A/N: Sam and Dean deal with the aftermath of the monster's attack.
Sam crawled through the forest at a leisurely pace. Dean limped behind him, trusting that his brother knew where the river was. The sun beat at the back of Dean's neck. Sweat clung to his forehead. All around them the forest was blooming. The deeper they roamed, the more fragrant it became. Birds swooped in and out of hollows, bending to feed hungry, gaping mouths. Bees buzzed from groves of wildflowers, flinting from one blue wild indigo to the next. Mosquitoes landed on Dean's bare forearm. He squatted them dead.
Sam was quiet, eyes distant and vacant, clutching the spiderling sac at the crook of his arm. From this angle, it appeared that the egg was somehow bigger than its original football size. Dean couldn't help but think the wispy contours of the silky exterior could morph as the fetus grew. The prospect wasn't too farfetched. Dean wished he paid more attention in high school Biology instead of ogling the girls. But maybe it wouldn't have mattered anyway. Arachne didn't follow the organic rules of ordinary creatures.
With each step, a barb of pain shivered up Dean's leg. The flesh around his ankle was swollen, heated, and bruised. Sprained, Dean suspected. It was better than broken. Dean had suffered way worse injuries on the job and even though this was enough to kick a civilian off his feet, Dean was a hunter and part of being a hunter was cramming pain into a deep, dark hole in his belly and not letting it show. That's what kept a man alive. That resilience had saved Dean's ass more times than he could count.
That didn't mean it didn't hurt like a bitch, though. Having comprehended Dean's injury, Sam had slowed in accommodation, occasionally glancing behind him to make sure Dean was still moving. Sam was quiet, however, and Dean didn't quite much like that, especially since his silence came with a detached, aching look. Sam was hurting and hurting badly. Dean didn't know if there was anything he could say to make it better.
Dean began to sing a falsetto rendition of Sabbath's Iron Man, just to break the maddening silence. His voice seemed to cut through the mutter of nature like a knife. Startled by the sound of his own voice, Dean dropped into a low murmur. Sam kept moving. Dean swallowed, cleared his throat.
"Dude, how much longer?" Dean sighed. "I feel like we've been trekkin' this bitch for ages."
Sam paused, glanced behind him. He waited for Dean to catch up. "Soon. De."
"If you say so," Dean said. They walked side-by-side. Dean's eyes flickered to the bloody slash against Sam's waist, just below his swollen belly. Droplets of blood welled from the cut and fell, pregnant, to the forest floor.
A thought occurred to Dean, sending his heart racing. Dean glanced down at his ripped knee and bloody side, eyes scrambling for any signs of cross contamination. Had he gotten any arachnid blood on him? As he limped along, he frantically ran his hands over his chest, stomach, thighs. He didn't feel any different. He was pretty sure he'd have already turned by now.
I dodged a bullet, Dean thought. He sighed quietly.
If Sam noticed the shift in Dean's mood, he didn't acknowledge it.
Dean heard the river before he saw it. The rippling, gurgling sound was like music to his ears. Dean smiled in anticipation.
"So glad to finally get clean." Dean said wistfully. "I smell funky as hell."
Sam glanced down at him. "No. You…smell good."
Dean barked out a laugh. "Thanks, but we both know I stink. Don't try flattering me, Sammy. Won't get you into my pants any quicker."
Sam's expression lightened and he gave Dean a smile, even if it didn't reach his eyes.
The ribbon-like body of water was shallow enough to wade across, rushing at an unhurried pace. Dean glanced down, soaking in the gentle hum and trickle, the sheer cleanliness of it. There were small, round pebbles along the edge of the water and when Dean plopped down, the stones dug against his ass. Sam plopped down near him, watching.
Dean unlaced his boots, stripped off his socks. He gently nudged the puffy skin, gritting his teeth at the tenderness of his ankle. He shoved the pain aside, rose up, and stripped off his pants. Tacky with drying blood, the shirt clung to the nasty cut. Dean maneuvered out of it slowly, gritting his teeth against the sun, finally flinging it from his shoulders. It landed like a limp, dark animal against the stones. He pawed at the cut. It wasn't that deep, although a small string of blood continued to leak from the very edge.
"Dude, I would kill for a bar of Irish Spring right now." Dean said, glancing at Sam. He was startled to see Sam had risen and was crawling towards him, practically eye fucking him.
