A/N: Just as a warning, there's some swearing in this chapter and I hope that doesn't offend anyone. I also want to thank everyone for reading and for all of your kind comments. Reviews are a fan fic writer's only compensation and I truly appreciate each one.
Chapter 3
6 hours ago
Sam was miserable.
The plan to hike to the cabin, stake it out until the moon rose then storm in with silver-tipped bullets spraying once they had confirmed the men inside were indeed werewolves sounded easy enough, but when was anything in their lives easy? And just because it was a good plan and stood an excellent chance of being successful didn't mean that Sam had to like it.
Especially the hiking part.
More than six miles of slogging through wilderness, tripping over tree branches and climbing steep hills had already gone by leaving Sam feeling every step of it.
Okay...maybe he had to admit that he had slacked off some from his father's training regime the last few weeks, but the push to get all A's for his final exams and his studies for the SAT's had taken priority in Sam's eyes. So, instead of running the 10K his father wanted him to do everyday after school, he ran instead to the local library and got in as much extra study time as he could before he was expected back. Sam credited the additional hour a day there as what had helped him score so well on the SAT that Stanford had offered him a full ride, but in hind sight, he probably could have used the cardio as he was starting to feel fatigue set in.
"C'mon, Sam. Pick it up." Dad called out, walking beside Caleb and looking behind him, seeing Sam lag behind somewhat.
Grumbling internally, Sam caught up to Dean who marched on contentedly not far behind the older two hunters.
"What's the matter, Sammy..." Dean grinned at him slyly. "This little stroll in the woods kicking your butt?"
"No." Sam was quick to defend himself.
"Could have fooled me." His brother shrugged, but didn't push any further, instead he pulled his pack off of his shoulders and brought it around to his front, unzipping a pocket and pulling out a wedge shaped, plastic container.
"What's that?" Sam asked.
"What does it look like?" Dean came back while removing the cellophane that sealed in two halves of a ham sandwich taking one out.
"Where'd you get that?"
"Vending machine at the motel had 'em. Snagged one before we left." Dean popped a pointy end of the sandwich in his mouth, taking a huge bite and chewing happily.
"Who knows how long it was in that machine." Sam looked on disgusted. "You ever hear of salmonella, Dean? You're just tempting fate eating that thing."
"ah wike oo ive on de edge." Came a garbled retort from Dean's stuffed mouth.
"Ewww...that's just gross." Sam screwed up his face seeing the revolting sight.
Dean swallowed. "At least I'm not hungry anymore. Want some?" He offered the uneaten portion of the sandwich half to his brother.
Sam was in fact hungry himself, but definitely not for that. He instead reached into the side pocket of his own backpack and pulled out a Powerbar, waggling it in front of his brother. "I brought my own stuff to eat and it won't give me food poisoning." Sam pointed out before he unwrapped it, took a bite and chewed hard on the tough, sticky and somewhat odd tasting chocolate energy bar.
"You call that food?" Dean made the same disgusted face Sam had used earlier. "I think I'd rather take my chances with the sandwich."
Sam would have come back with something like 'shut up, jerk' if his jaw wasn't still working on what he would only admit to himself was something chewier than an over-cooked piece of steak.
"Alright you two..." their father turned around again while continuing his march forward. "That's enough yapping, we still got another mile to go and daylight's running out fast, so let's move." He ordered.
"Yessir." Dean snapped back into full-on hunter mode while Sam kept his annoyance at being treated like a marine corps grunt at bay and trudged on, matching his sibling's increased speed.
It was then that the first fat drops of rain began to fall on the hiking hunters. Sam grumbled at the change in weather, thinking that things couldn't get much worse.
Now
Pouring rain soaked his hair and matted it to his forehead while a stiff, bitter wind kicked up and cut through his coat and clothing, biting into his exposed skin. The cold was all encompassing, but the exhausting work of leaning into his walking stick then swinging his good leg out to take step after agonizing step kept a good deal of the shivering down to a minimum and was actually making him sweat a little.
