Because I got some really nice and lovely reviews … :)

I'm updating sooner as expected :P

Of Werewolves And Humans

Chapter 17 ~ Living Again

THEN:

Sam looked pleadingly at his mate with giant puppy-dog-eyes.

Dean thought. Thought for a long time. He sensed that Sam wanted to go outside. He knew it'd be good for him. - Spending time with someone else but him. But there ws still overwhelming concern. Worry that Sam would get hurt when he wasn't under his watch.

Dean's look darted between Bobby and John who were looking back at him.

Bobby saying with a reassuring look: Let go.

And his father telling him: Trust us.

NOW:

Sam got used to spend time with Caleb and Ash on the yard after breakfast. They flanked him, not leaving him out of their sight … at first.

Dean held back, was staying on the porch while they did their walks, straining his senses to take care of his mate's safety from the distance.

John had gotten warm winter-boots for the human and a super-warm jacket. Had smiled brighter as even Sam had when he handed his newest achievements to the human.

Ash and Caleb mostly kept their human form when they strolled over the yard. But lately they prefered to use their wolf ones. - Most to Dean's curiosity.

… until he realized WHAT they were actually doing with Sam out on the yard. They were playing fetch and tag and hide and seek. HIS BROTHERS were training his mate. Showing him – without him knowing – how to hide from werewolves and their senses (at least to gain advantage).

Actually it was a bit unfair because Ash and Caleb were able to smell him anyway. Though, it seemed like they were giving him advantages. Now and then they seemed to have some troubles finding him – but in the end they always got to Sam somehow.

The main-thing was, that Sam had fun. AND it looked like he improved further with every day that passed. He was able to hold eye-contact with the others very soon. He also talked to them unsought.

Sam and Dean didn't go further than kissing for the moment. Sure Dean touched him – ever so gently while they kissed. His hips, his back, his face. And the human felt so good under his touch, even when there was still fabric between their bodies. It was like the wolfman was able to feel through it, to sense what was lying beneath.

Sam seemed to get more and more comfortable with all of them. Bobby lend him books. John got clothes and other things for the human on his supply runs. Ash sneaked chocolate every now and then in Sam's pockets (and Sam stored them in the furthest corner of the upper drawer in their bedroom).

Caleb and he kept whispering about things and when Dean asked what was so damn funny, Sam just blushed. The younger Winchester knew it had to do something with the small book Caleb had given to the human. That it was about the things that were written in them.

And god knew, Dean could imagine what the both were whispering about, or talking about when he wasn't around. Sometimes he was able to catch words or even whole sentences when they were close to him. - It seemed to be that mate-thing that bothered HIS human sometimes.

Though, Dean was glad – somehow – that he had Caleb to talk about this stuff, because he himself wasn't quite sure if he'd have the patience and self-control to explain things like that to Sam.

Ellen hung around and cooked with John for lunch and dinner while Bobby was in the garage with the other men.

Thomas was making himself rare, avoiding Dean and Sam whenever possible.

Sam spent his time mostly reading, doing the laundry or helping John out with things while Dean was gone.

Besides: Everything seemed silent. There had been no signs of the other pack anywhere near the Salvage or around town. So Bobby and the others started to think that they had just taken off. That there'd be no attack or seeking revenge.

The Sheriff had passed by to let the pack know, that the shifter under her custody was dead and to ask Sam a couple more questions. The human took it better this time. He wouldn't even cry, but he was silent for a couple of days afterwards.

Too silent. He hadn't even gone for a walk with Ash and Caleb as usual, instead he withdrew and hid in their bedroom. Dean could tell that it didn't pass Sam without leaving marks all over his soul again. He could feel it and it hurt that Sam was still suffering because of what had happened, of what he had endured.

Dean tried, he really tried to help him. Tried to talk to him about it. But the human wouldn't say a word about it. He didn't do anything more than giving Dean short kisses and telling him that it was okay and that he was fine and that it'd pass.

But Dean Winchester KNEW that things like these wouldn't just pass …

Sam sat on the recliner beside the window in their bedroom and stared through it onto the yard. It was snowing heavily since he woke up a few hours ago. And Sam was stunned about how beautiful it looked when the icy crystals slowly sunk down to cover the frozen earth and wrecks.

A small sigh fell from the human's lips, as he laid his hand on the cool window-glass, his head resting on the soft leather of the backrest.

It was true … he didn't feel good after Sheriff Jody Mills' visit. She hadn't been mean or forcing. That wasn't it. It was because of the questions she asked, the things she wanted to know. - If he knew in wich states and towns they camped on their way. What the names of the people were that had been held captured by these bastards.

