Title: By the light of the moon
Author: ianthe_aveira
Pairings/Characters: Dean, John, Sam with pairing of Werewolf!John/Dean and a soft hint of Dean/Sam
Rating: NC-17 for smut and perversion! >:P
Spoilers: Nope
Notes/Warnings: Smut ! Slash of course, AU, werewolf/human sex, angst, pain, blood, incest, unbetaed, possibly cheesy and cliche :)

I was having the worst time coming up with something to write so the wonderful realpestilence gave me this wonderful wicked plot and I ran with it. If not for her I'd be sitting around still trying to decide on something to write! And let me just say she is a pervy little monkey for thinking this up and I now love her! LOL Having done this I've decided that I shall do more dark/twisted/perverse stories to celebrate my favorite holiday, Halloween! :D It's my gift to you! Enjoy!



3 am Rural Montana

It felt as if he couldn’t breathe, the cold air burnt his lungs but he couldn’t stop his heart from pounding and his adrenaline from soaring and this made him drag in huge ragged lungs full of the the frigid air. His legs felt numb but his muscles where on fire, infact every part of him was numb with the cold but just under the skin fire lit every molecule of him. He would be tired later, falling into a deep exhausted sleep from all this, but now he was wired, and when Dean Winchester got wired he was like a cornered wolf. Wolf…

His mind raced with it as he stopped, panting and resting a gloved hand against a tree for support. His breath plumed out around him making it harder to see, harder to see what might be creeping up on him, harder to find his father. He was panicked, and the only time he got panicked while on a hunt was when trouble involved Sammy or Dad and this time it was both of them. He clutched the sawed off shotgun in his other hand, the silver pellets inside almost vibrated for the promise of blood, lycanthrope blood. His last two shells, he wouldn’t miss again. He wouldn’t.

He wanted to call out for Sammy, he knew his younger brother was nearby, lost in the thick spruce forest that even the reflected moonlight off the snow couldn’t penetrate. It was surreal, it was horror movie quality. He wanted to call out and hear his brother respond and take comfort that Sam was ok, that whatever happened to Dad didn’t happen to Sammy, but Dean remained quiet. Panicked or not he knew that to voice his position would mean giving up the element of surprise and if something happened to Dean then… He didn’t let himself finish that thought, instead he pushed away from the tree and blinking away the thin layer of frost that seemed to film over his eyes he set off again.

The trail was easy to follow, a dragged body wounded and bleeding through the snow by a large wolf beast wasn’t exactly stealthy. Dean weaved through trees, still sprinting but slower than before, cautious. He had to be getting closer, the smell of blood was in the air. Dad’s blood. Maybe Sammy’s blood. Fuck Fuck Fuck! The mantra coursed through his brain and made his chest ache.

There! A dark shape in the snow, too small to be the Lycanthrope but it could be…It was. It was Dad. Dean stopped suddenly as he fought back the urge to run to the still form of his father. He looked around, studying the night, the forest. This was wrong. It felt wrong. It smelled wrong. Where the hell was the damn beast? Why would it just leave his father here when it fought so hard to get it’s prize? Dean licked his lips slowly tasting the cold and his own blood and something more, something bitter. Fear.

His ears strained to hear, hear anything but the deep silence of the snow heavy night. Silence so deep that he was sure his frantic breathing would carry for miles. Squinting past the steam his breath plummed into his face he stared at the body of his father. This had to be a trap, but what was he going to do? Sit here and watch as his dad bled out and died in the snow? Fuck that. He bent into a half crouch and eased closer, his boot crunched in the snow, his heart drummed in his chest, he held his breath.

“Dad?” He hadn’t wanted to speak, but the whisper escaped him before he could stop it. No response as he crept closer, eyes darting to the darkness, steps slow and calculated and suddenly there was no ground under him. He tried to throw himself forward but he was caught off balance and he sank in the drift like a stone in water. It happened so fast, one second he was easing towards his father and the next he was buried chest deep in a snow drift, he couldn’t move his legs, he was stuck. The snow packed around him like a cocoon. Fuck Fuck Fuck!!

It took him almost a full minute to realize that he had one arm free, it was splayed out at his side and he cursed himself for letting his mind get fuzzy with fear. He had wasted precious seconds, but now he could dig himself out and everything would be ok if he kept his wits about him.