It was not like he was really focusing on the weather anyway, his only thoughts centered on moving forward, gritting through the pain and making his way back to where he had last seen the others.
He lost track of how far he had already come, but disappointingly he knew it wasn't far. At first, he had made good progress hobbling across the terrain, but as the ground rose and the hills started to become steeper and steeper, the fight against the fatigue, nausea and dizziness that battered him was almost insurmountable.
On top of that, his arms were beginning to ache from practically pole-vaulting each step, but what was worse was the cramping building up in legs. For every couple of feet he managed to cover, he had to rest, panting as he leaned into the stick.
Sam felt the stirrings of despair take root in his gut. He still had so far to go, not much energy left and he wasn't even certain he was heading back the same direction he had come from. Too tired to move forward without another break, Sam spied a downed tree trunk and gingerly lowered himself to sit on it, carefully stretching out his injured leg.
Wearily, he sighed, exhaustion leaking out of every pore in his body as he gave into the rest. Looking out ahead to the direction he had been heading and seeing the steep incline that loomed before him, he dreaded the thought of carrying on and torturing his body any further. What was the point anyway? He was never gonna make it; not like this, not at this pace. He was so beyond screwed that giving up was starting to look like a viable and attractive option.
3 hours earlier
Caleb hunkered down among the bushes and undergrowth of the forest then pointed. "There..." He whispered to John who knelt down beside of him. "That's it."
John peered out through the thick foliage, making out the lines of the cabin between the dense leaves. He reached for his pack and opened it to pull out a pair of binoculars, putting them to his eyes and getting a closer view of the small, run-down structure. He was aware of Sam and Dean crouching down behind him, but focused on the building.
The unshaded windows provided an inside view of the cabin and John did not see any movement for several minutes, but finally the tall figures of two men came around the opposite side of the cabin carrying firewood and were met by another man who opened the front door for them. So far, nothing would suggest that the three men were werewolves, but dusk was only just beginning and the moon hadn't risen yet. They would have to wait for their confirmation before taking action.
If there was only one thing John was patient for, it was a stake out and the promise of doing in supernatural creatures that threatened the lives and safety of innocent people; people that didn't deserve to die in such terrible ways. People like his wife.
Even now, almost eighteen years after her death, it still stung to think about her and the vision of seeing her on the ceiling of Sammy's nursery just before fire engulfed her and the room.
While it was too late for him to prevent tragedy from his striking his own family, he could do something to keep it from ruining other people's lives and he would do just about anything to make sure no one else went through the same pain and heartache as he experienced and still felt everyday.
Setting down the binoculars for now, John turned back to Caleb and his boys, lowering his voice to just above a whisper. "Alright...we only got a little bit of time left before the moon is at it's fullest. Once we got some clear sign that these guys are what we think they are then, Dean...you and Caleb cover the front door...Sam and I'll take the back in case some of them try to escape."
Dean and Caleb nodded, accepting John's greater experience and authority. Sam scowled slightly and John knew that the boy objected to being assigned to go in with him, but in John's mind that was just tough. Sam might think he was a grown man now, but John hadn't been blind to him dragging his heels on the hike up there and his lack of focus and enthusiasm towards the task at hand could be dangerous. There wasn't any way he was going to let the kid out of his sight when he was being pissy like this and it could get him either hurt or killed.
The four hunters settled in to watch the cabin closely while the sun set beyond the mountains, casting them into darkness. The clouds in the sky dropping continual rain on them blocked any visuals of the moon, so instead John kept his binoculars trained on the cabin for any signs of change. It felt like forever before he finally saw some movement through the window and heard animalistic noises and howling cries coming from within, filling the night air.
That was enough confirmation for John to know that they indeed had a pack of werewolves on their hands and he knew it was time act before they escaped from the cabin and ran free into the wilderness.