Sam didn't remember half of it. Hell, he didn't want to remember the whole thing.

„Sammy?" Dean stood in the doorway of their room, looking at him with sad big green eyes.

„I know … it's okay.", Sam said without looking at him. „I'll be fine." He then looked at the other male and tilted his head to the side, giving him a small – unhonest – smile that never reached his eyes.

Dean bit his lower lip, visibly hesitating. He watched the huddled up figure closely for a few more minutes. „I could stay, you know?"

„No. - I's okay. Bobby needs you. - I heard him curse about the lots of work at the garage." Sam looked back out of the window. „I'll be here when you come back."

Dean swallowed hard, fighting the tears that dared to come up. He felt so helpless, useless to Sam. Jody had asked him a lot of things … things Sam obviously was uncomfortable with. He had sensed the fear and pain that blazed up in Sam again, when he told Jody what they had done to them. What the female „trainer" had done to HIM. - And what they had been supposed to do if they got caught …

The younger Winchester didn't even want to imagine what Sam had been through. He just wanted to make it better – and he had done so incredibly good. Until the sheriff came by to continue her interrogation from weeks ago. And now everything was bad again. Sam was drawing back into his shell, was barely leaving their room and sat most of the time in the recliner – wich he had pulled up beside the window – and stared onto the yard.

„Bobby said I can stay with you. - He gives me the day off. That for I had to promise to take the best care of you and make you smile." Dean grinned. „Huh? - What'd you say? Getting out there into the snow? Taking a walk? Making out in front of the fireplace?" He cocked an eyebrow.

Sam continued to stare out of the window. He didn't want to push Dean away. But he also wanted to be alone.

Dean nodded to himself – slightly disappointed. He knew Sam didn't mean to be mean or mad. The human couldn't express himself different. He knew that. And though it stung a little bit that Sam didn't even wanted to have him around.

„Okay … I get it." He sighed. „You don't wanna be around others at the moment …" He eyed Sam for another couple of moments. „I'll be back for dinner, Sammy. - You're waiting up for me, aren't you?"

Sam chuckled softly. „Of course I'm waiting for you.", he answered. Then he looked towards his mate. „You aren't mad, are you?", he asked then.

Dean shook his head and flashed him his most charming smile, covering his disappointment perfectly. „Nah, me?"

Sam didn't bite.

„You know you're the only one. - It's not about you." Now he sought Dean's gaze, making sure that he had his attention, and gave him the best smile he could offer without letting it look made up.

„I know. - I just wish i could help you … somehow ..." Dean frowned now, so much sorrow in his eyes it was heart-breaking.

He walked towards Sam and kneeled down, laying his hands on Sam's knees and guided them down, until they were flanking him. The human scooted forward and let Dean wrap his arms around his middle. Sam didn't do as much as laying his arms around the wolfman's shoulders, one hand cupping the back of his head. He then drew the shorter man closer until their bodies were flush against each other's.

Dean closed his eyes as he rested his ear on Sam's chest, listening to the calm thumps of his heart. Sam's hand felt cold, as his fingers brushed over the younger Winchester's earlobe.

„I'm sorry.", Sam whispered, „I wish I wouldn't be like I'm now. I -"

„No.", Dean breathed, drawing him closer, holding him tighter, „It's okay. - You don't have to apologize. Not for that."

Then there was silence for a long while.

„You sure I shouldn't stay? - We could spend our day in bed. Together. Lunch and dinner and snacks … cuddling and all the stuff you like so bad." Dean grinned. „Huh?", he added.

Sam chuckled. „Nah. - I'm fine. Just go and have some car-sex.", he gave back.

The human knew that Dean needed the change. He didn't want the wolf to hang around with him, just because he felt bad – just because he was a mess. He didn't want to be a burden to Dean anymore. Didn't want to be a burden to the pack anymore.

„Sure you'll be okay on your own?", Dean asked again.

Sam leaned back. - He was still tired since he hadn't got a lot of sleep the last night. „I won't be on my own. You're gonna tell John and Ellen to check on me and to try to get me downstairs. You'll tell them to watch out that I'm gonna eat and drink enough."

Dean was stunned. Sam had seen through him – again – like so often lately.

Sam spent most of the morning on the recliner, lost in thoughts while he stared out of the window into nothingness. He knew he wouldn't be able to forget what had been done to him. The scars on his body and soul were too visible – omnipresent. But he would try to get over it – for Dean. He hated it to see his mate worried like that. He hated that he was the reason for Dean to feel unhappy.

