Disclaimer: Hahahahahaha, oh, if only, if only...

This story is COMPLETELY AU. It's actually based off a manga I read recently. Sam and Dean are not related. This is NOT wincest.

Mkay, so I'm going to go a little more into Sam's training before moving it along the larger storyline :)

Dean is 20, Sam is 14

Enjoy chapter ten!

The physical training... the training that dealt with weapons, fighting, and defending... was a lot more difficult for Sam than the educational training. While he could almost instantaneously learn the finer points of Wendigo lore and how to kill one, he was having a lot of trouble just holding a knife.

Dean figured that Sam probably hadn't done much with his body outside of what the vampires wanted him to do, which would explain why Sam was awkward when it came to positioning his body correctly. When fighting, you need absolute control of your body and it was obvious that Sam would need a lot of training before he had even a semblance of that control.

Dean got a message from the Association that afternoon about his next assignment. It was in a small town in northern Virginia; only about an eight hour drive from where they were.

Dean rolled his eyes as he hung up the phone. For once, I miss the times where there were weeks between assignments.

To Sam's disappointment, they had to pack up and leave that evening. However, while Dean did most of the packing, Sam insisted on practicing his stance and the few simple moves Dean had taught him with the knife.

It was interesting to Dean to watch Sam practice. While Hunter children had to practice as well, their natural sense of balance and control meant mastery of most fighting skills came quickly. When they practice, they usually focused making the styles and techniques of fighting instinctual.

But Sam, being merely a Common, took a different approach to practicing. First, he meticulously made sure his stance was exactly right. Then he slowly went through the moves Dean had demonstrated for him, making sure they were exactly right. He did this over and over again, all with the same slow and exact motions. Dean purposely took a while to pack, giving Sam more time to practice.

"It's time to go, Sam," Dean said as he threw the packs over his shoulder. "I want to get to the impala before the sun sets."

Sam sighed and reluctantly nodded. He ran over to Dean's side and said, "Here," offering Dean his knife back.

Dean took the knife with a smile and slid it into it's sheath, which was attached to his right thigh.

They started back, making sure to take the same path they took in. Dean looked over at Sam and could see his eyes flickering at the knife. The kid really wanted to train. "You can practice some more once we reach Alexandria, okay?"

Sam looked at Dean curiously. "Where's that?"

"It's in Virginia, near the capital."

Sam stared at him blankly.

"It's about an eight hour drive from here. Mind you, you're probably going to want to sleep. You've had a pretty active day and you don't want to push yourself."

Sam shook his head. "I need to learn. Need to push myself."

Dean rolled his eyes. "This is heavy stuff we're getting into, Sam. Hunting is meant for Hunters, and you're a Common. If you push yourself, you could end up permanently injuring yourself. Understand?"

Sam wrapped his arms around himself. "I guess," he mumbled. "Just don' wanna screw this up."

Dean bit his lip. He had no response for that, but it made his insides churn. It was incredible how much Sam has been able to learn in such a short time. Sam should be proud of how much he's been able to accomplish.

Dean placed a hand on Sam's head and ruffled his hair playfully. "You'll do fine, Sam."

Sam gave Dean a skeptical smile and didn't say anything.

Sam tied eagle-spread to a rancid bed, wearing nothing but an old pair of boxers. Three sets of teeth had themselves buried in this shoulder, his side, and his thigh. The slow sucking and shifting of teeth were agony for Sam, but he managed to only let out a small whimper, otherwise laying prone for the vampire's use.

When one finished, it was soon replaced by another vampire. Sam let out another whimper as new teeth ripped into the old wound, but bit his lip to prevent any other traitorous noises.

Sam didn't know the names of Kal's new pack mates. Isabelle, who was currently at his shoulder, was the only survivor of the last werewolf attack. Besides her, Sam was pretty sure there were seven new recruits.

And their initiation was always to drink from Kal's 'lamb'.