The growl was low and menacing and it made Dean’s blood go even more icy. He froze in his movements and turned his head towards the noise. There just to the left of Dad, just off where Dean wasn’t able to see the creature hiding before. It had been a trap and Dean mentally kicked himself. It was big, huge in fact. It was the size of a pony, hell maybe even a small horse. It was all muscle and coarse black hair and its eyes where big and it’s teeth where even bigger. Dean watched in horror as it moved from the shadows, it growled again, it’s teeth bared and wickedly sharp. It sniffed the air, breath pluming around it like smoke and it looked like something from hell instead of bum-fuck Montana.

“Fuck Fuck Fuck!” The creature’s ears twitched at Dean’s curses and Dean could almost swear it was grinning at him. Paralyzing fear finally gave way to action as Dean’s training kicked it. He wasn’t going down as puppy chow for some over grown dog! He remembered the shotgun! Yes, the gun! No! It was in his other hand, buried under the snow, he could feel it still clutched in his hand. Useless. His other hand scrambled over the crust of the snow frantically searching for a weapon as his eyes darted around. Nothing. Not even a branch or a rock and Dean didn’t think a hastily made snow ball would do much good fending off the beast.

This was it. No more hunting, no more fucking, no more Sammy, no more Dad, no more Impala.

“Let’s do it then, Bitch!” And as if taking the challenge the werewolf launched itself towards him.


Yanking open the door to the Impala Dean eased his dad into the backseat. The old man was alive..barely. There was a lot of blood and it made Dean uneasy, but there had been worse times then these. Times when there was more blood, times when he was almost sure John was dead. Making sure his dad was securely in the back he shut the door and turned to look at his brother. Sammy was leaning heavily on the trunk of the car, blood darkened his jeans and turned the snow around his feet crimson and he looked pale..too pale and Dean felt scared. Scared for his dad and especially scared for his little brother. He went quickly to his brother’s side and wrapped his arm around Sam’s middle.

“Hey, little brother. You’re ok. You’re fine. Let’s get you out of here. You did great. You did awesome.” He was rambling.

“Shut up, Dean.” Sam groaned, wincing as Dean helped him towards the passenger side of the Impala and Dean nodded. Settling Sam into the passenger seat Dean shut the door and he was shaking. Shaking worse than he could blame on the cold. He had almost lost everything and it wasn’t just his own life he was worried about. He could still see the beast closing in on him, still hear the shot gun blast as it rang out, still feel the hot spray of blood as a hole opened in the lycanthrope’s chest as it descended on him. Sam had saved him, Sam wounded and weak and stumbling from the trees with both barrels of his shot gun smoking like some avenging angel.

Taking in a long breath he held in until he could function again. The tremors still ran through him, but they would pass. It would all pass when they where safe back at the cabin. He would think about it all later, think about the gaping wounds in his father and the jagged tears in Sam’s jeans that looked suspiciously like teeth marks. No, he wouldn’t let himself think about those things. Those things where too horrible to contemplate because what if.. what if ?


The week passed slowly at the cabin, it was filled with bandage changes and cold compresses and a fever that ravaged both his father and his brother’s bodies. He had taken care of them both and when they both lay sleeping he would pace and stare out the ice sheathed windows at the frozen waste outside. He wanted to call Bobby. He wanted to call Pastor Jim. The cells wouldn’t work and there was no land line, he could have traveled the distance into town but that would have meant leaving Sammy and Dad and that wasn’t even something he would think about.

He didn’t know what to do, his knowledge on werewolves was flimsy at best. He only ever needed to know enough to kill the creature, the rest was Sammy’s job. Now he wished he had been more like his little brother, studying and reading up on all those beasts because everything he really knew about werewolves was from late night horror flicks and he realized just how much he took his brother for granted.

At last the fevers had broke and that had settled his mind down and now a week later Sammy was almost fully back on his feet. He still limped around and winced when he didn’t think Dean was watching but his wounds where healing and the more and more Dean thought about it the more and more those wounds didn’t look like teeth marks. Didn’t look like teeth marks at all, they couldn’t be. Dad was different.

