Fic: Wild By Skye (11/27)
Sam would never tell Dean that he thought he was beautiful. Not the man Dean Winchester (who was handsome, yeah, Sam knew that in the same way he knew the sky was blue because it was just true), but Dean the wolf. That was beautiful.
But Sam would never let on he thought so, because he knew better than to say something like that to his big brother.
"Dude," Sam groaned as Dean hastily stood from his place by their fire and peeled off his shirt. They'd barely set up camp, but Dean was eager to change.
It had been more than two months since Sam found out his brother was a lycanthrope. In a testament to just how bizarre their lives had been already, things hadn't really changed that much for them. One of the few appreciable day-to-day differences was that they did take on a lot more woodland hunts since Sam learned Dean's secret. Dean was almost a different person in the forest now. It lit him up from the inside out, and though Sam would bitch and complain about the good old days when Dean didn't like camping, it was hard to really begrudge his older brother something that obviously made him so happy.
Dean, naked from the waist up but for the amulet, looked questioningly at Sam.
Sam's lip curled, as though he'd caught whiff of a noxious odor. "There has to be a better way for you to wolf out than for me to have to look at your lily-white ass every time."
Dean smirked. "My ass is coveted far and wide, and you know it. Besides, do you have any idea how hard it is to take clothes off when you don't have hands? And no, I'm not going to let you undress me after I've turned. I have my dignity." Dean was kicking off his shoes.
"Dignity… Dean, I'm seeing way more of you than I ever wanted to see."
Dean snorted and shucked his pants. "Well, deal, because I'm not running around as a wolf in underwear. I don't see what your problem is, anyway; it's nothing you haven't seen before."
Growing up in uncomfortably close quarters with Dean, that much was true. But Sam thought it was also completely beside the point.
They were bickering, but the mood wasn't nasty; Dean was in too good a mood for it to be darkened, and Sam just couldn't find it in him to be upset with Dean for that. Still, he had to say something about the streaking. He was, after all, a brother.
Dean stepped out of his boxer briefs and stood buck naked (because a tiny amulet lying against his chest so didn't count as clothes) in the middle of the forest.
"Man…" Sam averted his eyes. "Fine, if it doesn't matter because it's all been seen before, why don't I start walking around bare-ass naked, too?"
Dean chuckled. "Just for the sake of being naked? I gotta tell you, Sammy, threesomes, sadomasochism, and now a nudist… college shoved your boundaries right off a cliff, man."
"Shut up, just… change already, will you?"
By the time Sam looked back, Dean had. Instead of his loud-mouth brother, there was the wolf. It stood next to the pile of clothes Dean had shed, gray coat ruffling in the breeze and the late afternoon sun glinting off the golden amulet dangling from the wolf's throat. What had been uncomfortable naked brother a moment before was now regal, dignified grace and power.
Yeah, there was no question about it… Dean was a beautiful wolf.
The wolf sniffed at the wind, ears moving to catch all the sounds the human sense could not hope to hear, then he looked over his shoulder toward the woods. The wolf glanced back at Sam and stared pointedly at him.
Sam rolled his eyes. "I know, be careful, keep a weapon in reach, don't wander too far from camp, don't take candy from strangers, go."
What Sam liked about the wolf was it couldn't throw back smart-ass remarks. Sam always got the last word, even if the wolf's gaze said a mouthful. With a blink, the wolf turned and bounded off into the forest.
Sam smiled to himself and settled in front of the fire, using a log for a backrest. He knew Dean wouldn't go far. If Sam was in trouble, if he called for Dean, Dean would come. Even when Sam couldn't see any sign of him, Dean had Sam locked in his periphery senses and never strayed so far that he couldn't watch out for Sam.
Sam dragged over his bag, dug out a book he had stuffed in it, and opened to his tattered bookmark. It was a book on lycanthropy Sam had found at the last 'oddball books' shop they were in. Always on the look-out for books on the supernatural that might actually be useful (a scavenger hunt that naturally became Sam's job; book stores and Dean weren't on good terms), Sam had also added to his 'must have' list a comprehensive book on lycanthropy.
It proved harder to find a legit book on the condition than he would have thought. There was, of course, a lot of lore on werewolves. Then there were books on abnormal psychology that referenced the mental illness of a person thinking they were a wolf when really they were just batshit crazy (as Dean put it). Sam was starting to think he'd never find a decent book on real lycanthropy. The one he was currently reading was the first book he'd run across that genuinely treated werewolves and lycans as different creatures.
