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 8
As he climbed down the stairs, Sam could hear the muffled grunts of his father and the hushed apologies coupled with reassurances of his brother. For a second Sam was tempted to turn around, climb back up the stairs, and climb into bed, forgetting all about his promise to tell them both the full, gruesome tale of what had happened.
Cause quiet frankly, he had had enough of both his father and his brother right now, he was tired, he was cold, and he was still angry at them both for how they'd hurt him.
As Sam climbed down the final step, John let out a loud groan of pain as Dean gingerly pressed a cotton ball dipped in peroxide to the small gash that graced the side of his father's head.
Naturally, it stung like a bitch.
But, both John and Dean forgot all about injuries when they noticed that their youngest one was standing at the base of the stairs.
They were both expecting to see their Sammy, looking scared and in desperate need of a chick-flick moment now that the adrenaline had finally worn off. They were expecting nervous fidgeting and eyes brimming in tears coupled with a trembling jaw and hands.
A child, afraid and in desperate need of comfort after a nightmarish experience, like always.
The person who stood before them now in actuality was the farthest thing from what they were expecting.
Sam stood tall and silent. His eyes were clear, not tears. They were like to chips of icy jade as they stared at John and Dean. Every inch of him was calm and steady, not even the smallest tremor anywhere. Not even the too large T-shirt and the baggy sweats he'd put on made him look young and vulnerable.
There was no fear What.So.Ever.
Still utterly silent, Sam walked across the room to his family.
But, he stopped in front of the coffee table, keeping it like a barrier between them and him.
The three of them stayed in the silence for what seemed like hours instead of seconds before Sam's still colorless lips parted.
" Are you guys alright?" He asked in a flat, emotionless voice as he eyed his father and brother's injuries.
" We're gonna be just fine Sammy, what about you, are you alright son?" Asked John, pinning his youngest with a small look.
He really wanted to know is his son was alright, like any father would.
" I'm fine." Came the curt answer in the same emotionless voice.
Silence reigned over the three of them again before with a small breath, Sam spoke again.
" After the Black Dog had knocked you out Dad, it's come at me an Dean. He shot it in the shoulder but it didn't stop. It tossed him and knocked him out too so I fired at it with my gun. I got it in the neck before it took off deeper into the woods. You were bleeding really bad Dad so, I patched you up as best as I could and then I picked up your shotgun and Dean's knife and went after it."
Here, Sam paused in his recounting of events as both John and Dean voiced their stunned outrage.
" YOU WENT AFTER THAT THING? WHAT THE HELL WERE YOU THINKING SAM?!!!" " Yelled John.
" YOU COULD'VE BEEN KILLED SAM, WHERE YOU EVEN THINKING AT ALL?!!!" Added Dean as he and John stared flabbergasted at what their youngest had just revealed.
Sam for his part didn't so much as flinch or blink at once again being yelled at. He patiently and silently waited for their verbal tirades to end before he answered the questions that had been loudly asked.
" Yes, I went after the Black Dog. I know I could've been killed and yes I was thinking. I was thinking that the both of you were out cold, I was the only one left standing and that thing could've come back at any moment to finish us all off. I figured I would just find him and finish him first." He said flatly with a frigid stare at his father and brother.
John and Dean stared wide eyed in stunned awe at their youngest one's words. Before they could say anything, Sam continued one with his tale before he'd been rudely interrupted.
" I followed that things blood trail down the path, it led me to the rock face where I found him actually, he was sorta waiting for me. He circled me and I noticed that narrow crevice in the rock face. I backed into it and when I was deep enough inside, the Dog jump at me. I fell back wards and I shot at it with my handgun, emptied the clip. Next thing I know, the Black Dog's stuck between the walls of the crevice, like I knew he would be cause it was too narrow for him to fit in. After that, I shoved your shotgun down his throat dad, and pulled the trigger." At this point, Sam paused and took a deep breath before he added a final note to his recount of the battle he had fought.
" I blew and hole through the back of his head, I wasted him... It wasn't hard."
John and Dean Winchester sat on the sofa, absolutely speechless as they gawked at the thirteen year old standing across the coffee table from them with their eyes the size of satellite dishes.
Once again, Sam didn't wait for his father or his brother to regain their ability to speak.
" After that, I realized I was stuck in that cracked hole in the rock so, I had to get out the way I can it. That Thing didn't really need it's head and it was barely attached anyway so I used your knife Dean, and I got out. After that, you guys got there... That's it, that's everything that happened."
