Written by: KariGorsuch

The drive back to the Grande was quieter than I expected. The weight of the morning still lingered like a thick fog, especially after everything that had happened between Sam and me. I couldn't help but replay the conversation over and over in my head, trying to make sense of it, but the more I thought about it, the more it felt like a dead end. Eve had done her best to take my side, and Sam had apologized... but the hurt still sat heavy in my chest.

The Mustang purred beneath me as I gripped the wheel a little tighter, the familiar sound comforting in its own way. Sam's presence beside me was quieter, more distant than I was used to. He was brooding, his hands clasped tightly in his lap, his eyes focused on the road ahead. I could sense he wanted to say something, but he didn't. Maybe he wasn't sure where to start.

"I'm sorry," he said finally, his voice almost a whisper, breaking the silence. He glanced over at me, his brow furrowing in frustration. "I never wanted to make you feel like... well, like that."

I didn't answer right away, choosing instead to focus on the road in front of us. Sam's words, no matter how sincere, didn't erase the sting. "Sam, stop apologizing. It's not going to fix anything. It's about me... not trusting anyone anymore. I just can't forget."

"I know," he said quietly after a moment, his voice barely above a whisper. His tone was soft, almost resigned, like he was acknowledging something I'd already known for a long time. "I understand that you can't just forget, Bri. Hell, I don't think I could either." His voice trailed off, and I could hear the weight of his regret in it.

I bit my lip, keeping my gaze locked straight ahead. The road stretched out in front of us, endless and unforgiving, much like the thoughts I was trying to push aside. "You don't get it, Sam. You've known how to fight back from the shit life throws at you. But I've been running from it. Hiding. And every time I let myself believe, every time I think I can trust someone, it's like the world slaps me back into reality."

His silence stretched out for a long beat before he spoke again, this time with more weight to his words. "I don't want to be the one to make you feel that way again, Bri. That's the last thing I want."

The Grande came into view as I steered the Mustang toward the parking lot, the bright neon lights casting a pale glow over the pavement.

"We're here," I said flatly, cutting the silence that had fallen between us. I opened the door before he had a chance to respond, stepping out of the car and feeling the warm afternoon air hit my face. The comforting rumble of the Impala cut off next to the Mustang, and I felt more than saw Dean and Eve join me at the front of the cars.

"No sign of Miss Mordy?" Dean asked, his voice low as he looked up at the Grande.

"Maybe she's just taking her sweet time," Eve offered, her tone uncertain, though the way she kept glancing around suggested she wasn't fully convinced.

"Or maybe not," I muttered, a sinking feeling in my chest as I walked toward the door of the motel. My instincts were screaming, the hair on the back of my neck standing on end. Something wasn't right.

I reached for the door handle, but the moment my fingers made contact, I stopped. A faint smell- sharp and metallic- mingled with the stale air creeping from around the door. Blood. I turned back to the group, voice tight. "Something's wrong."

Dean didn't hesitate. He was already shoving the door open, his hand on his gun. We moved as a unit, a fluid motion born of military experience and a tight bond between brothers. The sight that met us inside was worse than I expected.

The lobby was a mess- the once neatly placed chairs and couches overturned and tossed aside. Sprawled in the middle of it, was Miss Mordy's body. Her eyes wide open, staring unblinking at the ceiling. Her limbs were bent in unnatural angles, and the blood staining the carpet from the wound on her chest was enough to make just about anyone gag.

I stepped forward, heart pounding in my throat, but the sight made my stomach churn. The werewolf had already done its work, tearing her apart, leaving nothing but the remnants of what she had been.

Dean cursed under his breath, his face grim. "Shit. This wasn't just a hunt. This was personal."

Eve dropped to her knees, careful not to touch the pool of blood surrounding the body. Reaching out a hand, she brushed a hand over Miss Mordy's cheek. "This was recent. She's not cold yet."

The air suddenly shifted. A low growl echoed from the far side of the room, and before any of us could react, the werewolf lunged from the shadows.