"Don't look at me like that. Fuckin' peeping tom." Dean scoffed. Sam's gaze rose to his eyes, and he smiled sheepishly. From the corner of his eye, Dean saw a flash of black. Dean grew still when he felt Sam's leg settle on the space between his shoulder blades. Sam slithered the tip of his leg down Dean's back and over the fat hump of Dean's left ass cheek, feather-like. Dean shuttered, face flushing.
"Sammy, don't poke my ass." Dean huffed.
The tip of Sam's leg ghosted from his buttocks down to the back of his thighs. Sam blinked. "Dean…bleeding."
"Don't try to change the subject." Dean said, crossing his arms.
"De. Still hurt." Sam replied, eyeing his side. He moved the egg to his other arm, adjusting his grip.
"Yeah, man. But don't you worry, that good ol' immune system is going to kick in any second now." Or, at least, Dean hoped so.
A frown played on Sam's lips. "Immune system?"
"Don't feel like explaining that one. I'm going to dip into the water." Dean said, glancing down.
"Me. Keep watch." Sam replied, taking his leg back and settling at the edge of the water.
"You do that," Dean replied, and hobbled into the river. Goosebumps erupted on Dean's skin. Despite the sunny day, the water was chilly. Dean went slack in pleasure, a stupid grin breaking out on his face. Dean felt fine sand, large, flat rocks, and gummy aquatic plants underneath his feet. Something slimy and cold slipped across his calf. A fish. He waded into the river until he was waist-deep and collapsed his legs, floating, bending to splash water against his face, chest, stomach. He rubbed underneath his arms, shoulders, dipped below the water to dunk his head.
Dean broke the surface, twisting around and finding Sam. Sam was paying attention to the egg nuzzled in his arms, thick fingers rubbing tenderly against its wispy, silky shell. His face was twisted in love. His lips were moving. Sam was talking to it, Dean realized. Something clenched in Dean's chest.
Dean waded back to the edge of the river, caught the words.
"-baby okay. Mommy love baby."
"Sammy?"
Sam blinked, as if broken from a trance. He looked at Dean.
"Gonna wash my clothes." Dean said, collecting the articles of clothing and dragging them into the water.
"Okay," Sam replied, lowering the egg to the center of his chest. Dean's shirt bubbled, floated. He scrubbed the fabric together. Dried blood, sweat, and dust erupted from the material, momentarily staining the water. After he was finished he fished his boxers back up, his pants, and socks. With his clothes buddled in his arms, Dean waded back to the edge of the river. He wrung the drenched fabrics out, laying them out to dry in the sun.
He turned to Sam, "It's your turn."
Sam hesitated, looking out at the river. Dean reached out his arms for the egg. "I'll look after the baby while you clean up."
Sam lowered the egg into Dean's arms and crawled into the river.
Dean glanced at Sam's wound again, at the blood.
Was the arachnid like the vampire? Did blood contact to an open wound cause infection or did the blood have to be ingested? If Sam's blood got into the river, could he accidently infect others? Dean hoped Sam's blood would become so muddled with the water that whatever poisonous properties were mitigated, rendering the water clean.
Sam was poised above the flow, cupping a handful of water, and guiding it towards his cut.
"Wait, Sammy. Don't."
Did Sam know how to infect somebody else with his affliction? Once turned, did Arachne possess that instinct? Or did Sam have to learn it? If Dean told him, would Sam get it into his head to turn Dean?
Sam appeared confused, twisting around to stare at Dean.
"Just. Nevermind. Go ahead." Dean said, sitting down. Sam turned back to his task, washing his wound. Dean placed the egg beside him and laid back, closing his eyes. Even if the stones dug into his skin, it wasn't particularly uncomfortable. The sun beat down on his wet body. Man, it felt good. The sun bled red behind his eyelids. He listened to Sam splash around.
He didn't know how long he'd been lying there, lost in the pleasure of heat and moisture and cleanliness, but he distantly heard the sounds of splashing come nearer. Something moved the fine hairs on Dean's thigh. His eyebrows twitched, but he didn't open his eyes. Something warm and soft pressed against his skin. A kiss. Dean's eyes fluttered open, and he peered down.
