Spoiling the Barrel -Part 3-
Master Post
Spoiling the Barrel
"He who fears the wolf, should not go to the forest."
-Estonian saying
"So… What was that? Last night, I mean?" Sam asked later, when all five of them sat around the table.
The notes that he had taken from Sarah a few days ago lay scattered around the surface of the table, Sam's neat handwriting all that everyone could see. Sarah would no longer look him in the face, preferring to stare at her own hands clasped in front of her or the table or the notes. Anywhere but Sam's face. She seemed embarrassed, or something close to that. Perhaps it was respect. Sam couldn't really tell.
"Erm… Well… You're… You're my…" Sarah fidgeted.
"Your what? Spit it out already." Dean growled.
"My pack leader."
That brought contemplative silence from everyone at the table. Dean blinked once or twice, trying to make sense of it. Yet when he looked over to Sam, complete understanding showed on his brother's face. Evidently he had done his homework. However, Dean and the rest of the gang had not.
"Care to explain, Sam?" He requested.
"A pack leader. She has to do anything and everything I tell her to, regardless of what it is, and even if she doesn't want to."
"It also means that if you don't want me to be stolen, you've got to mark me." Sarah informed. It looked more like she was vomiting up the information against her will, though.
"What do you mean, stolen?" Dean raised an eyebrow.
"If someone else wants me to be in their pack, and they're the leader of that pack, they can command me to follow them. I'll have no choice, because they're already the leader of other wolves. And if you mark me, then no one else can get me in their pack until you die." She reminded Dean of someone who was sick for far too long, and was just dry heaving rather than tossing their lunch.
"So… Clarify marking." Sam seemed interested, and had an 'I-don't-want-to-know' face on at the same time.
"Uh… Could be a tattoo of some sort, or it could involve a bed." Everyone could put two and two together.
"Oh. Okay. Let's go with the tattoo option." Sam decided, voice airy. Dean deduced that he was more than a little overwhelmed.
"Choose a tattoo, a place on my body, and then you'll have to mix the ink with some of your DNA. Spit will work. Or a hair." Sarah shrugged. "I really don't care which."
"You don't have a choice about this, do you?" Ellen asked skeptically.
"No, not really." Dean could tell that Sarah hadn't had to answer that question, but it came out on reflex anyways.
"Okay. Let's do this." Sam nodded, standing.
"Whoa, whoa. Do we even have a plan?" Jo asked, brow furrowed in frustration.
"Yeah. Dean'll distract the guy after we get there so I can go spit in the ink or whatever, and then Sarah'll get the tattoo. What is there to it?"
"Yeah? And what kind of tattoo is she getting? And where? Think a little, will ya?!"
"Sure. Er… Okay… Uh.. Well, we can look when we get there, and as for where…" Sam eyed Sarah's body, and she stood to expose her lean self to him, clothed in a tank top and shorts.
"Shoulder blade. That'll be easy to hide, and yet easy to show, too." Sam nodded.
Dean was proud of Sam, as intelligent as he was. He stood as well, leaving Ellen and Jo the only ones still sitting.
"Alright, let's go. You two stay here and hold down the fort?" Dean knew better than to command the female hunters to do anything.
-=-
Soon enough they were flipping through a binder filled with different patterns and designs. Some were intricate and complex, and others were incredibly simple. There were a wide range of designs- from Celtic symbols to butterflies to skulls on fire.
Sarah eyed the needles on the wall behind the counter idly while Dean examined the art on the walls. Sam was thumbing between two separate tattoos. Finally, he chose one, this much Sarah could see out of the corner of her eye. He turned the book around to show the artist behind the counter which one he wanted, purposely making it so Sarah couldn't see.
Dean suddenly asked about one of the drawings on the walls while the artist mixed inks. Sarah had taken off her tank top to reveal herself as wearing a strapless bra. Her shoulder blade had been cleaned, and she was holding her hair out of the way for the artist. Dean's question required the artist to leave his ink for a moment to see what the hunter was talking about, and this was when Sam made his move.
He edged forward, spat a little in all the containers as best he could, and mixed them momentarily to conceal the little bubbles that his saliva raised. Then he backed away, and just in time, too. The artist soon came back and set to work.
Sarah's skin flamed an angry red as soon as the needles touched it, yet she did not cry out or show any sign that she was even feeling anything other than to grab the edge of her stool and hold on so tightly that her knuckles went white. The artist didn't seem to notice, though, and merely continued making the line art from the stencil.
Sam hovered, watching the progress with a close eye. Dean, however, was completely distracted by the designs in the book, now that Sam was done with it. Sam noticed this when he looked over at his brother for a moment.
"Are you actually considering getting one?" Sam asked, eyebrows raised.
"Maybe." Dean murmured, flipping another page and scanning it.
"Dude. You're not actually getting one, right?"
"I dunno."
Sam gave an exasperated sigh and just rolled his eyes. He also wondered whether or not his older brother was drunk or high or something. He returned his attention to Sarah. She had her eyes closed, and they fluttered slightly whenever the needle came into contact with her skin all over again. Sam didn't know if he felt bad for her or what.
In the space of three hours, the tattoo was done. By the end, Sarah was taking panting breaths (She had only taken one break, in which it was only five minutes long and she requested a glass of water that she only drank half of.). Dean had gotten bored with the whole thing and decided not to actually get a tattoo, and Sam was getting pretty tired. The artist appeared pleased with his work, and produced two mirrors for Sarah to see what it looked like.
The tattoo itself was a black paw print, so big that it took up practically the werewolf's whole shoulder blade. It was very detailed, with claw prints as well as the actual pad of the paw. It was a perfect replica of a real wolf's paw. Sarah smiled, but no one could tell if it was out of appreciativeness of the art or relief that the whole ordeal was over.
Sarah stood and stretched, letting her hair brush back over her shoulder, where it fanned over the tattoo. She hissed a little at the touch, but did nothing else but grimace. Sam paid for the art beforehand, so they could just leave. The trio stepped out into the bright afternoon sun, all squinting eyes, shielding hands, and quick blinks.
"Will that do it?" Sam asked, side-glancing at the werewolf.
"Yes, sir." Okay, that was new.
"Do you have to say 'sir'?"
"I think so. At least when I'm saying 'yes' or 'no'." Sarah seemed surprised, as if she hadn't thought about it before, or she was discovering this fact for the first time.
"Well, please don't." Sam told her flatly while he watched Dean walk around to the other side of the Impala to unlock it.
"Okay." Sarah got in after both Winchesters, not buckling her seat belt.
They made it back to the cabin without any issues, but when they pulled into the drive, the aura that something was wrong hung in the air. Dean nudged Sam's elbow wordlessly, and the younger nodded.
"Sarah, we're going to go inside and clear the house. Cover us out here. Make sure nothing gets in or out." Sam commanded.
Sarah nodded and eased herself out of the car first. Instantly, her head went on a swivel and her senses strained for any sign of danger. She slunk around the car, and stood between Sam's side and the forest. Sam watched her stare into the trees and scrutinize the surroundings. He also eased out of the car, pistol in hand, in sync with Dean. They shared looks as they crept up to the house. Sarah followed close behind, her stance defensive and eyes narrowed.