Sam wasn't holding out high hopes (the book, with yellowed pages and a worn cover, was sadly thin), but he bought the book anyway. He might not see Dean as a hunt, but Sam still had the ingrained habit of research in him.
Sam had been reading the book off and on whenever Dean left him to his own devices.
Like now.
They'd finished up their hunt yesterday, but Sam suggested they stick around a few days to 'enjoy the scenery'. Both brothers knew that really meant hanging around to let Dean enjoy some time as the wolf.
It was routine by now.
Dean was never the one to suggest they 'indulge' Dean's wilder side. There were the first nights of the full moon when Dean demanded allowances for his lycanthropy, but even then it didn't mean he had to be outdoors, away from humanity and in the embrace of nature. It had only been vital before because Dean had been keeping his monthly transformation from his brother. In fact, the last full moon found the boys snow-bound in a cabin in Minnesota. Dean practically paced a rut in the floorboards the day preceding the full moon, then when the night descended he stripped and turned. That was it. The next morning Dean was fine (though still just as stir crazy as Sam) for having been coped up all night. Sam had found the wolf harder to engage in a boredom-combating hand of cards, but otherwise it hadn't been a big deal.
It was Sam who worked 'camping trips' into their lives after learning the truth about his brother. He wanted Dean to enjoy himself.
And enjoy the wolf he did.
Sam could understand better, after living in full disclosure with Dean the lycanthrope, why his brother was so worried about what their dad would think. Far from repulsed or ashamed by what he had become, Dean was completely enchanted with his animal self. Fully and willingly taken with it.
John Winchester would be appalled.
Sam tried to find ways to give Dean freedom to run.
Sam glanced up and scanned the trees for any sign of movement, but the woods were still. Nocturnal insects were beginning to stir for the celebration of night, and birds were growing quiet to give them the stage.
Sam was alone in the middle of nowhere, a recipe that should give a Winchester a bad feeling, but he wasn't concerned. He knew Dean was out there, and that his senses now were far keener than Sam's could ever dream to be. He trusted Dean to be his eyes and ears. Relaxed, Sam turned his attention back to his book.
He was through another three chapters of his book and had fixed himself something to eat before he heard the sound of footsteps padding toward the campsite. Sam glanced up as the wolf emerged from the darkness.
Sam set aside his book and reclined back against his log backrest with one elbow, legs sprawled before him and shins tingly from the heat of the fire so close to them. Sam watched the wolf coming toward him and marveled at how normal it had become to see a wolf and know it was his brother. "Wasn't expecting you back until dawn," Sam said casually.
The wolf paused, looked at him, then came closer to the fire. It stopped by the discarded clothes, braced itself with legs apart, and then pelt became flesh. The wolf surrendered its shape to the man, and in a matter of seconds Sam was having to see naked Dean again.
Seriously, they needed to figure out a better changing situation.
Dean quickly dressed and stretched. "That last hunt must have worn me out more than I thought." He strolled closer to Sam and dropped down beside him so he could appropriate half of the log at Sam's back for a backrest himself. For a minute, the brothers sat shoulder to shoulder in silence, staring at the fire hypnotically.
Dean fished Sam's abandoned book out from between them and looked at the title. He lifted one eyebrow and looked over at his brother. "The Real Wolf Man?"
Sam shrugged. "It's the only book I've run across yet that treats werewolves and lycanthropes as different."
"You looking up what will kill me?" Dean asked teasingly, slapping Sam's arm with the small paperback. But Sam, who knew Dean so well, could detect the slight note of disquiet in his brother's voice. Dean began to radiate unease at the idea his brother was researching him like he would a hunt.
And Sam had been going to such lengths to make it plain to his brother that Dean was not something to be hunted as far as Sam was concerned. Dean had even come to accept Sam's acceptance and let down his guard. He was starting to trust Sam with all aspects of the wolf. Now, there was a shadow of doubt at finding his brother reading up on lycanthropy.
"It has nothing to do with hunting; I just want to understand," Sam answered with as much calm and sincerity as he could express. It was the truth. "Guess I can't help wanting to dig up a book on something new. That makes it real for me, you know… if it's in a book, must be true." Sam smirked playfully. Dean shook his head, but Sam could see his body relaxing again.
Sam cocked his head when a thought occurred to him. "But since you bring it up, do the same methods for killing werewolves work with lycanthropes?"