Sam was crouched over him, his arachnid half still in the water, his upper human half poised over Dean's prone body. Sam's overgrown hair was soaking wet, clinging to his wide forehead. Water droplets glistened on his oily black abdomen, snaking down languidly. On either side of Dean's hips, Sam's fingers clenched around the pebbles. Sam watched Dean through dark lashes, a predatory smile creeping onto his face.
"What are you doin' down there?" Dean asked, although he had a pretty good idea of Sam's intentions.
Sam licked his lips, slow and deliberate. "Dean."
"Yeah?"
"Smell good." Sam whispered, vocal cords strained with barely contained lust.
"Thanks, man." Dean said as Sam's eyes flickered down.
Sam plunged his face onto Dean's limp cock and balls. Dean gasped, muscles tensing. Sam rubbed his face against his manhood, inhaling deeply. His nose and cheek brushed alongside his coarse pubic hair. Dean's cock blurted pre-cum. It took everything in Dean to resist the urge to move. To move away or to move closer, Dean was too afraid to examine. Sam pulled away, snaked out his hand, and grabbed the base of Dean's cock. His other gripped the outside of Dean's thigh, squeezing the plump flesh in tender pulls. His tongue darted out and Dean had a second to prepare before Sam full on licked his throbbing fat cockhead. Lick, lick, lick.
"Shit," Dean choked, hands clenching around the wet stones, digging into his palms.
Sam purred in delight. "Taste. Good."
"Stop, dude." Dean wrenched himself up and grabbed for the hand wrapped around his cock. Thankfully, Sam loosened his grip. Sam pulled his face away, eyeing Dean with surprise.
"You little exhibitionist." Dean smirked, rubbing Sam's hand, tracing the thick, engorged veins on the back. "Is my nudity really making you horny?"
"Dean. Beautiful." Sam agreed.
"Aw, man. Come on now." Dean scoffed. Sam rose up onto his arms, his muscular biceps flexing with the motion.
Sam whispered, running a hand down Dean's stomach in slow, sensual drags. "So pretty."
"Handsome. Women are pretty, men are handsome. I'm handsome."
Sam disagreed. "Pretty." His hand settled on the space below Dean's belly button, uncomfortably close to his hard cock.
"Me. Want." Sam said. "You inside."
Dean wiggled against the ground. "You're already preggo. Can't exactly get you knocked up again."
"Pleasure." Sam rumbled and placed his hand on the center of Dean's chest, coaxing him onto his back. Dean resisted at first, but it was so much easier to just lie back and relax. He did just that.
"For pleasure? You like my cock? You like me sliding in and out of you, filling you up?" Dean said. Sure, he knew he was toeing the line, getting Sam more excited, but he couldn't help it.
Sam chewed his bottom lip, eyes half lidden. "Yes. Want. Wet."
"Wet?" Dean smirked. "You're wet for me again, Sammy?"
Sam shivered, slipping his hand from Dean's belly and onto his dick, idly playing with it.
"You want me to fuck you again, that it?"
And, damn, the words spilling from Dean's lips felt erroneous, but he couldn't hold them back. Despite what Sam had become, Dean couldn't wretch his attraction back into the dark, quiet box he'd stashed it in for so long. Was it so wrong that he'd come to crave what he could offer Sam? And if Dean's body could offer Sam solace-a little distraction from the agony of his loss-was it that great a sin?
"Hurts, De." Sam murmured. "Want you. Inside. Feels good."
"You want to go right here? By the river?"
"Yes," Sam practically moaned.
Dean considered himself a kinky little bastard when the mood was right, but copulating out in the open? That wasn't his style. Dean especially didn't want to see what Sam would do if someone caught them.
"Sam, not in front of the baby." Dean mock gasped.
Sam appeared visibly confused, glancing between the egg and Dean. "Baby…can't. No eyes. Yet."
Dean suppressed a laugh. "Sam, I'll tell you what. I know you want me to fuck you right now, but I haven't eaten, remember? I'm hungry. Let's get back to the warehouse, let me cook up a couple of those fat, juicy squirrels, and then I'll fuck you until you don't remember your own name, sound good?"
Sam hesitated, expression marred in pained yearning.
"Come on. Let's just wait." Dean coaxed softly. "That way you won't have to worry about any predators attacking us, right?"
Sam blinked, releasing Dean. "Okay."
"That's my boy," Dean said, sitting up.
