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Warning: Character death
DISCLAIMER: I do not own Supernatural
Sam's fingers thread through the air, trying to find anything to grip, anything to stop his descent. But they only reach nothingness.
He seems to fall forever, yet only a second at the same time.
The boy's mind races. Panic, worry, fear all fill up his mind.
Then in one
single
instant
he hits the bottom
and is gone.
The sixteen-year-old boy lets out a long, frustrated sigh as he stomps through the damp forest floor, careful not to slip on the slick, muddy ground. The full moon lights the leaf litter in front of him.
"Come on, Sam." His older brother, Dean, calls over his shoulder as he treks in front of his younger brother. "You know that you'd rather hang out with me than take that stupid test anyway."
"The SAT isn't stupid." Sam points out, "and I wouldn't call tracking down a werewolf as 'hanging out'."
"Well… isn't that test only for kids who are going to college anyway?"
"Well, yeah, bu-"
"So there's no real reason for you to take it. I know that you like tests, Sammy, but you don't have to take every single one."
College. The plan that Sam hasn't yet revealed to his family yet. Both Dean and their father assume that the youngest Winchester boy would follow in his brother's footsteps and stick with their small family to continue hunting the things that go bump in the night.
But instead, Sam has been planning a way out of the hunting life. He's been looking at colleges for a while now. In fact, it's been fun to browse through the various classes and student organizations that each school has to offer. He isn't quite sure what he wants to major in just yet, but all the endless possibilities that he can choose from… it seems like a dream.
A dream that seems finally within reach.
The only issue is the cost. Tuition alone is not cheap. Not to mention room and board, the meal plan, and textbooks. So, Sam has also been looking at scholarships, hoping that he can earn enough to get by.
Even through all of that, the most difficult part will be telling his family. Sam has decided to wait until he's gotten accepted, but they won't take the news well no matter how long he waits. Especially for his father. It will be one of the most difficult things Sam has ever had to tell him.
Right now is definitely not the right time, however. That's why the sixteen-year-old decides to change the subject away from school, "Why did dad have to send us out here by ourselves?"
"You know why, Sammy. He's busy, and we can handle one werewolf." The older Winchester son answers.
Sam opens his mouth to respond when a low growl erupts from nearby.
Immediately, the brothers pull out their shotguns, loaded with silver bullets. A figure leaps out from the forest brush and barrels toward Dean. The youngest brother takes aim at the werewolf as his brother holds it off with the side of his gun against the werewolf's throat.
Just as Sam's finger squeezes the trigger, a large mass slams into his back, causing the bullet to miss its mark. The boy spins around to come face-to-face with a second, much larger werewolf.
Suddenly the large monster grips the boy's shoulder and throws him a good thirty feet. Sam's shotgun flies from his grip just before his shoulder blade connects painfully with the rocky terrain.
"Sam!" the older brother calls between grunts as he continues to fight off the smaller werewolf.
The large werewolf advances toward Sam, stopping at the discarded shotgun and snaps it in two. Its face fills with a smug, toothy grin.
"Dean?!" the boy calls out to his brother. But the older Winchester either doesn't hear or is unable to answer.
Sam clamors to his feet and does the only thing he can think to do: he runs.
At first, the only sounds filling Sam's ears is the sound of his quick, panicked breathing, but soon the sounds of the werewolf crashing through the dense forest replace it.
The young hunter zig-zags through the trees, desperate to lose the monster chasing him. The boy skids to a halt when silence fills the forest around him. Has the werewolf stopped chasing him?
Sam turns around and his eyes scan the dense brush. He takes cautious steps backward in case the werewolf suddenly appears again.
A low growl is heard right before the large werewolf lunges seemingly out of nowhere.
The boy lets out a shocked gasp. and leaps backward. His foot meets a steep drop in elevation, and he begins falling down a seventy-foot-high cliff.
Dean flings the werewolf carcass off himself. He stands and looks around for any sign of his baby brother.
"Sam? Sammy?" he calls out.
Soon he finds Sam's broken shotgun, and that's when panic begins to set it.
"Sam!" he shouts louder.
The twenty-year-old hunter begins searching through the wooded area, calling for his brother every few seconds. He gets no answer.
Then his phone rings. Looking at the screen, Dean can see that his father is calling. Reluctantly, he answers.
"Dean, how's the hunt going?" John greets.
The young man hesitates, then answers in a small voice, "There were two werewolves, dad. One chased Sammy. I don't know where he is."
"What do you mean you don't know where he is?" his father demands, anger peppering his voice.
"The werewolf broke his gun, so Sammy ran." Dean tries to explain, his voice breaking.
John, hearing how scared his oldest is, gets a hold of his temper. "I'm on my way. We'll find him, Dean. Sammy will be alright." The man is already racing out the door towards his car.
The rising sun helps immensely as the two oldest Winchester men search through the wooded area where Sam went missing. Dean is following the path of trampled grass leading through the trees when he hears a gunshot far in the distance.
"Dad?! Sam?!" he shouts with worry.
Then his phone rings. "Dad. Was that gunshot you?" Dean answers it.
"Yes, Dean. I found the second werewolf. It must have been a pureblood since it was still transformed."
"What about Sam?"
John sighs deeply. "No sign of him. Do you have any luck?"
"Maybe. I'm not sure yet. Call me when you find him." The oldest Winchester brother hangs up and continues searching.
Not too far ahead, Dean reaches the plateau of a cliff. He lingers along the flat edge and is about to turn back when the color blue, the same color of the shirt that Sam had been wearing that day, catches his attention at the bottom of the overhang.
Dean takes a closer look at the bottom of the chasm, then his heart suddenly jumps into his throat at the same time that his stomach seems to drop.
Laying deathly still at the base of the steep decline is his baby brother.
"Sammy? Answer me!" Dean yells.
There's no answer from the motionless form.
The older brother frantically looks around for a quick way down the cliff, but the only safe way seems to be around. He pushes branches and bushes out of his way as he desperately races toward Sam. When he finally makes the descent down, he sprints toward his little brother but stops dead in his tracks.
Sam's eyes are open, glazed and unseeing. His legs are splayed out in an unnatural way, and his arms are spread out at his sides as if they were angel wings. A trail of blood seeps from each of Sam's ears.
Dean knows immediately upon seeing him that Sam is dead.
"No…" Dean whispers, rushing forward and dropping to his knees.
His hands hover over his brother's face for a moment. Then the twenty-year-old wraps his arms around the body of his brother and gently lifts him onto his lap. As Dean cradles Sam's head in his hand, he can feel the sticky blood that coats Sam's hair.
A sob bursts out of Dean. He never cries, but holding Sammy in his arms like that, he really can't help it.
"I'm so sorry, Sammy. So, so sorry." he weeps.
Sam's skin is far too cold, and it's all Dean can think about as he rubs his thumb gently over his baby brother's cheek.
Just then, the older hunter's phone begins to ring. It's his father, who must be checking in on the search. Dean takes a deep, shaking breath, and after looking at his brother's face one more time, he answers the call.
This will be the most difficult things Dean has ever had to tell his father, but he has no choice.