Disclaimer: I don't own supernatural, but I really wish I could own Sam, Dean and Daddy… I would have so much fun!
One werewolf is a problem and entire pack is much larger issue
When Sam woke up it was dark outside. He glanced at the clock on the night stand between the beds. Eight thirty. Dean was sitting at the table plugging away on the laptop.
"You slept well for a change." Dean said. "You were even smiling in your sleep when I came back. You must have had a really good dream."
Sam rolled onto his back and put his hands under his head, pain shot up his back reminding him of his injury. "I did."
Taking his brothers remark the wrong way, Dean replied, "Well, at least you can get the girls in your dreams Sammy!"
Sam shook his head. "It wasn't like that," he told Dean. "I dreamt Dad was here."
"Well, that's almost as good." Dean said, looking over the laptop at his brother. So few of Sam's dreams were good, it was nice to know he still had them once in a while. After what happened this morning Dean had fully expected Sam to have a nightmare. In fact he expected them for the next few days.
Sam sighed. Sometimes his brother was impossible. "What are you doing?" He asked Dean.
"Finishing your research," he replied. "Your pizza is on the dresser, it's cold."
Sam sat up on the edge of the bed and stretched. He was tired, but not sleepy. He knew it was the lingering effects of whatever drug it was his brother had given him.
"If you tear those stitches I'm going to kick you ass." Dean warned him. "I have no interest in sewing you back up again."
Ignoring his brothers remark Sam reached over and grabbed the pizza box. "Find anything?" he asked as he took out a slice.
"As a matter of fact, I think I did. How much did you read of the story that was on the screen before you fell asleep?" Dean asked.
"The Littlefield Hunting Lodge was sold and closed. Honestly, I don't remember much more then that," he said. "I was planning on going to the County Records Office to see if I could dig up some more information on who owned it."
"Well, sleeping beauty," Dean smirked holding up a sheet of paper, "I got tired of listening to you snore, so I went and dug around. I got a name."
"Just a name, what about an address?" Sam asked setting the pizza aside and moving to the table.
Dean shook his head, "Only a post office box. The problem is I'm not getting any hits on the name. It's like this woman doesn't exist."
"A woman, what's her name?"
"Virginia Salling. No middle name, not even an initial. I've checked everything. She's not even listed in the local schools yearbooks and I went back forty years."
"What about Marital Records?"
"Yes, maybe Virginia Salling is her maiden name," he suggested. "Here, let me try."
Dean passed the laptop to his brother without comment. Sam was better at the research end of this job and both of them knew it. He got up and went to the little fridge and got a drink. He brought it and the Pizza box over to Sam.
About ten minutes when by before Sam found what he was looking for. "Got it," he told his brother. "You are not going to believe this," he said laughing, "Talk about hiding in plain sight."
"What is it?" Dean asked.
Without a word Sam turned the laptop to face his brother. Dean looked at the screen. It was a marriage certificate proclaiming the marriage of Miss Virginia Salling and Mr. David Owen Gleason on June 8th, 1986. "No way!" he laughed.
Sam was still laughing when got up and walked to the fridge to get another drink.
Dean checked the local phone book and asked, "Feel up to going for a drive?"
They found the house with no trouble. It was a small two story Victorian home in a nice neighborhood on the edge of town. The brothers sat in the impala across the street watching the house. No one seemed to be home even though there was a light on downstairs.
"Let's go get a closer look," Dean suggested.
They got out of the car walked up to the front door. Dean started Sam when he knocked on the door. "Dude, what are you doing? What are you going to say if they answer?" he asked his older brother.
"I'll tell him I'm looking for a D.O.G," he said with a quiet laugh.
No one answered. Dean stood in front of Sam giving him what cover he could while his brother picked the lock on the door. Thirty seconds later they were inside looking at what appeared to be a normal house. Of course, Dean had no idea what the home of a werewolf should look like.
"Dean it looks… Normal," Sam said.
"Well, what were you expecting?" he asked. "Cave walls and dirt on the floor?"
Sam looked at his brother, "Good point. You know we don't even know if these people are werewolves. We need to find some kind of proof."
Dean had been walking around looking at the pictures on the walls. "This job just keeps getting better and better." He said. "Time to go, Sammy."
"Why?" Sam asked from across the room.
"Take a look at this picture."
Sam walked to his brother's side and looked at the picture, "Oh shit!" It was a family portrait. Seven smiling faces looked out at the brothers. One of them was the boy that Sam had killed. There was also a man and a woman with four other children ranging in ages from about ten to seventeen.
"Let's go Sammy," Dean said heading for the front door.
As he reached out to open the door it opened on his own startling both them and the teenaged girl that opened it. Dean recognized her from the portrait as the oldest child in the family. Without thinking he reached out and grabbed her pulling her into a bear hug. He covered her mouth with his hand preventing a shout, but suddenly felt like he had grabbed a tiger by the tail.
"Dean, no," Sam said, but it was too late, before his eyes she morphed into a full grown pissed off werewolf."
Dean was slammed hard against the wall his eyes rolling up into his head as he lost consciousness. Pulling his gun out Sam backed up trying to put some distance between himself and the hairy beast. He got off two quick shots into its chest before it attacked slamming him back into the bookshelf behind him.
