"Sam! C'mon man, answer me! Sam!"

Dean kept his fingers clamped tightly around the hilt of his gun, both him and the weapon stiff with cold. His breath came out in short puffs that made little clouds before fading away. His eyes were wide as he frantically scanned the trees for any sign of his brother.

In the distance he heard something break, then a long howl that sent shudders down his spine. But what made Dean sprint through the trees, leaping over falling branches and stones, and running through the brush...

...was the scream.

Sam carefully maneuvered through the brush of fallen leaves and branches that made soft crunches beneath his boots.

The cold prickled at the skin of his face and hands, and he swallowed hard.

He froze, adrenaline racing through his veins and his heart speeding up, as twigs and branches snapped loudly in the black of the forest. Sam didn't even dare to shift, just minutey turned his head to try at keep the thing in his sights.

The part of the forest he stood in was so thick the moon was obscured by the trees, so it had the advantage over him.

A loud keen filled his ears, and a force slammed into his side like a brick wall. Before his mind could even register he'd been hit, searing pain dug into his left forarm, which was the arm he instictually thrown to to catch himself.

He cried out before grabbing for his gun with his other hand. With a jolt of fear he grasped at empty air. The gun must've been thrown on impact. The creature's jaw slacked, just a little, and Sam catavaulted back, groaning at the scrape of his bleeding would against the hot teeth of his attacker.

Sam got to his feet and took off running, the hot blood distracting on his arm. He didn't know where he was going, or even the direction. Sam just kept flying through the trees, leaping over objects and weaving through the trunks.

Light thumps followed him, growing louder and closer, and then knives seemed to rake down his right shoulder to his right hip. His face contorted in pain and he cried out just as a heavy force slammed him belly first onto the forest floor.

Dean skidded to a halt, chest burning, and throat aching. His gun seemed to jerk up on it's own accord, and he unconsiously drew his other hand up to cup the bottom of the hilt of the gun in his palm with practiced efficiantcy.

He fired two shots, and the massive beast roared as it twisted back to avoid more. Sam gasped, and dragged himself away from the thing.

Dean tightened his grip on his Glock and shot again and again until the lump of dirty grey fur didn't move. He breathed a sigh of relief, his eyes closing for a rief second, before the next important things became clear.

"Sam!"

Dean laid Sam on the bed, and Sam arched as the fabric of the comforter rubbed against the still bleeding wound carved in his back.

He gasped in pain and writhed, a move his did not consiously control. Dean tore the first aid kit of of his bag and yanked it open, his eyes scanning the contents of what he needed before it was fully open.

His hand reached and grabbed bandages and thread with the needle stuck in it.

There are no pain meds with him. He knows that. But it doesn't make him do anything short of a desperate search for them. A bottle of pills, a syringe and drugs, hell, alcohol; but there was none.

Dean jogged over to the other bed and flipped Sam over onto his stomach, who groaned. Sam lay panting from the pain, the overwhelming feel of it all making him nauseous.

Dean cut Sam's shirt off of him, trying to spare Sam as much pain as possible, while Sam didn't even care that it was oe of his favorite shirts.

Dean sighed, and he leaned over so his gaze could flicker to Sam's. "I'm going to start stitching, 'kay?" Sam looked up at him through glazed eyes. And as much as he wanted to shake his head no and just lay there, he knew he had to get sewn up so Dean could staunch the bleeding.

He gave a subtle nod of his head. Dean tok a breath and started threading the needle through the skin. Sam grimaced, bowing his head to bury it in the ruffled comforter.

Dean sewed up all three claws wounds before bandaging them and gingerly moving Sam so he was laying back against the pillows. As soon as Dea moved to Sam's bloody arm, did Sam realize what happened.

Quick as a snake, Sam's hand grabbed Dean's wrist. Dean looked at Sam in confusion. Sam stared at Dean, a horrified expression on his face. His eyes were slowly filling with tears. Sam's grip on Dean wrist suddenly slackened. Sam looked down at his arm.

"It bit me," he whispered.

Dean stilled, heart beating loudly as he looked at the bloody bite. Each tooth had sunk in. Deep.

Sam exhaled shakily, and Dean snapped out of his shock-shelled state, unlike his little brother. He snatched bandages and wrapped it up in lots of thick white cloth.

Dean finally sat back on his heels near the foot of the bed, looking at his brother. Sam just stayed stilled, eyes glazed as he seemed to stare at a spot two inches from his face, but Dean knew he was just trying to work through it.

Suddenly, Sam turned his head to look at Dean intently. It was a quick action that looked almost painful.

"Kill me."

Two words. They weren't spoken in a soft, scared voice that would have gone along pretty well with the situation, no. Sam said them forcefully, the hint of a plea hidden underneath the impact those words were sure to bring.

Dean's gaze immediately hardened. "No, Sam," he said with as much force as he could muster. Sam's head slowly tilted to the side. "You have to, Dean. Before I end up killing people."

It was a simple truth, a fact both parties knew. Dean shook his head. "No," he said again, the volume of tone growing closer to yelling. Sam sat up. "Dean," he said, voice low and dangerous. "I will end up killing someone, and that will be on me," he growled.

Dean opened his mouth to speak, but Sam cut him off. "No! You swore you'd do it if I ever turned into something I'm not. I don't want to be this!" He ducked his head away before whimpering, "You promised."

Dean exhaled shakily an rubbed a hand over his face. "I know. I know, Sam. But you're not evil. Not now, not ever. We'll adapt to this. We'll fix it, just like we always do. You need to trust me."

Sam looked up, blinking away the wetness in his eyes and btitng the corner of his bottom lip, an action that made him look more vulnerable and several years younger than he was.

He took a shuddering breath.

"I do."