and she made a show of bending over the table to get her shot. Sam drained his beer.

He felt him first, a hot sensation flushing through him as eyes picked him out of the crowd. Sam swallowed, glancing at Jessica and standing nervously. Dean.

He looked around the room, but didn't see his brother anywhere. Jessica came toward him after sinking the wrong ball. "Hey, babe…you okay?"

Sam nodded, letting her press up against him. He was horny, needy…he kissed her and she groaned into his mouth. "Need some air." Sam's voice was dark.

"I'll come with." Jessica tossed back the last of her drink and Sam slipped an arm around her waist as they weaved through the crowd to the door.

Once outside the club, Jessica turned, pulling both of his arms around her. She kissed up the side of his face. "Show me."

"Here?" Sam asked, though the arousal flushing through him was enough to make him not care where.

"Alley." Jessica walked backward, tugging him along.

"Dirty." Sam growled.

Her hand was on his zipper, inside his jeans even before they were swallowed by the shadows of the two buildings. Sam pressed her into the wall as she pulled him out. She leaned into the brick and lifted one leg up to his waist while her hands worked at pulling aside her panties under her skirt. Her fingers guided Sam in and she lifted her other leg.

Sam sank into her with a groan, his face nuzzling into her breasts. He shoved in, and her hand fisted in his hair. "Harder," she whispered and Sam obliged, his hips snapping in and up as she gasped out a quick orgasm. He wasn't far behind, his head falling back as he came inside her, though his cock barely softened and his arousal wasn't even slightly sated.

When he opened his eyes, all he could see was the full moon filling the sky above them.

Dean.

He was there. In the shadows. Watching.

He helped Jessica back to her feet and they both set about rearranging their clothes. Jessica kissed him. "Dirty boy."

Sam could feel his brother breathing, could taste his arousal. Dean wanted him. Badly. "You should…go inside." Sam said, smiling a little. "I need to cool off."

She raised an eyebrow. "Maybe you should stay hot and we'll blow the rest of the party. I've never seen you like that before."

Sam kissed her cheek. "Shannon would never forgive me if I took you away before she's too drunk to remember you left."

"Okay…but we aren't done yet tonight. I want some more of that."

She was barely out of sight when Sam's back tingled with the nearness of his brother. He tried to turn, but Dean slammed him into the wall, knocking the wind from his lungs. "Mine." The voice that spoke in his ear was Dean, but not…a growl. His face was pressed in against Sam's neck, sniffing at the skin.

"Dean."

Hands moved over his back and Dean's strong body pressed against him, his cock clearly hard as he shoved his hips against Sam's ass. There was a hissing intake of air. "Want you."

Sam got his hands on the wall and shoved back, getting enough room to turn before Dean was shoving him back against the brick. Sam felt sharp teeth when Dean kissed him, making him abandon resistance, because it would take only one bite, one slip of those teeth to turn him. When Dean pulled back, Sam could see he was partially changed, his hair white and long, his ears longer than they should be, his eyes all gold and black. His hands ended in claws and fur.

"I figured you'd gone." Sam said softly. He wanted to move away, the nearness of Dean's body heat was too much, and it made him want things he shouldn't want.

Dean cocked his head to the side. "Want you."

Sam nodded. "I get that. But you know--"

Dean stopped him with another kiss, this one harder, pushing Sam's head into the wall. Sam put his hands on Dean's shoulders and pushed, getting him a few inches back, but fuck was he strong. "Dean. Stop."

"Tell me you don't want me, this." Dean's voice was a little more normal, spots of green appeared in his eyes. His hand cupped Sam's cock, still hard, harder still now as Dean squeezed it. "I know you do, I can feel you…taste you."

"Dean…stop…please…" Sam was panting, his cock aching despite the fact that he'd just come.

"I can smell you Sam. I sit in that hotel room and I can smell you. I'm hungry…haven't fed in months. Need to let him out, give him what he needs." Dean closed his eyes and breathed in deep. When he opened them again they were mostly green again. "Shit." He let go and stepped back. "Fuck, Sam. I'm sorry."

Cold rushed in where Dean's heat had been. Without thinking Sam followed him, reaching for him, drawing their bodies together again. Their lips crashed together and Dean groaned, pushing them apart. "Sam."

Sam shook his head. "No, you're right, I do."

"No, you don't." Dean held him at arms length. "It's the moon and the wolf. Snap out of it."

Sam knocked his arm away and tried again, shoving Dean into the opposite wall and kissing him again. His head was still telling him this was wrong, that he didn't want this, but his body did want it and the want was overwhelming.

"Sam, I won't be able to stop myself a second time." Dean warned, the gold starting to fill his eyes.

"Sam?"

Jessica. Sam pulled back, looking over his shoulder. Any second she'd come around that corner and see them. He shook his head, getting a little clarity. "Dean…wait here."

"Sam." Dean grabbed his arm, yanked him back. "I'll be gone in the morning. If…if…You know where to find me." He let go and melted into the shadows.

Sam headed for the front of the building. He could feel when Dean was gone, the cold rushed in and he shivered.

"You okay?" Jessica asked, her face concerned.

Sam pulled his jacket closer. "You know…actually…my brother…" Sam fiddled with his phone, letting her think Dean had called him. "He needs me." His voice caught a little. "I should go see him."

She nodded. "Okay. You want me to come with?"

Sam shook his head. "Family stuff, you know? Just…stay here and enjoy your friends. I'll meet you at home later."

"Yeah? You just be careful."

Sam smiled. "He's my brother. He's not going to hurt me."