Dean eased open the bedroom door softly and peered in. The room was dark except for the Coleman lantern burning low on the night stand. The electricity had been out when they got here and the generator was being used for heating and plumbing and couldn’t be spared for luxuries such as lights. John laid propped against the headboard, a mess of papers and books lay scattered on the bed infront of him and he was thumbing through his journal. Too engrossed in the pages to notice Dean, he had been like that as soon as he was able to sit up. Demanding his books and papers from the back of the Impala but he wouldn’t say why the urgency and Dean wouldn’t let himself ask the question he already feared he knew the answer to.

“Dad?” Dean slipped inside and closed the door behind him. John didn’t look up, didn’t give any indication that he even heard Dean. Dean walked to the bed and stood at the foot watching his father. John looked better today than yesterday, but he was still pale and his eyes looked bruised, there was bandages taped and crossed across his torso and an angry looking scar healing on his forehead.

“Dad?” Dean repeated a bit louder this time and John looked up from his journal to meet his eyes.

“What is it, son?”

“I’ve been thinking that now that you’re a little better and Sam is up and around we should get out of here. Maybe head towards Bobby’s or Pastor Jim’s or..”

“We stay here.” John’s voice cut Dean off, it was the same tone of voice John used when he wanted to say that there would be no argument, that his word was final and to just drop it. Dean sighed heavily, his shoulders slumping and he nodded. He wanted to ask why? He didn’t want to know.

John sat his journal to the side and motioned for Dean to come to him, Dean caught his bottom lip between his teeth and went to his father’s side. John stared up at him and Dean wanted to look away but he didn’t.. he couldn’t.

“You know why we can’t leave, Dean. You can pretend you don’t but we both know you do. It’s not for certain but we have to find out. If we leave and go into town or any other place where there are people we could be putting them at risk.” Dean finally looked away, he looked at the lantern at the window at the floor, anyplace but at his dad. He didn’t want to see that look in John’s eyes, didn’t want to see the truth there. He nodded instead and felt all of 7 years old. Just like a little kid again and he hated it. Hated this feeling and how his dad could make him feel it so easily.

“Yeah, ok Dad.”

“Keep an eye on Sammy, Dean.” And Dean looked at his father but John turned back to his journal and wouldn’t be coaxed back into the conversation or even eye contact. Dean left as quietly as he came and he went to try the cells one more time.


” Many Native cultures feature skin-walkers or a similar concept…” Sam began, reading from his notes.

“It wasn’t a skin-walker.” Dean interrupted crossing his arms and leaning against the door frame between the kitchen and great room of the cabin.

“Yeah, I know, Dean. I’m just saying…” Sam peered at him over the papers. “It’s what Wikipedia said.”

“Since when do we use Wikipedia for research, Sammy?” Dean snorted as he watched his brother at the kitchen table. Papers both hand written and computer printed lay in a mess on the surface.

“Since when do you know what Wikipedia even is, Dean?” Sam sat the papers down heavily on the other stacks and glared at his brother. “And for your information I use a lot of different resources during research now if you’ll just shut up for a minute and let me read this.”

Dean snorted again and shrugged but inside he was smiling. It amused him to piss his little brother off, how the small bit of red crept high onto Sam’s cheeks and the tips of his ears and how his dark eyes got even darker and he got that almost whiney tone to his voice. He looked cute when he was angry. Yeah, it was one of lives little pleasures and Dean never missed an opportunity to indulge in pleasure, big or small.

He listened as Sam read paragraph after paragraph and passage after passage and towards the middle it all started to sound the same to Dean’s ears and at the end it was giving him one hell of a headache. Reaching up he massaged his temples and sighed.

“That doesn’t help anymore today when you read it than the 10th time yesterday, Sammy.”

“Sam.”

“Whatever.” Dean waved his hand and Sam sighed. “Point is without your computer or a library or an easy way to contact other hunters we know nothing much more about it than before. So it’s pointless to keep reading the same ole shit over and over again.”

“Dean…” But Dean wasn’t listening, he kept talking.

“You’re fine, Dad’s fine. Hell he’s up and moving around and I don’t get it why we’re still here. Damnit no one is infected and neither of you are going to go turning hairy and howling at the moon it’s just…just fucking retarded.” He was angry. Angry that John still insisted they stay here, that the what ifs and just incases kept building and he was damn useless because if Dad and Sammy was infected then…no. NO! That wasn’t even a possibility. That wasn’t anything he could even start to think about. Realizing Sam was staring at him Dean glared at his younger brother.

“What?!” More forceful than he intended, more angry than he could hide.