Dean lowered the book on to his thigh, fingers still holding it lightly in a pincher grip. "Yeah… but in the sense that a silver bullet to the heart will kill anything, not just werewolves." Dean idly thumbed the edge of the book, making the old pages cascade noisily together.
"So, anything can kill you?"
Dean grunted in confirmation. "Doesn't require anything special, if that's what you mean. The wolf doesn't make me impervious to regular weapons."
Dean pondered the book in his hand a moment, then began to flip through the pages curiously.
Sam watched Dean read a few random paragraphs before commenting, "Almost everything you find on the topic will tell you werewolves and lycanthropes are the same thing, just with a different name."
Dean nodded absently.
"Why is there so little literature on actual lycanthropes, do you think?"
Dean lowered the book and scooted down to turn the log backrest into more of a pillow. He tossed the book aside carelessly. He interlaced his fingers atop his stomach and said, "Because lycanthropes are literally on the verge of extinction."
Sam looked down at Dean and waited for more.
Dean pulled his bottom lip between his teeth a moment before he said, "Kind of funny… I asked Skye just about every question you've asked me. Guess hunters all want to know the same things about the unknown." For a fleeting second, Dean almost smiled. Then he stared intently at the campfire. "Lycanthropes are nothing like werewolves. They're a lot like wolves. They run in a pack, they have a 'complex social hierarchy' - Skye's words, not mine - they mate for life…" Dean stopped abruptly, and Sam opened his mouth, unexpectedly stunned and about to ask about Skye.
"It was the pack thing that did them in, though," Dean pressed on before Sam could interrupt. "When hunters, our kind and the village mob vigilante type, found out about their friendly neighborhood pack of lycanthropes, they set out to wipe them out. Just because they were different and people are afraid of what they don't understand." Dean was trying to act detached from the whole matter, but his body was tensing up by the minute. "If they had scattered and gone to ground solo, most of them might have survived. But they wouldn't abandon the pack. It got most of the lycans cornered and killed."
"How many are left?" Sam wondered aloud.
"Don't know," Dean responded, "but werewolves are about ten times as common as lycanthropes, so that tells you something."
Given how infrequently the Winchester boys had tangled with werewolves in their lives on the hunt, it put the rarity of the lycanthrope into perspective.
"But there are some out there without a pack," Sam reasoned. "I mean, look at you."
Dean was conspicuously quiet and it drew Sam's attention. Dean sat back up and crossed his arms almost defensively over his chest. "In that respect, I'm a freak. Most wouldn't even consider going off alone. Lycans live for the pack."
Sam was watching his brother closely, sensing something in Dean's shift in tone and posture. "Do you wish you were part of a pack?"
Dean shot a brief but searing look at Sam. "You're my pack."
Sam gaped and could only muster in answer, "Oh…"
Dean frowned. "I almost joined Skye's… when they offered to take me."
"Why didn't you?"
Dean gave the answer to that question some thought. "They weren't my family. Maybe if Skye…" Dean trailed into silence, then he shook his head. "I didn't belong with them. But still… for a while, it was tempting."
Sam hadn't suspected Dean almost gave up the hunt to become a member of a community… granted a lycan pack so hardly Norman Rockwell, but still a settled life in some fashion in the world of Dean Winchester.
"Well… I'm glad you didn't."
Dean looked sidelong at Sam, and Sam offered a smile.
The brothers sat together in silence for a while as the sounds of the night filled the void.
It was almost with trepidation that Dean broke the quiet between them. "Sam…"
"Hmmm?"
Dean hesitated, eyes firmly focused on the fire. "I wanted to say that… just… that I…" Dean looked as though he was in actual pain. Either he'd hurt himself in the forest, or he was trying to talk about his feelings.
"What?" Sam urged.
Dean glowered at the fire, refusing to meet Sam's gaze. "I just wanted to say that… you make this easy for me… and I… you know, appreciate it."
Sam shook his head dismissively. "You don't have to thank me."
Dean scowled. "Yeah, I do. I don't know anyone who would be as okay with this as you've been. Look, can't you just say 'no sweat, Dean' so we can ward off the chick-flick moment?"
Sam chuckled. "Yeah, sure, no sweat, Dean."
"Good."
"You know what's funny?" Sam asked on a lark.
"What?"
Sam gestured between the two of them half-heartedly, which today meant Dean's lycanthropy, as it was the topic of conversation. "I've only known about you being a lycan for a few months, but it feels totally normal now."
