I swear I'm gonna go crazy with this site! It's giving me problems again when trying to reply to comments! Crappity crap crap!! Thanks everyone who took the time to comment. You know how much it means to me! I appreciate all who read my stories, whether you comment or not. I wouldn't do this if it weren't for all of you. So, lets get to the story, shall we?

Cindy.

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Dean worked feverishly on John so that he could get to Sam before his idiot of a little brother got himself killed. After wiping away the blood from John's head and face, Dean was relieved to see that it was a small cut that was causing all of the drama. He was just pressing a butterfly bandage over the wound when John started to come around. Dean sat back as John's dark eyes opened, the man blinking up at him with apparent confusion. Dean waited impatiently for the confusion to be replaced with recognition and luckily he didn't have to wait long. John's eyes cleared and he carefully sat up, his hand going to the cut at his hairline.

"Don't, Dad…you'll get it bleeding again," Dean snapped as he pulled John's hand away.

John glared up at Dean before his eyes moved over his eldest son's shoulders, his eyes narrowing. "Where's Sammy?" he queried fearfully when he didn't see his youngest.

Dean followed John's line of sight and swallowed nervously. "He…uh…he went back after the werewolf," Dean murmured as he backed out of the Impala.

"He what!!" John shouted, the man scrambling to exit the vehicle, his knees nearly giving out on him as he made it to his feet.

Dean grasped his arm and pushed him back onto the backseat. "He got us back to the car then just took off. I'm going after him," Dean said as he retrieved his weapon from the ground next to the car.

"Not by yourself you aren't," John shot as he once again attempted to stand, his face turning two shades of pale as he staggered back into the frame of the car.

Dean rushed forward and steadied his father, his eyes filled with concern. John dropped back onto the seat, his shaky hand going to his head. "Dad…you can't even stand. I have to…" Dean started, but the sound of a gunshot halted his words and he jerked his head around, the young man instantly in full panic mode.

"Son of a bitch! SAMMY!" Dean screamed, the young man taking off at a full on sprint.

John pulled himself from the Impala, the man's heart dropping to his stomach as the echo of the gunshot reverberated through the dense forest. He took three unsteady steps before he was brought to his knees by a wave vertigo. He fell forward, his hands stopping him from face planting in the dirt. He lifted his head, his frantic eyes searching the trees for his sons.

"DEAN! SAM!" he screamed, his worst fears staring him right in the face as he wondered if he would ever see his boys again.

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Sam ran through the trees, his brother's panicked voice following him as he ran deeper into the forest, his eyes searching for any sign of the creature that had hurt his family. He knew it wasn't smart to be out here alone, but the werewolf had to be taken care of before it killed anyone else and his father was in no shape to be out there and Dean had been hurt too, so that left him to finish the hunt on his own. Besides, the bastard had to pay for hurting his family. Despite everything that had happened over the past weeks, he still loved his father and brother more than anything and would do whatever he could to make sure that they were safe. It was his turn to be the protector. His turn to show that he was just as capable as his father and brother, and maybe, just maybe they would be able to forgive him for the pain his existence had brought to their family all those years ago.

Sam shook those thoughts from his mind. He had to concentrate on the task at hand. Now was not the time to be feeling sorry for himself. He continued on through the trees, his pace slowing so that he could listen for any noise that didn't belong. He had been running for about fifteen minutes when he thought he heard what sounded like a deep growl coming from the dense foliage to his right. He came to a sudden halt and tilted his head, his ears trying to decipher whether he had heard the growl or if it was his mind playing tricks on him. He jerked his head around when the bushes that stood about fifteen feet off the trail rustled as something large moved through them. Sam brought his arm up, gun in hand and turned toward the sound of the rustling.