Sam and Dean entered the house with no problems. Everything seemed silent, as though it was holding it's breath and waiting for something. Nothing was out of place on the first floor, but as soon as they climbed the stairs to the second floor landing, the change was obvious. Furniture was broken, there were holes in the walls, pictures lay broken and scattered all over the floor.
"Whoa. Tasmanian Devil had a party." Dean muttered, kicking aside a splintered chair that lay in his path.
Before Sam could answer, they heard the shattering of glass from one of the destroyed rooms. It wasn't long before there was a great snarling and sounds of struggle outside. The Winchesters didn't hesitate- they ran to the broken window and looked out.
Outside, two wolves battled furiously. One was Sarah- Sam's tattoo was clearly seen, as no fur had grown where the ink was. The other was much larger than her, and black. It had dark grey markings around it's eyes and muzzle, and it's tail and paws were a lighter color of the same shade. She was holding her own quite well considering the size difference.
"You go out and help her, I'll find Jo and Ellen." Sam said in a rush, before running to search for the two women.
Dean sighed and scrambled outside to go and somehow help Sarah. When he got to the front lawn-turned-battle-field, both wolves had become human. Each were bleeding from numerous cuts and bite wounds, and had begun circling each other, their panting breaths filling the air. The man Sarah faced was not Rez. He was taller, more muscled. He had black hair and gold eyes filled with hate. His tanned skin shimmered in the sunlight with sweat. Dean raised his gun to shoot the man, but Sarah raised her hand and stopped him.
"No. This is my battle. If I need your help, I'll tell you." She told him distractedly, her eyes still on the man. Dean didn't say anything.
"Oh, grown soft, have we?" The man asked, nasty smirk on his face.
"No. I just want to have the pleasure of killing you all to myself." They didn't appear to so much as twitch, but Dean knew something must have happened because each of them suddenly had many more cuts than before in the space of three seconds.
"Your claws stay sharp… have you been testing them on rabbits?" The man snarled, holding a deep-looking wound in his shoulder.
"I've been staying strong in anticipation for this day! I will avenge them, Zack. All those innocent people you killed. What were you thinking?! Didn't we agree on only harming people who did wrong?!" Sarah asked exasperatedly.
"But we could be so much more! With every kill, I become stronger. I can feel the power rushing through my veins. It's incredible!" Zack's eyes held a slightly crazed excitement. Dean had seen the same look in many other creatures he'd battled.
"You've gone crazy, Zack. You do not deserve the title of True Wolf." Sarah and Zack then became brown and black and white blurs, so fast that Dean could not follow.
Sam exited the house with an injured Jo and worried Ellen following him. Their eyes also fixed upon the struggling werewolves. When the large canines broke apart again, threatening sounds filled the air. Dean knew he shouldn't step in now- he could be killed. Instead he watched cautiously at the sidelines, his gun lowered halfway. Sam rushed to stand beside him; Dean could tell he had his thinking face on by the way the taller man carried himself. Probably attempting to deduce who was going to win.
"Sarah- stop." She halted, careening back at Sam's command.
She lay back on the grass, resting on her side with her eyes closed. She wasn't moving. The other wolf stood panting, legs trembling from effort of holding such a large body upright and exhaustion. It gave one last look to everyone in the clearing before scampering off into the woods. Sam stared after the wolf for a while before turning his attention to Sarah. Dean went to Jo.
"Sarah? Can you hear me?" Sam asked softly, running his hands over her fur that was caked with blood to check for broken bones.
Her eye opened wearily, and she flicked her ears back. Sam couldn't tell if it was because of the pain somewhere or for another reason. Her pupils were blown wide, and that was when Sam noticed her tail. It hung at an odd angle: obviously broken. Sam made small shushing noises and looked around for something to make a cast with, or at least a splint. However, despite Sam's attempts at helping her, it was obvious she was going to need a veterinarian of some sort.
So Dean helped him wrap her in a towel and heft her into the back seat to drive her to the vet's. It took half an hour, but the office was empty so they got in fairly quickly. The doctor's eyes went wide to see how big this 'dog' was, but she didn't say anything about it. She took some x-rays and then set about making a cast and getting the wolf under anesthesia.
An hour later they were all heading back, a dazed Sarah in tow. It was beyond obvious that Sarah had decided she wasn't transforming again while her tail was hurt. Which put Sam in a right spot- what had that been all about? Why had Zack chosen to attack now?
Sam flopped onto the couch-made-bed that night with his thoughts swirling endlessly in his head.
-=-
The next morning, soft cracking noises were what Sam woke to. He opened bleary eyes and saw Sarah curled around herself, biting off small bits of her cast. Bits of the same material lay around her, and about half her tail was visible. In his sleepy, post waking up state, it didn't occur to Sam to tell her to stop. He just watched her break off her bandages bit by bit.
Dean entered the room then, carrying the newspaper. He didn't notice Sarah by the door and tripped over one of her outstretched back legs. The newspaper went flying, and Dean fell over the back of the couch, right on top of Sam. Their lips collided when the heavier-than-usual paper landed on top of Dean's head. Both men stilled for a moment in surprise, and then Sam pushed Dean off of him before his brother could notice the hard on he had gotten. Dean himself was glaring daggers at the completely distracted werewolf, who was still breaking off her blue cast.
"Dean?" Sam asked uncertainly.
"We are not talking about this. Not right now." Dean growled, and Sam could tell Dean was embarrassed beyond belief, however much he didn't want to let it show.
"Bullshit." Sam eased himself up, piling the blanket into his lap casually.
"Dude, just let it go." Dean turned his glare onto his brother.
"How am I supposed to let it go, Dean? How? We just kissed for God's sake!" Sam didn't let on how much that thought pleased him.
Dean ignored him now, not even looking at him. He tried to turn away, not let Sam see the bulge in his pants that had occurred because of the kiss. Yet Sam saw it, and sudden lust overwhelmed him. He didn't think about how wrong it was, or what Ellen and Jo might think if they stepped in right now.
"Guard the door. Outside." Sam commanded Sarah, and the werewolf got up reluctantly to carry out the order, closing the one door to the living room behind her.
Sam got up slowly, making no noise, and let himself push Dean into the wall in front of his brother and turn him around, kicking apart his legs and putting his knee in between them, rubbing up against his brother and coaxing a surprised moan from his lips.
"S-Sam, what're you doing?" Dean gasped.
"You want me, don't you? Want me so bad you can't stand it." Sam asked rhetorically, his voice low and husky.
"Y-you're okay with th-this?" Dean asked, stumbling over his words when Sam rubbed him again.
"Okay with it? Dean, I feel the exact same way." Sam decided to tease the elder Winchester, bringing him close and then stopping to kiss him.
"Sam… Sammy, please… I… I need…" Dean gasped, trying to get more friction than Sam was willing to give him.
