Chapter 4 is here! It's been a really long time coming. I've had a lot going on lately, and I cannot update all of my stories at once. I will try and get this one moving right along for you guys. Happy reading!

The rain came down in sheets as Sam darted across the parking lot toward his motel room. His hair and clothes were soaked by the time he got to the door. He hurriedly shoved his key into the door and pushed it open. Dean was sitting at the table, staring at the computer screen.
"Did you find anything online, Dean?" he asked, setting down the food bag he was carrying next to Dean, who quickly shut the laptop.
"Yeah, kinda." Sam noticed a slight crack in his brother's voice.
"Right," Sam said sarcastically as he pulled some dry clothes from his duffel and proceeded to change.
"There's not much else to do," said Dean, taking a sip of his coffee.
"How about looking for leads someplace else than ?" Sam pulled a breakfast sandwich from the bag.

"Dude, I had that done before you left." Dean grinned and opened the laptop. He pulled up the information he had found. "There have been five more attacks since the night you got scratched, and they all seem to be in one area."
Sam crossed his arms. "Nice, Dean, You've actually done your homework."
"I'm not stupid," Dean snapped, rising from his chair. "Don't treat me like I am." He grabbed his keys from the nightstand by the bed. "Get your coat. We've got work to do."
"Dean, it's pouring buckets out there. Do you really want to drive in this?"
"Sure. I've driven in worse." He started for the door. "I don't want to spend my nights watching you sleep and hoping you don't kill anyone!" He darted out into the rain, and Sam scrambled after him, grabbing his coat and shoes along the way.

"So where are we going?" Sam asked his brother. "And weren't we supposed to tell Bobby the minute we found something?"

"Why do we always need Bobby? You and I can handle this."

"Like you handled it when I walked out of the room in my sleep and murdered someone in cold blood?"

"Sam, I know what the hell I'm doing, and I don't need Bobby, damn it!"

"I'm calling him." Sam took out his phone and started dialing, and Dean took his phone and threw it out the window.

"What the hell is your problem, Dean!"

"I told you we don't need Bobby, and for some reason you can't get that through your thick head!"

"Fine," Sam said, sitting back in his seat. "I give up. You win. We don't need him."

Dean stopped the car near the spot where they had last seen the werewolf. A couple of days earlier, he and Sam had been caught off guard by the beast, and in the midst of defending themselves, Sam got scratched pretty badly.

"Dude, this is your big lead?"

"Hey, it's a start, isn't it?"

Dean got out of the car and started to look around. He was hoping he'd find something they'd missed last time they were there. He looked back at his brother, who had gotten out of the vehicle, following Dean's lead.

"Do you remember anything?" he asked.

"I've got nothing, dude. But I've got an idea."

"What's that?"

"I've read that psychics are very astute in finding things that are lost."

Dean chuckled.

"No way, Sammy. There's no way I'm going to sit in the back of some occult store and listen to some old lady's psychobabble."

"You'd rather stand out in the middle of the road and look for evidence that's not here?"

"Pretty much."

"Dean, this is getting ridiculous. We're not going to find anything out here! The bastard isn't going to come back to this spot after the fight we gave it, and you're not going to find anything—"

A shrill howl caused Sam to stop talking. Instinctively both of them pulled out guns and started to check out their surroundings. If it was back, they were going to be ready. All of a sudden something jumped on Sam and took him down. Dean turned and tried to pry the werewolf off of his brother, but was met by his friend, who promptly took Dean down as well.

Sam brought his knee up into the werewolf's stomach, and while it was stunned he grabbed his gun and shot it in the chest. As it fell dead, Sam watched it revert back to its human form: a young girl not much older than himself.

At the death of his friend, the other werewolf took off before Dean could get a clean shot at it.

"Damn it!" he said in frustration. He tucked his gun back into his coat and went to Sam's side.

"She wasn't much older than me, Dean."

"Let's go, Sam. The police will be here soon."

Sam got up and climbed into the car with his brother.

"So, now what?" Dean asked.

"I still think we should visit a psychic."

"Dude, you had this planned for a while, didn't you?"

"I kinda researched it while I was waiting for you and Bobby."

"Fine, Sam. Let's go see the psychic." Dean started the car and drove away, just as the police sirens came into earshot.