“Don’t be scared, Dean.” Sam was watching him seriously, his eyes dark with worry and sadness and it pissed Dean off. Dean wanted to hug him, punch him, kiss him and that just made him more and more angry.

“I’m not scared, Sammy.” With that Dean pushed away from the doorway and headed towards the front door. “Going to restock supplies. Be back later tonight.” He threw it over his shoulder as he grabbed his coat and the keys to the Impala. He pretended he didn’t feel Sam’s eyes on his back as he left with a slam of the door.


It was easy to forget things when he was behind the wheel of his baby. It was easy to forget the past, it was easy to forget the present and as for the future, well hell he never thought about that anyways, but if he did then it would be just as easy to forget all about that as well. Zeppelin on the stereo and the window cracked just enough so that the cigarette smouldering between his lips would filter out the car. Dean had supposed to have quit smoking, he had supposed to have quit a lot of things but tonight when he was paying for the groceries he had thought fuck it and threw a pack of Winstons in the mix.

Now he sat there, staring out at the snow covered road as he tapped the tunes out on his steering wheel and let his mind drift as the smoke curled through his lungs. The cabin was thirty minutes outside Dillon along the Beaverhead river. Out of the way with no one around and Dean was just glad the roads where still accessible this far into winter.

Pulling up to the cabin he tossed his cigarette butt out the window and parked. He stared at the house, smoke billowing lazily out the chimney and the flicker of lantern light inside and.. what the hell? The front door was standing open. Grumbling to himself he pushed open the door to the car, grabbed the few bags of groceries off the back seat and headed towards the cabin. ”Here I chop wood all day to keep the place toasty enough for them and I leave for a few hours and they can’t even be cautious enough to keep the place closed up.”

He walked in and put the bags down just inside the door, slamming it loudly behind him he stripped out of his coat.

“Sammy! Why’s the damn door open?” Dean yelled out fully prepared to give his brother an earful. No answer. “Fucking hell.” He grumbled and stalked into the kitchen. Empty.

“Sam?” Dean called out heading down the short hall towards the bedrooms, stopping at his brother’s door and knocking loudly. “Hey, Sam! What the hell’s with the door being wide open?” His brother should know better, not only letting the cabin get cold but leaving it open to all other sorts of trouble that could come wandering in. He pounded on the door again as he got no response, trying the knob he pushed it opened and was greeted with an empty dark room. “Huh.” Ok, now this was odd. Perhaps he was with Dad.

Turning to his father’s door he knocked loudly before pushing it open. John lay on his stomach on the floor in only his pajama bottoms. At first Dean thought maybe he had fallen out of bed as he watched John try to push to his knees.

“Dad?” Dean rushed over to his dad as John pushed up to his hands and knees, his head bowed and Dean kneeled next to him. “You ok, Dad?” John was shaking almost violently, his body drenched in sweat and Dean put a hand to his father’s back in concern.

“Hey, Dad?! You ok?” He felt the muscles under his hand tremble and shift and John violently knocked Dean’s hand away.

“Get out of here, Dean!” John yelled taking Dean by surprise. Dean stared at his father and tried to ignore the icy fingers that was unrolling in his stomach. “NOW!”

“Dad?” Dean asked confused, not wanting to see what he was seeing. Not wanting to believe but somehow knowing that this wasn’t good. Not good at all. His father was in obvious pain and a part of him knew exactly why.

“God damnit Dean, Get your brother and get out of here now!” It was a command, a command with the tone that Dean knew better than to disobey but he couldn’t move and John wouldn’t look at him.. This was his dad. Dean went to him once again Fuck fuck fuck! This can’t be happening! and as he drew near once again John reached out and pushed Dean violently away. Dean teetered back, almost falling to his ass as he stared wide eyed at his father. John began to take in rapid shaking breaths, his whole body seemed to vibrate with them. His skin was reddening, crawling with the muscles underneath and Dean heard the first sickening crack. It sounded as if someone had broken a stick and John shouted in pain.

“Fuck fuck fuck!” Dean heard himself and he watched in horror as the shoulder blades in his father’s back began to shift. The breaking noise became frequent and louder and so did John’s screams of pain. His father was changing. Oh God Dean’s worst fear was taking shape in front of him, the virus in the lycanthropes blood had been transferred to his dad. Dean’s mind instantly went to the shot gun in the grand room, it was loaded with silver pellets. No! This is Dad, not some werewolf! He couldn’t use the gun on his own father. No.