"Need what, Dean?" Sam was just as close, but he had control, therefore his breath was not as ragged and broken as his brother's. His sense, however, was all but gone.
"Need you. Please." Dean moaned.
It occurred to Sam suddenly that he had Dean begging. Dean never begged. Not once- for anything. Sam paused for a moment, contemplating this turn of events, before Dean's shifting of his knee distracted him suddenly. Dean was mumbling nonsense by now, occasionally consisting of Sam's name and 'please' and 'more'. Sam was happy to give this to him. The younger of the two made comforting, 'shh'ing noises in Dean's ear, running his hands down Dean's body to land on the front of his pants.
"Easy, Dean. Gonna take care of you." Sam murmured, kissing Dean's neck gently before unbuttoning his brother's jeans and snaking his hand inside.
He fisted Dean hard, rough, adding a twist to his hand at the end. Dean moaned loudly, and Sam knew that that could easily bring unwanted attention to them, so he muffled the sound with his own lips. Dean came soon after, a soft whimper and sigh leaving his throat just before the warm liquid coated Sam's hand.
Sam withdrew his hand slowly, feeling Dean slump against him. He licked his hand clean purposely in front of Dean, who pushed him back on the couch when he realized Sam still had a little 'problem', a smirk on his face.
"Your turn, Sammy-boy." Dean growled.
He, in turn, soon had Sam mewling pitifully, writhing under him. It was a great satisfaction to Dean, who knew he wouldn't be able to get Sam underneath him by wrestling or any other way. Dean returned the soothing noises, an evil smirk on his face. He'd totally use this for blackmail later. Not to say that these feelings weren't real, or that he was leading Sam on. He just hoped (for once) that they'd be able to talk about this once it was all over.
And speaking of all over, Sam came with a violent shudder and buck of his hips. Dean lay on top of him, both of them comfortable and sated. They fell asleep again soon after, newspaper, werewolf, and other hunters forgotten. Their panting breath turned to calm, deep lungfuls of oxygen.
-=-
The next time they were waking up, it was because Sarah was shaking Dean's shoulder lightly, knowing very well that he might lash out at her. And lash out Dean did, not really seeing Sarah, necessarily, but an unknown assailant. It was only when Sarah yelped and insisted that it was her did he stop.
"Guys, you've gotta wake up." She whispered, glancing out the windows while she talked. "Something… Someone's coming. I can smell them. Please, wake up." She seemed scared.
"Who? Who's coming, Sarah?" Sam groaned sleepily, raising himself on his elbows.
"I don't know." She seemed to coil in on herself before leaping for the door, and skidding to a halt outside the window she had just been glancing out of in the lawn.
Sam could see her transform, and could hear her uncontrollable snarling and growling. Her fur was all puffed up, and the cast was gone. She looked about three times larger than usual. Sarah was glaring at the forest, and it increased when Zack, from before, stepped out of the trees. He appeared alone, but Sam knew by the way Sarah backed up and swung her head from side to side that it was only an appearance.
He watched them trade words for a while, in some sort of silent wolf way. As Sam watched, he began to get himself back into some semblance of readiness. He grabbed his gun from the doorway and tossed Dean his before they both headed outside as well. No point in leaving little Sarah alone out there. They cautiously crept up behind her, staying on the porch while she was on the lawn.
"What are you doing here?!" Dean demanded, pointing his gun right at Zack's heart.
"My my, touchy touchy." Zack murmured demurely. "I was merely greeting an old friend. Is that such a crime now?"
"No, but what you've been doing is." Sam growled, also pointing the barrel of his gun at Zack, but unlike Dean, at his head. "Give us one reason why we shouldn't shoot you where you stand."
"Why, I don't take orders from you, human. Maggot. Mud spawn." As Zack went on with his name-calling, the brothers were strongly reminded of Uriel, and the angel's tendencies to look down upon humans.
"Okay, okay, cut the crap." Dean whined in that way of his that just got people to shut up, if only to keep from hearing him talk in that tone of voice again. "Why the fuck are you here? What's the real reason?"
"This was the real reason. To meet an old friend." Zack smiled courteously.
It may have entranced anyone else- anyone but Dean. He'd used the same smile many a time on many a girl. He knew how effective such a look could be when used just the right way. But it would not work on the Winchesters. Not if Dean had anything to say about it; which he did. Said brother narrowed his eyes and pulled the trigger back on his gun just a little bit. Not enough to fire the weapon, but enough to let Zack know he was done screwing around.
Zack seemed to get the message. He raised his hands and sighed. But it was sarcastic and cocky, like the rest of him. Not truly from the heart. So Dean didn't let his guard drop, and hoped Sammy was doing the same. These guys could move supernaturally fast, it wasn't unusual that he should think so.
"I came here to warn you." Zack spoke. "If you do not stop prosecuting me, I will bring you the war you are asking for." His voice was close to a snarl, but politely held back. It was enough to make anyone insane with anger.
And then he was gone. Just like that. Sarah's fur flattened, her growling faded into nothing, and she transformed back to her human form, hunched over and her fingers just brushing the jade green blades of grass. The birds started up their singing again, and the wind picked up a little. She looked back at Sam and Dean, a serious expression on her face.
"What do you want me to do?" She asked, mostly to Sam.
"Is he telling the truth?" Sam asked, still scanning the trees. One could never be too careful.
"I detected no deceit or deception in his words." She announced solemnly.
"I want you to make sure he doesn't get in this clearing again. If he ever appears here again, you have my permission to kill him." Sam's voice turned hard.
Dean stared at his younger brother. When had the little kid who loved Spaghetti O's and Lucky Charms and roller coasters grown into this man who handed out orders as if he was giving food to starving homeless people? He blinked once or twice, but couldn't stop staring. Dean couldn't tear his gaze away. Especially not from the way Sam's muscles rippled under sun kissed skin, or how he carried himself- like a king in his own castle.
It made Dean proud to know that this guy, this man was his brother. He found himself grinning stupidly. Sam gave him a quizzical look, one eyebrow raised in a silent question as Sarah went off somewhere to do as she had been asked.
"What're you staring at?" Sam asked.
"You." Dean answered bluntly, stupid smile still on his face.
Sam rolled his eyes and stuck his tongue out childishly for a moment. However, they were still on a job. There was still work to do. They had to inform Jo and Ellen of what had just happened, and be ready for this war Zack had vowed upon them. Because Winchesters didn't back down from a fight. This war was going to happen. Well, fight. The hunters would make sure that it was only one fight. One, and then the so-called 'war' would be over.
-=-
A week passed, and the hunters stood ready. They had received word via letter tied around a brick thrown through the window of the old cabin that the True Wolves were readying themselves for battle on Zack's command. That Zack was angry with them for continuing to hunt him. Evidently the killer believed that he had done nothing wrong.
So here they stood, twenty-some-odd hunters contacted at the Roadhouse, and one True Werewolf. Sarah, however, had been commanded to find Rez. It had occurred to Sam that perhaps the other wolf would help them. He doubted it, after what Dean had forced them to do, but it was worth a shot. Two True Wolves were better than one.
