Hey!! Bonus chapter! You'll really get the idea of just how damaged Sam is. Read on....

Cindy

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The next time Sam awoke, the room was nearly dark, the sunlight faded away from behind the drawn curtains. The only light in the room came from the single lamp by the table where John and Dean were now sitting, talking in hushed voices. Dean cast a quick glance toward Sam's bed, his eyes widening when he saw his brother awake.

"Sammy! You're awake. How are you feeling?" Dean rambled as he hurried to the bed.

Sam pushed himself slowly up, brushing off Dean's help when the older brother attempted to grasp his arm. "It's Sam and I'm fine," Sam rasped coolly as he scooted up against the headboard, his head falling back to rest against the fake wood.

Sam's reaction took Dean by surprise and he pulled back from his brother as he swallowed back the hurt he felt. "Uh…okay. Sorry, Sam," he whispered.

Sam looked his brother up and down, his eyes searching for something and Dean had no idea what that something was. Finally, Sam looked into Dean's eyes and Dean felt a small glimmer of hope. "Are you okay?" Sam asked softly, a small hint of his usual warmth in his voice.

Dean nodded and scooted closer to Sam's hip. "I'm good…thanks to you," he answered, the young man nearly trembling by his need to touch his younger sibling. To have even a small connection to the person who not too long ago seemed glued to his side.

"Don't thank me…you got hurt because of me," Sam said, his voice cool once again.

"You know that isn't true. You got that monster off of me, Sammy, and I'm alive because of it," Dean said as he leaned forward, making sure Sam looked him in the eye.

"If I were so great, you wouldn't have gotten hurt in the first place. I should've seen it coming…"

"No, I'm the one who wasn't paying attention. You got hurt because of me, not the other way around. I'm to blame, not you," Dean cried, hating the direction the conversation was taking. He and his dad had really done a number on his kid brother and he could see it wasn't going to be easy to fix it this time.

"You may see it that way, but others don't," Sam said, his eyes moving in John's direction, but not quite falling onto the man.

Dean followed Sam's line of vision until his gaze landed on his father. He pursed his lips and turned back to Sam. "Hey…I know what Dad said, but he knows now what happened," he said, sighing when all Sam did was move his eyes to the window.

They sat this way, in silence, for several moments until John decided it was time for him to speak up. "Sam, look…I know I jumped to conclusions and…" he started until Sam held a hand up to stop him. "It doesn't matter, sir. It's in the past," the boy said, leaving John to stare at him in stunned confusion.

Sam suddenly threw the covers from atop him and swung his legs gingerly over the edge of the bed. Dean leapt to his feet and hurried around the bed just as John stood, both men moving to help Sam up, but the boy waved them off then started for the bathroom. They watched the boy shuffle into the small room and shut the door behind him then they turned to each other in absolute shock.

"Dad…what the hell is going on?" Dean cried, his eyes moving back to the door when he heard the shower turn on. He moved to the door and tried the knob, but turned back to his father when he found the door locked.

"I don't know, Dean. He was distant when he woke up before…wouldn't even look at me. I get that and I deserve it, but the rest of it? It's not like him at all," John answered as he moved next to his son and tried the door himself.

Dean shook his head then proceeded to knock on the locked door. "Sammy? Open the door, kiddo. It's not safe right now for you…"

"I'm just taking a shower. I'll be fine," Sam called from behind the door, once more leaving his family stunned at the cool tone in his voice.

Dean stared at the door then turned away and moved toward the table where he plopped down, his eyes finding the floor and staying there. John sat opposite his son, but his eyes remained on the bathroom door.

"He's never looked at me like that before, Dad. I know what I said hurt him, but he's got to know that I didn't mean it. I didn't mean what I said…I was just frustrated and angry," Dean muttered dejectedly.

John reached across the table and rested his hand on Dean's shoulder, his heart breaking at the pain he heard in the young man's voice. "Hey, he'll get over it, Dean. He just needs time. Maybe we should just drop the whole subject for now. It'll blow over…this is Sam we're talking about," he said, giving Dean a quick smile when the younger hunter turned to look at him.

"You sure about that, Dad? He seems pretty hurt," Dean said in reply.

"Yes, your brothers feelings were hurt, but he'll bounce back. Once his wounds heal and he's not in physical pain anymore, he'll be fine."