John had brought him lunch. Not the usual stuff though. Peanutbutter-banana-sandwiches and milk and water.

Sam forced himself to eat all of it. Just so Dean wouldn't worry even more. He knew the wolf would claim to know exactly what he had consumed while his absence. Sam wanted to see him happy, see him smiling.

When he was done, he got his shit together and grabbed the tray with the empty glasses and the plate and got them downstairs into the kitchen.

Somehow relieved, that no one seemed to be around, he started to clean the dishes, and his own mess up, wich were towering at the side of the sink. When he was done, he dried them off and put them back into the cupboards.

He then eyed the contents of the fridge and looked at the clock above the small table in the kitchen. Usually John or Ellen would've started the dinner already. But they hadn't …

All he knew was that they were running out of food so they took off into town to stock up on groceries and meat from the butcher.

Sam sat down at the table and stared at the clock. - Their dinner wouldn't be ready until Dean and the others would come home … They were working the whole day and Sam had done nothing but sitting and staring out of the window.

He started to feel guilty and worthless all over again. He had to pull his shit together and start thinking. So he came to the conclusion that he'd cook dinner. After eying the contents in the fridge and the ones in the store-room, he decided to make some chilli con carne. That was the only thing he could find in Bobby's cooking-book that matched halfway with the things that were in the house.

Sam was half through with chopping the meat into tiny pieces, when the potatoes started to boil in their iron prison on the stove.

He stirred in the pot and glanced at the clock on the wall. It's been four hours now, and John and Ellen hadn't been back from their run for errands yet. It was the first time that he was completely alone in the house – all by himself.

… and it was getting dark outside already.

Sam glanced at the clock again. Something didn't fit. He knew they wouldn't let him all on his own that long. Or they just didn't have told him that someone was holding watch outside …

Sam started to get nervous, glancing at the clock every now and then while he sat at the kitchen-table with a mug of sweet coffee before him. Worry added to his nervousness after some time.

What if the other pack had decided to take them out?

He swallowed hard and dared to take a look out of the window. There wasn't a lot to see anyway in the darkness and in between the big flakes of falling snow. Just the spare illuminated area in front of the porch.

Everything seemed like usual. - Just like at the cabin. Just before they went after him and knocked John out. A cold shiver run down his spine and up again.

Sam knew that Bobby was hiding a gun in the upper drawer of his desk in the living-room and a silver-knife between the books of the right shelf. He knew that the gun was filled with iron-rounds. And he also knew that Bobby kept it there because he thought that the absence of the other pack wouldn't last forever.

It was then, when he heard a low rumble and a high-pitched whimper, that Sam straightened in his chair.

He swallowed hard, as the air in the kitchen started to feel thick and barely breathable. The animalistic sounds had sounded not too far away from the house. The others at the garage (wich was on the other side of the yard) must've had heard it too. It hadn't sounded like the sounds Ash or Caleb made when they were „playing around". It seemed more serious. DANGEROUS.

Sam glanced out of the window, recognizing a movement in the darkness. He closed his eyes for a brief moment and then they snapped open again.

Another growl was heard. Another whine. And Sam was up on his feet and in the living-room, taking the gun and the knife.

Something that sounded like metal grinding against metal crawled into his ears and a pained yelp was added short after. Sam jumped on the couch and lurked out of the window. This time he didn't have to strain his eyes to see what was going on.

There was a wolf swaying out of the shadows and collapsing near the porch. Sam swallowed again. He instantly knew that it was a member of HIS pack. He didn't knew how – he just knew.

And that was all it needed.

Moments later Sam found himself on the porch, staring at the motionless animal just a couple of feet away from him. He ripped his gaze from it and glanced into the darkness. The half-moon wasn't giving enough light to show everything. But it was enough to make out the Impala's silhouette and the stacked wrecks.

Without wasting time he ran from the porch, the weapon drawn and unlocked. Sam sank into the snow beside the wolf and laid his hand on the damp fur. He wasn't able to make out the color, but he sensed that it wasn't Dean and relieve flooded over him. Though, it was still one of their pack and Sam knew he wouldn't be able to get the animal inside on his own.

He pulled his hand back, as he felt the labored breathing of the creature and his head snapped up. There was a low snarl close by.

„Stay.", Sam whispered into the wolf's ear. „I'll lure him away from you. - I'll try to get to the garage ..." … before it gets me.

The animal gave a silent whine.

Grey eyes blinked open and the wolf tried to move, but Sam put his hand back on its ribcage. „No.", he whispered, „It's okay. - I never meant that someone of you get hurt, Thomas." And with that he rose, staring into the darkness.