Without warning, the werewolf burst through the trees, startling the teenager enough to make him stagger backward. He pulled the trigger of his gun just as the werewolf sprang into the air, the bullet just missing the creature. The werewolf slammed into Sam, knocking the teen to the ground, his gun flying from his hand and skittering over the forest floor. The werewolf hit the ground and immediately whipped around and began its attack again. It leapt at Sam, but the young hunter was able to get his feet up in the air, catching the beast in the chest and flipping it over his body, the creature rolling over the grass and small trees before it leapt to its feet again, a rage filled snarl rolling over its black lips.

The werewolf attacked again, its teeth snapping at Sam as he did all he could to hold it at bay with his feet while trying to reach the gun that was just past his fingertips. The werewolf lashed out with razor sharp claws, catching Sam's upper right thigh. Sam cried out as the claws sliced through his jeans and flesh. He rolled his body slightly to the left and that's when he felt the pressure of his silver knife dig into his hip. He pushed at the werewolf as hard as he could with his feet and rolled onto his right hip, his hand reaching across his body to pull the knife from its sheath. His muscles burned as he held the werewolf at bay, adrenaline thankfully pumping through his veins, giving him the extra strength needed to keep the strong jaws away from his vulnerable flesh. His legs began to tremble at the abuse, his right leg on fire where the wolf's claws had sliced him.

The wolf pushed forward, tiring of the game and finally going in for the kill. Just as Sam's legs collapsed and the wolf lunged for his throat, Sam brought the silver knife up, burying it deep into the chest of the werewolf and piercing the beast's heart. The werewolf let out a furious howl as it dropped down, trapping Sam beneath it, it's body writhing through its death throes before it fell limp, its snout draped across Sam's throat, blood seeping from its nose to saturate Sam's shirt collar and jacket. The hilt of the knife pressed into Sam's side causing waves of pain to radiate out from his previous injury, but try as he might, Sam could not push the beast from atop him. Dark spots danced before his eyes as he attempted to pull in more air, the werewolf's dead weight compressing his chest, making it hard for him to breathe. Between the pain in his leg and the pain in his side, coupled with the lack of oxygen, it didn't take long before Sam lost his fight to stay conscious, the darkness pulling him under just as Dean's panicked voice screamed through the trees, the elder brother crashing onto the scene a few moments later.

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Dean crashed through the forest, his arms up to protect his face from the branches that sought to bite at his skin, his only thought was to find his brother before he didn't have a brother to find anymore. He came to a sudden stop, listening for any sound that would let him know where his brother was. His blood turned to ice in his veins when he heard the unmistakable sound of Sam crying out in pain, the cry coming from up ahead and to his right. Dean took off again, his panic kicking up a notch at the hair raising howl that erupted in the semi darkness, the full moon casting a eerie glow over the forest. Dean forced his legs to work harder, his need to get to his brother driving him on despite the throbbing in his head and the exhaustion that threatened to bring him down. He'd let Sam down so many times lately, he refused to let him down again.

Dean crashed through a small stand of trees, his body coming to an abrupt halt at the scene he had stumbled upon. The werewolf's body lay sprawled on the ground, but that wasn't what sucked the very air from the young hunters lungs. What sucked the air from his lungs was the sight of his little brother trapped beneath the werewolf. What nearly caused his heart to stop beating was the fact that Sam was not moving. Dean jerked himself out of his shocked paralysis and sprang forward, the frantic young man dropping down next to the two inert bodies, his eyes zeroing in on the blood that soaked into Sam's shirt and jacket just below where the werewolf's snout lay across Sam's throat. Sam's dark eyelashes stood out in stark contrast to his pale cheeks and Dean couldn't contain the sob that broke from his mouth at the thought that Sam looked dead.

Dean reached out shaky hands and pushed the creature's head away, the elder brother nearly collapsing with relief when he realized the blood came from the wolf and not from Sam. Sam's eyelids fluttered as he slowly regained consciousness and Dean nearly cried out at the sight. Dean stood and pulled with all his might to get the werewolf off of his little brother, finally rolling the creature to the side enough so that he could get a good look at the damage that had been done to the teen. Sam's eyes slowly opened and he stared up at Dean as the older hunter knelt down next to him. Dean reached out and cupped Sam's cheek, a relieved smile curling his trembling lips.