"I hope you're right, because I want my little brother back," Dean said sadly.

"I'm positive that within a week, everything will be back to normal and your brother will be the emotional teenager we've come to know and love, raging hormones and all," John said with a chuckle.

Dean smiled though he didn't look completely convinced. He sat up straight when the water shut off in the bathroom and he waited for the door to open. Within a few minutes, Sam emerged from the bathroom, a cloud of steam following his towel clad body into the main area of the motel room. Sam glanced quickly at his family before his searching eyes left them in pursuit of his duffel bag. He found it at the end of his bed and slowly made his way toward it, his body dropping tiredly to the corner of the mattress. The bandages had been removed from his shoulders and side, and both John and Dean silently let out relieved sighs that all of the wounds looked to be healing fine, the infection that had been raging in the side wound looking less puffy and red than it had when they first pushed into the motel room.

Sam leaned over and pulled the bag up from the floor, the boy hissing as the movement pulled on his various injuries. Dean stood and made his way to his brother. "Hey, we need to bandage you before you get dressed, kiddo," he said as his eyes searched for the first aid kit.

Sam glanced up before dropping his eyes again. "I can do it," he quipped shortly as he made to rise from the bed.

Dean reached out and gently pushed Sam back to the mattress. "No, Sam…I'll do it. You just sit tight, okay?" he said.

Sam pursed his lips, but remained silent. He listened as Dean moved around the room collecting the items needed. He came to sit beside his brother and proceeded to bandage both shoulders, the young man being as careful as possible so as to not cause his little brother any more pain. Once the shoulders were done, Dean guided Sam back until he lay on his back. John moved over then, wanting to check the wound in Sam's side before it was bandaged. The jagged cuts were still a bit red and puffy, so John retrieved the antibiotic ointment and spread a generous amount over the wound. Dean covered it with a thick square of gauze then taped it in place.

"All done, Sammy," Dean said as he helped his brother to sit up.

"Thanks," Sam whispered.

Sam waited until Dean moved from the end of the bed before he dug through his duffel to find a loose fitting pair of jeans and a sweatshirt. It took him several minutes, but eventually he got himself dressed. His socks and shoes came next and proved to be the most difficult for Sam. He finally got them on then looked over at his family.

"Going somewhere, Sam?" Dean asked cautiously.

"I figured we'd be heading back to Salem now. Not sure why we kept the room in the first place," Sam murmured.

"Uh…you were unconscious and I wasn't about to drive fifty miles before I was able to get a look at you, Sam," John said from his seat at the table.

"Well, I'm okay now, so we may as well head back," Sam said.

"I think we can head back tomorrow. It's late and we've already paid for tonight. Don't worry, Sam, I've talked to your teacher and he's going to allow you to take those tests you missed when we get back," John said in reply, smiling slightly when Sam whipped his head around, the boys eyes gazing directly at him for the first time since he first woke up.

"What?" Sam shot, his eyes wide with surprise.

"I talked to your principal and to Mr. French, explained how you were hurt during our camping trip. Mr. French agreed to let you make up the tests you missed," John replied.

"I'm not going back to school," Sam said shortly as he turned away from his father.

"Uh…what? What do you mean you aren't going back to school?" John shot, his eyes narrowing in surprise.

Sam shrugged nonchalantly as he moved to sit back down on the bed. "What's the sense? Schools almost out for Summer and I won't be going back in the Fall…"

"Whoa, whoa…what are going on about, Sam? Of course you're going back in the Fall. What's going on with you?" Dean cried, completely thrown by his brother's words.

"Hey, I'm only going to school to keep CPS off our backs. I'll be sixteen next month, so I can drop out if I want and they can't do a thing about it," Sam said matter of factly, like he hadn't just made the most ridiculous statement he could have made.

"You love school, Sammy. Where the hell is this coming from?" John said, his dark eyes watching his son intently.

"School doesn't really fit in with our lifestyle and you know it. You can't tell me you don't wish I wasn't in school anymore," Sam huffed.

"Sam, the age sixteen thing isn't the rule in every state and there are stipulations even in the states where it is possible," Dean said, arching his eyebrows at John's questioning look.

"I don't see that it really matters. We move around so much, how the hell would anyone know I'm not in school?" Sam shot with frustration. "What's the big deal anyway?"