He grabbed Sam's face and kissed him. Sam purred into the kiss, kissing him back even harder, hands raking down Dean's side, careful of the wound on his ribcage. Dean's lips were warm and soft. They parted slightly, allowing Sam's tongue to slip inside. Dean could feel the soft tickle of Sam's breath, his wet heat, his intense desire. Warmth bloomed in Dean's chest and he tangled his tongue along with Sam's, not fighting for dominance, no, but letting him know he was present, that he felt just as much primal want throbbing from his core as Sam felt for him.
When they pulled apart minutes later, Dean's lips felt sore and tingly. Sam's cheeks were flushed, and his eyes were half-lidden. Sam nuzzled his forehead against Dean's, closing his eyes. Dean carted his fingers through his damp hair, breathing the same air, listening to the soft tinkle of water, the whistles and trills of birds swooping from tree branch to tree branch, silent spectators to the creatures below.
"We better get movin'." Dean whispered, carting his fingers down Sam's nape, across his collarbone.
Sam's eyes fluttered open, and he pulled away. Dean shimmied out from under him, stood up, and swiped the grit away from his backside. Sam rose from the water, grabbed the egg. Although the clothes were damp and clung uncomfortably in places, Dean pulled them on. Once dressed, he and Sam walked back into the woods.
Nothing extraordinary happened for the first leg of their journey back to the warehouse. Dean began humming songs under his breath, just to break the silence Sam had adopted. They trekked over uneven ground, decayed logs, combs of feathery moss, and fallen berries lying ripened under the leafy dome of the forest. The decomposing, organic aroma rose up in waves like a miasma. Shuffling noises came from the trees, deadened by the whistle of the wind. Dean caught sight of a fat little chipmunk, cheeks bloated with nuts, bounding across a branch. Birds cawed overhead, alerting their brethren of the brothers' presence. The sky was baby blue, cloudless, the sun peeking out in strobes through the leaves. Sweat formed at the back of Dean's neck, moistening his already damp shirt. He pinched the front of his shirt, jerking the fabric to and fro.
With each step, pain stabbed up Dean's leg. Never one to ask for help until it was absolutely necessary, Dean pressed on, clenching his jaw. Once back in the nest, Dean knew he was going to have to stay off his ankle for a while. They met a sharp hill and began to ascend. Dean watched with envy as Sam crawled gracefully up the sharp incline, the tips of his arachnid limbs finding soft, solid ground with ease. Sam kept looking back at him, a concerned expression marring his face.
"I'm fine," Dean waved him away. "I'll catch up."
"Carry you?" Sam suggested, turning towards Dean.
Dean shook his head. "Thanks, dude. But no. I can do it."
Sam stopped, waited patiently for Dean to ascend. Dean made it, finally, even if it felt like his breath was knocked out of him. He shooed off Sam's hand when his brother attempted to touch him. He murmured, "I'm good."
But he had to rest awhile before they moved again. It was at the top of the hill, shrouded by dense foliage on all sides, that Dean heard something strange.
Sam was too busy coddling the unborn spiderling in his grasp to notice and Dean quickly stood up, limping towards the outcrop of vegetation.
Voices. Human voices.
Dean's muscles tensed. He peered down. He caught a flash of blond and black ponytails. The women came fully into view.
Dean froze, heart plunging into his stomach.
Below them, the hikers trekked the overgrown trail. The women wore identical wide-brimmed hats and sturdy backpacks. The blond had on a pair of sunglasses, a long-sleeved polyester shirt, and a pair of high-waisted leggings. On her feet were clunky neon yellow running shoes. Her darker-haired companion swung a water bottle back and forth, smiling at something the blond was saying. She wore tight gray shorts that showed off her strong, well-defined calves, high socks, and rubber boots. Her tank top read Born to Hike, Forced to Work.
Why the fuck are they out here? Dean thought. After all the people who'd gone missing, you'd have thought others would've gotten the hint to stay far away from these woods. But maybe nobody cares about self-preservation in Backwoods, U.S.A.
Dean turned his head quickly to Sam, hoping his brother hadn't noticed his sudden absence.
Sam's whole body was tense, his head cocked to the side, eyes distant and unfocused. Sam's nostrils flared.
Something changed in Sam's demeanor. It was like flicking a switch. A ravenous, predatory countenance drenched his features. Dean decided right then and there that was the creepiest Sam ever looked, even creepier than being possessed by that demon bitch Meg.