"I don't have to find him." Sarah told Sam with a look as if he should know this. "He'll come if I call." She rolled her eyes at Dean's raised eyebrows, before tramping outside and standing out in the lawn.
A few people watched while she spread her legs, taking a stable stance, and threw her head back. She cupped her hands to her face and opened her mouth in an 'o' shape before letting out a loud howl. Sam figured, by the way he could hear it in the house, that it would be heard for several miles in every direction. The sound died away quickly enough, though, leaving complete silence in it's wake.
Sam went to stand by the window, leaning against the wall next to it and looking between the curtains curiously. He was quite skeptical on how this would actually work. Sure enough, just as Sarah had assured him however, a moment later there were rustlings in the bushes.
Rez stumbled out into the open, blinking at the sudden brightness. Without the trees to shield his eyes from direct sunlight, it was quite a shock to the other wolf. It didn't seem to matter that he was half blind, though, because he was soon running at Sarah, and her him. She leapt into his arms, her legs locking around his torso and his arms holding her up around her waist. They shared a short moment together like that, foreheads touching in an intimate gesture, before Sarah leaped off him backwards and took his hand, leading him into the house and talking animatedly the whole way.
They came into the kitchen, where Sam, Dean, and Jo sat watching the both of them. Sarah introduced Rez to all of them before giving him a tour of the house so that he could also have the advantage of playing home field. Truthfully, if you asked Jo (or anyone who had been watching this reunion, quite honestly), Sarah just looked happy to have her probably-more-than-just-friends-friend back by her side.
Jo turned to pour some water in a glass from the tap, noticing but not commenting on the smirk that played upon Dean's lips. Sam seemed lost in his own world, so she decided to leave them to it and went to go make sure all the hunters had enough silver bullets to supply the military.
As soon as she was gone, it didn't take long for Sam to bend down to where Dean was sitting and plant a kiss on his brother's smirking lips.
"What was that?" Dean asked, amused, when they broke apart.
"Sorry. Couldn't help myself." Sam shrugged back, leaning against the wall again.
"Right. No one can resist this." Dean smirked cockily, which soon became a gigantic shit-eating grin.
"I've gotta go- your ego is so big I'm being pushed out of the room." Sam edged towards the door sarcastically.
"Dude- you just got bitch all over my clothes." Dean replied with a fake-gruff voice.
"Yeah, yeah. Don't get your panties in a twist. Your clothes will wash."
"Says you." Dean muttered, but did not further press the matter. "Bitch."
"Jerk." Sam smirked, knowing he'd won, and left the room for real this time to gather everyone in the kitchen to devise a strategy plan C, just in case. Because you could never have too many backup plans.
-=-
The day of the battle dawned cold, windy, and rainy. It was not a pleasant morning. To top all of that off, most of the hunters had not gotten the sleep that they should have. They were all in position by six thirty in the morning, coffee and guns in hand alike, eyes and ears alert for any sign of attack.
The werewolves stood in front, animal form dominant. One brown wolf with a black paw print tattoo on her shoulder, and a sandy-colored, almost golden blonde wolf stood beside her. They lay in wait calmly, eyes fixed on a particular place in the trees. Their tails swished, and the dead leaves crackled wetly under their paws, for winter was fast approaching upon them all.
Sam and Dean were out behind them, closer to the shed. They had guns loaded with silver bullets, and silver knives clipped to their belts just in case. Something told them Zack would come with a small army, so that was what they were preparing for. Sam had his hair slicked back so that it wouldn't hang in his face, heavy with rain. Dean just tried to keep his eyes open.
There was a silence to the morning, despite the noise the rain and wind made. This was that unnatural silence that seemed to follow the Winchesters wherever they went. Or perhaps it was the opposite. In any case, it was the sort of silence one might find before something big happened. Earth-shattering big. The hunters didn't think it would quite reach that level, thankfully.
One would have thought that the battle came upon them like thunder- one could hear it coming from far away and could estimate when the storm would hit and roll in like a ton of bricks. It turned out as the exact opposite. Where the clearing around the house had been silent and calm, controlled before, it became complete chaos a second later. There was a great yell of battle cries (though perhaps they were exclamations of surprise) that rang through the unforgiving mountain mist that blanketed everything in a stifling quilt of crayon gray.
It didn't take long for the ground to be spattered with both side's blood. Just when it looked as though one side was winning, the other would make a comeback as forceful as the rain that pelted down upon all- relentless and heartless.
This went on for ages it seemed to Sam. One second he'd be pelting a row of who-knows-what with silver, and then the next he'd have to turn and beat another back with the butt of his gun. Dean had already exhausted his bullets and had thrown himself into the fight with just his knife at his side. At one point, Sam could recall the both of them being forced back to back and surrounded.
At least, that was until Sarah broke from the fray for a moment to leap upon them and literally bite their heads off. Several creatures went down under her jaws and claws, completely unsuspecting. Sam was grateful for her help, for it gave him just the hole he needed to open fire once more on the beasts.
It was long into the battle when Sam noticed the True Wolves on their side were having issues. He and his brother were well past the point of exhaustion. Hunters and werewolves alike lay littered around the ground like broken dolls. When Sam looked across the battlefield- when he had a moment- he could see Sarah and Rez swamped by other wolves.
He couldn't see them anymore, for he was being bombarded yet again. He struggled for a few minutes, occasionally giving a grunt or yell from being injured, though Sam always managed to beat them off one way or another. If only for the moment. He had been reduced to using his gun like a baseball bat and his knife; each in one hand.
A loud howl went out over the battlefield, stopping everyone's movements. That same silence that had been present at the start settled again. Sarah stood over Rez's dead body. Zack stood with his jaws bloody, part of a vein hanging from his slightly open mouth. Sam didn't have to look in Sarah's eyes to see the anger and hatred there.
The black and white wolf and the brown wolf again threw themselves into a fight, but Sarah seemed renewed in her confidence that she could beat Zack this time. It was odd, but all the other warriors that had been contending earlier now paused to watch. No one attacked anyone while these two True Wolves snarled and slashed and bit and shook and held on for all they were worth.
Dean could feel, with gut-wrenching pity, that neither creature was going to make it out of this alive.
And he was right.
Sarah rushed for Zack's throat, jaws thrown wide, just as one of Zack's claws went for her belly. Both of them made contact. Both injuries were fatal. One would just take longer to take permanent effect than the other. Both wolves fell to the ground, one dead before he actually hit it. The hunters stayed motionless, but the creatures they had been fighting suddenly fled into the forest, yelping, tail between their legs and ears tucked back flat to their skulls. Now that their leader was gone, what reason was there to fight?
Sam rushed over to Sarah, falling to his knees while he watched her blood seep into the mud.
"No, no no no no no…" He muttered, running his hands helplessly over her fur.
Her eyes seemed to convey what Sam already knew when she looked into his face. Let me go. There is nothing you can do. Then her eyes seemed to slide off of Sam's face and onto the rainy clouds up above instead. The life faded from her golden hues, and they clouded over with the shroud of death. Sarah breathed no more.