The bookshelf crumbled under the combined weight of Sam and the werewolf dropping them both on the floor. Sam rolled away from the creature, came up on one knee and took one more very careful shot as it regained its feet. His aim this time proved more accurate it changed back to the shape of the girl as it landed.
Sam went to Dean who was out cold, "Dean, wake up, we have to go, COME ON DEAN!" Sam shouted. Blood was running down the side of Dean's face proof of just how hard he had hit the wall. Sam didn't dare wait any longer; grabbing the front of his brother's shirt he lifted him to his feet and put his arm around his own neck. Half carrying, half dragging his brother he left the house went to the car. He deposited Dean into the passenger seat and drove away.
Dean was lying on his bed back at the motel. Sam was holding a cold cloth across the stitches he had just finish applying to his unconscious brother's head. It was an angry looking cut across the side of his head just below the hairline. The bleeding had stopped after he'd finished, but there was some swelling and Sam was getting concerned. "Come on Dean, wake up," he insisted.
"How long has he been out?" Billie asked from across the room.
When Sam got back to the motel she had heard him pull up and come out to talk to them. She helped carry Dean's still form into the room, while Sam explained what had happened. "About an hour, he hit the wall hard. What the hell was he thinking?"
"What were both of you thinking?" she asked quietly. "You should have called me."
Sam looked at Billie, "Yeah, well, we didn't think about it. We normally work alone so we just…."
"Whatever," she said walking over to him. "Take off your shirt Sam."
Sam's eyes got wide at the request, "Um, Billie."
"Oh, good Lord, Sam you're as bad as your brother get your mind out of the gutter," she said rolling her eyes. "Your back is bleeding again. Since Doctor Dean is sound asleep I need to check your stitches. It looks like you might have broken a few."
"Oh," Sam said embarrassed. He'd been so concerned about his brother he had completely forgotten about his own injury. He removed his shirt and handed Billie the med kit and a clean cloth.
"Damn, Sam," she asked, "what did you do ground wrestle in a rock garden?"
"That bad?" he asked, it sure felt like it.
"You broke open a few of the stitches, but the bruising is the worst of the damage. It looks like the Motley Crew back here." She explained as she cleaned the wound. "How'd it happen?"
"Bookshelf one," he said by way of an explanation. "Sam zero."
"Well, there can't be much left of the damn bookshelf." She said as she started stitching.
When she was done Sam put on a clean shirt and replaced the cold towel on his brother's head. "Dean, come on man, you're scaring me. If you don't wake up soon I'm going to take your ass to the hospital and we both know how much you'd like that."
Surprisingly Dean's eyes fluttered open, "You want to get your ass kicked," he said weakly.
Sam sighed, "Nice of you to join us."
"How long?" he asked. Reaching up and feeling his head. He noted the fresh sutures and small lump. He knew Sam was worried about a concussion.
"Nearly two hours." Sam replied, "Dean, what the hell were you thinking grabbing a werewolf in a bear hug?"
His brother ignored the question. "Where is it?" he asked.
"I killed it."
"Good boy Sammy." Dean said and closed his eyes. He was tired, having been awake for the better part off two days now.
Sam smiled at the praise from his brother. It made him feel good even though Dean made it sound like he was talking to a child. "Can you sit up for a few minutes, I know you're tired, but we need to talk for a minute?"
Dean sighed he was tired and wanted to sleep, but he was not able to resist his brother. If Sam needed something Dean provided. That's the way it's always been, it's the way it would always be. Dean sat up, trying hard not to let his brother and Billie see how dizzy that simple act made him. He stomach turned upside down and he felt suddenly sick. It took all his willpower not to vomit all over the floor. He decided Sam had ample reason to worry about him this time, he definitely had a concussion.
Sam handed his brother a few pills and a glass of water thinking didn't we do this in reverse just a few hours ago. Dean looked at the pills, then at Sam. "They're just Tylenol, as messed up as your head looks; it's got to hurt like hell, but I can't give you anything stronger. I can't have you drugged, not now."
Dean was having a hard time concentrating, "Why, what's going on?" he asked.
"Dean, they'll have our scent now and we've killed two of this pair's children. They are either going to run, or they are going to come after us." He explained. "I think we are about to be up to our asses in very irate werewolves."
Dean thought about it for a few seconds then told him, "You're right, but they won't attack us here in the motel. Not unless they have no other choice."
"In the morning we'll head out to the second site on the map that looked like a possible den site. Let's see if we can get them to follow us. We'll have a better chance out there in the open where we can fight them without worrying who's going to see us."
"I'm going to my room and gather my things," Billie told them. "I'm going to stay here for the rest of the night and keep watch. You two need to get some sleep."
"Did that bitch of werewolf hurt you Sammy?" Dean asked after she left.
"Not much. She tore open a couple of your stitches, but Billie fixed them."
"I told you not to let that happen!"
"Yeah, well I wasn't the one who got the bright idea to try grabbing a werewolf by the tail."
Dean laughed, "It wasn't the smartest idea I've ever had, but it worked out."
"It worked out?" Sam said flabbergasted, "How did it work out Dean, you nearly got yourself killed."
"Nah, I got a hard head and you killed the sucker."
"Hard head, you can say that again."
They laughed at each other then Dean said, "Hey Sammy?"
"When we are done with this gig we are so taking a vacation."