"The big deal is is that you are staying in school. No arguments either. We're heading back to Salem tomorrow and you're going to go take your tests you missed then you're going to take your finals next month and once school's out for the Summer break, we'll head out to the next hunt," John said, his voice leaving no room for argument.

Sam shook his head and turned his back to his family. "Yes, sir. Whatever you say," he murmured.

"What was that, Sam? I didn't quite catch that?" John shot with a hint of anger.

Sam turned to face his father, his hands fisting at his sides. "I said yes, sir," he replied through clenched teeth.

"Sam…" John started.

"Hey…hey, ease up, guys. Can we please just not fight for a change?" Dean cried as he looked from one frowning Winchester to the other.

Sam glanced at his brother and took a deep, calming breath. He turned to his father and eased the tension from his body. "I'm sorry, sir. I guess I'm just tired. If you want me to stay in school, then I'll stay in school," he said softly as he dropped his eyes to the floor.

"Sam, I…"

"I'm hungry. Can we go eat?" Sam asked, effectively cutting his father off.

John sighed as he watched his youngest shuffle his feet on the dirty carpet. "Yeah, if you feel like eating, we can go to the diner down the street," he said softly.

Sam wasted no time in moving to the door and walking out of the motel room, leaving his father and brother to watch his retreating form with surprise and confusion. The men quickly followed Sam out and soon the Impala was pulling away from the motel, the three Winchesters silent as they moved down the road.

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Five Weeks Later-Salem Oregon

Sam stood in the back yard of the rundown house they had been living in the past months, his face illuminated by the fire that burned brightly in a tall metal drum. As was the family's usual routine, they would burn anything that they did not plan to take with them to the next town. Sam crouched down next to the backpack that sat at his feet and dug the contents out. He ran his fingers over the worn cover of the first paperback and swallowed back the lump in his throat as he stood and tossed the book into the fire. He continued to toss books into the fire until the backpack was empty then he crouched once more and collected a thin book from the grass. He glanced at the cover and bit at his lower lip. He read the words that covered the front, a feeling of sadness washing over him. 'Sprague High School-Home of the Olympians' was printed in bold script across the top of the book and below that 'My Friends' was printed in smaller letters. Sam opened the book and read some of the words that his classmates had written to him. He had managed to make a few friends at this school and the thought of leaving brought with it mixed emotions for the now sixteen year old. With one last look at the cover, Sam threw the book into the fire and watched as it darkened from the flames, the corners curling before it was completely consumed.

Sam squared his shoulders and turned to head back to the house. He didn't have time nor room for books or for memories of people he'd never see again. He trudged up the back stairs and entered into the small, dimly lit kitchen. His father and brother were busy packing what little packaged food they had into a box, both men looking up as he walked into the room.

"Hey, Sam…what were you doing out there?" Dean questioned, sighing as Sam's eyes fell to the floor, something that had become the norm ever since the events in Gresham.

"Just taking out some trash," Sam said softly before he hurried from the kitchen toward his bedroom.

"Sam…" John called, the man turning to his eldest son, a look of frustration on his face at the sound of Sam's door closing, effectively cutting the boy off from his family.

"So…still think he's going to get over it, Dad?" Dean queried, his green eyes staring intently at his father's face.

"He's just being stubborn. He'll get tired of the act soon," John said, his eyes saying something completely different.

"I don't know. He's never been in one of his funks for this long before. I don't know how much more I can take," Dean said, his eyes staring down the darkened hallway where Sam had disappeared.

"Well, one positive thing has come from it. He's really stepped up to the plate with the training and he's been more focused on the family business," John said with a shrug of his shoulders.

"See, I don't know if that's a positive, Dad. It's not him. He seems almost…desperate...and resigned. I just don't know what to think of this sudden change," Dean replied.

"Let's not look a gift horse in the mouth, Dean. This is what we've wanted from him for so long. Maybe he's finally growing up."

"He's sixteen, for craps sake! He shouldn't have to grow up so fast!"

"Dean…if he's going to survive this life of ours, he has to grow up. I'd say it's about time."

Dean shook his head as he glared at his father. "There's something going on here, Dad. It's not right. Sam's not…Sam anymore," Dean huffed in frustration.

John rolled his eyes at his son's statement. "Don't be so dramatic, Dean. Of course he's still Sam. He's just finally caught up with the program," he said.