Spoiling the Barrel
"He who fears the wolf, should not go to the forest."
-Estonian saying
"So… What was that? Last night, I mean?" Sam asked later, when all five of them sat around the table.
The notes that he had taken from Sarah a few days ago lay scattered around the surface of the table, Sam's neat handwriting all that everyone could see. Sarah would no longer look him in the face, preferring to stare at her own hands clasped in front of her or the table or the notes. Anywhere but Sam's face. She seemed embarrassed, or something close to that. Perhaps it was respect. Sam couldn't really tell.
"Erm… Well… You're… You're my…" Sarah fidgeted.
"Your what? Spit it out already." Dean growled.
"My pack leader."
That brought contemplative silence from everyone at the table. Dean blinked once or twice, trying to make sense of it. Yet when he looked over to Sam, complete understanding showed on his brother's face. Evidently he had done his homework. However, Dean and the rest of the gang had not.
"Care to explain, Sam?" He requested.
"A pack leader. She has to do anything and everything I tell her to, regardless of what it is, and even if she doesn't want to."
"It also means that if you don't want me to be stolen, you've got to mark me." Sarah informed. It looked more like she was vomiting up the information against her will, though.
"What do you mean, stolen?" Dean raised an eyebrow.
"If someone else wants me to be in their pack, and they're the leader of that pack, they can command me to follow them. I'll have no choice, because they're already the leader of other wolves. And if you mark me, then no one else can get me in their pack until you die." She reminded Dean of someone who was sick for far too long, and was just dry heaving rather than tossing their lunch.
"So… Clarify marking." Sam seemed interested, and had an 'I-don't-want-to-know' face on at the same time.
"Uh… Could be a tattoo of some sort, or it could involve a bed." Everyone could put two and two together.
"Oh. Okay. Let's go with the tattoo option." Sam decided, voice airy. Dean deduced that he was more than a little overwhelmed.
"Choose a tattoo, a place on my body, and then you'll have to mix the ink with some of your DNA. Spit will work. Or a hair." Sarah shrugged. "I really don't care which."
"You don't have a choice about this, do you?" Ellen asked skeptically.
"No, not really." Dean could tell that Sarah hadn't had to answer that question, but it came out on reflex anyways.
"Okay. Let's do this." Sam nodded, standing.
"Whoa, whoa. Do we even have a plan?" Jo asked, brow furrowed in frustration.
"Yeah. Dean'll distract the guy after we get there so I can go spit in the ink or whatever, and then Sarah'll get the tattoo. What is there to it?"
"Yeah? And what kind of tattoo is she getting? And where? Think a little, will ya?!"
"Sure. Er… Okay… Uh.. Well, we can look when we get there, and as for where…" Sam eyed Sarah's body, and she stood to expose her lean self to him, clothed in a tank top and shorts.
"Shoulder blade. That'll be easy to hide, and yet easy to show, too." Sam nodded.
Dean was proud of Sam, as intelligent as he was. He stood as well, leaving Ellen and Jo the only ones still sitting.
"Alright, let's go. You two stay here and hold down the fort?" Dean knew better than to command the female hunters to do anything.
-=-
Soon enough they were flipping through a binder filled with different patterns and designs. Some were intricate and complex, and others were incredibly simple. There were a wide range of designs- from Celtic symbols to butterflies to skulls on fire.
Sarah eyed the needles on the wall behind the counter idly while Dean examined the art on the walls. Sam was thumbing between two separate tattoos. Finally, he chose one, this much Sarah could see out of the corner of her eye. He turned the book around to show the artist behind the counter which one he wanted, purposely making it so Sarah couldn't see.
Dean suddenly asked about one of the drawings on the walls while the artist mixed inks. Sarah had taken off her tank top to reveal herself as wearing a strapless bra. Her shoulder blade had been cleaned, and she was holding her hair out of the way for the artist. Dean's question required the artist to leave his ink for a moment to see what the hunter was talking about, and this was when Sam made his move.
He edged forward, spat a little in all the containers as best he could, and mixed them momentarily to conceal the little bubbles that his saliva raised. Then he backed away, and just in time, too. The artist soon came back and set to work.
Sarah's skin flamed an angry red as soon as the needles touched it, yet she did not cry out or show any sign that she was even feeling anything other than to grab the edge of her stool and hold on so tightly that her knuckles went white. The artist didn't seem to notice, though, and merely continued making the line art from the stencil.
Sam hovered, watching the progress with a close eye. Dean, however, was completely distracted by the designs in the book, now that Sam was done with it. Sam noticed this when he looked over at his brother for a moment.
"Are you actually considering getting one?" Sam asked, eyebrows raised.
"Maybe." Dean murmured, flipping another page and scanning it.
"Dude. You're not actually getting one, right?"
"I dunno."
Sam gave an exasperated sigh and just rolled his eyes. He also wondered whether or not his older brother was drunk or high or something. He returned his attention to Sarah. She had her eyes closed, and they fluttered slightly whenever the needle came into contact with her skin all over again. Sam didn't know if he felt bad for her or what.
In the space of three hours, the tattoo was done. By the end, Sarah was taking panting breaths (She had only taken one break, in which it was only five minutes long and she requested a glass of water that she only drank half of.). Dean had gotten bored with the whole thing and decided not to actually get a tattoo, and Sam was getting pretty tired. The artist appeared pleased with his work, and produced two mirrors for Sarah to see what it looked like.
The tattoo itself was a black paw print, so big that it took up practically the werewolf's whole shoulder blade. It was very detailed, with claw prints as well as the actual pad of the paw. It was a perfect replica of a real wolf's paw. Sarah smiled, but no one could tell if it was out of appreciativeness of the art or relief that the whole ordeal was over.
Sarah stood and stretched, letting her hair brush back over her shoulder, where it fanned over the tattoo. She hissed a little at the touch, but did nothing else but grimace. Sam paid for the art beforehand, so they could just leave. The trio stepped out into the bright afternoon sun, all squinting eyes, shielding hands, and quick blinks.
"Will that do it?" Sam asked, side-glancing at the werewolf.
"Yes, sir." Okay, that was new.
"Do you have to say 'sir'?"
"I think so. At least when I'm saying 'yes' or 'no'." Sarah seemed surprised, as if she hadn't thought about it before, or she was discovering this fact for the first time.
"Well, please don't." Sam told her flatly while he watched Dean walk around to the other side of the Impala to unlock it.
"Okay." Sarah got in after both Winchesters, not buckling her seat belt.
They made it back to the cabin without any issues, but when they pulled into the drive, the aura that something was wrong hung in the air. Dean nudged Sam's elbow wordlessly, and the younger nodded.
"Sarah, we're going to go inside and clear the house. Cover us out here. Make sure nothing gets in or out." Sam commanded.
Sarah nodded and eased herself out of the car first. Instantly, her head went on a swivel and her senses strained for any sign of danger. She slunk around the car, and stood between Sam's side and the forest. Sam watched her stare into the trees and scrutinize the surroundings. He also eased out of the car, pistol in hand, in sync with Dean. They shared looks as they crept up to the house. Sarah followed close behind, her stance defensive and eyes narrowed.
