Chapter Text
The Winchester Brothers ran for their lives through the abandoned shipyard, the hungry howls of wolves following them through the brightly moonlit night.
Dean's heart pounded furiously on his ribcage and he tried to see where Sam was; he could hear the sound of Sam's feet pounding the ground somewhere behind him but he couldn't see him beyond the hunks of metal debris that littered the place.
They had tracked a pack of werewolves to this place, armed with the usual anti-werewolf gear, and had found something utterly different from any other werewolves they'd encountered; these ones actually did fully become wolves under the light of the full moon, which Sam and Dean had thought was just the stuff of folk tales. They had shot at the wolves with silver bullets, to no effect at all. And so that left them only with the option of running away as fast and far as they could.
Dean realized that he could no longer hear Sam running behind him and he stopped, eyes frantically searching the shadows around him for his brother.
He could see nothing and he felt his heart beat even harder in his chest. "SAM!!!" he screamed into the night.
In the grip of fear he turned back and started running towards where Sam had been, and then Sam stumbled out of the shadows drenched in blood and gripping a machete.
Dean ran over to him and threw his arm around Sam before the taller man could collapse on the ground.
"Killed... one," Sam choked out. Dean saw a vicious-looking bite on Sam's neck. Oh god no.
"Sammy... you got bit..."
"Yeah no shit," Sam said darkly and coughed, pressing a hand over the wound on his neck. He stared into Dean's eyes. "There's more behind us. We gotta go now."
The two of them fled the shipyard, Dean supporting Sam with one arm as they ran. They threw themselves into the Impala and floored it back to the highway... and only then did Dean allow himself to breathe.
Sam suddenly started panting and groaning in the passenger seat. Dean looked over at him and saw that although the blood remained, the wound on Sam's neck had vanished. Eyes wide and heart racing once more, Dean looked down at Sam's hands and saw claws beginning to extend from his fingers, as thick hair began to sprout all over Sam's body.
Not good. Not fucking good.
Dean swerved the car frantically onto the shoulder of the highway and turned it off. He ran outside to the back of the Impala and searched the trunk for something that would help them... but they had nothing that could help them with this. No werewolf antidote. Nothing.
Dean grabbed a pair of iron manacles in desperation, shut the trunk, and he froze.
A massive brown wolf stood on the roof of the Impala, staring intently at him.
The wolf's eyes were familiar. Dean's eyes darted down to look inside the car and he saw no sign of his brother inside.
He pulled his eyes back up fearfully to look at what had become of Sam.
"Sammy..."
The wolf walked forward over the car to stand on the closed trunk, only a foot or two away from Dean now.
Dean silently begged for mercy, begged for his brother to return to normal.
The wolf's lips pulled back from his teeth and he leapt at Dean.