Whew! What a whirlwind summer! Alrighty then, here's the next installment…

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Chapter 10- The Battle Part Two

"Fucking HELL! Sammy, it's right behind you!"

"Dean! There's two of them, over there!"

"Behind the bush, dude! Cover me!"

Gunshots blasted through dense forest, scattering leaves and startling the silence with abusive noise.

"Where the hell is Dad?"

"He said split up, remember, genius?" Dean yelled at his brother, ducking as the werewolf in front of him heaved half a tree at his head.

"Do you think he's in trouble?" Sam shouted over his shoulder while he shot at a glimpse of furry tail.

"I think we're about to become side dishes if you don't SHUT UP AND FIGHT!"

Dean shot the werewolf through the forehead first chance he got. "Nice, if I may say so myself," he smirked to himself. His grin was quickly replaced by a mask of horror as he caught sight of his brother.

"SAMMY!" Dean darted over to the ongoing battle, which Sam was obviously losing. He wrenched his brother out of the werewolf's vicelike grip, his heart palpitating in horror.

"Dean, there's too many!" Sam wheezed into his brother's chest. Dean held up his gun, daring the werewolf to step closer. He took careful aim at his head with one hand, the other still holding his brother. Before he could let off a shot, the werewolf spun around and took off down the bullet-blasted path.

"Damn it," Dean muttered to himself, loosening himself from his brother's hold. The forest was once again silent, but Dean wasn't fooled in the least. He knew there were at least fifteen werewolves lying in ambush along the forest.

"Sam, duck!" Dean pushed his brother to the ground, covering his body with his own. He felt the rustle of the leaves as a very determined werewolf decided to uproot an old oak tree and launch it over their heads. Luckily, his aim was far off.

"Let's go!" Dean pulled his dazed brother up by the arm. "Now!"

"This is…insane…" Sam panted, running even with his brother. He could hear the thrashing of numerous werewolves behind them, and for a second he thought they wouldn't outrun them. Heart ready to leap out of his skin, Sam pushed his body to the very last reserve of strength.

"I guess they don't think…they need…the exercise…" Dean gasped out. He fell back against a tree, groaning as he felt the reopening of old wounds. Sam rested at his feet, gun still at the ready.

"I didn't think there were that many," Sam spoke his fears out loud. I was hoping that there wouldn't be that many.

"Obviously, neither did Dad, otherwise we wouldn't have split up," Dean's mind was racing, and he saw spots in front of his eyes. His heart was doing a good job of beating itself out of his chest. He struggled to stay conscious, struggled to keep talking.

"The only way…to get rid of them all…and to save our asses…is to kill their leader…"

"Wasn't Dad supposed to do that?"

"If he had, they wouldn't still be trying to kill us…dumbass…" Dean's voice faded, and he let his eyes shut. Worried hands touched his face.
"Dean?"

No answer. Sam prodded his brother, hoping this was a bad joke. "Dean, wake up!"

Labored breathing was the only response Sam got. It was then that he saw the tears in Dean's shirt, and the blue-black bruising on his chest in between the rips of fabric.

"God…" Sam could no longer keep the tears at bay. "Dean…what am I supposed to do…"

Sam was used to big brother having all the answers, being the unwanted protection from the evil in the night…and now, he was on his own.

"Dean, I don't know what to do…wake up…" Dean was, however, held fast in unconscious slumber. Sam remembered the wounds from before on Dean's back, and thought of infections and pus, gangrene and death.

"No, come on, dude," It was then that Sam heard a sound from his worst nightmare. It was innocent enough, but Sam knew just what made that noise. He saw nothing, but he heard the shuffling of leaves.

A snuffle came from the bushes next to the tree. Sam was too afraid to look up, so he simply clutched his gun and prayed for Dean to wake up, or his father to show.

Nothing.

Sam was on his own. He had to protect his brother.

………………..

Chapter 11

Sam had never hunted alone before. He was too young, too inexperienced, too scatterbrained, too smart for his own good. Those were the reasons given by his father and Dean, but he knew the real reason was that they wanted to protect him.

Now, Sam wished he had an ounce of that protection against what was sure to be an all-out assault.

He could hear the werewolf, he could smell the werewolf, and he was positive that the werewolf could smell him. But the key question was, could the werewolf smell an unconscious Dean?

Because if it could, they were in some deep shit.

Sam stood in front of his older brother's body, not letting the whimper escape from his lips. He stood his ground and kept his gun trained on where the werewolf would most likely appear.

I can do this. I can do it for Dean. And Dad. And all the innocent people that died here.

A shot rang out, followed by a keening cry. The werewolf fell through the bushes, its still-salivating mouth open and its head covered in blood. To be sure of safety, Sam shot it again.

He stared. The werewolf stared back, its glazed, dead eyes locked in a fight for its soul. Sam was afraid he would vomit, but swallowed it down at the last second.

Come on, Sam, focus. The first thing on his mind was getting Dean to safety. Shaking off his own injuries and fatigue, Sam eyed his surroundings. He needed to find a place that the werewolves wouldn't find, and couldn't reach.

Bingo.

A rock formation loomed in the near distance, the closest rocks being gigantic in size. Dean could easily fit into the crevice made by two rocks, and be kept out of sight. Sam had never seen the werewolves venture near the rocks, and he sent a quick prayer up to the heavens that they wouldn't be interested in that now.

Sam spun around, making sure that no werewolves were about to leap out of the trees at him before he grabbed Dean's jacket with both hands, gun tucked safely into his pants.

"God, Dean," Sam huffed, trying not to cause more pain to his unconscious sibling than necessary. "You need to lay off the burgers,"

Sam gently tucked Dean into the crevice of the rocks, taking care to make sure he was still breathing. His breathing had become less laborious, and Sam knew that he was now settling into a sleep to heal his body. What concerned Sam was the loss of color to Dean's body, and the obviously broken ribs that were impeding Dean's breathing ability. What if…what if he…

Don't go there, Sam. He's not going to die. He can't.

But looking down at his injured brother, Sam couldn't help but think of how much blood he had lost, and how many knocks on the head he sustained, and all of the injuries he received.

Why can't you be more careful, Dean?

Sam covered Dean's body with his jacket, and stood back. Dean simply looked like a part of the formation, and Sam hoped that nothing would think otherwise.

"We are so getting you to a hospital, dude," Sam murmured, backing away from his brother. He was greatly hesitant in leaving Dean there, vulnerable and injured, nonetheless unconscious. He would be safe there, wouldn't he?

Of course not. Winchester luck means he's probably not safe anywhere.

Sam stared at Dean's body, willing him to wake up and tell him what to do. What would he say?

"Use your head, Sammy," Sam jumped, Dean's voice in his head seeming like reality. Maybe I need to go to the hospital too.

"Alright, think, Sam," he muttered to himself. "What can I do…"

Then it came to him.

Duh.

I have to find Dad.

We have to kill the leader.

Then we can help Dean.