Sam and Dean entered the house with no problems. Everything seemed silent, as though it was holding it's breath and waiting for something. Nothing was out of place on the first floor, but as soon as they climbed the stairs to the second floor landing, the change was obvious. Furniture was broken, there were holes in the walls, pictures lay broken and scattered all over the floor.
"Whoa. Tasmanian Devil had a party." Dean muttered, kicking aside a splintered chair that lay in his path.
Before Sam could answer, they heard the shattering of glass from one of the destroyed rooms. It wasn't long before there was a great snarling and sounds of struggle outside. The Winchesters didn't hesitate- they ran to the broken window and looked out.
Outside, two wolves battled furiously. One was Sarah- Sam's tattoo was clearly seen, as no fur had grown where the ink was. The other was much larger than her, and black. It had dark grey markings around it's eyes and muzzle, and it's tail and paws were a lighter color of the same shade. She was holding her own quite well considering the size difference.
"You go out and help her, I'll find Jo and Ellen." Sam said in a rush, before running to search for the two women.
Dean sighed and scrambled outside to go and somehow help Sarah. When he got to the front lawn-turned-battle-field, both wolves had become human. Each were bleeding from numerous cuts and bite wounds, and had begun circling each other, their panting breaths filling the air. The man Sarah faced was not Rez. He was taller, more muscled. He had black hair and gold eyes filled with hate. His tanned skin shimmered in the sunlight with sweat. Dean raised his gun to shoot the man, but Sarah raised her hand and stopped him.
"No. This is my battle. If I need your help, I'll tell you." She told him distractedly, her eyes still on the man. Dean didn't say anything.
"Oh, grown soft, have we?" The man asked, nasty smirk on his face.
"No. I just want to have the pleasure of killing you all to myself." They didn't appear to so much as twitch, but Dean knew something must have happened because each of them suddenly had many more cuts than before in the space of three seconds.
"Your claws stay sharp… have you been testing them on rabbits?" The man snarled, holding a deep-looking wound in his shoulder.
"I've been staying strong in anticipation for this day! I will avenge them, Zack. All those innocent people you killed. What were you thinking?! Didn't we agree on only harming people who did wrong?!" Sarah asked exasperatedly.
"But we could be so much more! With every kill, I become stronger. I can feel the power rushing through my veins. It's incredible!" Zack's eyes held a slightly crazed excitement. Dean had seen the same look in many other creatures he'd battled.
"You've gone crazy, Zack. You do not deserve the title of True Wolf." Sarah and Zack then became brown and black and white blurs, so fast that Dean could not follow.
Sam exited the house with an injured Jo and worried Ellen following him. Their eyes also fixed upon the struggling werewolves. When the large canines broke apart again, threatening sounds filled the air. Dean knew he shouldn't step in now- he could be killed. Instead he watched cautiously at the sidelines, his gun lowered halfway. Sam rushed to stand beside him; Dean could tell he had his thinking face on by the way the taller man carried himself. Probably attempting to deduce who was going to win.
"Sarah- stop." She halted, careening back at Sam's command.
She lay back on the grass, resting on her side with her eyes closed. She wasn't moving. The other wolf stood panting, legs trembling from effort of holding such a large body upright and exhaustion. It gave one last look to everyone in the clearing before scampering off into the woods. Sam stared after the wolf for a while before turning his attention to Sarah. Dean went to Jo.
"Sarah? Can you hear me?" Sam asked softly, running his hands over her fur that was caked with blood to check for broken bones.
Her eye opened wearily, and she flicked her ears back. Sam couldn't tell if it was because of the pain somewhere or for another reason. Her pupils were blown wide, and that was when Sam noticed her tail. It hung at an odd angle: obviously broken. Sam made small shushing noises and looked around for something to make a cast with, or at least a splint. However, despite Sam's attempts at helping her, it was obvious she was going to need a veterinarian of some sort.
So Dean helped him wrap her in a towel and heft her into the back seat to drive her to the vet's. It took half an hour, but the office was empty so they got in fairly quickly. The doctor's eyes went wide to see how big this 'dog' was, but she didn't say anything about it. She took some x-rays and then set about making a cast and getting the wolf under anesthesia.
An hour later they were all heading back, a dazed Sarah in tow. It was beyond obvious that Sarah had decided she wasn't transforming again while her tail was hurt. Which put Sam in a right spot- what had that been all about? Why had Zack chosen to attack now?
Sam flopped onto the couch-made-bed that night with his thoughts swirling endlessly in his head.
-=-
The next morning, soft cracking noises were what Sam woke to. He opened bleary eyes and saw Sarah curled around herself, biting off small bits of her cast. Bits of the same material lay around her, and about half her tail was visible. In his sleepy, post waking up state, it didn't occur to Sam to tell her to stop. He just watched her break off her bandages bit by bit.
Dean entered the room then, carrying the newspaper. He didn't notice Sarah by the door and tripped over one of her outstretched back legs. The newspaper went flying, and Dean fell over the back of the couch, right on top of Sam. Their lips collided when the heavier-than-usual paper landed on top of Dean's head. Both men stilled for a moment in surprise, and then Sam pushed Dean off of him before his brother could notice the hard on he had gotten. Dean himself was glaring daggers at the completely distracted werewolf, who was still breaking off her blue cast.
"Dean?" Sam asked uncertainly.
"We are not talking about this. Not right now." Dean growled, and Sam could tell Dean was embarrassed beyond belief, however much he didn't want to let it show.
"Bullshit." Sam eased himself up, piling the blanket into his lap casually.
"Dude, just let it go." Dean turned his glare onto his brother.
"How am I supposed to let it go, Dean? How? We just kissed for God's sake!" Sam didn't let on how much that thought pleased him.
Dean ignored him now, not even looking at him. He tried to turn away, not let Sam see the bulge in his pants that had occurred because of the kiss. Yet Sam saw it, and sudden lust overwhelmed him. He didn't think about how wrong it was, or what Ellen and Jo might think if they stepped in right now.
"Guard the door. Outside." Sam commanded Sarah, and the werewolf got up reluctantly to carry out the order, closing the one door to the living room behind her.
Sam got up slowly, making no noise, and let himself push Dean into the wall in front of his brother and turn him around, kicking apart his legs and putting his knee in between them, rubbing up against his brother and coaxing a surprised moan from his lips.
"S-Sam, what're you doing?" Dean gasped.
"You want me, don't you? Want me so bad you can't stand it." Sam asked rhetorically, his voice low and husky.
"Y-you're okay with th-this?" Dean asked, stumbling over his words when Sam rubbed him again.
"Okay with it? Dean, I feel the exact same way." Sam decided to tease the elder Winchester, bringing him close and then stopping to kiss him.
"Sam… Sammy, please… I… I need…" Dean gasped, trying to get more friction than Sam was willing to give him.
"Need what, Dean?" Sam was just as close, but he had control, therefore his breath was not as ragged and broken as his brother's. His sense, however, was all but gone.
