A/N: Howdy all! Sorry for the late update; today was a day! Many thanks to SammysGirl42 (x4), hectatess, shadowhauntingdauntlessdemigod, Colby's girl, tyrsibs, and bagelcat1 for the reviews!

This chapter is tagged to episode 10x15, The Things They Carried. Thanks to Bjester74 for the idea for this one! She was super awesome and talked me through how to write this chapter because it just was not coming to me. I hope you all enjoy! Please drop a review at the end!

Disclaimer: Nothing recognizable belongs to me.

Out on a Limb

Sam hated military men. Hated them with a cold passion that was difficult to rival.

He knew he shouldn't. So many soldiers lived and died to protect others. They were heroes, through and through, and he didn't want to hate them, but experience had proven to him that military men were ridiculously singularly focused and very little could derail them once they put their nose to something.

John had been a lot like that. Hell, he'd turned their entire life into a single mission: find and kill the thing that killed Mom. Every other hunting job he found came second. The lives and well-being of his sons came third.

It was part of the reason he had rebelled so often. He had seen enough from other kids, whether it be on TV or around the school or at the park, to know that most parents – not all, but most – put their young kids first. At the very least, they made sure that their kids were safe, well-fed and clothed, and that they were taken care of. John didn't do that. That all fell to Dean. Dean cared for them, made sure Sam had enough to eat, that Sam's jeans weren't sitting three inches above his ankles, that Sam had gotten all his schoolwork done.

On top of that, Dean was the only one who could properly take care of their father. John got so bad sometimes that he forgot to take care of himself too. So, Dean would make sure he ate, make sure the Impala was gassed up and ready to go, make sure that they had enough money to get them from Point A to Point B. Dean had gotten really damn good at getting through to John over the years, a talent that Sam had never been able to acquire for himself. Maybe if he had, he wouldn't have been in a self-imposed exile for almost four years.

Sam wasn't sure what it was. Dean could do a pretty good imitation of John's military bark when he wanted to. Dean was also the only one able to pin John down in a physical fight, at least, that Sam ever saw. And, nine times out of ten, Dean could keep his head in a verbal argument, which would often lead to him getting his way.

Dean was just plain good at talking military types down. So, why was there a pit at the centre of Sam's stomach at the thought of Dean alone in that cabin with Cole?

He'd been the one to suggest it, after all. Dean stays with Cole and gets the Khan worm out. Sam goes after Kit, saves the war hero and his wife. They all go home happy. Everyone wins.

Except that Dean had just called and said that electrocution hadn't worked, so he was back to square one. Sam was still a few miles out from the military town with zero clue how to save Cole's friend because his mind was stuck back in the cabin with his brother and the guy who, a few short weeks ago, had been all set to torture Sam and kill Dean.

Had that been his reasoning for splitting them up the way he had? Because he hadn't been willing to face Cole after what Cole had done to him? Originally, Sam had been thinking that Dean was so good at talking military guys down, so Dean was the obvious choice to stay. And, hey, if Dean got a little enjoyment out of electrocuting the guy who had tortured his brother, who was Sam to deny him of that? But had Sam offered to go after Kit because he was scared? Of Cole? Dean was better at tracking, so he probably would have had an easier time figuring out where Kit went.

Sam shook his head and tried to get his head back into the hunt. If he didn't get to Kit's house soon, it was more than likely going to turn into a clean up instead of a rescue mission. Every other person that had gotten possessed by this thing had ended up killing someone, and Sam wasn't about to let that happen to Jemma.

Sam tightened his grip on the wheel. He wasn't going to let it happen to Dean either. He was going to have to go out on a limb and trust that Cole wouldn't turn around and kill his brother.

Kill his brother and turn him back into a demon because of that stupid scar on his forearm. Take them all the way back to square one.

No, Sam could trust Cole. He'd seemed more interested in saving his buddy than picking a fight with Dean.

But how long could that last? How fast had John been able to switch moods? Dean would convince him of one thing, but within a couple of days John would have his head back in the sand, determined to continue to plow along. Cole had been planning his revenge on Dean for decades. And now, with the Khan worm affecting his actions, could Sam trust him not to renege on his newfound respect for what they did and kill Dean?

The second he could, Sam called Dean. He knew he shouldn't. He should have been focused on helping Jemma and figuring out how to get the Khan Worm 2.0 out of Kit. But he couldn't help worrying about Dean and needing to know that he was still alive.

"Sam, everything okay?"

Sam breathed a sigh of relief at the sound of his brother's voice. "Yeah, yeah, we're all good here. How are things at the cabin?"

"Peachy keen, Sammy. Just kicking it old school in the Sweat Lodge, waiting for the slug to make an appearance."

"Wait, what? You're in a…Sweat Lodge?"

"Well, you're the one who said everything has got a weakness. So, I figure, take a schvitz, kill a freak. Call that a good day."

Sam shook his head. Only his brother…

"Yeah…if it works," he muttered in reply, checking over his shoulder at Kit, still knocked out cold.

"Well, you got a better idea?"

Sam gripped his phone tighter. He didn't want to say it, but he had to at least put it out there. Normally, he was dead set against killing someone who could be saved, but he would shoot Cole with a smile on his face if it meant that Dean got out of there unscathed.

"Yeah, I do actually, Dean. We know how to end this."

Sam heard Dean sigh on the other end of the line. "Yeah, Plan B for 'bullet'. But we're not quite there yet, so just hold tight."

Sam gritted his teeth. He didn't want to hold tight. He wanted them both to be back at the Bunker, where Sam could privately research how to get that damned Mark off his brother's arm without Dean becoming a demon or a murderer. But he couldn't say that to Dean. Dean had all but given up hope on a cure, despite having Charlie out there hunting down every lead she could and Sam looking in every nook and cranny in the Bunker for even a hint of a clue to a possible cure.

"Alright."

After a few more minutes of chatting, Sam hung up the phone and hung his head for a second. Leap of faith, out on a limb, trust. Trust. He kept reminding himself as he spoke to Jemma and tried to figure out a plan of attack, and he would keep reminding himself until he saw for himself that Dean was still standing and that he still had green eyes.

A/N: Well, I hope that was good! Please let me know in a review! Love you all and see you next week!