Now or never, Sam thought. He pulled out the knife, well knowing that a turned werewolf would never be able to ignore the scent of a human's blood. EVER. - At least he hoped that the things that had been written in the books were partly true.

With gentle force, he drove the blade through the tender skin on the inside of his lower arm. It didn't as much as sting and then it burned a little bit. He didn't went too deep but deep enough to make the blood drip from it. And then he ran – as fast as he was able to, aiming towards the garage.

As he heard narrowing paws hitting the snowy ground behind him, as he heard the snarls and growls coming closer, he started to kind of regret what he had brought himself into. Sam should've known that he wouldn't make it to the garage. He should've known that there was no way he'd be faster than the wolf.

The thing would get him – and then it would tear him apart.

Sam stopped in his tracks abruptly, his head wiping around, to see where he actually was. His lungs were screaming for oxygen, his head felt feather-light for a couple of moments. And his damn freaking long legs hurt as hell.

That was when he realized that he actually didn't wear his boots … nor his slippers. - Fantastic.

He needed a new plan – NOW.

Sam backed up, until he felt the freezing metal of a stack of cars against his back and rose the weapon to his chest, adjusting his grip on it. For a moment he stared into the night-sky. And his eyes widened. He needed to get in one of the cars. The wolf would be too interested in human flesh that he wouldn't go back to Thomas anyway. So he just had to wait it out until someone of his own pack would show up.

Sam prayed – for the first time in a long time – that this mate-thing worked. That Dean would sense his mental calls. That he'd find him.

His plan had just one failure: He came up with it moments too late.

Sam's head snapped to his left. A giant creature was standing there. It's eyes sparkling in a golden-yellow and dark-red in the fading moonlight. He spun around to face the thing, his weapon pointing at it (though Sam wasn't sure if he would even hit it … last time he tried to pull the trigger it hadn't worked. John had said the gun had jammed, but Sam hadn't been entirely sure about the older male's words). He sincerely prayed that Bobby's gun wouldn't be jamming at all.

With that he made a step to the side, while the creature took a step closer.

Yeah, Sam hadn't thought about that good enough. Even if he threatened to shoot it, it wouldn't back off. Its need was too big. He was cursing himself all over again.

Dean would be so mad at him for not staying in the house. It had practically been an order. And he hadn't obeyed.

Dean would be sooo mad at him.

The creature drew his tail-end up and lowered his front slightly, making itself ready to jump. Sam pulled the trigger, right when the wolf took off the ground. A second shot in midair and then another one as the animal landed on him, taking Sam down into the snow.

A slight burn flashed over the right side of his ribcage and flank, feeling one of its claws scratching through the thin layers of fabric and skin.

It felt like a stab right into his heart. - A sudden feeling claimed him that something wasn't right. - Something was so terribly wrong.

And then Dean heard it. A low rumble and a high-pitched whine somewhere from the yard. He rose his head from under the hood and shared looks with Bobby, Caleb and Ash, who had stilled and straightened up themselves.

Something tightened around Dean's heart. He felt it. Felt it as he was him. Adrenaline pumped through his veins and he let out a dangerous snarl before he started to turn into the dangerous creature he was. Dean started to rip his cloths and achingly tight skin off to turn into what others feared – the wolf.

A split moment later the others followed his example and they were on their way across the yard, led by Dean. Regardless of the obstacles before them.

A shot rang out.

The metal of the wrecked vehicles scrunched and dented and glass shattered under their weight as they made their way high above the ground. They never slowed down.

A second shot.

Not even when they came into eyeshot.

A third shot.

With a giant leap, Dean took off the stack of wrecks, landing just a yard away from it. It would've been too dangerous in the wolves eyes to try to take the creature down – right there – with the human beneath it.

Dean locked his gaze with the other wolf one's. It growled at him threatening, while it made its way backwards. Dean made his way forward, while it backed away from the human's curled up form in the snow, lowering his head in submission. - Not sensing that it'd never leave the Salvage alive.

Just when Dean stood protectively over his mate, the wolf got taken down by two others.

Dean sank to his knees – not feeling the coldness of the snow on his skin as he did so. He laid his hand on Sam's hair, listening to his erratic heartbeat, his fast breathing – sensing the panic of the human before him.

„Sam.", he said calmly.

He blinked and lurked up, pulling his hands down. And in the very next moment the human was on his knees and all over Dean. Wrapping his long arms around the naked male, pressing himself into him desperately. He buried his face in the curve of Dean's neck, ignoring the slight pain that was running down on the side of his ribcage towards the waistband of his sweat-pants.

