This is the first part in the series 'To Everything' There will be like six parts (as of now) and it will be about Sam turning. So, yeah.

Still don't own Supernatural. Not suing would be appreciated. I have no money, I promise, so please just let me use the brilliant characters.

Thanks for reading and reviewing.

-/\-SN-/\-

The forest was quiet around them. That was never good. Sam's hand was slick with sweat as he gripped the gun, his nerves were tight. Night was falling fast and the odds were falling away from the Winchester's favor. With the darkness, came cooler temperatures. Dean pulled his jacket tighter around himself.

They had lost the trail of the Ibex, sort of a cross between a yeti and a turned werewolf; something far too fast and agile for its own good. Sam reached up and touched the fairly deep gash across his shoulder and down his arm. Dean knew Sam got hit, but he didn't know how bad. Sam wasn't venturing anything. The wound throbbed he could feel blood soak his shirt further down his chest.

Dean glanced over at Sam. "Come back tomorrow or keep going?" His voice was low.

"It has to be tonight." He whispered back.

"Sam."

He sighed to cover the quick flash of pain. "You know that once it has a taste of blood, it makes tracking easier."

"Yeah." Dean hadn't forgotten, he just hoped Sam had. "You okay?"

Sam nodded. "Sure."

Dean didn't miss Sam as he stumbled over something and fell to his knees. He didn't instantly get up or have some snide remark about the ground being out to get him or the sudden increase of gravity. That was what caught Dean's attention.

"Sam."

He took a slow breath. "Got a plan. In that clearing, leave me as bait, shoot when you see it." He spoke still looking at the ground.

Dean hated to agree, but other than continuing to traipse through the forest in the dark and the cold and hope they found the Ibex before it found them. Again. He pulled the gun from its holster and glanced over at his younger brother. Sam slowly pushed himself to his feet.

"It's a shit plan." Dean said. "But it's the only one we got."

"Thanks." He managed a smile.

They walked into a nearby clearing. Dean met Sam's eyes for a moment before he ducked behind a thick tree. Sam desperately wanted to sit down, but he refused to let his defenses down any more than they already were. Something rustled in the woods behind him and he turned.

"Shit!" Dean swore from behind him.

Sam turned and saw the Ibex. It had Dean's arm in its amazingly strong grip. There was no way Sam could get a clear shot, not with the way both of them were struggling.

Like a switch had been thrown, the pain across Sam's chest faded to nearly nothing and the fatigue cleared from his mind. It was like everything else slowed down and he felt invincible. He raised his gun, took only a second to aim and fired. A cocky smile spread across his face and his eyes were dark with power and control.

Dean heard the bullet flash past his head, mere centimeters from ending up in his brain. They all knew that you only fired when the shot was clear, or when there were no other options. At the point that the shot was fired, there were still options and there was no way the shot could have been clear.

As soon as Sam's finger tightened around the trigger, the pain and blurred fatigue came rushing back and brought him to his knees. He coughed, tasted blood and spit.

The Ibex released Dean and dropped to the ground, dead before it hit. Dean glanced back at Sam as he covered the corpse in salt and lit it on fire. Once he was sure that it was burning and the woods around were still damp enough from the recent rain, he went to his brother.

Sam's fingers were gripped around handfuls of wet leaves. He shook from cold and pain. Blood soaked and dripped from his shirt. His breath was controlled and hesitant. None of that reassured Dean that his brother was as fine as he kept claiming.

"Ready to go?" Dean carefully eased Sam to his feet.

As Dean guided Sam back towards the car, he couldn't help but think about how close that shot was. If Dean had moved a fraction of an inch, that bullet would have been in his brain and he would have been dead. He wouldn't have even risked that shot, so he had no idea how Sam did. His kid brother had always been a little more hesitant to fire, wanted to make sure that nothing could go wrong after that trigger was pulled.

Dean eased a half-conscious Sam into the front seat and jogged around to the driver's side. Sam leaned heavily against the window. He shivered as Dean cranked the heat and pulled back onto the road.

