Here is the next chapter for you all. I am now caught up to my completed chapters so you may be waiting a little while longer between posts. I am nearly finished with ch. 14 so you may be getting that tonight, but after that it'll be probably every three days or so. I also will be posting a short one-shot today that is part of the Three Brothers series. It's wee!chester and just a little story that I wrote while having nothing to do at work last week. I hope you'll check it out. It's titled 'Of Thumbs and Becurities'. Just thought you might want a little dose of Danny, Dean and a very cute, wee Sammy. Anyway, onto this story.

Cindy

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John staggered to his feet, his dark eyes never leaving the darkness beyond the trees where Dean had disappeared minutes before. The sound of the gunshot had struck the man with such deep seeded terror that he had thought that he would never be able to breathe again. His baby was out there somewhere, probably hurt, possibly dead and he hadn't told Sam how sorry he was for how he had treated him. What would he do if he never got that chance? How could he live with himself? How could he ever look Dean in the eye again? Dean had told him over and over that something wasn't right and God, but John knew that was true. He just ignored it, telling himself that the end justified the means. He had the hunter he had always wanted Sam to be, a perfect little duplicate of his brother, only he had lost the ray of light that his Sam had been. He never would have thought that he would miss that Sam so much. Now, he wasn't sure he would ever see that Sam again. Sammy. His Sammy. Dean's Sammy.

"Be careful what you wish for, you stupid, selfish son of a bitch," John muttered to himself as he squinted his eyes into the darkness.

He waited for a few minutes, not trusting his legs to carry him far. Eventually though, he couldn't wait any longer. He needed to get to his sons. He needed to see that he hadn't lost his youngest. John stumbled down the path, thankful that the full moon cast enough light so he wouldn't need to use his flashlight to illuminate his way. The going was slow, but John couldn't just sit around and wait to see that his boys were safe. He continued on, adrenaline strengthening his legs, keeping him moving down the path.

John had been walking for nearly twenty minutes when his legs finally gave out on him. His head felt like he'd been hit with a sledgehammer, the pain causing his vision to blur as he squinted into the darkness. He found a short tree stump and dropped down onto it, the man burying his face in his hands as the throb increased behind his eyes. He felt like a failure, unable to help his sons when they needed him most. Sam had been floundering for weeks now and John had done nothing to help him, choosing instead to ignore all of the warning signs that the boy was sinking deeper and deeper into depression, his emotions buried deep within himself, only coming through in infrequent outbursts of anger. Well, enough was enough.

John sat for a few moments longer then began to push to his feet when his attention was drawn away down the path. His hand moved to the knife that was sheathed at his side, the man ready to take on whatever was coming his way. He nearly collapsed with relief when his sons staggered into view, the oldest practically dragging the youngest as Sam appeared to be barely conscious. John rushed forward, his own hurts forgotten as he got a look at his baby. Sam was beyond pale, his eyes encircled by dark smudges, sweat soaking his face and hair. Blood stained his right leg, the jeans shredded over his right thigh. John looked at Dean, the older brother shaking his head tiredly as he glanced over at his sagging burden. John took Sam's head in his hands and lifted his face up so he could see into his eyes. There was barely any iris to see, the pupils taking over all but just a thin ring of Sam's hazel eyes.

"We need to hurry…the wolf could come back at any moment," John said in a rush as he moved opposite Dean and wrapped his arm around Sam's waist.

"No…it's dead," Dean said as he tugged Sam forward again.

"You killed it? Good job, Dean," John said with a small smile.

"Not me, Dad," Dean replied, his eyes moving to his brother before he turned his attention on his dad.

"Sam killed it?"

Sam lifted his head and glanced at John, his eyes glazed over with fever. "Piece of cake, even for m-me…sir," he stammered weakly before he turned his eyes away again.

John shook his head before turning his attention to the path ahead. They needed to get Sam back to the car and then back to the motel. He was obviously in shock and it appeared that infection had already set into his leg wound. The rest of the trip was done in silence, the going slow due to the physical state of two of the three hunters. Finally, they reached the Impala and this time it was Sam who was eased into the backseat. The boy groaned as he was laid back on the seat, then he cried out when John suddenly ripped his jeans open and began to poke and prod at the wound left by the werewolf's claws.

"Sorry, Sam," John whispered, his concerned eyes moving up to looked at Sam's pain lined face.

"'s 'kay, sir. Just a s-scratch."

John chuckled as he turned his attention back to Sam's leg. He could sense Dean looking over his shoulder so he turned to look at his oldest son. "He's going to be okay, Dean," he said, the man seeing the concern in the younger hunter's eyes.

Dean nodded, his eyes never leaving his little brother. He finally pulled his gaze away from Sam and let it rest on his father. "I have to go back and take care of the dead guy," he said as he made his way to the trunk of the car.

