A/N: Sorry, but there's some more bad language at the end of this chapter.

A/N2: Anyway, I had someone point out that a werewolf can only be killed with a shot to the heart. I had forgotten that, so I've tried to clear up some of that mistake in this chapter. Also, many of you have been guessing as to what it is exactly that has attacked Sam...well I've left a few more clues this time, but I'm not saying what is yet...bwah ha ha ha. I Hope you enjoy this latest installment and I apologize for not getting out any replies to the reviews from the last chapter, but I truly do appreciate your input, advice and comments! :D

Chapter 4

3 hours earlier

Dean's head switched back in forth between Sam and his father's retreating backs, torn between wanting to chase after them and knowing that they both needed some time to process what had just happened on their own. Besides, there was only one of him and he couldn't go after them both.

"You okay, kid?" Caleb asked after several moments of silence.

"Yeah..." Dean lied, his voice having trouble working against his tightening throat. He couldn't count the number of times Dad and Sam had gotten into a fight the last few years, but he had never seen his father lose his cool like he just had. Sam was an expert at pushing his father's buttons, but he had gone too far this time and the shock of seeing him hit his little brother stung almost as much as if he had been struck himself. But, Dean was angry at Sam too, pissed that he had made such a rookie mistake, but more upset that Sam had admitted what Dean had always feared...that he wasn't happy being a part of their family, that he wanted out of their lives.

"We better get these bodies taken care of before it starts raining too hard for a good fire." Caleb suggested.

Dean nodded, unsurprised that Sam and Dad's explosive rage towards each other had left him with a mess to clean up once again.

After digging a pit, they both headed to the body of the werewolf his father had shot. It was as dead as dead could be in Dean's eye, but that didn't stop Caleb from pulling out his pistol and shooting the damn thing through the heart anyway.

"You can never be too careful with these things. I once shot one through the head in Canada then went to move the body and the little bugger started growling at me. Nearly crapped my pants before I popped another through it's heart. Sometimes even if something looks dead, don't mean it is." Caleb explained while he grabbed the feet of the body and Dean lifted the creature up from under the shoulders. They then hauled the beast to the pit, dumping it in unceremoniously and after that, they went back into the cabin and repeated the process twice over with the other two bodies.

With ample wood from the logs stacked up by the cabin, an entire canister of rock salt and nearly a whole bottle of lighter fluid it wasn't long before they had a strong bonfire going despite the light, misty rain. Dean watched the flames, oblivious to the acrid stench of burning flesh as his thoughts wandered back and forth between Dad and Sam. Both were right and both had been wrong, but asking him to choose sides wasn't going to happen. However, either way he knew he would have to be the one to patch up this crap; he always was.

Sandwiched between his two bull-headed family members and their many battles, he was tired of playing peacemaker and mediator, but what else could he do? The thought that there might be the possibility of Sam leaving for greener pastures was almost too unbearable and he had to find some way to keep that from happening. Dean didn't have much, but one thing he did have was his family and he wasn't about to let it fall apart without a fight.

He was unaware of how much time had really passed while he gazed into the fire until out of the corner of his eye, he saw a dark shadow approach their spot.

Dean turned with a start then sighed in relief to see his father walking up and joining them by the fire. He was glad to see he was composed and in control once again, yet at the same time he found it too difficult to meet his eyes, so never noticed that his father hadn't tried to look at him either. It was like a shared shame that neither of them wanted to or could yet confront.

"John?" Caleb started as a way of half greeting him and half asking him if he was alright.

"I'm fine." John replied grimly, rubbing his tired face. "I'm sorry you had to see that, Caleb. I...uh...don't know how I lost control like that."

"I'm not the one you need to apologize to, but it's none of my business. You guys got things you need to work out by yourselves so, I guess I 'll just go inside the cabin and clean up. We might as well stay the night here and hike back in the morning when the weather's better."

John nodded in agreement before Caleb walked off and headed for the cabin, leaving Dean to stand there uncomfortably next to his father.

They were quiet for several minutes, neither of them really caring much when the rain powered up from a miserable drizzle to a regular shower.

"Sam's not back yet?" John finally broke the silence.

"No...how long has it been anyway?" Dean asked, realizing suddenly that he hadn't really kept up with the time and now seeing that the bodies in the pit were nearly cinders, he got a terrible uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach.

"Haven't really been keeping track." John murmured softly. "But if he's not back soon, we'll go looking for him. He probably just needs a little more time." Dean finally made the effort to take a look at his father. He appeared on the outside to be calm and collected, but the little lines of stress around his eyes and the way he stared anxiously in the direction he had last seen Sam sent a quiver up Dean's spine.

fighting the urge to take off and hunt down his brother right then, Dean felt the knot in his stomach tighten. Sammy shouldn't have been out by himself this long, he should have gone after him right away after the fight, but he had been too torn by his conflicting emotions to do so back then. Hopefully, he hadn't gone far and Sam had had enough time to find a little head space by now, but knowing his kid brother and the way he could brood without paying much attention to anything else made Dean feel a little queasy with guilt and uneasiness.

That's when both John and Dean's ears picked up a faint sound emanating across the forest and from the general direction Sam had last been seen heading. It was almost too distant to hear but what it was, was unmistakable to the two seasoned hunters and sent them both scrambling instinctively for their weapons: it was gunfire.

