A/N: Wow, look at that, I'm doing things chronologically and everything! So yeah, Dean's first change after being bitten.
Sam hated Dean being a werewolf before Dean had even actually changed for the first time. He'd hated it from the moment Dad and Dean woke up the morning after and Sam had had to explain (almost) everything that had happened that night.
Then Dad had gone all quiet, which meant Dean went quiet. Sam knew that Dean being a werewolf wasn't really a good thing, but it didn't seem as bad as they were making it out to be. Dad had been a werewolf for nearly a whole year and they were all still alive, weren't they?
Dad had got really angry at Dean. He said that Dean should have killed him, because what else was the knife for? He'd looked so angry that Sam thought he might turn into his wolf-self without it even being night. Dean had looked like he was about to start crying as he stood there and said nothing. Didn't say anything about how they wouldn't want to live without a dad, nothing about Dad being the only person they had and they were going to hang onto him no matter what. It was the wolf that was bad, not Dad. Dad had stormed out when he'd seen that Dean wasn't going to say anything. The Impala pulled away so fast that gravel shot out from under the tires and cracked the window.
There had been a whole month between then and now full of tense silences and forced conversation and that unavoidable thought in all of their minds about what was going to happen at the next full moon. Sam and Dad were watching Dean closely for any of those little changes and Dean was getting annoyed with them doing it. It had been awful. It had been worse than when Dad first came back all wrong.
It was the first night of the week before the full moon and everyone was up and watching everyone else. Dean was determined to not go to sleep, so he wouldn't turn. Dad didn't say anything about that but he was lying on his bed like he was getting ready to go to sleep, even though he was wide awake. He was expecting Dean to turn eventually, though, Sam could tell because they were out in the middle of nowhere in an old hunter's cabin. Dad only took them out to places like this when he didn't know what was going to happen.
Sam thought that Dean was probably going to fall asleep, as well. They hadn't got much sleep the previous night because Dean had been all anxious and worried and he'd been exhausted and grouchy all day (and sometimes downright mean). His head kept dropping forward a little before he jerked it up again and usually Sam would find it funny, but this time it sent little thrills of terror through him.
Sam nudged Dean when his head drooped forward for slightly longer than usual. Dean shook his head and looked Dad. Sam didn't know why he was looking over there because Dad just looked back. Dean shuffled up the bed so his back was pressed against the headboard and Sam followed him.
"I think we should play a game to keep you awake." Dean nodded, but didn't smile like he normally would.
"Sure, what you want to play?" That stumped Sam a little, because normally Dean would suggest some game and it would be a really fun game, because Dean was the best at thinking of games. But Sam had to think of one this time. "Umm, I-spy?" and Dean nodded. Even though he always said I-spy was a crap game that babies could play. Sam snuggled up to Dean's side and stared out into the dark grey of the room. "I spy," he said, "With my little eye, something beginning with D."
Sam woke up to the feel of hot breath on his face. He was nestled into Dean's side and it was still dark, but Dean was breathing really heavily and right in his face.
"Dean," Sam groaned, "What are you doing?" Dean licked him. Sam froze. "Dean?" Dean laughed. He sounded all wrong, it sounded like a growl.
Sam tried to scramble away but Dean was too quick, far too quick, supernaturally quick and grabbed him by the shoulders. Sam yelped when Dean pulled him close and smelled him, like Dad did, but Dean was tasting as well, and scraping with his teeth. Sam panicked and struggled hard as he could. Dean chuckled and then threw Sam to the other end of the bed.
Sam tried to clamber off the bed, but Dean grabbed his ankle and pulled him back again. The blanket was no use for getting a purchase and Sam just dragged it with him. Dean flipped him and leaned over him with a grin full of teeth too long and sharp. Sam tried to back away but Dean grabbed him again and then threw him right off the side of the bed.
