Disclaimer: I don't own anything Supernatural and I am not making any profits off of this story. It all belongs to the CW and Eric Kripke so, please don't sue and please don't be offended by the language or situations the characters find themselves in.

Chapter 6

A cold, biting wind rustled through the frozen, leafless branches of the winter blacked trees of the forest.

From where they stood, still rooted to the spot and still terrified, Dean and John Winchester gawked with their mouths hanging slightly open.

There eyes were glued to the severed head of the Black Dog where it had lightly rolled to a stop after it had been almost casually tossed at them.

By Sam.

The two older Winchesters stared at the Dead thing's head with a horrified kind of fascination.

The head lay slightly on one side, it's eyes two glazed over pools of murky reddish brown, the mouth was still ajar, a lumpy pink mass protruded out of it, wet and adhesive as loose pieces of the black dirt that compiled the Forrest floor sticking to it.

The two older Winchesters were so engrossed in their morbid gawking, they both nearly jumped out of their skins when unknown sounds, amplified by the silence drilled into their ears.

Dean and John tore their gazes away from the grisly, severed body part that lay at their feet and look back up to stare at where Sam had been standing.

Sharp gasps escaped them both at what they now beheld.

Sam for his part ignored his father and brother, he was too busy trying to dispose of the headless carcass of the Black Dog he had singled handedly killed and had deftly butchered earlier. At the moment, Sam was using whatever strength and adrenaline he had left to yank, push, shove, and man handle the still moderately heavy body of the Black Dog back through the narrow crevice he had only minutes ago dislodged it from in order to gain his own freedom.

They also took notice of the shotgun Sam had used where it was leaning against the rock wall, splattered with an obscene amount of oily red blood.

Silently Dean maneuvered John to wards an unbloodied section of the rock face so that his injured father could lean against it.

Then he swallowed thickly and took a slow, cautious step forward, moving past the bodiless head on the ground and moving closer to his blood drenched baby sibling who was softly hissing and grunting from his current exertions.

" S-Sammy... uh... What...um...What are you doin' Buddy?" Asked Dean, his voice quiet and unsure as he eyed Sam.

Sam carried on plowing and prodding at the Black Dog's carcass with his hands and his boot covered feet, ignoring Dean for some eternally long minutes before he finally stopped his pushing and shoving to slowly twist his neck and look over his shoulder to eye an uncharacteristically freaked looking big brother.

Again, for what seemed an eternity, Sam just silently stared at Dean with the occasional blink of icy blank eyes.

Then, his colorless lips parted and he spoke.

" I don't exactly have what's necessary to Salt and Burn this Fucker so, I'm shoving him in here." Growled Sam.

The sound of his voice was so cold and foreign, the words were so un-Sammy like that it sent chills up Dean spine.

" Are you both okay?" Asked Sam as with a small glance in John's direction, he turned back and once again began pushing and stomping the carcass of his kill back into the narrow crevice.

He finally succeed in all his efforts as with a small, slurping sound the bloody mass of flesh and black fur disappeared through the jagged crack that split the rock

That effectively jolted Dean out of his stupor, forgetting his horror and switching to big brother mode, he strode over the rest of the way to Sam.

In one fluid motion, he grabbed his brother's shoulder and yanked him away from the grisly task he was performing, he wrenched the younger boy around so that they were facing each other.

" Me and Dad are just peachy. God, are you alright Sammy? Are you hurt any where? Did that thing bite you?" Asked Dean very rapidly in urgency.

Sam blinked and then spoke in a flat and slightly annoyed voice.

" I'm fine Dean, no bit marks, no scratches, I might have a bruise on my back from when I fell earlier but that's all." Answered Sam, emphasizing the last part.

Dean made a few sputtering noised before he wrenched Sam around so that his back was to him. Without asking for permission, Dean gripped the hem of Sam's torn up shirt and yanked it all the way up to reveal his brother's pale back.

Sure enough, there was a dark reddish purple mark marring the smooth, pale skin.

A low grunt to Dean's right informed him that John had limped his way over to them and was staring at his youngest son's back.

The two older Winchesters were both relieved to see that the injury was a superficial one that would clear up in a few days.

But they were also in disbelieving awe that this was all Sam received from his battle with a vicious Black Dog that had a full two feet height and 100 pound advantage that had nearly chewed his father's leg off and had nearly fractured his brother's skull.

" Are you guys done ogling my back?" Asked Sam, making his thinning patience loud and clear.

The next thing Sam knew, he was being wrenched back around and yanked forward, arms encircling him and squeezing the air out of his lungs.

Sam's heart skipped a beat when he realized that his father, the same man who just the night before had screamed at him and basically told him he was a good for nothing screw up, a mistake...

Was hugging him to the point of pain.

As he stood there, Sam felt the part of him he'd locked away deep inside him screeching and clawing at him, wanting to be free of it's prison and come back to the surface, back to his heart, urging him to sink into his father's embrace and weep for all he was worth.

This part of him had almost broken through the lock when the echoes of his father's enraged voice swooped back into his mind.

YEAH WELL, IT'D BE A HELL OF A LOT BETTER IF YOU WERE MORE LIKE DEAN, AT LEAST THEN YOU WOULDN'T BE SUCH A WHINY LITTLE BRAT WHO SCREWS UP LEFT AND RIGHT!!!

And then, the echoes of Dean's voice coupled it.