"Need you. Please." Dean moaned.
It occurred to Sam suddenly that he had Dean begging. Dean never begged. Not once- for anything. Sam paused for a moment, contemplating this turn of events, before Dean's shifting of his knee distracted him suddenly. Dean was mumbling nonsense by now, occasionally consisting of Sam's name and 'please' and 'more'. Sam was happy to give this to him. The younger of the two made comforting, 'shh'ing noises in Dean's ear, running his hands down Dean's body to land on the front of his pants.
"Easy, Dean. Gonna take care of you." Sam murmured, kissing Dean's neck gently before unbuttoning his brother's jeans and snaking his hand inside.
He fisted Dean hard, rough, adding a twist to his hand at the end. Dean moaned loudly, and Sam knew that that could easily bring unwanted attention to them, so he muffled the sound with his own lips. Dean came soon after, a soft whimper and sigh leaving his throat just before the warm liquid coated Sam's hand.
Sam withdrew his hand slowly, feeling Dean slump against him. He licked his hand clean purposely in front of Dean, who pushed him back on the couch when he realized Sam still had a little 'problem', a smirk on his face.
"Your turn, Sammy-boy." Dean growled.
He, in turn, soon had Sam mewling pitifully, writhing under him. It was a great satisfaction to Dean, who knew he wouldn't be able to get Sam underneath him by wrestling or any other way. Dean returned the soothing noises, an evil smirk on his face. He'd totally use this for blackmail later. Not to say that these feelings weren't real, or that he was leading Sam on. He just hoped (for once) that they'd be able to talk about this once it was all over.
And speaking of all over, Sam came with a violent shudder and buck of his hips. Dean lay on top of him, both of them comfortable and sated. They fell asleep again soon after, newspaper, werewolf, and other hunters forgotten. Their panting breath turned to calm, deep lungfuls of oxygen.
-=-
The next time they were waking up, it was because Sarah was shaking Dean's shoulder lightly, knowing very well that he might lash out at her. And lash out Dean did, not really seeing Sarah, necessarily, but an unknown assailant. It was only when Sarah yelped and insisted that it was her did he stop.
"Guys, you've gotta wake up." She whispered, glancing out the windows while she talked. "Something… Someone's coming. I can smell them. Please, wake up." She seemed scared.
"Who? Who's coming, Sarah?" Sam groaned sleepily, raising himself on his elbows.
"I don't know." She seemed to coil in on herself before leaping for the door, and skidding to a halt outside the window she had just been glancing out of in the lawn.
Sam could see her transform, and could hear her uncontrollable snarling and growling. Her fur was all puffed up, and the cast was gone. She looked about three times larger than usual. Sarah was glaring at the forest, and it increased when Zack, from before, stepped out of the trees. He appeared alone, but Sam knew by the way Sarah backed up and swung her head from side to side that it was only an appearance.
He watched them trade words for a while, in some sort of silent wolf way. As Sam watched, he began to get himself back into some semblance of readiness. He grabbed his gun from the doorway and tossed Dean his before they both headed outside as well. No point in leaving little Sarah alone out there. They cautiously crept up behind her, staying on the porch while she was on the lawn.
"What are you doing here?!" Dean demanded, pointing his gun right at Zack's heart.
"My my, touchy touchy." Zack murmured demurely. "I was merely greeting an old friend. Is that such a crime now?"
"No, but what you've been doing is." Sam growled, also pointing the barrel of his gun at Zack, but unlike Dean, at his head. "Give us one reason why we shouldn't shoot you where you stand."
"Why, I don't take orders from you, human. Maggot. Mud spawn." As Zack went on with his name-calling, the brothers were strongly reminded of Uriel, and the angel's tendencies to look down upon humans.
"Okay, okay, cut the crap." Dean whined in that way of his that just got people to shut up, if only to keep from hearing him talk in that tone of voice again. "Why the fuck are you here? What's the real reason?"
"This was the real reason. To meet an old friend." Zack smiled courteously.
It may have entranced anyone else- anyone but Dean. He'd used the same smile many a time on many a girl. He knew how effective such a look could be when used just the right way. But it would not work on the Winchesters. Not if Dean had anything to say about it; which he did. Said brother narrowed his eyes and pulled the trigger back on his gun just a little bit. Not enough to fire the weapon, but enough to let Zack know he was done screwing around.
Zack seemed to get the message. He raised his hands and sighed. But it was sarcastic and cocky, like the rest of him. Not truly from the heart. So Dean didn't let his guard drop, and hoped Sammy was doing the same. These guys could move supernaturally fast, it wasn't unusual that he should think so.
"I came here to warn you." Zack spoke. "If you do not stop prosecuting me, I will bring you the war you are asking for." His voice was close to a snarl, but politely held back. It was enough to make anyone insane with anger.
And then he was gone. Just like that. Sarah's fur flattened, her growling faded into nothing, and she transformed back to her human form, hunched over and her fingers just brushing the jade green blades of grass. The birds started up their singing again, and the wind picked up a little. She looked back at Sam and Dean, a serious expression on her face.
"What do you want me to do?" She asked, mostly to Sam.
"Is he telling the truth?" Sam asked, still scanning the trees. One could never be too careful.
"I detected no deceit or deception in his words." She announced solemnly.
"I want you to make sure he doesn't get in this clearing again. If he ever appears here again, you have my permission to kill him." Sam's voice turned hard.
Dean stared at his younger brother. When had the little kid who loved Spaghetti O's and Lucky Charms and roller coasters grown into this man who handed out orders as if he was giving food to starving homeless people? He blinked once or twice, but couldn't stop staring. Dean couldn't tear his gaze away. Especially not from the way Sam's muscles rippled under sun kissed skin, or how he carried himself- like a king in his own castle.
It made Dean proud to know that this guy, this man was his brother. He found himself grinning stupidly. Sam gave him a quizzical look, one eyebrow raised in a silent question as Sarah went off somewhere to do as she had been asked.
"What're you staring at?" Sam asked.
"You." Dean answered bluntly, stupid smile still on his face.
Sam rolled his eyes and stuck his tongue out childishly for a moment. However, they were still on a job. There was still work to do. They had to inform Jo and Ellen of what had just happened, and be ready for this war Zack had vowed upon them. Because Winchesters didn't back down from a fight. This war was going to happen. Well, fight. The hunters would make sure that it was only one fight. One, and then the so-called 'war' would be over.
-=-
A week passed, and the hunters stood ready. They had received word via letter tied around a brick thrown through the window of the old cabin that the True Wolves were readying themselves for battle on Zack's command. That Zack was angry with them for continuing to hunt him. Evidently the killer believed that he had done nothing wrong.
So here they stood, twenty-some-odd hunters contacted at the Roadhouse, and one True Werewolf. Sarah, however, had been commanded to find Rez. It had occurred to Sam that perhaps the other wolf would help them. He doubted it, after what Dean had forced them to do, but it was worth a shot. Two True Wolves were better than one.