Sam was starting to get lightheaded, a migraine beginning to form. His body was beginning to trembling with the loss of blood compounding the pain radiating from the currently occupied bites.

Sam's attention was directed to the sound of heavy boots walking around him. He looked toward the sound with teary, unfocused eyes and found Kal standing over him. He looked at Sam with a smile. Sam tried to smile back, but he couldn't get his muscles to cooperate.

Another vampire appeared next to Kal and whispered something in his ear. He nodded his head and said something to the others. Suddenly, all three sets of teeth were ripped out. Sam gasped and trembled in relief.

The vampire standing next to Kal lifted an iron bar, one end of it glowing with orange heat. Sam's breathing hitched at the sight, but he knew it was for his own good. It would stop the bleeding and cauterize the wounds.

It still didn't keep Sam from screaming as the burning metal was pressed against his leg.

Later, after his wounds were all closed and they untied him, Sam lay on the bed in fetal position, trembling uncontrollably. His body practically radiated pain, but Sam took comfort in the pain. There was almost enough for him to bury himself in it and flee from this plane.

He heard Kal say, "Get him ready to go," and he was roughly grabbed by the arms and dragged off the bed and across the floor. Sam was yanked out of his temporary solace and his wounds pounded with new pain.

Then he was picked up and dumped into his crate. The wooden box was only four by four by four feet, meaning the vampires had to literally cram Sam in before closing the lid and locking it, leaving Sam in completely darkness.

Sam tried not to hyperventilate. But he couldn't help it; he always panicked when they put him in this box, no matter how many times they did it.

He hoped that they weren't going far. If Sam had any 'accidents' while he was in his box, or if he was asleep upon arrival, the consequences were always severe.

He hoped they weren't going far.

Sam woke up with a quick intake of breath, but nothing more. He momentarily panicked at the feeling of a moving vehicle, but he quickly remembered where he was and instantly calmed down again.

He was glad he didn't wake up with anything more than a breath. Last thing he wanted was to bother Dean with another one of his nightmares.

Sam rarely awoke from nightmares with screams of fear or panic, but when he did, Dean was always there to comfort him until he calmed down. While Sam absolutely loved it when Dean held him like that, he didn't want to wear out his welcome by needing that sort of comfort from the Hunter too often.

Sam's arms were trembling, but he just wrapped them tightly around his body to try and still them.

It was dark out. Dead of night. Sam was familiar with the different stages of night. He also had excellent night vision, being able to see details in the dimmest of light.

He glanced over at Dean, who seemed mostly focused on driving. His body was relaxed, but his eyes were wide and aware. He didn't seem tired or sleepy at all.

Sam yawned and curled up against the door, trying to fall asleep again. But his memories were fresh on his mind and they kept him from finding any semblance of calm; at least, not enough calm to get him to fall asleep again.

He tried to focus on what he had learned today, mentally going over the physical motions of the moves and techniques Dean showed him. He hoped it would push his memories away, down and out of sight. But Kal and the others remained stubbornly at the surface, his body jerking to phantom pains.

He curled up tighter on himself, trying to get his body under control. Dean had emphasized a need to control his body. If he couldn't control his body at a time like this, how was he supposed to have control during a hunt?

Glancing over at Dean longingly, he wished he could just curl up against the Hunter, envelop himself in that feeling of safe and let the memories melt away. But he couldn't. He had to learn self-control and he had to be able to do it without Dean. That's why it was called self-control...

Kal backhanded him, a spray of blood and spit hitting the adjacent wall.

Sam's head jerked in real life, banging against the window. He quickly grasped his head tightly, trying to prevent it from moving. I am in control, I am in control, I am in control...

"Are you okay?"

Sam flinched a little at the question before quickly nodding. "'M Fine."

Dean glanced over worryingly at Sam. For the last several minutes, Dean could hear Sam beginning to hyperventilate and his heart rate accelerate. When he heard the thunk of Sam hitting his head on the window, he knew something was wrong. Sam's denial only increased Dean's worries.