Sam licked his bottom lip and bared his teeth. He skittered over to Dean, although he wasn't looking at Dean, his eyes were focused on the new titillating fragrance emanating from over his head, through the thick overcrop. The hikers couldn't see them, but Sam certainly could see them.
Their voices rose in the air, distant and muffled. Sam seemed to forget he had the baby in his arms because he abruptly lunged.
"Sam, no." Dean snapped. Dean dove for Sam's closest leg. He wrapped his arms around it, holding on for dear life. Sam tripped, nearly falling into the bushes. Sam blinked, momentarily broken from his haze of bloodlust. His gaze snapped down to Dean.
Dean peered up at him, glaring. "Don't you dare."
If Sam skittered away, he'd have no choice but to drag Dean along with him. And that's what Dean planned to do. He would risk rolling down the damn hill if it stopped Sam from killing those girls.
Sam bared his teeth. "Let go."
"Let go my ass. I said no."
"In territory." Sam explained. "Dangerous."
"Those girls look like they couldn't fight their way out of fuckin' wet paper bags. They aren't dangerous. Don't give me that look." Dean whispered harshly.
Sam glowered down at him, then snapped his head back down to the hikers. They were so close.
"Me. Hungry." Sam supplied, as if that was an acceptable answer.
Dean internally cringed but kept the look of repugnance from his face. "You need to stop eating people."
Sam blinked, confused. "Food?"
"No, they fuckin' ain't."
Sam chewed his bottom lip, looking visibly uncomfortable with Dean's scrutiny. Sam tried to wiggle his limb out of his brother's grasp. Dean tightened his grip.
"Sam, I'm a person just like those people are persons too." He nodded in the girls' direction.
"No," Sam scowled, waving his hand down. "You. Dean."
Dean snorted. "Yeah, I'm Dean but I'm also a person. You wouldn't eat me, would you?"
Sam's expression shifted into a look of distress. "No. Eat. Dean."
"Yeah, well, if you wouldn't eat me, why would you go after those hikers? Do you understand what I'm getting at? Killing people is bad. Very bad. It's…upsetting me."
Dean glanced past Sam and noted the hikers were up and over the hill. Totally out of sight. His shoulders slumped with relief. But he wasn't out of the woods yet. It didn't mean Sam was going to run after them the moment their conversation was over.
Sam's brow furrowed, "Me. No. Want to upset. De."
"You're doing a piss poor job of that, bud. I'll tell you that right off the bat."
Sam frowned. "No. Mean. To."
Sam glanced back at the way the hikers had come. Dean could see the flash of primal instinct in Sam's eyes, the urgency to chase, to capture, to kill. Time to try a different approach. Dean gave a low, exaggerated sigh and let go of Sam's leg. Dean crossed his arms, turned away, and walked.
A moment later, a soft, lost voice followed. "Dean?"
Dean did not respond.
A second later he heard Sam follow, the thump of his legs against the soft dirt.
When Sam spoke, the words were bordering distraught. "Me. Sorry."
"I can't look at you right now, Sammy." Dean said, leeching the emotion from his voice. He heard Sam flint across the ground. A spider leg darted out in front of him.
"De." Sam curled his massive front leg around Dean's stomach, attempting to stop him. The appendage brushed against his cut. Dean hissed. Sam jerked his leg away.
"Sorry," Sam said quickly.
Dean ignored his throbbing side and continued walking.
"De. Stop." Sam whimpered.
"You disgust me. You really do. You make me miserable." Dean said coldly.
"No. Sammy make De happy." Sam croaked.
"You hurt me, Sam." Dean replied. "You continue to hurt me. I can't be with you if you don't stop killing people."
Sam made a distraught noise behind him. "Me no hurt. Me protect good."
Dean barely suppressed a smirk. It was working. Sam was solely focused on him.
"Well, you aren't doing a very good job. If you hadn't taken so long killing the squirrels, you could've stopped that arachnid from breaking into the warehouse." Dean said matter-of-factly.
So, yeah, it was a low blow, but Dean was trying to make Sam see the light, see reason. Some tough love never hurt anybody.
Dean walked on a few more paces before he realized something had changed. Dean couldn't hear Sam following. He swirled around, expecting to see Sam flinting through the forest in pursuit of the women. He certainly wasn't prepared to see Sam holding the egg to his chest, his eyes squeezed shut, tears streaming down his face, sobbing unconsolably.