The drive back to the motel was silent. Sam was focused on staying awake and Dean was focused on making sure Sam was going to be all right. Sam wouldn't allow any help to the room and was more than grateful to finally collapse onto his bed. He didn't even care that the movement sent pain shooting through him.

Dean pulled out the first aid kit as Sam sat up and pulled off his shirt. Sam sucked in breath as the wound was cleaned, a few stitches at the deeper parts and then bandaged. He turned down the offer for a hit of whisky but didn't turn down the pills and water Dean offered.

"You want first shower?"

Sam nodded and pushed himself to his feet. He staggered a little as he made his way into the bathroom. He let the warm water pour over him and kept his shoulder out of the stream. He rinsed the dirt and blood from his weary and aching body. He stepped from the shower and pulled on his jeans again. As he stepped out of the bathroom, he only met Dean's eyes for a moment.

As soon as the shower started, Sam traded his jeans for a pair of sweatpants and a tee shirt. He eased onto the bed and let himself relax into the mattress and blankets. He was more asleep than not when Dean emerged from the bathroom. He stepped out of his jeans and sat on the edge of his bed. Sam opened his eyes and looked over.

Dean took a slow breath. "That was some shot."

He didn't entirely remember the end of the hunt. He sat up slowly and held his arm close to his chest. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." Dean met Sam's weary and slightly drugged gaze. "It was pretty close."

Sam glanced away. Dean had been going over what happened in the clearing ever since he had loaded Sam into the car. He didn't know many hunters that would take a shot like that, hell, he wasn't even entirely sure if he could name one.

"Didn't think it'd be a very clear shot." Dean wasn't accusing Sam of anything, he just wanted to figure it out.

Sam shook his head, his voice low. "It wasn't."

"Why'd you take it?"

He paused, felt something like cold fear in his chest and didn't know why. "I knew I could make it."

"Can't say I don't appreciate it." Dean glanced over at the already dark bruise around his arm. "Just isn't the type of shot you'd normally take."

Sam looked up almost surprised. "I know." There was a brief flash of fear in his eyes.

Dean watched his brother carefully and tried to figure everything else out. "Get some sleep."

He nodded and stretched out on the bed. Dean waited until he was sure Sam was asleep before he stepped out of the room. He stood next to the door and pulled out his phone. He dialed the familiar number.

"What sort of trouble are you in now?" Bobby's version of hello.

Dean smiled a little. "Not too much."

"Yeah, you boys always call a few minutes off of midnight to tell me everything's just great." He paused. "Sam okay?"

He glanced back in the room. "Think so."

"Well, start at the beginning, cause I don't fee like guessing much tonight." He sighed.

Dean heard the cap of a bottle being popped off. "We were after an Ibex, got the bastard, but not before it caught Sam and nearly broke my arm. We're fine, but."

Bobby noticed the hesitation. "What's on your mind, boy?"

"Sam took a shot, killed it, but I wouldn't have taken it and don't know anyone that would have either. The bullet was honest to god centimeters from my head and I was fighting that thing to get free."

He drew in a slow breath. "That close, huh?"

"Heard it as it passed. Sam didn't hesitate, Bobby, didn't take more than a handful of seconds to aim."

"Shook you up a bit."

Dean leaned against the wall. "Yeah."

"What'd Sam say?"

"Said he knew he'd make the shot, but agreed with me that a shot that close wasn't something he did." Dean was suddenly tired. "What do you make of it?"

Bobby took a few minutes before he answered. "I'm sure he saw something you didn't, an opportunity. He's different than he was."

"But I always know who he is, Bobby, and I didn't for that moment." Dean muttered.

"Christ, you boys never make it easy." He sighed.

Dean ran a hand over his face. "Gonna get some sleep. Talk to you later."

"Sure."

He ended the call and slipped back into the room. Within a few minutes, Dean was stretched out and half asleep.