American Werewolf in DC

Summary: Gibbs calls in the IOU with Sam and Dean (from Deanie Boy).

Rated: T

Chapter 1:

Dean's conscious flickered to life behind his eyelids, aware that it was too dark for the alarm clock to be going off already. Not to mention that alarm clocks didn't play his cell phone's ring tone.

"Dean," came the grunt from the other bed.

"I got it, I got it," he grumbled. Dean opened his eyes and reached for his cell phone, which was about an inch away from vibrating off the bedside table, and picked it up, flicking it open. "Yea," he muttered.

There was a brief pause. "Dean Winchester?"

Something official and firm in the voice on the other end of the line brushed away the cobwebs of sleep in Dean's head and he blinked a few times, pushing himself up, clearing his throat. "You first."

"It's Gibbs. I'm calling in that IOU."

It took a couple of seconds for Dean to place the name, and then the tone of voice fell into place. Gibbs. NCIS. Marine. "Gibbs," Dean repeated, wincing slightly as Sam switched on the wall lamp. "Been a while. Ah…what time is it?"

Another pause. "0200."

"Alright. What couldn't wait 'til the sun woke up?"

"I'm not sure. Abby's actually the one that told me to give you a call," Gibbs told him."Wouldn't tell me why. Said she didn't want to be the one to tell me and that you would come to the same conclusion she did. After the incident a year ago, since there weren't any more murder-suicides after you guys left, I figured I'd call in the IOU."

"Okay. So what jumped out at Abby?" Dean asked, sliding his legs off the bed to a more comfortable sitting position. "What's the case?"

"Ah…I got three dead Marines and more questions than answers," Gibbs said, his tone expressing just how he felt about the fact. "Two were killed last month. First one had his throat ripped out and his chest torn open. Second was the same. My M.E.'s best guess was that some animal tore them apart. But the deaths ended there. Until tonight. Four hours ago, I got a call. Dead Marine. Ravaged. You want to tell me what the Hell's going on?"

Dean pursed his lips and moved the cell phone away from his mouth slightly, looking to Sam. "Calendar," he said quietly. Sam got up off his bed and started going through his duffle. "Lemme ask you something," Dean said to Gibbs. "You said the bodies were ravaged. Did your M.E. find any organs missing?"

Pause. "Organs?"

Dean's eyebrow quirked slightly. He'd caught the spike of interest in Gibbs' voice. "Yea. Like…their heart."

Another pause. Rustling of papers. "You want to tell me how you knew that?"

Dean took the small planner from Sam, flipping through it until he found what he was looking for. "For my next trick…the murders last month were between March 5th and 7th. Am I right?"

"Winchester, I called you to get answers to questions, not for you to tell me what I already know. Now how the Hell'd you know that?" Gibbs asked.

Dean pursed his lips, irritation creasing his face. "It's a werewolf," Dean told him point blank, tossing the planner back to Sam and taking a slight amusement in the look he imagined on Gibbs' face.

Once again, there was a heavy pause. "Werewolf."

"Ya. Werewolves eat the heart of their victims and the killings correspond to the lunar cycle. Look, Sam and I are in New York right now. We're working on a haunting, but a werewolf trumps that," Dean said, rubbing the back of his neck. "So we'll get in some more sleep and take off in the morning. We'll call you when we're on our way and you can fill us in on what you've got so far."

"Alright," Gibbs muttered. "A werewolf…."

"Listen, are you out at the crime scene right now?" Dean asked.

"Yea. Why?"

"It might be lurking around. It'll be hard to miss if it's shifted, sharp teeth and all, but shooting them with lead bullets ain't gonna do much," he said. "Sam and I'll have the weapons to take this thing down, but until we get there, make it known that whatever this animal is, if someone spots it, they don't give chase. They'd only get themselves killed."

Gibbs sighed. "Okay. You get my number from caller ID?"

Dean glanced at his phone. "Yea."

"Alright. Call me when you take off in the morning. I'll tell Abby you're on your way."

Dean nodded once, but before he could respond, there was a click as Gibbs hung up. Dean stared at his cell for a moment before bringing it back to his ear. "So glad to be appreciated. Say hi to Abby for me." He tossed his cell back onto the bedside table. "You think that's a Marine thing?" he asked.

"What?" Sam asked.

"Dad used to hang up first all the time too," Dean muttered. "Ah…set the alarm for…." Dean let his voice trail off as he slid back under the covers and grimaced. "Nine. We're puttin' this town in our rearview mirror. Destination DC."