Sam stared blankly at his family, eying their stunned, slightly horrified expressions with disinterest.
He couldn't really bring himself to give a damn about what they thought or whether they believed his story or not, at the moment, he just wanted to turn around, go upstairs to the bathroom to get his ruined blood soaked clothes, trash them, and then bury himself under the blankets of his bed.
He was thankful that tonight was a Friday night and that he wouldn't have school for two days. He wouldn't have to face the people at school he had let down tonight because of the hunt.
But back to the present, Dean was the first to speak.
" A-Are you serious... i-is that what really happened out there Sammy?" He asked, not really wanting to believe what he'd seen out there in the woods hours ago and what he'd just heard.
He watched as Sam's eyes instantly fell on him, not loosing their coldness but also flashing briefly with something unknown within their moss green depths.
Something dangerous. Something not his baby brother.
But it was only for an instant before it disappeared from Sam's eyes as he answered.
" Yes I'm serious, that's what really happened out there. The only reason I'm standing here in one piece is because that's what happened."
It was now that John Winchester spoke up.
" Be that as it may Sam, what you did was incredibly reckless, you could've gotten yourself killed and then what would me and Dean have done? You should have waited for the both of us to come to instead of going after that thing." At this point, John paused a moment before he sighed and looked at his boy in earnest.
" But, what's done is done. You did take care of the job and you stopped that thing... all by yourself and with only a bruise on your back. I don't know how you managed to pull it all off but, I'm just glad you're alright and, I'm proud of you Sammy." Said John with a smile.
Sam felt his heart lurch painfully within his chest as his father's words of praise echoed through his ears.
These words didn't spread joy through his entire being, they didn't make his spirit soar.
These words made his wish he'd been torn to shreds by the Black Dog he had slaughtered, they made him want to sink into the ground, they made his already broken heart rend itself further.
The two older Winchesters watched utterly taken aback and confused because Sam's face didn't light up at his father's words and he didn't return his father's smile.
His face was a blank mask devoid of any emotion what so ever.
" Thank you for saying that, Sir." Said Sam quietly with a nod of his head before he turned away from his father and brother and swiftly disappeared up the stairs to the second floor before John or Dean could say anything else.
Sam barreled into the bathroom but shut the door as softly as he could. He collapsed against it. The wooden door against his back was the only thing keeping him standing. Everything inside was hurting so badly, like tiny little razor blade slicing through every vein, every nerve, every cell.
His eyes began to burn furious and for a moment, it seemed like Sam was going to break his vow to never shed any tears again as his panting breaths hitched withing his chest.
A tear was about to spill free when moss green eyes fell on the pile of blood soaked clothing that littered the bathroom floor. As he eyed his clothes, Sam felt the agony within him fade to a dull ache, in it's stead, fury and a deep self disgust filled him.
" Suck it up Sam, you're not allowed to cry like a stupid baby anymore." Though Sam as the thirteen year old put a stopper on the formerly impending salty water works.
The pain was buried away down deep as he cleared his head.
Now, even the words his father spoke to him in praise hurt his heart.
With a deep breath, Sam forced himself to calm down and slow his hammering heart.
Then, he used his right foot to lightly kick the ruined articles of clothing closer together and to the side as he reached out for the door knob to the bathroom closet across form him.
With his breath rattling loudly in his ears, Sam opened the closet and searched for the item he needed. He found it resting at the very bottom. In silence, Sam pulled out a large black plastic bag from the rag tag collection of plastic bags that occupied the closet floor. He then knelt down and hastily shoved his bloodied, torn up shirt and equally soaked pants into the bag, he spared his sock and boxers because they'd been unscathed by his earlier bloody escapade.
He also left his boots because the blood could be washed off of them. However, he removed the laces because they were a lost cause and shoved them into the bag as well. He tied the bag off and stowed it away inside the closet, making a note to put it in the trash in the morning.
Now, the anger once again faded away into emptiness, leaving Sam utterly drained and wanting the soft expanses of his bed down the hall.
With what little energy he had left, the boy picked up his unbloodied sock and boxers and dumped them in the hammer, he also tucked his bloodied boots away in the corner beside the closet, making a note to also clean them in the morning as well.
With exhaustion finally washing over and taking hold of him, Sam turned and left the bathroom, dragging himself down the hall.
But even in his tiredness, Sam couldn't help but feel that with each step he took towards his and Dean's bedroom, the remaining particles of who he was before this night from the very beating heart of Hell itself were slowly crumbling away into dust.