"Oh, come on. Not the water works again." Dean sighed.
Sam cried harder, turning away. A twinge of guilt irrupted in Dean's chest. Fuck. He'd basically told Sam it was his fault that that fucker had killed his offspring and injured Dean. Instead of admitting he'd screwed up, Dean's pride held him back, and he found anger an easier pill to swallow than fault.
"Is it 'cause you're preggo? Is that what's making you a mess? Hormones?" Dean walked around so he was glancing up at Sam's face.
"No, it's probably just you, Sam." Dean murmured. Dean reached out and laid his hand at the bottom of Sam's abdomen, running his fingers over the lukewarm, smooth exterior.
Sam's eyes snapped open, his face twisting in betrayed hurt.
"No touch me." Sam snapped. He skittered back, leaving Dean with his hand outstretched to open air.
"Come on, calm down. Jesus." Dean said, watching as Sam bared his teeth, his eyes ablaze with wrath. The emotion was short lived, however, and Sam's bottom lip trembled.
Sam's face crumpled. He squeezed his eyes shut, turned away, and wept even harder, gently running a hand down the egg in a self-soothing gesture. Dean watched him, heart hammering in his chest, his stubbornness wearing away with each heartbeat, with each hoarse sob.
Dean frowned. "Fuck. I'm sorry. You're a good protector. I'm just acting like a bag of dicks."
Sam turned those puppy eyes towards him and damn if Dean didn't feel like he'd slapped a newborn baby. "De. Me feel bad."
"Shit, man." Dean murmured. He could've blamed his outburst on his injuries, low blood sugar, or being held captive by Sam, wholly subjected to his brother's whim. But Dean knew, deep down, that he had always tended to lash out and the habit had gotten worse since rising from perdition. Sam didn't deserve this.
"Babies…dead. You hurt." Sam said, tear drops skimming off the edge of his jaw. "Me bad."
"It ain't your fault. None of it, you hear me? It's my fault. I'm not like you, Sam." Dean limped to Sam, raising his arms and reaching for his pregnancy belly. He sprayed his fingers against the warm, taunt skin. "I can't do the things you can do. I'm weak. It's my fault I couldn't protect the babies or myself, not yours."
"Dean not weak," Sam ran his free hand across Dean's hand, fingers gently brushing against fingers. "Dean strong."
"Compared to you I am, big guy. Hell, Sammy, you're a fuckin' goliath." Dean said.
"Monster's fault." Sam supplement, dropping down his abdomen and folding his legs until he was more level with Dean. Sam reached his free hand out and moved him closer.
"Yeah. I guess so." Dean said, grasping Sam's face. He swiped at the tears with his thumb, obscuring the tear tracks.
"Not Dean's fault." Sam repeated, running his free hand down Dean's bicep in slow, comforting swipes. "Not me fault."
"Thanks, Sammy." Dean said softly. "I'm sorry I was a dick."
"Not dick." Sam replied. "Sammy love Dean."
"Again, Sam. Third person. It's weird and unsettling." Dean said, carting his fingers through Sam's damp locks.
"Me love you. Me forgive." Sam said, pressing a kiss to Dean's forehead.
"Thanks." Dean murmured, feeling Sam's plush mouth pull away. "Love you too, bud."
Sam practically beamed at the praise. The sunlight above danced across Sam's face.
"Aw, shucks. Quit giving me those lovey dovey eyes." Dean said sarcastically.
"Let's. Go to. Nest." Sam suggested, rising to his full height. He took a few steps forward. Dean shot his hand out, grasping his leg. Sam stilled, startled.
"Wait, before we go….I was serious, Sammy. No hurting people anymore." Dean said sternly. Sam blinked, glancing the way the hikers had come, as if remembering them again. Emotion washed over Sam, mostly frustration, but also overwhelming guilt. Dean knew Sam couldn't help his predatory instincts, but if he could channel that energy into animals solely, well, Dean would feel much better. Sam would feel a lot better, too, once Dean got him back to his ol' human self. And Dean would get him back to his human self; he was determined no matter what.
"Just animals from now on." Dean said, letting him go.
"Okay," Sam said softly. "Me try."
"Promise me."
Sam nodded soberly, "Promise."