Dean felt as if he underwater, his limbs felt heavy and his mouth was sour dry. He watched as coarse black hair began to spot over John’s body and it was like something out of the Howling when he saw the stretch of skin as John’s jaw broke and reformed into a growing muzzle, the change was happening more quickly now. John’s pajama bottoms split and fell away and his father screaming filled the cabin as bones and muscle morphed. That was enough. It made Dean move, he turned and ran through the bedroom door.

His heart was pounding so loud, his breathing harsh and he skidded to a stop in the grand room, almost slipping on the area rug in his haste. The gun! The gun was laying on the coffee table where he had left it, he ran to the table and as his fingers closed over the cool metal of the barrel something hit him from behind. Something heavy. Something that knocked the breath from his lungs and sent stars ringing through his head.

One second he was on his feet and the next on his stomach, he couldn’t breathe. His body jolted in pain finally felt as the shock wore off and he shook his head to clear it. Finally able to drag in a breath only to have it knocked out of him again as something heavy and hot and furry landed on his back. Forcing him down into the hard wood floor, banging his nose and he tasted blood as his vision swam for a second time.

Dean felt hot breath on the back of his neck and the sound of that breathing filled his world. He could pass out, he could slip into darkness, it would be easy and it would be over but Hell, Dean Winchester never did anything easy. Fighting back the darkness that threatened his vision he tried to push back against the weight ontop of him. No way it was moving, it was too heavy and Dean had no choice but to lay there under it’s crushing weight. The creature, that’s how Dean had to think of it, not as Dad. No, that was too fucked up, this thing wasn’t his father. The creature had it’s two front paws on the back of his shoulders and it held him down as if he where a child. It was strong, damn strong.

Dean couldn’t stop the shivering that started in his body, he was scared. Yeah, damn right he was scared. He felt a warm wetness behind his left ear, the sound of breathing got louder and Dean realized the thing was sniffing him. Taking in his scent like it was the best thing it had ever smelt and Dean felt his stomach roll and twist. Maybe there was something still left of John in there, something that was giving the beast pause in killing it’s own blood.

Dean felt the weight on his back shift and he instantly tried to push up and back again. A loud warning growl shook him and he felt his upper body being forced crushingly into the floor again. It hurt. It hurt a lot and Dean’s mind went blank and he couldn’t think of anything he could do to get out of this situation.

“Ok! Ok, dad!” He grunted through clenched teeth and the weight eased and he was able to breathe again. Gasping he closed his eyes tightly and hoped that Sammy was far from here, someplace safe. Sammy, god nothing better have happened to Sammy! He felt hot breath traveling over the back of his neck, long sniffing and a snort of air against his shoulders and then there was the sound of ripping material. Searing hot pain made it’s way down the length of Dean’s spine and he yelled out with it, the creature was shredding the back of his t-shirt and Dean’s skin along with it.

It felt as if he was being flayed, two more swipes of the creature’s sharp claws and his shirt was open and there was blood in the air. Dean’s own blood and the pain was intense.

“DAD! Stop! Fucking Jesus Stop!!” He felt as if he might be sick but the beast stopped and Dean was gasping and maybe even crying but not even in an instance like this would he ever admit that. More hot breath on his ravaged back, a hot wetness as a thick flat tongue drug over his wound and it wasn’t as bad as the clawing but Hell it hurt as well. ”Im being eaten alive!” The thought scared him, like almost piss your pants scared and he desperately wished he had had the balls to shoot his dad when the man had first started to change.

Dean couldn’t move, he couldn’t do anything other than lay there and let the werewolf lap at the spilling blood on his back. He was barely aware that he was whimpering into the wooden floor and that his cheeks where wet, all he could think about was the pain an dhow he prayed that Sammy wouldn’t wander in.

More pain now, god the pain was intense, down his ass and the back of his thighs and he could feel his skin being torn as his jeans shred. He screamed again and it seemed to last forever and maybe he lost consciousness for a few minutes because the next thing he knew he lay naked, penned to the floor and the pain wasn’t as bad. There was a hot tongue traveling the length of the wounds, starting at the nap of his neck and down his spine, across his ass and down his thighs. It stung but it wasn’t as bad as the pain. He wasn’t being held down anymore and his mind swam with trying to come up with a plan. Some way to get up and away to the shotgun before it could tackle him down and feed on his insides. He didn’t know where the shot gun was now, he didn’t know if he could even get to his feet if he tried. He was afraid of pissing off the creature and getting more mauled to the point that even if the opportunity arrived he wouldn’t be able to do a thing about it.

