Oh my goodness, you guys, I'm so sorry! I dropped off the face of the earth for two years, and now I have a completely different life (almost). I can't believe it's been so long, but I'm finally updating. And I will finish this story. Promise. Thanks to all the reviewers and fans that stayed with me!

Standard disclaimers apply, and please review and let me know that you love me.

Chapter 12- Sammy and John

Heavy breathing echoed through the trees, and Sam clamped a hand over his own mouth as he weaved through the forest. Leaving one weapon with Dean (in case he wakes up, Sam thought to himself), Sam had his gun in hand, and a plan in his head. But having a plan and actually accomplishing the goals are two different things, he thought, looking around in paranoid fright.

He was on his own for the first time. It had never been JUST him; there was always Dean with his stupid comments and Dad with his calm orders.

But now, he was on his own.

I can do this.

I can do this.

I think I can, I think I can…dammit.

Suddenly, a keening wail echoed through the greenery, and Sam froze in his spot, ducking for cover next to a tree. A hubbub of noise was emanating from a spot just beyond Sam's vantage point, and his hands started to shake with fear.

Feeling a sudden surge of bravery at the thought of his unconscious brother needing medical attention, Sam slowly rose from his position, covertly making his way to the next tree to provide cover for him as he scanned the surrounding area.

The sooner we're done with this, the sooner we can take Dean and Dad to a hospital.

Grunting sounds came from a cluster of trees partially blocking Sam's view. Moving closer, cursing the twigs snapping under his feet, Sam peered into the spaces between the large oaks and could make out the backs of several werewolves, all gathered together.

He closed his eyes for a second, taking a deep breath. I can do it.

Sam poised his finger on the trigger of his gun, steadying his shaking hand with rehearsed practice. His finger pushed down on the trigger, millimeter by millimeter, until it was almost compressed.

It was at that critical moment that it was unceremoniously knocked from his hand with a hiss of displeasure from none other than John Winchester.

Sam nearly wet his pants in fear, stifling the girlish shriek that erupted from his throat.

"Dad, what the--"

"Sammy, you idiot, you were going to take on those three by yourself? Where's your brother?" Sam didn't miss the look of terror in his father's eyes at that question. "Is he--"

"I don't know, Dad, he was pretty knocked out…I hid him where they can't find him, he needs a hospital soon though."

His father let out a strangled sigh of relief, glancing back at the werewolves holding their conference. "Sammy, I found him. I found Yaswan, I know where he is, he's pretty badly injured, but we can take him. He has a couple of big bad bodyguards on him though, I think these three are part of the group out looking for us," John said, pointing discreetly at the werewolves with their backs to the father and son. "We don't have to worry about them, as long as we get Yaswan before they get us."

Sam's eyes lit up. "Once we get the leader, the rest of the pack is going to die out, right? And then we can get Dean and take you both to a hospital?"

"I don't need a hospital, Sammy, I'm fine. Your brother, on the other hand, needs to learn not to be so careless," growled John, raising his voice a little more. Sam grinned internally, knowing his father and his stubborn ways.

"Whatever you say Dad, whatever you say…"

John gave his youngest son a calculating gaze. "You can do this with me, Sam. I know it's scary, but we can take out this creature together."

Sam's face fell a little. "I don't know, Dad, this is Dean's job…I'm supposed to keep a watch out and run like hell if anything happens…" he whispered even more quietly.

"Yeah well something did happen, didn't it." Sam looked up at the sound of his father's unnaturally soft voice. "To help your brother, we have to finish this. You know that."

For Dean.

Putting on his best game face, Sam scowled.

"Let's take him."

John grinned at the sight of his little boy taking on the role. Worried as he may be about Dean, he knew that Sam wouldn't have left him in a place the wolves could find him at. He winced a bit as he stepped on his bad leg, feeling the pain reverberate through his body.

"Alright, son. Let's finish this."

Both father and son had, however, failed to realize that the werewolves that had been conversing in front of them had disappeared. Not until John swiveled around to find three drooling, angry werewolves mere feet away staring them down did he notice his mistake.

At that time, he said the only thing he could think of.

"Fuck."