He made eye contact with Dean and Caleb, signaling for them to move in. They both nodded, taking the safety off of their weapons and springing into action. Glancing sideways at Sam, his youngest looked on wide-eyed at the cabin where the horrible, terrifying noises emanated from, a glint of fear crossing his features. Sam had only been on one other werewolf hunt before and that time it had only been one creature, but a whole pack of those damned things making all of that racket could set any hunter's hair sticking up on the back of their neck. John nudged him somewhat impatiently, pushing him into action. Sam had to face the fear and push through it if he was ever going to become as effective a hunter as Dean and himself.
Sam swallowed and to John's satisfaction, his jaw locked in determination before he sprung forward as well. Keeping pace with Sam's long legs, John ran for the rear of the cabin with his son just in time to hear the first gunshots ring out from the front.
There was a great and terrible screaming and howling as Sam took cover by a wood pile and John took up position behind a tree. He trained his rifle on the cabin and glanced over at Sam who was unable to hide his nervousness, but he too kept his Colt .45 aimed at the door with a steady hand.
Suddenly, the exit to the cabin burst open, revealing a snarling beast. It appeared uninjured and must have run for the door as soon as the shooting began. John was first to fire, but the damned thing whirled just in time to dodge the bullet. It was far faster than any werewolf John had encountered before and before he could aim and get off another round it was heading straight for Sam.
"Shoot him now!" John shouted to Sam, but when his finger pulled on the trigger, nothing happened; his gun was jammed. Panicked now that the creature was almost upon him, Sam slapped his weapon, but couldn't clear out the stuck round, instead he rolled away from the log pile and the reach of the creature just in time for it smash the wood and send it crashing down. The momentary distraction gave John the opportunity to fire off another round and hit the beast in the back of the head, sending blood and brains spraying.
Another figured appeared through the door out of the corner of his eye and John whirled to aim, but quickly lowered his rifle seeing that it was Caleb followed by Dean close at his heels.
"We're clear in here." He called out then looked down at the mess on the ground. "Well, looks like we got 'em all." Seeing the remains of the one that had gotten away from him and Dean.
Dean hurried over to Sam, who sat on the ground panting. "You okay, Sammy?" he asked his little brother, offering him a hand up. Sam just nodded and took Dean's hand, coming back to his feet.
John was quick to join them. Sam had some explaining to do. Guns that were well-maintained didn't just jam on their own.
"What the hell happened to your weapon, Sam?" He nearly shouted, making his anger known.
Sam stammered. "Uh...I don't know, it just jammed."
"Let me see that thing." John ordered. Sam at least had the good sense to do as he was told and handed the pistol over. John grabbed it and easily cleared it, letting the unfired round in the chamber drop to the ground. He then released the magazine and pulled the slide down to inspect the internal mechanisms of the pistol. What he saw immediately answered how the gun jammed, but also made him very angry.
"When's the last time you actually cleaned this damned thing, Sam?" He asked bitterly, this was inexcusable.
"Uh...well..."
"Yeah." John cut him off, his eyes blazing. "That's what I thought. This weapon is dirty as hell. Why didn't you clean it?"
"After our last practice I was going to, I swear, but I had a ton of homework and final exams...I guess I just forgot."
"You just forgot? Good God, Sam!" John felt his blood pressure rise. "What is my number one rule about weapons and the first fuckin' thing I taught you? You always, always clean the damn thing after you fire it or shit like this happens. If I hadn't been here to take that Goddamned werewolf out, what do you think would have happened?"