Well fine then, be all bitchy, but Dad is right, this hunt is way more important, people's lives are way more important than some stupid school play that doesn't mean jack, You're just being a selfish little freak!

As these echoing words swirled around in his head, Sam felt his cracked and dented heart become surrounded by a cocoon of ice, becoming like an unfeeling cinder block within his chest.

Killing any urge to forgive and forget within it.

Now, Sam didn't want his father's arms wrapped tightly around him anymore, they didn't warm him, they didn't make him feel good, in fact they actually made his skin prickle in protest and he couldn't bring himself to tolerate them around him for even another millisecond.

John was just so happy that his baby boy was alright that, he was slightly confused when he felt his youngest son go rigid in his hold with his arms remaining plastered to his sides limply.

Sam always needed a hug and reassurance after a bad hunt so, what was going on, why wasn't his son hugging him back and bawling his eyes out like he should have been?

" Dad, let go of me you're gonna get all bloody and, I can't breath." Said Sam quietly, not meeting his father's or his brother's imploring eyes as he began to extricate himself from John's vice like hold.

His son's words made John's arms slacken a little and Sam pounced on the opening, taking a step back, effectively freeing himself.

He gave his father and Dean a cold, distant look before he turned and walked off to where his long ago discarded winter coat lay.

John and Dean shared a confused look to one another before they turned their stunned gazes back to Sam, watching him as he stood by a patch of the rock face and once again began to wipe his hands and arms over the rock in an attempt to clean the sticky, dark red fluid that stained his skin.

The two older Winchesters also caught sight of the blood smeared handles of both Dean's hunting knife had somehow been re-sheathed, where Sam had tucked it into his right back pocket and the silver revolver where he'd tucked it into the waistband of his jeans.

Sam carried on in his rudimentary cleaning of himself and when he deemed that he'd wiped off enough of the mess that covered him, he reached down with still blood caked fingers and picked up his heavy winter coat and pulled it on, finally giving his bare, effectively numbed skin a reprieve from the bitter cold.

Once he had his coat on, Sam silently turned and walked right past his still stunned family back to wards the crevice where he'd disposed of his defeated opponent's remains.

He stopped short of the Black Dog's final resting place and turned to the side, snatching up his father's blood splattered shotgun from where he'd left it.

Once that was done, he turned once again and walked over to his family.

He stood before them utterly mute and with his eyes not meeting theirs.

For what seemed a life age of the Earth, the three Winchester's stood in the deepest of silence.

Then, it was shattered by the oldest.

" Sammy, what the Hell happened out here? What did you do? How... How did you...?" John began, trailing off as the full magnitude of the realization of what had happened here began to pour down on him.

Still not meeting the two imploring gazes of his father and brother, Sam parted his lips and answered with a quiet question of his own.

" Can we get out of here first?"

Dean opened his mouth to protest but Sam quietly cut him off.

" I'll tell you guys everything that happened once we're home, you're both hurt, you hit your head really hard Dean, and that thing chewed on your leg Dad."

Dean and John both blinked at their youngest owlishly but, they say the logic in his words.

" Alright Sammy, we'll get out of here first, then you are explaining everything that happened, is that understood?" Asked John, dead serious in his tone.

Sam still didn't look up to meet his father and brother's gaze but, he answered like a good little soldier.

" Yes sir."

" Alright then, let's get out of here." Said John with a lingering look at his youngest, he could feel that something was off with his boy and a secret glance to Dean showed that he wasn't the only one with this feeling.

John turned and took a tentative step forward and almost instantly, he began to stumble.

But before he even began falling, another person's body was pressing against his side and throwing his arm over their shoulders.

John turned, expecting to see Dean retaking his earlier position as his father's steadying crutch.

Instead, John felt a jolt go through him when it was Sammy, his youngest who was steadying him.

" Take it easy Dad, Dean's hurt, I'm here I got you." Said Sam quietly, his eyes staring off ahead and not at his father.

He had one arm wrapped around John's back while he held his father's bloody shotgun in his other hand.

On the outside, Sam was blank and numb but on the inside, Sam felt all the anger and hurt to wards the man he was now holding up bubbling and swirling.

He really didn't want either his father or his brother's hands to be anywhere near him.

A small part of him wanted nothing more than to let Dean and John stumble back down the way they had come.

But he just couldn't bring himself to do that to these two whom he did still love despite everything, especially Dean, he looked terrible and even in the darkness, Sam could see that a large, nasty looking bruise had formed.

He would just have to bare this unwanted closeness for the time being.

Confused and also warmed by his child's words, John gripped Sam's shoulder and leaned just a little bit on him as he began to walk, glancing to the side to eye his oldest son.

Dean was still standing and staring at Sam, questions written all over his face just begging to be asked.

" Dean." Called John.

That snapped Dean out of whatever trance he was in, with a swallow and turning his head to stare at the blood drenched rock walls one last time, Dean trotted over and took his father's other side he and Sam giving John support on both sides now.

" Dude, you should take it easy with your head the way it is, I can hold up Dad, it's fine." Insisted Sam as he gave Dean a momentary glance.

" It's a really long way back to the car Sammy, two is better that one." Shot back Dean with a small huff.

Sam didn't voice anymore protests, he didn't voice anything more at all and just kept his eyes front as he walked doing his part to hold up his injured father.

Together, the three Winchesters began the long trek back down the path.

But as they walked, John and Dean were riddled with questions upon question, all pertaining to the thirteen year old member of their family.

Just what the Hell was going on?