So he lay there, he laid there while the tongue traveled over him. The wet heat slide between the two halves of his ass and he went rigid. Fear and disgust flooded him, such a vulnerable place and he felt ill with it. The beast seemed to notice his movement for it growled again in warning before sliding it’s tongue back over that forbidden spot.

“Dad..” Dean whimpered pitifully and closed his eyes tight. This couldn’t be happening. It couldn’t be. Hot breath against his ass, the tongue sliding and tasting and paws tipped with razor sharp claws padded his thighs open wider. Dean freaked, he pushed to his hands and knees suddenly and tried to scramble away from the creature. Heavy paws hit his back hard and forced him back to the floor with brutal intensity and Dean couldn’t even deny it to himself anymore, he was crying. There was a sharp blinding pain as claws sunk into the soft skin on his sides, across his ribs and the creature growled so deeply Dean could feel it vibrate through him.

He was helpless, there was nothing he could do. The claws in his ribs withdrew as he settled into defeat, his thighs forced wide again and this time he didn’t fight it. Couldn’t fight it. The tongue slipped over his most intimate of places, lapping at him, pressing against Dean’s tight entrance and all Dean could do was gag and groan in misery.

“Dad..no, please.” The tongue slipped inside him, he tried to clench down to keep it out but there was only more pain and another growl so he had no choice but to just lay there. Dean tried to withdraw into himself, tried to think of something other than the probing tongue of his were-father inside his ass. He thought of Sammy, Sammy as a baby, Sammy as a little kid, Sammy as an awkward teenager. Sammy. Dean’s entire reason for living was his little brother and if the beast killed him tonight his only regret would be that he wouldn’t be around for Sam anymore.

More of the beast’s tongue slipped inside him, it seemed impossibly long, impossibly hot and although it wasn’t the first thing to be slipped inside Dean’s ass it sure was the least pleasant. He could feel the creature’s saliva dripping down his balls and he had to dig his nails into the wood underneath him to keep from trying to flee.

Finally it was over, the tongue withdrew and Dean sighed in relief. Nothing worse than being rimmed out by your were-father. For a moment he thought maybe the creature might leave, might wander off for more sporting prey but that hope was short lived as he felt the heavy warmth on his back, it held him down, pushing him into the floor and panted heavily in his ear. The coarse hair covering it’s body felt like steel wool on his wounds, there was movement and something hot and wet bumped into his hip. Again now against the bloody tears on the cheek of his ass and his mind exploded in terror. Oh Jesus! Fuck Fuck Fuck!

“Dad! No, please stop!” There was no stopping, the creature humped into him again and this time there was pressure and warm wetness as the head of the were-beast’s cock slipped just over Dean’s tongue fucked hole. Something inside Dean snapped, something deep inside him and he was sobbing now. Huge wracking sobs that rocked his entire body and this seemed to fuel the creature because it’s next thrust drove the huge cock home. The head pushing past the muscle and Dean screamed in agony. It was huge, huge and hot and it throbbed inside him as the monster forced more and more of it inside. It never seemed to end, it was bigger than anything Dean had had before, bigger than anything he ever thought he could take. It took his breath away and made his body jerk in pain. He wished for darkness, for unconsciousness, for death even.

The lycanthrope fucked him unmercifully, driving deep and fast and flooding Dean’s insides with thin searing pre-cum that poured from Dean’s abused hole and down his balls to puddle under him. He could smell it, smell it over his own blood. It was musky and smelt of an old well and Dean gagged, tasting bile and gagged again. It fucked him with such force that he was being pushed along the floor, the wood burned at his chest and there was nothing he could grab onto for a weapon or to brace against and just as he thought he might tumble head long into madness and the pain couldn’t get worse he felt something large and throbbing push into him, it began to swell as soon as it was inside and Dean felt as if he was being ripped apart. Bigger and bigger and it was cumming, cumming inside him. Filling him so completely the burning liquid that it gushed out of him with every thrust and he screamed. Finally whatever god there was took mercy on him and darkness swelled until he floated welcomingly into it’s depths.

