#ruga-wolf

"Hunks of flesh missing, hearts gone," Sam mused as he leafed through the pictures. "So, what, a werewolf?" You shook your head, pushing Dean's feet back off of the table.

"No, I don't think so. I mean, I thought so at first, but the chunks out of the flesh threw me off. It doesn't match up right to be a werewolf."

"Werewolves only go after the hearts," Dean agreed. You nodded your head at him.

"Exactly. That's why I was confused. But then, I remembered something I read back in college when I did a personal study on mythical creatures and their origins." Dean snorted.

"Nerd," he muttered under his breath. You smacked the back of his head as you sat down in an empty chair.

"Do you know what the French term for werewolf is?" you questioned.

"Loup-garou," Sam answered. You pointed at him.

"Right. And an alternate spelling for rugaru is 'rougarou,' with two extra o's."

"You're losin' me here, Y/N," Dean admitted, leaning back in his chair. You continued on, ignoring him.

"When using the alternate spelling, both terms use the suffix '-garou.' So, I dug into some lore, and I found out that werewolves and rugarus are related. Some people even call werewolves rougarous instead. But get this: the term rougarou originated in the early sixteenth century. The term werewolf originated in the late sixteenth, early seventeenth century. Both originating in Europe. That means werewolves had to have evolved from rugarus. So, I think what we're dealing with here is a mixture of the two." Sam nodded, and you could tell by the look on his face that the pieces were falling together for him too.

"An evolvement between rugaru and werewolf." You grinned at him.

"Yahtzee." Dean leaned forward in his chair.

"Okay, wait wait, so, what, you're telling me we're dealing with some sort of... Franken-freak wolf crap here?" You chuckled.

"For lack of a better term, yeah." Sam shut his laptop, his eyes gleaming with an excitement that only came with solving a problem like this.

"Y/N, you're a genius," he said. His compliment made your chest swell with pride, and you felt your heart flutter. You had really missed this. Dean shot you a kind smile.

"It's like you never even left, huh, Y/N?" You caught the way Sam scowled over at his brother, but before you could ask about it, the scowl was gone, replaced with his usual expression.

"So, here's what I'm thinking," you began to explain to the boys. "Silver bullets might kill a ruga-wolf, but I'm not liking our chances with that 'might.' I think we'd be better off with a good old fashioned flame thrower." Sam stood from his seat, flashing you a pained smile.

"Y/N, can you give us a minute?" You frowned, confused.

"Uh, sure." The younger Winchester tilted his head in the direction of the motel door, and Dean got up, looking just as in the dark as you felt. When you shot him a confused glance, he only replied with a shrug as the motel door closed behind him. You rushed over to the door silently, trying to hear what was being said.

"-going on?" Dean was asking.

"Why did you call her?" Sam demanded. As a frown turned the corners of your lips downwards, you heard Dean let out a heavy sigh.

"Sam, you said it yourself: we needed help on this one."

"Yeah, but not from Y/N!" Your heart squeezed painfully in your chest. Had Sam's feelings towards you really changed so much in the past few months?

"She's the smartest hunter we know, okay? We couldn't do this one without her!" Dean argued.

"I don't want her here!" Sam shot back.

"Is this about the break-up?" You made a mental note to thank Dean later. That was the question you had just been wondering, yourself.

Getting the call from Dean yesterday had immediately made you uneasy. Especially because Sam had made it painfully clear that neither of them could be in contact with you anymore. Your relationship with Sam had gone on for almost a year and a half and all of a sudden it was over. You understood why he had ended it all. Because he wanted to protect you. Because Sam wanted you as far from the hunter's life as possible. But that didn't make losing him hurt any less. And now, almost a year later, Dean had called you up out of nowhere. Your biggest fear was that the call was to inform you that Sam had been hurt. Or worse.

"I did it to keep her safe," Sam said quietly. "I still love her. And I can't lose anyone else, Dean. Especially not Y/N." When the motel door swung back open, you made no effort to make it look as if you hadn't been eavesdropping. Instead, you stood there, staring the two of them down. When he saw you, Sam's cheeks flushed red. "Did you hear..." he trailed off. You nodded.