It was massive—its fur dark as night, eyes glowing an eerie yellow. The thing had clearly been waiting for us, hungry for more than just blood. Its claws scraped against the floor as it skidded toward us, its teeth bared in a snarl.

Dean's reflexes were quick, his gun already raised, but the werewolf moved faster than he anticipated. It swiped a massive paw toward him, knocking him back with enough force to send him sprawling across the room.

"Dean!" Eve screamed, her voice sharp with panic as she rushed to him.

Sam and I wasted no time, our eyes locking in that familiar silent agreement before we attacked in tandem. I shot toward the werewolf's left flank, narrowly dodging its claws as it swiped at me. Sam followed, firing a round of silver bullets, but the creature was faster than expected. It twisted, dodging the shot with a growl.

I closed the gap, darting forward with all the speed I could muster, but as I aimed to strike, the werewolf lunged at me instead, catching me across the side with a powerful swipe. Pain exploded across my ribs, and I crashed into the ground, gasping for air as the impact knocked the wind out of me.

Sam's voice echoed in my ears. "Bri, get up!" He was already on the move, charging at the beast, his hands grasping for the silver knife he had sheathed.

I struggled to push myself up, the pain from the strike searing through my body. But I couldn't afford to slow down. I couldn't let it take Sam, or anyone else.

Dean had recovered, somehow pushing himself to his feet despite the injury. "I've got you covered, Bri!" he shouted, and I didn't question him.

The beast's roar echoed in my ears as Dean fired another round at the beast, making it flinch but not enough to deter it. Eve joined in, her face was grim, yet determined.

The werewolf's snarl intensified as it shifted its focus back to Sam, who was now in close proximity, dangerously close to its maw.

"Sam, no!" I shouted, my voice hoarse. I pushed myself to my feet, ignoring the pain that radiated up my side. My hand fumbled for the silver bullets in my pocket, the only thing that could end this fight. I reloaded my gun with shaky hands, but I didn't hesitate. I couldn't. Sam was in danger.

I fired.

The bullet struck the werewolf's chest with a sharp hiss. It staggered, but the beast was still on its feet, snarling in rage. The fight wasn't over.

Sam dodged, barely missing the creatures snapping jaws as he rolled away. He was quick, but wasn't unscathed. Blood streaked down his arm from where he'd been grazed, and I could see the effort it took for him to stay on his feet.

With one last roar of frustration, the werewolf charged. But this time, I was ready, with Eve closing in. Our shots rang out, and this time, they struck true. The werewolf faltered, its head jerking back in a sharp, agonizing twist.

It collapsed to the floor with a final, guttural growl, its massive form twitching as it died. For a moment, all I could hear was the sound of our labored breathing, the aftermath of the fight echoing through the motel. I staggered forward, clutching my side, but Sam was already there, his hands gripping my arm.

"You alright?" he asked, concern flashing in his eyes.

I nodded, though it hurt to move. "Yeah. You?"

He glanced at the blood staining his shirt, his hand still gripping his side where the werewolf had nearly gotten him. "I've been better."

Dean limped up beside us, his usual grin nowhere to be found. "Yeah, well, you're both lucky to be alive."

Eve, too, had made her way over, her eyes wide but relieved as she took in the scene. Dean glanced between the werewolves body and Miss Mordy's remains, his expression a mix of discomfort and grim acceptance. "Well, I guess she won't be trying to get into my pants anymore." he winced, immediately clutching his side. "And before you ask, that hurt as much to say as much as it hurt to hear."

Eve shot him a sharp look, though a ghost of a smirk tugged at the corner of her lips. "Really, Dean? That's what you're going with? Not that she was dying of desperation to get into your pants?"

"What? Too soon?" He shrugged, wincing again. "Humor's a coping mechanism, sweetheart."

Sam groaned as he inspected the claw marks on his arm. "We don't even know why she was killed, Dean. Maybe save the stand-up routine for later?"

Dean raised his hands in mock surrender, "Fine, fine. Just trying to lighten the mood. Don't worry, I'll save my A-material for the drive."