He awoke sometime later, his head foggy and his body throbbing with pain. Every part of him hurt, hell even his toes hurt. His eyes fluttered and there was light, flickering light from the fire and it hurt his head. He lay on his stomach still in a puddle of..he wouldn’t let himself think of what he was lying in. He could barely move, he turned his head to the side and looked around the room as best he could. Empty. He turned his head to the other side and it was there. Staring at him, so close that Dean could see himself reflected in the black pools of the creature’s eyes. Dean flinched and tried to pull back away from it but it bared it’s fangs and he froze.

Dean didn’t want to think about what happened before, didn’t’ want to think about the pain in his ass and the cooling wetness leaking from him and he definitely didn’t want it to happen again.

“Dad..please, let me go.” He pleaded “Please, its’ me. It’s Dean, please dad. Please..” The creature just stared at him, there was nothing left of his father in those eyes. It moved, stalking back and forth for a moment infront of Dean before moving up behind him again. Finding some hidden well of strength Dean pushed up to his knees and climbed to his feet quicker than he had ever moved before. He ignored the pain protesting through his body and turned in the direction he thought the shot gun had fallen. His eyes flickered across the room and he spotted it, half under the couch and he lunged for it.

It hit him solid on the side, crashing into him with enough force that he felt at least two of his ribs snap and he was thrown back to crash hard onto his back. It was on him in an instant it’s jaws coming down to try to close around his throat and Dean raised his arms to protect himself. He was weak and scared and in pain but he got his forearms under the beast’s jaws and it was just enough to spare him getting his throat ripped out. Saliva dripped onto his face, fetid breath poured over him and the growling and snapping of teeth filled his world and Dean was losing. He couldn’t hold it back much longer, his muscles bulged, strained to keep the thing at bay but it was no use. It was too strong and from the corner of his eye Dean caught movement. Something crashed into the beast above him, sending it tumbling off him and jolting his broken ribs ripping a scream from his throat. Fighting unconsciousness he pulled himself to his feet, he swayed and thought he might fall but kept himself upright.

The room was filled with snarls and growls and the howls of pain and anger and Dean couldn’t really believe what he was seeing. There was another lycanthrope, a lighter colour than his father, leaner, younger, fiercer. The two beasts grappled infront of the fireplace, wrestling and biting and Dean took a step back and then another until his back was pressed against the wooden logs of the wall. It was crazy, it was madness. Dean’s eyes scanned the room, the shot gun laid in the opposite corner, closer to the beasts than to himself and he knew there was no way he could get his hands on it.

It was loud, it was violent, it lasted an eternity but the larger of the two, the one that had been John Winchester just hours before backed away. Teeth bared, dripping with blood, snarling and retreating and then it was gone. The open door brought gusts of cold wind into the great room making Dean shiver and wrap his arms around his body. Turning back to the werewolf that remained Dean felt his stomach drop. It stood infront of the fireplace, muscles taunt, panting through blood soaked muzzle, jagged wounds torn into it’s skin from the battle.

“Jesus, Sammy.” Dean whispered. He only had to look into those eyes to see his little brother, to see the man that was inside. He had stared into them long enough, lost in their dark depths, he knew his brother when he saw him. Licking his lips slowly Dean took a tentative step forward. The creature tensed, cocking its head and it’s ears pricked up. It studied him, unsure. Dean swallowed his fear and approached slowly, holding up his hands to show no harm. It allowed him close and Dean reached out a hand to slide it softly over the coarse dark hair on the side of the beast’s face. It closed it’s eyes as Dean caressed it and Dean’s vision swam with hot tears.

“Oh fuck, Sam. I failed. I couldn’t stop it, I couldn’t save you.” It hurt, it destroyed him. The only thing in his life he was ever good at was keeping Sammy safe and he had failed. The creature dropped it’s head as if saddened and slowly backed away from Dean. Their eyes met again, holding for a long moment and then it was lost. The creature turned and ran from the room, bounding out into the dark night.

Dean stood staring at the door until the room was icy, until his skin was blue and the tears froze on his cheeks. Tomorrow Sammy would be Sammy again and Dad would be Dad again and the beasts would rage when the sun slept and Dean wept for his family and the future he now couldn’t stop thinking about.