OOOOOOO

At the same time Dean was just starting to worry that his little brother hadn't returned yet, Sam was sitting on a fallen log, cleaning the gun that had started the argument that had led him into the woods in the first place with the hem of his t-shirt.

Although he was still hurt and angry about his father taking a swing at him, Sam had to admit that he wasn't entirely innocent in all of this, that his words had pushed his father over the edge. It was practically Winchester family taboo to even so much as mention his mother and he had gone and rubbed her death in his father's face.

He should have known better, but Sam had just been so angry at the time about his father's drive to mold him into a hunter like him and the realization that he'd never happily nor willingly allow him to go to college that the words had come flying out of his mouth before he could stop them.

Sure, that didn't excuse his father for reacting with physical violence, but Sam felt his own measure of guilt for the fight. He hadn't maintained his weapon like he should have and his father had been right in being pissed about that. So here he sat, trying to fix what he could of the situation before he headed back.

At first Sam had been so stunned and hurt by his father's burst of outrage that he had wandered into the woods without even thinking about which direction to take, he just wanted to get away. He had even been tempted to just leave for good, to head out of the forest entirely and go back to civilization until he made it all the way to California, never go back again to his family. But that was just a fantasy, one he knew he couldn't fulfill, at least not yet. He couldn't leave Dean behind without an explanation...he owed him too much to just ditch him like that and the last thing he wanted to do was hurt his brother. Dean had always been there for him, the least he could do was tell him about Stanford. His dad may never understand his desire to go to college and have a life of his own, but Dean might...maybe. But one thing was for certain in his mind now. He was going to college whether his family wanted him to or not.

Though his jaw still ached from his Dad's knuckles slamming into his face, he knew he had to go back at some point. Reassembling his gun and slapping in the extra clip had had stored in his pocket, Sam looked back at the direction he had come from. He wasn't sure how far out he had come from the cabin, but if he was to make it back before Dean got pissed about him being gone so long and came looking for him, then he figured he better get moving. Especially since it was just starting to rain steadily and he was in no mood to be soaked completely and add to his misery.

Standing up and, he thought about the inevitable and uncomfortable situation that awaited him when he saw his father again. He had no idea what he would say. Would his Dad even be sorry for hitting him?

Most likely not, he figured spitefully. He couldn't recall his father apologizing for anything before and that had the once cooled embers of anger sparking again inside of him. Of course his father wouldn't say he was sorry...who was he kidding? Just because he hit him, didn't mean the man would ever change. Asking for that was like asking for the sun to quit rising in the morning, time to stop marching on or Dean to give up sex...it just wasn't gonna happen.

Sam paid no attention to where his feet were taking him, he was too distracted by his own thoughts and feelings to do much more than stare at the ground as he walked on. He noticed that one of his bootlaces had become untied, so grumbling, he crouched down, set his gun down and fixed it. Unknown to Sam, in the shadows a hunter caught sight of him and in the position he was in, he appeared to be the perfect, vulnerable prey.

Sam had just finished fixing his lace and picked up his gun again when the hunter pounced and caught him unaware.

Now

Damned mountains, Sam thought angrily, why did they have so many damned hills that were so damned high?

Two steps into the hill he needed to summit and he knew he would not be getting very far up it with just one good leg. His only option for climbing it was to turn around, sit on his ass and haul himself backwards up it, using his one functioning leg and hands to push and slide his butt upwards.

His injured limb throbbed and sent stabbing pain signals through his nerves as it dragged across the wet ground, so taking a moment to breathe through the exhaustion and the sheer physical agony his ascent up the hill brought him, Sam dug the heel of his boot of his uninjured leg into the soft ground to brace himself.

Glancing behind, he looked up the hill to see that he didn't have much farther to go before he was at the top, giving him some hope that he just might make it.

Gritting his teeth, bracing for the inevitable grief continuing on would harbor, Sam dug his heel deeper into the earth and pushed. Halfway into scooting his backside up, the ground beneath his foot suddenly shifted while loose leaves and twigs gave way under his weight.

Losing what little grip his foot had left to the sliding ground, he fought to find a new foothold for his heel, desperately hoping to stop his slide towards the bottom of the hill, but the land refused to allow it, breaking apart under him.

Gravity took over from there and he was soon sliding downward, unable to stop his descent no matter how hard he scrabbled for some kind of purchase. Before long his speed increased as well and all control was lost. Tumbling and rolling, there was no way he could end the assault as twigs and branches snapped at his face, arms and most painfully of all his already shredded leg.

If only there had been some sort of relief when his body finally came to an abrupt halt at the bottom of the hill, but alas, his entire body was engulfed in flaming, stabbing, overwhelming and unending agony. He screamed out loud, hot tears rolling down his face unbridled as he rolled onto his back.

The blurry vision of the hill he had tried and failed to conquer loomed above and taunted him, as waves of hopelessness crashed over him.

Suddenly, the pain of his tumble wasn't as all-consuming as his anger at the whole damned situation. He slammed his hand hard into the ground and lifted his head to the sky in defiance to whatever God or higher power seemed to have it out for him and opened his mouth to scream out his frustration at the top of his lungs.

"FUUUUUUCKKKKKING SHIIIIIIT!"

TBC...