One side of Dean's mouth curled up into a smile. "Yeah, well, Winchesters always did have a pretty screwed-up concept of normal."
Sam couldn't argue with that.
Twelve
But Sam would never let on he thought so, because he knew better than to say something like that to his big brother.
"Dude," Sam groaned as Dean hastily stood from his place by their fire and peeled off his shirt. They'd barely set up camp, but Dean was eager to change.
It had been more than two months since Sam found out his brother was a lycanthrope. In a testament to just how bizarre their lives had been already, things hadn't really changed that much for them. One of the few appreciable day-to-day differences was that they did take on a lot more woodland hunts since Sam learned Dean's secret. Dean was almost a different person in the forest now. It lit him up from the inside out, and though Sam would bitch and complain about the good old days when Dean didn't like camping, it was hard to really begrudge his older brother something that obviously made him so happy.
Dean, naked from the waist up but for the amulet, looked questioningly at Sam.
Sam's lip curled, as though he'd caught whiff of a noxious odor. "There has to be a better way for you to wolf out than for me to have to look at your lily-white ass every time."
Dean smirked. "My ass is coveted far and wide, and you know it. Besides, do you have any idea how hard it is to take clothes off when you don't have hands? And no, I'm not going to let you undress me after I've turned. I have my dignity." Dean was kicking off his shoes.
"Dignity… Dean, I'm seeing way more of you than I ever wanted to see."
Dean snorted and shucked his pants. "Well, deal, because I'm not running around as a wolf in underwear. I don't see what your problem is, anyway; it's nothing you haven't seen before."
Growing up in uncomfortably close quarters with Dean, that much was true. But Sam thought it was also completely beside the point.
They were bickering, but the mood wasn't nasty; Dean was in too good a mood for it to be darkened, and Sam just couldn't find it in him to be upset with Dean for that. Still, he had to say something about the streaking. He was, after all, a brother.
Dean stepped out of his boxer briefs and stood buck naked (because a tiny amulet lying against his chest so didn't count as clothes) in the middle of the forest.
"Man…" Sam averted his eyes. "Fine, if it doesn't matter because it's all been seen before, why don't I start walking around bare-ass naked, too?"
Dean chuckled. "Just for the sake of being naked? I gotta tell you, Sammy, threesomes, sadomasochism, and now a nudist… college shoved your boundaries right off a cliff, man."
"Shut up, just… change already, will you?"
By the time Sam looked back, Dean had. Instead of his loud-mouth brother, there was the wolf. It stood next to the pile of clothes Dean had shed, gray coat ruffling in the breeze and the late afternoon sun glinting off the golden amulet dangling from the wolf's throat. What had been uncomfortable naked brother a moment before was now regal, dignified grace and power.
Yeah, there was no question about it… Dean was a beautiful wolf.
The wolf sniffed at the wind, ears moving to catch all the sounds the human sense could not hope to hear, then he looked over his shoulder toward the woods. The wolf glanced back at Sam and stared pointedly at him.
Sam rolled his eyes. "I know, be careful, keep a weapon in reach, don't wander too far from camp, don't take candy from strangers, go."
What Sam liked about the wolf was it couldn't throw back smart-ass remarks. Sam always got the last word, even if the wolf's gaze said a mouthful. With a blink, the wolf turned and bounded off into the forest.
Sam smiled to himself and settled in front of the fire, using a log for a backrest. He knew Dean wouldn't go far. If Sam was in trouble, if he called for Dean, Dean would come. Even when Sam couldn't see any sign of him, Dean had Sam locked in his periphery senses and never strayed so far that he couldn't watch out for Sam.
Sam dragged over his bag, dug out a book he had stuffed in it, and opened to his tattered bookmark. It was a book on lycanthropy Sam had found at the last 'oddball books' shop they were in. Always on the look-out for books on the supernatural that might actually be useful (a scavenger hunt that naturally became Sam's job; book stores and Dean weren't on good terms), Sam had also added to his 'must have' list a comprehensive book on lycanthropy.
It proved harder to find a legit book on the condition than he would have thought. There was, of course, a lot of lore on werewolves. Then there were books on abnormal psychology that referenced the mental illness of a person thinking they were a wolf when really they were just batshit crazy (as Dean put it). Sam was starting to think he'd never find a decent book on real lycanthropy. The one he was currently reading was the first book he'd run across that genuinely treated werewolves and lycans as different creatures.