Sam landed hard on the floorboards and smacked the side of his head, but he shook off the pain and stumbled to his feet and away from the bed. Next thing he knew, Dean landed on him and he dropped back to the floor, his breath whooshing out of him and the brother on his back feeling like a ton of bricks. He flailed uselessly as he tried to get his breath back but Dean easily brought his limbs under control.
Sam recognised, with a slightly detached interest, the hold that Dean was using. It was one that Dean always used and one that Sam knew he couldn't get out of. It was also one that Sam knew could break your arm if you weren't careful, or more to the point, if Dean wasn't careful. And Dean wasn't being careful. Dean was stronger than ever before and with more energy and he kept pushing and leaning on Sam. Sam could feel his muscles straining and his bones creaking, but Dean was laughing and mouthing at his neck, Sam could feel the teeth. Sam bucked and kicked, but Dean just pushed his arm further into a position that it was just not made to be in.
"Daaad!" Sam screamed. This time Dean froze, and only seconds before he was pulled off of Sam completely. Sam lay on his front gathering himself back together. He wiped away the tears that he hadn't even noticed he was crying then sat up slowly and carefully, cradling his abused arm. He shakily pulled himself to his feet and was climbing back on the bed when Dean shrieked in some ungodly mixture of pain and fear.
Sam scrambled to the other side of the bed. Dad had Dean on the floor and was growling like the car did. Dean was just lying on his back and not even trying to fight, not even when Dad bared his teeth and lowered his head to Dean's exposed throat.
"No! Dad! Don't!" Sam leapt forward and desperate tried to pull Dad off, but Dad pushed him away without even looking up. Dad's growling reached a crescendo and he shifted his position, so he was eve more over Dean and Dean couldn't move without Dad knowing. Dean whimpered.
All other sounds stopped abruptly and Dean whimpered again, staring down at the top of his father's head. Dad pulled back and met Dean's gaze, frowning and snarling, and Dean immediately looked away. Dad seemed pleased with that and got to his feet with a short nod and the turned his attention towards Sam.
Sam took a step backwards into the bed, but Dad didn't look angry any more. Instead, he looked worried, and that almost made it easy to look past the eyes and the teeth and see the part of him that wasn't a wild animal (that's what Sam had decided being a werewolf was like; being a wild human). He gently took Sam's hurt arm and checked it for damage. Sam hissed when he turned it a little too far, but Dad seemed to decide that no real harm had been done. Dad then scooped him up and placed him carefully back on the bed. Sam didn't really like being treated so much like a baby, but he wasn't going to argue with a werewolf. His father ruffled his hair before leaning in close and smelling him. Sam knew now that that was just Dad's way of checking that he was all right.
Sam wondered what it was like to be a werewolf and have really good senses and super-fast reactions. He'd wondered it aloud once, and that had sent Dad completely off the deep end, telling him to not be so stupid, and that being a werewolf was a curse and he should never think differently. Sam knew that, of course, but heaven forbid he have a little curiosity. And anyway, Sam wasn't so sure that being the only non-werewolf in the family wasn't more of a curse.
Sam watched his brother warily as Dean edged his way along the bed, looking very sorry for himself. He slowly reached an arm out towards Sam and Sam tried not to let it phase him, but he could help it. He couldn't trust Dean like this. This Dean wasn't his Dean and Sam didn't want this Dean anywhere near him, not while the claw marks that covered his torso still throbbed and his arm was still sore.
Dean withdrew his hand and then flopped onto his side, eyes averted from Sam's. He whined when Sam made no move towards him, didn't even say anything. Sam pointedly turned his back on Dean and shut his eyes, willing himself to sleep. The sooner he slept, the sooner it would be morning and the sooner he'd have his brother back.
Dean whined again; it sounded a little bit like sorry. Sam curled tighter and slowly drifted off to sleep.
The End... of this bit. (If I say TBC, that might lead you to believe that I'm actually going to write something in a timely fashion, which is just never going to happen)
Thank you for reading!