"Hey, kiddo. You scared the shit out me, you know that?" Dean said as he turned Sam's head to look for any injuries.

Sam remained silent, the teen squeezing his eyes shut as pain pierced his side and leg. He opened his eyes when he felt Dean take his face into both hands. Dean's eyes were filled with concern and Sam swallowed against the emotions that raged through him. "D'n?" he whispered, his lungs still burning from the abuse they had taken.

"I'm here, Sam. Are you hurt anywhere? Did that fucker bite you?" Dean answered, his eyes staring intently at Sam's face.

"M-My leg…and side…" Sam replied, his head rolling slightly to the side when Dean let go and moved down his body. "Didn't bite me though."

Dean glanced up and smiled then returned to his inspection of Sam's body. He was thankful for the light that the full moon offered as he hadn't thought to grab his flashlight in his panic. He pulled Sam's jacket open the lifted his tee shirt, sucking in a breath at the dark bruise that was already forming on Sam's still healing side. The bruise wasn't big and it didn't take long for Dean to figure out how Sam had gotten it. Next he moved to Sam's leg, his eyes widening in worry at the shredded jeans and steadily growing crimson stain. Dean shrugged out of his jacket and outer shirt then pulled off his tee shirt. He balled the tee shirt up and pressed it over the wound the wrapped his outer shirt around Sam's leg, tying the arms tightly enough to help slow the bleeding but not enough to completely cut off Sam's circulation. Dean looked up at Sam's face when the younger hunter hissed in pain.

"Sorry, Sam, but I gotta do it to stop the bleeding," Dean said apologetically as he once more moved up to Sam's head. "Do you think you can walk or do you want me to carry you?"

"N-No…I can walk…don't need to be carried," Sam replied weakly, his hands reaching out to grasp Dean's.

Dean carefully pulled Sam up into a seated position then moved behind him, allowing Sam to lean back into his chest. Dean wrapped his arms around Sam and just let the boy rest for a few moments, relishing the rare moment when his little brother actually allowed him to touch him. Ever since the Wendigo, Sam had been distant and cool. He had not been himself and it worried Dean to no end. Dean knew that his father was worried too, but in a way, John was also happy with the way Sam had thrown himself into the training when before he did it grudgingly. Things had been so strange and messed up that Dean had yet to have the talk he had promised himself he'd have with Sam and even worse, he had failed to apologize to his brother for the words he had said that day in the woods. In his defense, he had tried early on to apologize, but Sam had always managed to change the subject before Dean had gotten a chance to say what was on his mind. Eventually, he'd stopped trying, irritated that Sam wouldn't listen to him.

Dean pushed that all out of his mind. He had to think about getting Sam out of these woods and back to the motel so he could take care of his wounds. He also had his father to think about. The eldest hunter most probably had a slight concussion and that meant that between his father and brother, Dean wouldn't be getting any sleep for the next several hours. Finally, Dean decided they needed to move. He shifted behind Sam and his little brother tensed at the movement.

"Hey…its okay. I need to get you up and moving though. I need to get you and Dad back to the motel so I can fix you both up," Dean said softly, his hand gently grasping Sam's arms as he pushed to his feet.

"Is Dad okay?" Sam questioned as he looked over his shoulder and up at Dean.

"Yeah…he'll be fine. Good thing he has a hard head. You did good, Sam…getting him and me back to the car. But, we're going to have to talk about this sudden need of yours to go running off by yourself after the big monsters," Dean said, his voice taking on an authoritative tone.

Sam turned his head and lowered his eyes to the ground. "Had to kill it, Dean. It nearly killed you and Dad," he whispered dejectedly.

"Yeah, well its not up to you to go off alone. You were nearly killed and then what would Dad and I do? Huh?" Dean shot back, anger darkening his voice.