"I did," you replied. "And if you two think I'm gonna sit on my ass while you get to do the dirty work, then you have another thing coming." Dean looked at his brother warily before looking at you again.

"We're not gonna be able to convince you to stay here, are we?" You crossed your arms firmly, not backing down.

"There is no way in hell."

The sun had just set when the three of you finally pulled up to the house. The two boys swiveled around in the front seat to look at you.

"Know the plan?" Dean asked. You nodded curtly.

"Get in, get out, don't get dead," you answered. "Just like always." The three of you strode cautiously up to the front porch, trying not to disturb anything. You slowed your pace even more as you drew closer to the front door, which was barely hanging from a lone hinge. Not a good sign. You hadn't been nervous at all during the car ride, but now that you were here, unease was beginning to settle in the pit of your stomach. It had been a good few weeks since you had been on a hunt, and you couldn't afford to screw everything up now. The boys were counting on you, and you had to prove to Sam that you could hold your own. You jumped slightly as Dean came up behind you, gently placing a hand on your shoulder. When he raised his eyebrows at you, you nodded at him to signal that you were okay and stepped through the threshold. It was eerily quiet and had it not been for the broken door, the silence would have been a dead giveaway that something wasn't right. As you tightened your grip on the homemade flamethrower, Dean gave you and Sam a sequence of carefully practiced hand signals, wordlessly telling you to split up. With Dean covering the lower level, that left the upstairs to you and Sam. Sam went up the wooden steps first, and you followed him guardedly, listening for any sign of movement. When he reached the top of the staircase, he halted suddenly, reaching out a hand to steady you when you almost stumbled. Sam pointed to the wall, where a bloody handprint dripped into a small pool on the dark wooden floor. The ruga-wolf had been feeding - and recently. Sam broke off to the left, motioning for you to go the other way. This was all you. You willed your heart rate to slow. You couldn't afford to lose focus now. You had to keep your guard up. Hunting this monster, in particular, was uncharted territory, and you honestly had no idea what you were up against, nor what to expect. You gingerly pushed your shoulder against a closet door down the hallway, easing it open. This was your least favorite part. A fight head-on you could almost always handle. It was the games of hide-and-seek you couldn't stand. The room you found yourself in was a small bathroom with nauseatingly yellow walls and a full-length mirror in the far corner. Nudging the shower curtain aside with the tip of your flamethrower, you sighed in relief. The bathroom was all clear. Movement caught your attention, and you looked into the mirror to see the creature charging you from behind. You gasped and turned around just in time for the monster to throw you into the mirror. Glass shards tinkled to the floor all around you as you swore loudly. With the wormy skin of a rugaru, and the fangs, claws, and glowing eyes of a werewolf, this creature was nothing less than terrifying. And unfortunately for you, your weapon was just out of your reach. You were screwed.

"Hey!" Sam stood in the doorway of the bathroom, holding up his flamethrower menacingly. In the ruga-wolf's moment of surprise, Sam aimed his weapon at the creature's head. When only a small hiss of air came from the gas tank, his eyes widened as he looked at you in panic. Before Sam had a chance to get his bearings again, the ruga-wolf charged at him, tackling him to the floor.

"Sam! Y/N!" you heard Dean yell from downstairs. Swearing loudly, you dragged yourself over to the cabinet under the sink, praying you would find something you could use.

"Y/N!" Sam wheezed as he struggled with the ruga-wolf.

"I know, I know!" You yanked open the cabinet door and spotted a can of air freshener in the back. Bingo. You popped off the top of the aerosol can. "Move!" Taking your cue, Sam shoved the creature off of himself, giving you a clear shot. You jammed your finger down on the spray nozzle and flicked your lighter on, the fine spray instantly catching fire. The ruga-wolf growled at you, rearing back for another attack. "Burn in hell, you son of a bitch." Before it could make another move, you directed the stream of flames towards it, and it caught fire, howling inhumanely. When the monster finally fell still, you tossed the can of air freshener to the side in relief. Boots pounded against the hardwood floors, and Dean appeared in the doorway of the bathroom.