Sam groaned and buried his face in his clean hand. "I'm riding back with you, Bri."

Shaking my head, I nudged the lifeless form of the werewolf with my boot. "What are we going to do with this thing? We can't leave it here- who knows who else will come 'ghost hunting' here."

Sam grimaced, tucking his pistol back into his jeans. "We'll need to burn it. We've got lighter fluid and matches in the trunk."

"What about salt?" I asked, reholstering my pistol, not paying attention to the other three. Looking up, they were all staring at me. "What? Aren't you supposed to pour salt on them too or some shit?"

Sam looked over at Dean, before both of them started to chuckle. "Not with werewolves, burning's enough. Salt's more for spirits and cursed objects."

"Now that that's settled, can we torch this thing before I bleed out?" Dean asked, moving back towards the main doors.

Eve snorted, crossing her arms and giving him a pointed look. "You're not bleeding that much, drama queen."

We followed them out to the main doors, then paused as Dean opened the Impala's trunk and tossed a coil of rope and a blanket to Eve. "Wrap the bodies up. We'll move them outside."

Eve caught the blanket and rope mid-air, and gave Dean a flat look. "Oh, sure. Make the women do the heavy lifting. Very progressive, Dean."

He smirked, despite the lines of pain etched into his face. "Hey, I'm injured. Besides, I'm the idea guy. Execution? That's all you."

I rolled my eyes and crouched down beside the werewolf's body, which was already starting to change back into the human form. "The only one who isn't is Eve, smartass."

Eve helped me roll the werewolf onto the blanket, grunting as we shifted its weight. "Next time, maybe move out of the way, dipshit."

Dean leaned against the door frame, "Oh, sure. I'll remember to duck when a seven-foot furball charges me next time."

Sam grabbed the rope and crouched down to help secure the creature's legs, shaking his head. "You three done bickering, or should I grab popcorn?"

"What?" Eve shot up from pulling on the rug, glaring at Sam. "You want in on this?"

Dean chuckled, "That's rich coming from you, Mr. 'Let's talk about our feelings in the middle of a fight.'"

Sam shot him a look but didn't bother replying. Instead, he approached what was left of Mordy's body, and proceeded to wrap up her body as well. When the remains were secure, he stood. "Alright, let's get this outside before someone else shows up."

We each grabbed a corner of the blanket, minus Sam, who picked up Mordy's body, and dragged the werewolf out into the hotel's front parking lot. The blanket scraped against the concrete, and the smell of blood started to fill the air, making my stomach churn.

"Yummy." smirked Eve, sarcastically, as Sam doused the bodies in lighter fluid, then tossed in a lit match, earning eyes from everyone. "What? My next assumption was we were going to pick whether we were picking off the light meat or the dark meat, or if we wanted our meat well done..." she hung her head for a moment, "...sorry, humor's my best defence too..."

"Those are human beings," I flatly put, peering over at Eve, who had one more joke up her sleeve.

"As I've said before, everything comes back to cannibalism...we've discovered a whole new world...why not a new brand of meat?" Eve attempted to joke, but gagged as the smell of burning flesh came over us.

"Oh my God, Eve!" I choked- both from her horrible attempt at a joke, and the horrendous smell.

Sam coughed, waving a hand in front of his face. "That's awful."

Dean smirked through the smoke, ignoring the clear strain in his posture. "Not the worst thing I've smelled after a hunt. Remember that poltergeist in Louisiana?"

Sam groaned, "Don't remind me."

I grinned, but couldn't resist a jab. "If the smell doesn't kill us, Dean's ego might."

When the fire finally died down, I helped Sam gather the remaining ashes into an empty tin can from the Impala's trunk.

"So, what about Mordy?" I asked quietly, breaking the silence. "She was a normal human, she probably had a job and all that. People are going to wonder what happened to her."

Dean's half smile faded, replaced by something closer to guilt. "She deserved better than this."

"She deserved a better crush," Eve muttered, brushing invisible dirt from her hands. "What was she thinking, making moon eyes at you?"