Sam mumbled something that Dean couldn't hear so the older brother leaned over and craned his neck until he was looking Sam in the eye. "What was that, Sam?"

Sam lowered his eyes to his lap before he looked back up. "I said that you'd both be better off," he whispered.

Dean's face turned a deep shade of red as anger washed over him at his younger brother's words. He grabbed Sam by the shoulder, not caring that the action caused the teen pain. "You stupid little son of a bitch! How can you say something like that!? Do you really think we'd be okay if you died? Huh?" he hissed as he gave the younger boy a hard shake.

It was Sam's turn to get angry and he jerked around to face his brother. "Dad doesn't give a shit about me! He never has! I'm sorry that I said it about you, but its true about Dad!" he shouted, the teen wrapping his arm around his aching side.

"That's bullshit, Sam! Dad loves you. He's just not all touchy feely about it," Dean snapped.

"You don't know how it feels, Dean," Sam said softly, all of the anger gone, replaced with a deep seeded sadness that seemed to always be with the youngest Winchester.

"How what feels?"

"To be second best. To never be considered good enough. To be seen as a waste of space." Sam turned away at that and Dean noticed his shoulders begin to shake slightly.

"Sam, that's not true. Dad doesn't…"

"It is true! When have you ever heard Dad tell me I did a good job? When has he ever praised anything I've done? Never, Dean…not one single time!" Sam cried, his tears coming in earnest now. He lifted his hand and brushed angrily at the tears as he turned his head away from his brother again.

Dean stepped forward and crouched down next to Sam. He reached out and rested a comforting hand on the teen's shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "Sammy…look, I know…Dad can be a jackass sometimes, but he loves you and he is proud of you…"

"No, he isn't…but, I guess maybe I don't deserve it anyway. I can see why he doesn't care," Sam whispered as he turned onto his hip and tried to push up from the ground.

Dean grasped Sam's arm and helped him up, his arm wrapping around Sam's waist to steady the younger hunter. "You're wrong about Dad, Sam. He'd die for you, that's how much he loves you."

Sam glanced over at his brother, his hazel eyes filled with such sadness it nearly took Dean's breath away. Dean suddenly realized that Sam truly believed everything he'd said. He believed that their father didn't love him. He believed that John considered him a disappointment and a waste of space. Dean had no words for his little brother. He knew nothing he said would change Sam's mind. John would have to do that himself. Dean smiled softly and pulled Sam closer to his side. He began to move Sam forward, but Sam pulled back, his head turning to look over his shoulder.

"My weapons," Sam said, his eyes moving to the wolf, who by this time had reverted to its human form, causing the young hunter to swallow the bile that suddenly rose in his throat.

"Don't look, Sam. I'll get your knife for you," Dean said softly.

Dean moved Sam over to a downed tree and set him down on it, making sure the boy was steady before he moved over to the dark haired man who lay still on the ground, Sam's silver knife buried up to the hilt in the man's chest. He pulled the knife free, then began to peruse the ground for Sam's gun. He found it a few feet away and hurried over to pick it up. He wiped Sam's knife on his jeans, getting as much of the blood cleaned away before he got back to his brother. He stuffed the gun in his waistband as he stepped up to Sam then reached out to help Sam to his feet once again. Once Sam was standing, he replaced the knife in the sheath that hung from Sam's belt, wrapped his arm around Sam's waist and tugged him forward. The brothers staggered slowly back toward the parking area, Dean glancing over at Sam periodically, worried at the now completely silent teen. So much damage had been done to the kid that Dean was afraid they would never be able to completely fix him, but the young man was determined to do everything he could to get his baby brother back, no matter what it took.

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So it seems Sam is opening up to his brother somewhat now, the stubborn little shit! Wonder how it'll go with his father? Thanks for reading guys and even though I'm having troubles with replying, I hope you'll still leave me your comments. Love to you all!

Cindy