Sam wasn't holding out high hopes (the book, with yellowed pages and a worn cover, was sadly thin), but he bought the book anyway. He might not see Dean as a hunt, but Sam still had the ingrained habit of research in him.
Sam had been reading the book off and on whenever Dean left him to his own devices.
Like now.
They'd finished up their hunt yesterday, but Sam suggested they stick around a few days to 'enjoy the scenery'. Both brothers knew that really meant hanging around to let Dean enjoy some time as the wolf.
It was routine by now.
Dean was never the one to suggest they 'indulge' Dean's wilder side. There were the first nights of the full moon when Dean demanded allowances for his lycanthropy, but even then it didn't mean he had to be outdoors, away from humanity and in the embrace of nature. It had only been vital before because Dean had been keeping his monthly transformation from his brother. In fact, the last full moon found the boys snow-bound in a cabin in Minnesota. Dean practically paced a rut in the floorboards the day preceding the full moon, then when the night descended he stripped and turned. That was it. The next morning Dean was fine (though still just as stir crazy as Sam) for having been coped up all night. Sam had found the wolf harder to engage in a boredom-combating hand of cards, but otherwise it hadn't been a big deal.
It was Sam who worked 'camping trips' into their lives after learning the truth about his brother. He wanted Dean to enjoy himself.
And enjoy the wolf he did.
Sam could understand better, after living in full disclosure with Dean the lycanthrope, why his brother was so worried about what their dad would think. Far from repulsed or ashamed by what he had become, Dean was completely enchanted with his animal self. Fully and willingly taken with it.
John Winchester would be appalled.
Sam tried to find ways to give Dean freedom to run.
Sam glanced up and scanned the trees for any sign of movement, but the woods were still. Nocturnal insects were beginning to stir for the celebration of night, and birds were growing quiet to give them the stage.
Sam was alone in the middle of nowhere, a recipe that should give a Winchester a bad feeling, but he wasn't concerned. He knew Dean was out there, and that his senses now were far keener than Sam's could ever dream to be. He trusted Dean to be his eyes and ears. Relaxed, Sam turned his attention back to his book.
He was through another three chapters of his book and had fixed himself something to eat before he heard the sound of footsteps padding toward the campsite. Sam glanced up as the wolf emerged from the darkness.
Sam set aside his book and reclined back against his log backrest with one elbow, legs sprawled before him and shins tingly from the heat of the fire so close to them. Sam watched the wolf coming toward him and marveled at how normal it had become to see a wolf and know it was his brother. "Wasn't expecting you back until dawn," Sam said casually.
The wolf paused, looked at him, then came closer to the fire. It stopped by the discarded clothes, braced itself with legs apart, and then pelt became flesh. The wolf surrendered its shape to the man, and in a matter of seconds Sam was having to see naked Dean again.
Seriously, they needed to figure out a better changing situation.
Dean quickly dressed and stretched. "That last hunt must have worn me out more than I thought." He strolled closer to Sam and dropped down beside him so he could appropriate half of the log at Sam's back for a backrest himself. For a minute, the brothers sat shoulder to shoulder in silence, staring at the fire hypnotically.
Dean fished Sam's abandoned book out from between them and looked at the title. He lifted one eyebrow and looked over at his brother. "The Real Wolf Man?"
Sam shrugged. "It's the only book I've run across yet that treats werewolves and lycanthropes as different."
"You looking up what will kill me?" Dean asked teasingly, slapping Sam's arm with the small paperback. But Sam, who knew Dean so well, could detect the slight note of disquiet in his brother's voice. Dean began to radiate unease at the idea his brother was researching him like he would a hunt.
And Sam had been going to such lengths to make it plain to his brother that Dean was not something to be hunted as far as Sam was concerned. Dean had even come to accept Sam's acceptance and let down his guard. He was starting to trust Sam with all aspects of the wolf. Now, there was a shadow of doubt at finding his brother reading up on lycanthropy.
"It has nothing to do with hunting; I just want to understand," Sam answered with as much calm and sincerity as he could express. It was the truth. "Guess I can't help wanting to dig up a book on something new. That makes it real for me, you know… if it's in a book, must be true." Sam smirked playfully. Dean shook his head, but Sam could see his body relaxing again.
Sam cocked his head when a thought occurred to him. "But since you bring it up, do the same methods for killing werewolves work with lycanthropes?"
Dean lowered the book on to his thigh, fingers still holding it lightly in a pincher grip. "Yeah… but in the sense that a silver bullet to the heart will kill anything, not just werewolves." Dean idly thumbed the edge of the book, making the old pages cascade noisily together.