"I don't have to find him." Sarah told Sam with a look as if he should know this. "He'll come if I call." She rolled her eyes at Dean's raised eyebrows, before tramping outside and standing out in the lawn.
A few people watched while she spread her legs, taking a stable stance, and threw her head back. She cupped her hands to her face and opened her mouth in an 'o' shape before letting out a loud howl. Sam figured, by the way he could hear it in the house, that it would be heard for several miles in every direction. The sound died away quickly enough, though, leaving complete silence in it's wake.
Sam went to stand by the window, leaning against the wall next to it and looking between the curtains curiously. He was quite skeptical on how this would actually work. Sure enough, just as Sarah had assured him however, a moment later there were rustlings in the bushes.
Rez stumbled out into the open, blinking at the sudden brightness. Without the trees to shield his eyes from direct sunlight, it was quite a shock to the other wolf. It didn't seem to matter that he was half blind, though, because he was soon running at Sarah, and her him. She leapt into his arms, her legs locking around his torso and his arms holding her up around her waist. They shared a short moment together like that, foreheads touching in an intimate gesture, before Sarah leaped off him backwards and took his hand, leading him into the house and talking animatedly the whole way.
They came into the kitchen, where Sam, Dean, and Jo sat watching the both of them. Sarah introduced Rez to all of them before giving him a tour of the house so that he could also have the advantage of playing home field. Truthfully, if you asked Jo (or anyone who had been watching this reunion, quite honestly), Sarah just looked happy to have her probably-more-than-just-friends-friend back by her side.
Jo turned to pour some water in a glass from the tap, noticing but not commenting on the smirk that played upon Dean's lips. Sam seemed lost in his own world, so she decided to leave them to it and went to go make sure all the hunters had enough silver bullets to supply the military.
As soon as she was gone, it didn't take long for Sam to bend down to where Dean was sitting and plant a kiss on his brother's smirking lips.
"What was that?" Dean asked, amused, when they broke apart.
"Sorry. Couldn't help myself." Sam shrugged back, leaning against the wall again.
"Right. No one can resist this." Dean smirked cockily, which soon became a gigantic shit-eating grin.
"I've gotta go- your ego is so big I'm being pushed out of the room." Sam edged towards the door sarcastically.
"Dude- you just got bitch all over my clothes." Dean replied with a fake-gruff voice.
"Yeah, yeah. Don't get your panties in a twist. Your clothes will wash."
"Says you." Dean muttered, but did not further press the matter. "Bitch."
"Jerk." Sam smirked, knowing he'd won, and left the room for real this time to gather everyone in the kitchen to devise a strategy plan C, just in case. Because you could never have too many backup plans.
-=-
The day of the battle dawned cold, windy, and rainy. It was not a pleasant morning. To top all of that off, most of the hunters had not gotten the sleep that they should have. They were all in position by six thirty in the morning, coffee and guns in hand alike, eyes and ears alert for any sign of attack.
The werewolves stood in front, animal form dominant. One brown wolf with a black paw print tattoo on her shoulder, and a sandy-colored, almost golden blonde wolf stood beside her. They lay in wait calmly, eyes fixed on a particular place in the trees. Their tails swished, and the dead leaves crackled wetly under their paws, for winter was fast approaching upon them all.
Sam and Dean were out behind them, closer to the shed. They had guns loaded with silver bullets, and silver knives clipped to their belts just in case. Something told them Zack would come with a small army, so that was what they were preparing for. Sam had his hair slicked back so that it wouldn't hang in his face, heavy with rain. Dean just tried to keep his eyes open.
There was a silence to the morning, despite the noise the rain and wind made. This was that unnatural silence that seemed to follow the Winchesters wherever they went. Or perhaps it was the opposite. In any case, it was the sort of silence one might find before something big happened. Earth-shattering big. The hunters didn't think it would quite reach that level, thankfully.
One would have thought that the battle came upon them like thunder- one could hear it coming from far away and could estimate when the storm would hit and roll in like a ton of bricks. It turned out as the exact opposite. Where the clearing around the house had been silent and calm, controlled before, it became complete chaos a second later. There was a great yell of battle cries (though perhaps they were exclamations of surprise) that rang through the unforgiving mountain mist that blanketed everything in a stifling quilt of crayon gray.
It didn't take long for the ground to be spattered with both side's blood. Just when it looked as though one side was winning, the other would make a comeback as forceful as the rain that pelted down upon all- relentless and heartless.
This went on for ages it seemed to Sam. One second he'd be pelting a row of who-knows-what with silver, and then the next he'd have to turn and beat another back with the butt of his gun. Dean had already exhausted his bullets and had thrown himself into the fight with just his knife at his side. At one point, Sam could recall the both of them being forced back to back and surrounded.
At least, that was until Sarah broke from the fray for a moment to leap upon them and literally bite their heads off. Several creatures went down under her jaws and claws, completely unsuspecting. Sam was grateful for her help, for it gave him just the hole he needed to open fire once more on the beasts.
It was long into the battle when Sam noticed the True Wolves on their side were having issues. He and his brother were well past the point of exhaustion. Hunters and werewolves alike lay littered around the ground like broken dolls. When Sam looked across the battlefield- when he had a moment- he could see Sarah and Rez swamped by other wolves.
He couldn't see them anymore, for he was being bombarded yet again. He struggled for a few minutes, occasionally giving a grunt or yell from being injured, though Sam always managed to beat them off one way or another. If only for the moment. He had been reduced to using his gun like a baseball bat and his knife; each in one hand.
A loud howl went out over the battlefield, stopping everyone's movements. That same silence that had been present at the start settled again. Sarah stood over Rez's dead body. Zack stood with his jaws bloody, part of a vein hanging from his slightly open mouth. Sam didn't have to look in Sarah's eyes to see the anger and hatred there.
The black and white wolf and the brown wolf again threw themselves into a fight, but Sarah seemed renewed in her confidence that she could beat Zack this time. It was odd, but all the other warriors that had been contending earlier now paused to watch. No one attacked anyone while these two True Wolves snarled and slashed and bit and shook and held on for all they were worth.
Dean could feel, with gut-wrenching pity, that neither creature was going to make it out of this alive.
And he was right.
Sarah rushed for Zack's throat, jaws thrown wide, just as one of Zack's claws went for her belly. Both of them made contact. Both injuries were fatal. One would just take longer to take permanent effect than the other. Both wolves fell to the ground, one dead before he actually hit it. The hunters stayed motionless, but the creatures they had been fighting suddenly fled into the forest, yelping, tail between their legs and ears tucked back flat to their skulls. Now that their leader was gone, what reason was there to fight?
Sam rushed over to Sarah, falling to his knees while he watched her blood seep into the mud.
"No, no no no no no…" He muttered, running his hands helplessly over her fur.
Her eyes seemed to convey what Sam already knew when she looked into his face. Let me go. There is nothing you can do. Then her eyes seemed to slide off of Sam's face and onto the rainy clouds up above instead. The life faded from her golden hues, and they clouded over with the shroud of death. Sarah breathed no more.