Dean pulled the impala over to the side of the road, grateful that it was the middle of the night. They were on the freeway, but because of the time, traffic was very sparse.

He turned the ignition off and placed a hand on Sam's shoulder. "Sam, what's wrong? And don't lie to me and say 'nothing'. You're heart is practically pumping itself to death and your shaking badly."

An involuntary whimper came out of Sam. Why couldn't he control himself? Why was he like this? Why can't he just be okay?

And, dammit, why is he crying?

Sam removed his hands from his head to press his palms to his eyes. "I... I jus' can'..."

Dean gave Sam's shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "Take deep breaths, Sam. Slow your breathing down."

Sam made a conscious effort to take one long breath, but his breathing returned to hyperventilation almost immediately.

"That's it..." Dean said, keeping his voice steady and calm. "Take your time. Just take deep breathes."

"I.. I can't..."

"Shh..." Dean wrapped his arms around Sam, tucking him against his side. "Don't talk. Just breath."

Sam's body seemed to immediately calm as Dean pulled him closer. He tried again to take a deep breath and was a little more successful this time. It took some effort, but his breathing gradually slowed down to a normal pace. His headache started to ease and he wasn't feeling so lightheaded.

Dean was glad that Sam was calming down, but the kid was still shaking up a storm. He rubbed his hand up and down Sam's arm comfortingly. "You wanna talk about it?"

Sam gulped. He didn't want to admit his weaknesses to Dean. He didn't want Dean to know the things that had been done to him. He knew that Dean could probably ascertain that information just from seeing his scars, but Sam was just too ashamed to even admit to the past.

He pulled his legs to his chest and curled up against Dean, resting his head just under Dean's chin. He closed his eyes and breathed in the comforting scent. "No... I don' wanna talk about it..."

Dean automatically rested his chin on the top of Sam's head, his other arm coming around to hold Sam protectively. "You sure?"

Sam gave a slight nod. "'M sure."

They arrived in Alexandria early the next morning. As they approached the area, Dean could sense the supernatural presence and quickly determined that it was a restless spirit. Not that Dean was surprised. A large portion of supernatural incidents were spirits, probably because they are the least likely among supernatural entities to care about discretion.

While Dean was out and about researching the circumstances and nature of the spirit, Sam stayed secure in a motel room. Dean left him with a book of children's stories he had bought at a used book store and the task of reading one of the stories and being able to retell the story to Dean when he got back.

It took Sam about an hour to finish the assigned story. It was about a beautiful statue who befriended a bird. The statue could see far and wide, and when he saw people who were suffering, he'd ask the bird to peel some gold off of him or to remove a jewel to help the suffering people. After the statue was stripped of it's beauty, his friend, the bird, died and left him alone.

Sam frowned as he finished the story. He didn't like it. It left a bad feeling in his gut. After the statue did nothing but try and help people, the only thing he had left was taken away from him. That just seemed unfair.

Shaking his head, he closed the book and pushed it aside. He picked up the knife Dean had left and took up the proper stance in the middle of the room. Then he began to slowly go through the motions Dean had demonstrated to him the day before. As he repeated the moves, he increased his speed, gaining more confidence with each repetition.

Later, he sat back down, sweating and exhausted. However, he had a huge smile on his face. If he kept up this pace, he was sure he could be hunting by Dean's side in no time.

Sam looked down at the knife, admiring the beauty of it. He couldn't believe his luck. Who would have thought that a Hunter would have not only saved him from Kal, but taken him in and train him? Not only that, but Dean seemed to genuinely want Sam by his side.

Tears dripped on the silver blade, marring the reflection, but Sam didn't notice. He curled up around the knife as he sobbed his heart out. He didn't know why he was crying. All he could think about was how grateful and lucky he was, so why was he crying?

It passed quickly. Within minutes, Sam was wiping the residue tears off his face and off the knife. Well, that was odd... he thought.

Not bothering to try and understand his sudden outburst, he took a deep breath, stood up again, and continued to practice.

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