"Maybe…I just don't know," Dean said softly.

"Hey…why don't you go get some sleep. We have an early start tomorrow," John said, smiling as Dean shuffled from the room without a word.

John sighed as he moved to sit at the table. He had to admit that Sam's behavior these past weeks had been off. As much as his newfound devotion to the hunt pleased him, John couldn't deny that Sam had lost some of himself somewhere along the way. He knew it had something to do with what happened in Gresham, but every time he tried to talk to Sam about what had happened, his youngest had immediately changed the subject or suddenly remembered something very important he had to do. John knew that it was the same for Dean. Eventually, John had given up trying to figure out what was going on in his baby's mind and just accepted that for whatever reason, Sam was finally on the same page as him.

John sat for a few more minutes then followed his own advice and headed off to bed. Five o'clock came very early and he needed his rest for the long drive he had ahead of him.

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The Next Morning

Dean and John walked out onto the front porch, the eldest Winchester pulling the door closed behind him. Sam was already in the car, yet another thing that went against everything the men were used to. Usually, Sam was the one dragging his feet, trying to stall their departure as long as he possibly could. Sam had been up and moving around at four that morning and had been in the Impala for over fifteen minutes by the time his family emerged from the house. The men approached the car, John moving around to take his place behind the steering wheel while Dean ducked his head into the back window, his eyes falling over the books on Latin and Demonology that surrounded his kid brother. Missing was the backpack that Sam always had with him and Dean frowned, knowing that Sam would get bored with the textbooks and would soon be looking for his ever present paperbacks.

Dean reached into the front seat and removed the keys from the ignition then strolled to the trunk. He opened the trunk lid and rummaged through the various items, reaching deep in toward the back when he spotted the red and black pack. He pulled the backpack out, frowning when he realized the pack was empty. He slammed the trunk lid shut then hurried back and climbed into the front seat. He turned in his seat and held the backpack out for Sam to see.

"Hey, where are your books, Sam?" he queried, arching his brow when Sam looked up at him.

"Uh…I didn't need them anymore," Sam answered, his hazel eyes betraying his matter of fact answer.

"Sam…those were your favorite books. Moby Dick…Crime and Punishment…Last of the Mohicans? What did you do?" Dean cried softly, his eyes moving over to John before coming back to rest on his brother.

"I burned them. They were just taking up space and it's not like I haven't read them a million times. Its not big deal," Sam replied, his stomach suddenly in knots.

"That's the whole point, Sam. You loved those books. In fact, I didn't see any of your stuff other than your clothes. Did you burn everything?"

"I only kept what I needed."

"Sam…"

"Can we just drop it? I don't need the books. I don't need any of that other stuff. There's only room for clothing and necessities. Books and school awards are not necessities." Sam said, his voice showing no malice, just sad resignation.

"Fine…whatever," Dean muttered as he turned around.

Dean tossed the backpack onto the floor at his feet and cast a furtive glance at his father. John stared back and Dean could see that the man was as confused and worried as he was. John could no longer deny nor ignore that something was horribly wrong with his youngest son, but at the moment he didn't have time to worry about it. There was what appeared to be a werewolf at large in Wyoming and people's lives were at stake. Sam and his problems would have to wait until the people of Jackson Hole were once more safe to hike the forests around their town without the fear of being torn to pieces. John pulled away from the curb, the man taking a moment to glance at his youngest in the rearview mirror. A curtain of dread settled in the man's mind, but he shook it off and turned his eyes back to the road ahead of him. Sam would be fine, he was just going through a phase. At least that's what John tried to convince himself of as they left the city of Salem behind.

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So, that's it for now. If any of you have time, I have updated my profile with a few thoughts brought on by at least one apparent Sam hater that I have reading (well, maybe not anymore) this story. While I agree that everyone has a right to their own opinion, hate is not something I happen to condone. My thoughts in my profile are not meant to offend anyone, but they are something I feel strongly about. I love Supernatural and feel it is a very special show and the reason it is so special is the bond between the two brothers. It's natural that bonds will be tested and things will not always be rainbows and lollipops and I'm happy that Eric Kripke understands that, but I have absolute faith that the brothers bond will be restored, stronger than ever. They deserve it and we deserve it. Love to you all!

Cindy