Dean opened his mouth to retort but then paused, considering. "Yeah, well, at least she had taste and wanted to do something about it." He gave Eve a quick wink.

"Careful," she shot back, "I still have a loaded pistol."

Eve and I shared a glance, then burst out laughing. "Let's get out of here."

We all grabbed our remaining supplies- mostly just the lighter fluid- and packed them back into the Impala's trunk. As Eve closed the trunk, we both caught a whiff from her shirt. "Oh my god-" She gagged again. "This should have joined the fire."

Dean poked his head over the roof of the Impala, his signature grin back in place. "I've got something else you can gag on."

I stared at him, a clear what the fuck did you just say on my face. A quick glance at Eve showed a beet red face, and Sam staring at the ground while shaking his head.

Eve took a moment to compose herself, grinning down at her hoodie. "Keep laughing," she chuckled, glancing at me before slipping her hoodie off and throwing it over the roof into Dean's face. "It's your hoodie."

Dean pulled the hoodie off his face, still chuckling as he folded it haphazardly and tossed it into the backseat of the Impala. "Thanks for the laundry, Eve. I'll add it to the growing list of things I do for you."

Eve rolled her eyes and grabbed a clean shirt from her spare bag in the Mustang. She turned her back to use and pulled the offending shirt over her head, replacing it with a black tank top with a lacy back, exposing her bra straps. "Next time, I'll just burn the hoodie and you," she muttered, though her smirk betrayed her.

Sam, ever the gentleman, kept his eyes firmly on the ground. Dean however, leaned casually against the Impala, pretending not to notice but failing miserably. "Nice shirt," he quipped, earning a middle finger from Eve as she tossed the discarded shirt into the backseat.

I chuckled as Eve added, "Looks like you're on your own with that." she shot a small grin at him as her eyes flickered down to the obvious tightening in his jeans before opening the passenger door of the mustang.

Dean grinned, "It's not often I get such a personal gift from someone."

I groaned. "Dean- for the love of everything and my sanity- I do not want to hear about you jacking off over your hoodie because it smells like Eve." I opened the driver door, leaning the seat forward so that I could slide in the backseat. "Eve, you're driving."

Dean grumbled as he slid into the driver's seat of the Impala, his hands gripping the steering wheel a little too tightly. "I swear, I never get any love around here," he muttered under his breath, glancing at the backseat. "Guess I'll just drive myself, then. No one wants to ride with me, not even Eve anymore. Guess the shirt comment really did it, huh."

"I'm not sure what's worse Dean. Your ego, or your pickup lines." Eve laughed, circling the Mustang to reach the driver's side.

I climbed into the backseat of the mustang, sighing dramatically as I pulled the seat upright. "Can we just get back to the hotel, please? I'm in desperate need of a shower and some painkillers. And probably a drink. Or three."

Eve exchanged a glance with Sam, "You can drive a stick, right?"

"Hey," Dean barked across the open front windows of both vehicles, "He gets to drive the 'Stang, but I can't?"

Eve and I rolled our eyes and barked in unison, "No!"

"Now, do you want company or not?" Eve snarled as I exhaled sharply, wincing in pain. "Some of us are bleeding more than you, my Queen...answer faster."

Sam nodded, his gaze flicking over to Eve with a small, amused smile. "Yeah, I can drive a stick. I'm not completely useless."

Eve nodded, "Never said you were." she growled, moving to the passenger seat of the Impala, ducking into the passenger seat.

Sam closed the passenger door before hurrying to the driver's side. Sliding behind the wheel, he adjusted the seat back to account for his long legs. "Sorry," I whispered, "Shorty here."

Both cars rumbled to life, a soothing tone that seemed to melt away some of the stress. "No racing," I muttered, smacking the back of the front seat as I moved to lay down. "You blow my tranny, we're gonna have a fuckin' problem."

"Wouldn't dream of it," Sam replied, the smile evident in his tone. His shifting was smooth as he followed Dean out of the Grande's parking lot and back onto the freeway. Closing my eyes, I let the soothing rumble of the car beneath me pull me into a light trance.