John stood and grabbed Dean's arm as the young man moved past him, the duffel containing the salt, lighter fluid and matches slung over one shoulder, a shovel held tight in the opposite hand. "Dad, I have to salt and burn the fucker then bury him. Just…take care of Sammy, okay? He needs you," Dean said before he pulled away and moved back toward the path, the hunter disappearing without a single look back.

John turned back to Sam, his heart clenching as he watched Sam's head roll on the seat, the boy in obvious pain. John moved back and kneeled down on the frame of the car door before reaching for the first aid kit. He glanced back up at Sam and smiled sadly.

"Hey, kiddo. I'm gonna take care of this leg. It's gonna hurt. You okay?" he asked, his gaze intent as he waited for his son to answer.

Sam looked down at his father and nodded lightly. "'m fine…just…do it," he murmured before his eyes moved to stare at the ceiling of the car.

"Okay…uh…I'm gonna do the alcohol first so…"

Sam nodded then shut his eyes, waiting for the sting of the alcohol. He bit back a cry when the pain came, his fingers digging into the leather seat as John wiped the wound clean. He flinched when he felt a hand move under his neck, his eyes flying open at the sudden touch.

"It's okay. I just want to give you some pain pills," John said softly.

Sam gazed up at his father then nodded. He hissed as John helped his sit up, his hand moving to grasp his side. John noticed this and glanced at his son questioningly. He reached down and pulled Sam's hand away then lifted the shirt, swearing under his breath at the deep bruise that had formed over the pink scars from the Wendigo attack. He tenderly fingered the bruise, his eyes darting up when Sam let out a soft cry.

"Sorry. What happened, Sam?" John asked as he let the shirt fall back into place.

Sam squeezed his eyes shut then opened them again to glance at his father before dropping them to his lap. "Uh…werewolf fell on me after I stabbed it. Hilt got my side," he answered, his breathy voice worrying John.

"Knife? I heard a gunshot," John said as he shook two pills from the bottle he had opened.

John handed Sam the pills then reached into the front seat for the half empty bottle of water he had left there earlier. Sam washed the pills down then looked up at John. "Didn't kill it with the gun. It came after me…uh, knocked the gun away. Had to finish it before it finished me," Sam replied, his voice low and monotoned.

John lowered his head and sucked in a calming breath. Sam had come so close to being ripped apart. The werewolf had been close enough to have a knife plunged into its heart. John felt terror and pride all at the same time. He thought about all of the things that he needed to say to his son, but the words that came out of his mouth were not the words that had run through his head.

"Sam, how could you have been so stupid? You're just a kid…you're not go…you aren't ready to take on a werewolf by yourself!" the man snapped, immediately regretting the unplanned words when he saw the hurt look in his son's eyes.

"You were going to say I'm not good enough, weren't you?" Sam asked as he fell back onto the seat and turned his head away from his father.

John shook his head, knowing he should just stop talking, but the fear of almost losing Sam again kept him from being able to control himself. "Sam…you…"

"I know what you think of me, sir. I thought though that if I…I…You know what? Never mind," Sam started, the boy draping an arm over his face, cutting himself off from the man who leaned over him.

"Sam…I didn't mean that. I just…"

"You did mean it. I'm forever the screw up…I get it. Just…bandage my leg…or not. Doesn't really matter. I'll be…outa your hair…soon," Sam said, his voice taking on a slur as the pain pills began to work.

"Sam…what does that mean?" John queried, frowning when he received no answer.

John reached out and pulled Sam's arm away from his face, shaking his head sadly when he saw that the boy was out for the count. "Just can't think before you speak, can you?" he muttered to himself as he went back to work on Sam's leg.

John proceeded to tightly bandage the wound, the man not wanting to do the sutures until they were back at the motel where he could more easily see what he was doing. Once he had that taken care of, he moved to the trunk and retrieved an army blanket. He draped the blanket over Sam then eased the boy over the seat until his legs weren't dangling out the door anymore. He turned and sat on the doorframe then dropped his head into his hands, Sam's last words before falling unconscious playing over and over in his mind. What had he meant when he'd said he would be out of his hair soon? With the current state of Sam's mind, it could mean anything and the thought that Sam was maybe thinking of hurting himself filled John with a terror he'd never known before. John turned to look over his shoulder at his youngest son, the steady throb behind his eyes suddenly making itself known again.

"I don't know what's going on in that head of yours, Sam, but I'm going to fix what I've broken. I promise you that, kiddo. I promise you that," he whispered before turning back around, his gaze moving over the trees as the moonlight played over their branches.

John settled in, turning often to check on his youngest son as he waited for his oldest to return. He had broken his baby boy, thus breaking his family and he was determined to fix that before any more damage could be done. He just hoped that it wasn't too little, too late.

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So, that's it for now. I'm almost done with the next chapter and am hoping to post it on both sites either tonight or tomorrow. As always, I'd love to hear what you think.

Cindy