" Is this what dying inside feels like?" Thought Sam as he reached his bed and crawled under the covers.
He hadn't bothered with the light because his brother would be coming up from downstairs soon, he didn't want Dean to hurt himself further by having to grope around in the dark.
With a soft sigh, the thirteen year old fell away from the world into a deep and mercifully dreamless sleep.
Some ten minutes later, John Winchester was dragging himself up the stairs with Dean's assistance.
When the two of them reached the second floor, John turned to his oldest.
" Dean, I can make it the rest of the way, you go ahead and get to bed, and make sure your brother's alright, he's probably real upset about tonight, not that I blame him. It's why he bolted up here." Said John as he gave Dean's shoulder a reassuring squeeze.
" Yeah, he's probably bawling his eyes out and trying to be quiet about it." Sighed Dean sadly as he nodded to his father. He eyed the closed door of his and Sam's bedroom, and saw that sliver of light that seeped past the bottom.
" Still can't believe what he told us is true, I mean yeah, we both saw for ourselves but it's just..." Dean trailed off.
" It's just hard to believe Sammy could take on something that knocked us both down for the count all by himself and be the one who comes out alive." John finished for him.
Dean nodded in agreement with his father before he spoke quietly, his expression a troubles one.
" Yeah, but it what I saw out there, what Sammy did when we found him, it scared the crap outta me Dad."
John found himself being troubled as well as the still fresh memories of his youngest son throwing the decapitated head of the Black Dog he had single handedly killed at his and Dean's feet assaulted his mind.
" It scared me too Dean. But Sammy's alright, Sammy'll be alright. That's all that really matters." He said with a reassuring look.
Dean nodded and turned, heading for his and Sam's bedroom. John gave his oldest son's retreating form a lingering look before he turned and limped his way over the threshold and into his own room.
Dean grasped the door knob to his and Sam's room and twisted it, he pushed on the wood and it swung away to reveal the room behind it.
As mentioned earlier, he was expecting Sam in scared puppy mode, sitting up against the headboard with his knees drawn up to his chest, upset and in need of a bear hug.
But, the expectation where shattered into billions of pieces as Dean gawked slightly at the sight of his baby brother, fast asleep in his bed.
" Huh." Said a mildly surprised Dean.
No scared puppy here.
He snapped himself out of staring and quietly made his way over to his dresser. He quickly took off his disheveled clothes and donned a clean t-shirt and sleeping pants.
Dean shut of the light with soft click, plunging the room into the quiet darkness needed for sleep.
He climbed into his own bed and lay on his back, he stared at the blank ceiling for a few second before with a sigh, Dean closed his eyes and waited for sleep to claim.
But as the minutes passed, sleep didn't come. Instead, only a nagging feeling settled over Dean. With a small huff, Dean blinked his eyes open and turned his head to the side so he could stare at the bedroom's other occupant.
Sam lay with his back to him, in the quiet of the room, Dean could hear the soft rhythmic breaths that Sam inhaled and exhaled.
Making a decision with himself, Dean threw the covers off of himself and quietly got out of bed. He stealthily made his way over to Sam's bed.
Dean loomed over his sleeping sibling for a few minutes before he gripped the covers and gently pulled them up.
As slowly and carefully as he could, Dean eased himself in beside Sam.
To his immense relief, Sam didn't stir once as his big brother climbed into his bed. Dean wouldn't have been able to live it down had Sam woken up.
Dean carefully wrapped his arms around Sam and gently pulled him closer so that his back was lightly pressed to his big brother's chest.
With a sigh, Dean felt the nagging within his heart fade away with each breath the warm body pressed to his own took.
Dean drifted off into a peaceful slumber with the physical reassurance that his baby brother was safe and alive under his arm.
However, Dean had been wrong in his assumption that he was holding a still sleeping Sam.
A small sigh escaped escaped the thirteen year old as his deep, moss green eyes slowly opened and stared at the wall he was facing.
As he lay in his brother's arms, Sam did not feel peace or serenity, instead all he could feel and hear were the hurtful words spoken by this same brother who was now holding him so tenderly.
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!
The anger in Sam wanted nothing more than to shove Dean off of his bed and tell him to go sleep in his own.
But he relented, knowing that this was something that Dean needed.
So Sam stayed still, feigning the feel of a sleeping body by staying realized and breath evenly.
But as he lay there in Dean's arms, staring at nothing with hollow eyes, Sam felt his cracked and dented heart finally do the one thing he had been fighting with everything he had to prevent it from doing.
It shattered.
