Being the little brother was never easy. Looking up to your older sibling only to receive no trust in return. Lately, it seemed as if the whole world was up against him, while Hell tried to manipulate them onto their side. It was nothing short of overbearing, and though his older brother cared much for him, the lack of trust certainly didn't improve anything. In fact, everything seemed to gradually become worse. People only saw the younger brother as a freak; a demon blood-drinking monster who couldn't make decisions for himself.

Life for Sam Winchester just wasn't easy. Sure, he enjoyed saving people during hunting cases. The amount of lives Sam and his brother had already saved was uncountably high. Yet, the bad seemed to outnumber the good. He had lost practically everything dear to him. His girlfriend, his parents, his friends… It was at the point where he was afraid to love someone in fear that they would be lost. Dean seemed to direct most, if not all of his attention to Castiel. Ruby turned out to be a deceitful liar. Bobby… He definitely wasn't in any condition to hunt anymore.

Now, it was just Sam, alone in a desolate… swamp?

It took a moment for to Sam to gather his bearings. The younger Winchester couldn't exactly recall where he was prior to this situation, now that he thought of it. Just dark, imperceptible memories that seemed to fade away the more he took in his surroundings.

Trudging through the murky, cold water, the male got a feeling that something atrocious had taken place in the area. Something… Apocalyptic. Scattered around him were some odd type of shells; much similar to that of bombs. The whole feeling that everything brought gave him a sense of dread. What happened here? Not a single person in sight; not even a demon or a ghost lingering nearby. Usually there was someone, something, even.

…Nothing. No one.

It was silent, save for the muted howling of the wind which brought with it a scattered rain of ash. What could have caused this? After looking around and examining his surroundings, he saw nothing but murky water, smoke, ashes… The whole place was practically dead.

Then, a cry.

"HELP, OH GOD… HELP ME!"

An agonizing scream, distant at first, growing in a rapid pace. It sobbed, howled, bellowed.

Someone was alive out there! It wasn't too late to help someone, to set things at least a little right! Maybe they would have some information about what had happened! He could only hope that none of this was either his or Lucifer's fault.

Facing the direction of the cry for help, Sam took off. This would be just as any hunting trip. Nothing out of the ordinary, just hunting. Sam had done this on his own before. He may have been the little brother, but he could handle things just as well as Dean, if not better. Or… So he hoped.

Heart racing, pace slowing, the man's running came to a halt. The voice, still sobbing, was noticeably louder. He had to be close, he wasn't going to let anyone get killed, he swore to himself. As much as he dreaded his job, he had to do it. Family business, right?

Sam checked for his weaponry. Not a single gun, knife, or lighter. Now, of all times, he had to lose his weapons. Of course.

Looking around for a makeshift weapon, Sam managed to scavenge a metal construction pipe that lied upon the decaying ground. He held it firmly in his hands, despite being uncertain if the pipe would suffice.

Sam then saw what he was up against, and oh, was it a sight to behold.

A figure, presumably an adult male, stood there in the open. His hands were horridly disfigured into something of claws; their bony indexes reaching out into slender talons. The creature's stomach was gruesomely ripped open as fresh blood seeped out of it, ribcages deformed into sharp teeth. Entrails were visible, exposed into fresh air with a vivid crimson hue to them as they pulsated rhythmically in a sort of horrifying display. Atop the poor victim's head was a large parasite-type creature that quivered ever so slightly as it dug deep into the shoulders of the victim. Muffled, gurgling sobs came from underneath the monstrous parasite's clutches as it turned to face towards Sam.

…That was a person. Under that horrendous, grotesque distortion of blood and parasites, there was a person; a human being, and they were screeching in agony for help.

Sam didn't know what to say. There were no possible words to even begin describing what he was seeing. He was shocked, appalled, even; at a complete loss for words. Yet, driven by the fact that this… this thing was still, in fact, human.

"Sir, I… hold still, I can help you!"

Words stifled out of his mouth before he could even imagine what to do. Eyes glanced back to the lead pipe that he still held in his hand. He was panicking; even after seeing everything that he had witnessed throughout being a hunter. This sight just topped all, a well-balanced mixture between horrendous and forlorn.

Mere seconds after the monstrosity had turned towards the man, it began to walk. Sauntering along in a lifeless stupor, it shakily brought up its arms before it. Elongated indexes rose from previously clenched fists. A harrowing howl escaped its throat as its pace picked up, staggering towards the hunter.

Stay calm, Sam. You've got this. You've hunted all kinds of things before. You've pulled demons right out of people. You've saved hundreds, maybe even thousands of lives; you can handle saving this one person.

The younger Winchester cautiously approached the victim as it continued to sob and flail about. Yet, as he approached the other, it also continued towards him. It began running towards the man. The biggest issue was that Sam mistook this beasts's actions for reaching for help.

His attitude quickly changed when it placed sharp talons onto both of his shoulders, digging into his flesh. He let out an exclamation of pain and shock as razor-sharp fingernails were driven into him. Already, the man was becoming overwhelmed! Everything was happening so unbearably instantaneous. Before he even had time to ponder, Sam swung the rusted, lead pipe into the fleshy body of the parasite. The creature began to falter as it was pushed back, swinging side to side. Even so, after no less than five seconds, it got back on its feet, more aggressive than beforehand. It bolted towards the one who had attacked it, not deterred by a thing in the world.

In a state of shock, the male took another swing at the parasitic form. After another swift strike in the head, the inhuman form toppled onto the ground. High screeching turned to low, unintelligible gurgles as blood seeped from underneath the formation on its head. A mixture between scarlet red and mustard yellow was dripping from the creature as it finally ceased movement.

For a moment, all Sam could do was stare. Stare at the creature that he had just put out of its misery. He was completely bewildered; what was that thing? Not even in the earlier days of hunting had he seen anything like this. It bore no resemblance to what he had witnessed when flipping through the pages of his father's journal. Furthermore, its behavior almost reminded him of someone infected with the Croatoan virus, although, he had never seen a crustacean-like creature attached to the victim's head like that… It was indescribably perturbing.

He had questions. So many questions; so little answers. Seeing as he was, in fact, Sam Winchester, however, he knew how to find answers. Investigate, research, and search for information. Therefore, this was what he did. The brother took steps, hiking through the rubble and destruction. The ground trembled ever so slightly beneath him as he dragged himself to higher grounds. In spite of the fact that he thought he was making the journey alone, there seemed to be… an inhuman presence around him. Something definitely wasn't right, and he felt as if the worst was yet to come.

Noises were heard behind him as he walked, makeshift weapon still in hand. More noises similar to what were heard earlier. Whimpers, sobs, howls; all simultaneously chiming in harmony. A grim chorus full of heavyhearted husks, singing a requiem of desolation. The members of the choir were restless, hostile, and wretched. They mourned, yet hungered for bloodshed. It was strange, how their erratic behavior almost reminded him of his own behavior in the past. He could not help but feel sorry for the creatures, whatever they happened to be.

You have to keep going, Sam. Don't let this get to your head.

The words silently flew through his mind like a shower of bullets. It was all very true; he had to keep going. What was important was that he survived. Reality or a dream, he was not sure, but he got the sneaking suspicion that survival was more than important: It was mandatory.

Sounds crept up behind the man; shuffling, running, growling, gurgling… They were drawing closer by the second. He could hear their voices behind them, snarling and bawling. As the alien creatures approached him, Sam knew that he had to fight. This time, there was no running. There was no avoiding, or evading, or hiding.

He was going to do whatever necessary to survive this nightmare.