Sam's mouth moved to defend himself, but John wasn't about to back off on this. "You'd be dead right now and all because you had better things to do. Thank God you're finished with school because otherwise, I'd be pulling your ass out. Despite what you think, there are more important things than getting good grades and going to frickin' proms. "
Looking over at Dean, Sam silently pleaded for his big brother's help. "Don't you look to him to get you out of this. You look at me when I'm speaking to you. Now, you are going to get you e-tool and dig a fire pit for the bodies and when you're finished with that you're gonna clean this weapon and all of the others until they sparkle. Come tomorrow we're going back to square one with your training until you show me that you're responsible and in shape enough for the job. I was going to take you back to Nebraska for your graduation, but you can just forget about that now. You're gonna square your shit away and get with the act, Sam because I'm not going to stand for anymore of this laziness, ya hear me?." John thrust the weapon back into Sam's hand forcefully.
Sam's face suddenly went from stunned to angry and he glared back at John, his eyes glinting with fury. "You think I'm lazy, Dad? You have no idea how hard I've been working to make good grades all while trying to keep up with your damn training, because that's all you care about; turning us into the perfect warriors for your insane crusade. Do ever stop to think about what I want to do with my life, that I'm an adult now and have a choice whether or not I want to keep doing this crap forever? What if I want to do something else? What if I want to get an education and someday have a family of my own, did you ever think of that? I know you want to catch the thing that killed mom, but do you seriously think she would want you to drag Dean and I all across the country and never have any dreams or lives of our own just so you can have some twisted form of vengeance?"
John felt something snap inside and all he saw was red.
He had never raised a hand to his sons in anger before, but this was too much for him to control any longer. How dare he disrespect the memory of his mother.
"Dad!" Dean called out, seeming to sense that John had been pushed one step too far and to keep him from doing something he might regret. But it was already too late. Unconsciously his hand balled into a fist and before he could stop himself, it went flying, connecting square with Sam's jaw.
Pain flared through his hand once the connection was made, but that wasn't what hurt the most. Seeing his son...the one his wife had died for, crumple to the ground by his own hand was a blow he wasn't sure either one of them might recover from.
Regret, remorse and guilt flooded over him. How had he gone from being scared out of his mind when that werewolf went after Sam to being so angry with the boy that he laid him out on the ground?
Time seemed to slow down. He felt Caleb's hands grab him, separating him from Sam, heard Dean shout then go to his brother, tasted bile crawling it way up to his mouth and smelled the acrid scent of gun powder linger in the cool, rainy air. But the only sense that truly registered was the sight of his youngest child looking up at him with pain-filled, angry eyes before spitting blood out of his mouth and batting Dean away to stand on his own. Sam didn't say anything; he didn't need to, his expression said more than words ever could and the next thing he knew, his boy was walking away.
Finally, John broke through the shock he given himself and the others caused by his actions and found his voice again. "Sam..." He yelled to his son out pleadingly, hoping to draw him back so they could find some way to fix this, but Sam refused to turn around.
"Let him go, John." Caleb ordered, his voice demanding and firm. "Let him walk it off. He'll be back."
Reluctantly, John swallowed hard and nodded, his voice betraying the mixed flood of emotions sweeping over him."I'm gonna go clear my head."
John said no more then headed for the woods, leaving a stunned and torn Dean behind to stand helplessly by and watch while his family scattered like frightened rabbits in opposite directions.
Now
So, you're just gonna give up? Is that it? Is this really the best you can do? He heard his father's angry and disappointed voice echoing in his head. You're a winchester, Sammy whether you want to be or not and Winchesters don't give up.
I'm a human being, Dad. Sam internally replied, insenced by his imagination. And Human beings have limits.
Bullshit! His father's voice crescendoed. Now, you get your damned ass off of that log and start marching up that hill!
I can't. Sam fought back. It hurts too much... I'm too tired.
Wrong answer, boy or are you truly as lazy and careless as I think you are?
I'm not lazy!
Then prove it...get moving!
I will! And when I find you again, I'm gonna rub it in your face. Sam grabbed his walking stick again and pulled himself off the log, ignoring the stabs of pain that radiated up and down his leg. He stared up at the hill that loomed ahead of him with renewed determination and anger towards his father then started his trek once again.
You're wrong about me, Dad. You always have been.
TBC...