"What the hell happened?" he demanded, picking up Sam's flamethrower from the floor. Sam gestured wildly at the device as he stood.

"It jammed," he explained. Dean frowned.

"So, how did you-" Wiping beads of sweat from his forehead, Sam bobbed his head at you. Pushing strands of hair from your face, you gave a small smile.

"I didn't," he answered.

You spent the entire ride back to the motel trying to gather your thoughts. Now that the hunt was over, your mind wouldn't stop going back to what Sam had said to his brother. That he still loved you. You knew Sam had ended things to protect you. He had told you that himself. But after almost a year of no contact with him at all, you had just assumed that he had moved on. The silence surrounding the three of you was almost painful. You and Sam sat on opposite sides of the room, neither of you daring to sneak a glance at the other, with Dean sitting at the table in the middle. After a few moments, he sighed, reached for his keys, and stood.

"You going somewhere?" Sam asked, sounding just as relieved as you felt.

"I'm gonna go for a drive. Maybe pick up some more beer." You quickly stood from your place on the motel bed.

"I'll come with you," you offered, headed for the door. Dean held out a hand, stopping you.

"No," he objected, "you, uh, you stay here. I'll be back later."

"But-" Dean closed the door behind him before you could follow, leaving you and Sam alone in the room. You knew without a doubt what was going on. This was Dean telling you and Sam to stop avoiding it and just have a conversation. Honestly, though, you weren't sure you were ready to have this conversation. But at this point, it didn't really seem as if you had much choice in the matter. Sighing, you turned around. "I guess we should just get it over with, huh?" Sam pressed his lips together in a line as he nodded.

"Yeah. Yeah, I guess so." You went and sat next to him on the other bed. After another moment of silence, you turned to look at him.

"Can I ask you something?" you asked quietly. Sam nodded, finally meeting your eyes.

"You can ask me anything, Y/N." You felt your heart begin to hammer in your chest as you licked your lips.

"What you said to Dean earlier," you began, "about still loving me. Do you?" Sam reached for your hand and laced his fingers through yours.

"I do," he admitted honestly. "But having you here, it..." Sam closed his eyes as he took a deep breath. "Y/N, everyone I've gotten close to in this life has died. Every single one." He met your eyes again, pain evident on his face. "I can't do it anymore. Especially if I would be losing you." You gripped his hand tightly.

"But you're not. I'm still here."

"I didn't want you to be. I told Dean not to call. I begged him. It's too late for me to get out of this life, but Y/N, you still have a chance. You were able to leave it all behind for almost a year, and then he calls you? Drags you back into it?" You shook your head softly.

"Don't blame your brother. I appreciate you giving me that chance to live my own life, Sam, but I never took it." Sam's eyes widened as he looked at you with shock.

"What?" His voice was barely above a whisper.

"That year we were apart? Sammy, I was hunting the whole time. I think the only reason Dean called is because he probably figured I never stopped." Sam opened and closed his mouth a few times before he finally spoke again.

"B-but you-" he stuttered.

"I knew the risk," you cut him off. "And I appreciate you trying to protect me from all this, but that's not your decision to make for me." Sam looked shaken.

"You've been hunting alone this whole time?" You gave him a somber nod.

"I have." Without any warning, he wrapped you in his long arms, burying his face in your hair. Surprised, you froze for a moment before responding to the embrace. When you inhaled, you realized just how much you had missed him. It sounded sad, but you had spent countless nights trying to remember every hint of his scent to commit it to memory. Coffee, soap, a little bit of aftershave.

"I'm sorry you had to spend all that time alone." You shook your head and tightened your arms around his torso.

"I'm not," you replied. "It brought me back to you, didn't it?" Sam angled his head downwards to kiss you gently on the lips, a gesture you didn't hesitate to return.

"But it was a whole year that didn't have to happen." Giving him a broad grin, you moved closer, your lips hovering mere centimeters from his.

"Then we'd better make up for lost time."

Thank you so much for reading, you guys! I’ve had this one up my sleeve for literally months now, but it needed a lot of tweaking before it was reading material.

If you liked this, please leave me feedback! I love hearing from you guys!