"So, anything can kill you?"
Dean grunted in confirmation. "Doesn't require anything special, if that's what you mean. The wolf doesn't make me impervious to regular weapons."
Dean pondered the book in his hand a moment, then began to flip through the pages curiously.
Sam watched Dean read a few random paragraphs before commenting, "Almost everything you find on the topic will tell you werewolves and lycanthropes are the same thing, just with a different name."
Dean nodded absently.
"Why is there so little literature on actual lycanthropes, do you think?"
Dean lowered the book and scooted down to turn the log backrest into more of a pillow. He tossed the book aside carelessly. He interlaced his fingers atop his stomach and said, "Because lycanthropes are literally on the verge of extinction."
Sam looked down at Dean and waited for more.
Dean pulled his bottom lip between his teeth a moment before he said, "Kind of funny… I asked Skye just about every question you've asked me. Guess hunters all want to know the same things about the unknown." For a fleeting second, Dean almost smiled. Then he stared intently at the campfire. "Lycanthropes are nothing like werewolves. They're a lot like wolves. They run in a pack, they have a 'complex social hierarchy' - Skye's words, not mine - they mate for life…" Dean stopped abruptly, and Sam opened his mouth, unexpectedly stunned and about to ask about Skye.
"It was the pack thing that did them in, though," Dean pressed on before Sam could interrupt. "When hunters, our kind and the village mob vigilante type, found out about their friendly neighborhood pack of lycanthropes, they set out to wipe them out. Just because they were different and people are afraid of what they don't understand." Dean was trying to act detached from the whole matter, but his body was tensing up by the minute. "If they had scattered and gone to ground solo, most of them might have survived. But they wouldn't abandon the pack. It got most of the lycans cornered and killed."
"How many are left?" Sam wondered aloud.
"Don't know," Dean responded, "but werewolves are about ten times as common as lycanthropes, so that tells you something."
Given how infrequently the Winchester boys had tangled with werewolves in their lives on the hunt, it put the rarity of the lycanthrope into perspective.
"But there are some out there without a pack," Sam reasoned. "I mean, look at you."
Dean was conspicuously quiet and it drew Sam's attention. Dean sat back up and crossed his arms almost defensively over his chest. "In that respect, I'm a freak. Most wouldn't even consider going off alone. Lycans live for the pack."
Sam was watching his brother closely, sensing something in Dean's shift in tone and posture. "Do you wish you were part of a pack?"
Dean shot a brief but searing look at Sam. "You're my pack."
Sam gaped and could only muster in answer, "Oh…"
Dean frowned. "I almost joined Skye's… when they offered to take me."
"Why didn't you?"
Dean gave the answer to that question some thought. "They weren't my family. Maybe if Skye…" Dean trailed into silence, then he shook his head. "I didn't belong with them. But still… for a while, it was tempting."
Sam hadn't suspected Dean almost gave up the hunt to become a member of a community… granted a lycan pack so hardly Norman Rockwell, but still a settled life in some fashion in the world of Dean Winchester.
"Well… I'm glad you didn't."
Dean looked sidelong at Sam, and Sam offered a smile.
The brothers sat together in silence for a while as the sounds of the night filled the void.
It was almost with trepidation that Dean broke the quiet between them. "Sam…"
"Hmmm?"
Dean hesitated, eyes firmly focused on the fire. "I wanted to say that… just… that I…" Dean looked as though he was in actual pain. Either he'd hurt himself in the forest, or he was trying to talk about his feelings.
"What?" Sam urged.
Dean glowered at the fire, refusing to meet Sam's gaze. "I just wanted to say that… you make this easy for me… and I… you know, appreciate it."
Sam shook his head dismissively. "You don't have to thank me."
Dean scowled. "Yeah, I do. I don't know anyone who would be as okay with this as you've been. Look, can't you just say 'no sweat, Dean' so we can ward off the chick-flick moment?"
Sam chuckled. "Yeah, sure, no sweat, Dean."
"Good."
"You know what's funny?" Sam asked on a lark.
"What?"
Sam gestured between the two of them half-heartedly, which today meant Dean's lycanthropy, as it was the topic of conversation. "I've only known about you being a lycan for a few months, but it feels totally normal now."
One side of Dean's mouth curled up into a smile. "Yeah, well, Winchesters always did have a pretty screwed-up concept of normal."
Sam couldn't argue with that.
Twelve