„Thomas.", Sam muttered. „You need to check on Thomas. - He's hurt." Sam looked up, searching the man's face.

Tears were glistening in Dean's eyes as he did so. He could tell his mate was at least worried … And was that hurt in his eyes?

„Dean wrapped his arms around Sam and held him close. „Ash's with him. - He went streight to the house when we heard it.", he explained, his voice silent. „Let's get you inside."

Sam nodded, his gaze moving over to the two wolves that pinned the intruder into the snow. „Did I hit him?"

Dean cocked an eyebrow.

„The wolf. - Did I hit him?", Sam asked again.

Dean felt a damp warmth on the skin of his left lower arm. That was when he smelled it for the first time. Human blood. The younger Winchester's gaze darkened and he drew back from Sam, cupping the human's face in his hands.

„Are you hurt?", he asked, his voice shaking.

Sam looked down on himself, as if he'd be able to see something in the darkness. But he didn't. He gave Dean a confused look. Because there was nothing but the slight burning sensation on his right side and the pain on his arm where he had cut himself.

Sam shook his head, as he looked back at Dean's face.

Just when the realization struck him, that he had felt pain, when the wolf came for him, he touched his right flank and hissed.

„Sam?", Dean asked worriedly, following the human's hand with his gaze. His eyes widened. „Did he bite you?"

Sam seemed to think for a moment, before he shook his head again. „Don't think so ..."

Dean frowned and rose to his feet, while Sam still kneeled before him. Without hesitation he picked the human up as if he weighted nothing, feeling more of the damp warmth against his own body. He prayed, that it wasn't a bite (as Sam had said). He prayed that the wolf's blood and the human's hadn't mixed.

Sam held onto the older male while they made their way back to the house. He closed his eyes, leaning his head onto Dean's shoulder. Sam was sure that he'd been able to walk by himself. But he didn't protest – not after he had screwed up. He had an order and had disobeyed.

DISOBEDIENCE demanded PUNISHMENT.

Dean lowered the human onto the couch – a gruff expression on his face, the muscles of his body tense. He then disappeared without a word upstairs and was back down in the livingroom within ten minutes. Fully clothed and with a first-aid-kit in his hands.

Sam still held Bobby's weapon in a death-grip. His hands shaking from what had just happened.

Dean didn't say a word while he emptied the contents of the kit on the coffee-table. The younger Winchester avoided Sam's look, while Sam watched Dean all the way – warily.

If Sam knew something, it was that a silent Winchester was a mad Winchester. A very mad Winchester.

When Dean started to unbutton Sam's shirt, he lay completely still, keeping his breaths labored, eying his opponent closely. Sam weighted his possibilities. Thought of apologizing and pleading for forgiveness.

But Dean wouldn't meet his searching gaze at all. He seemed to focus on the task at hand, even when he seemed to boil deep inside. So Sam kept his mouth shut, holding the gun tight so that his knuckles turned white.

Just as Dean laid his hand gently on the gun, Sam let go of it and let it being taken away from him.

Dean still didn't meet his gaze. He eyed the crimson red slick fluid that let the shirt stick to the human's skin.

It was a thin gash that looked worse than it actually was. It reached from the upper part of Sam's ribcage, down to the waistband of his boxers. - At least it was not life-threatening at all. Except the other wolf's blood had come in contact with the wound. Then it'd change Sam forever.

It wasn't that Dean was mad at Sam. - He was worried, frightened and scared about the possibilities that lay before them. In the best case nothing would happen and Sam would stay Sam. But in the worst case, Sam'd turn into a needy monster whose only reason to live would be his mate and human's meat.

And that was a thought Dean couldn't handle. He didn't want to imagine it at all. THAT was something he wouldn't be able to live with – not like this.

Now that he thought about it … he was mad at Sam. He hadn't followed a direct order. It hadn't been a request – not in the least.

Sam let Dean undress him, let him clean the wound, let him patch it up (it didn't have to be stitched) and let him be dressed in one of the warmest hoodies Dean was able to find.

The younger Winchester cleaned up the mess he had created and dumped the torn shirt and papers into the trashcan in the kitchen. Standing there – staring at the pot of cold chilli – tears stinging in his eyes.

John and Ellen had been supposed to be there. Sure they went for a supply run. But they had been supposed to be back hours ago too. Had to have an eye on his mate.

What made him think about Thomas, who lay badly wounded on the big table in the dining room.

Dean smelled Ellen and Ash, but not his father. The one had he trusted the most.

They had messed up. HE had messed up. Sam had made clear that he wouldn't let anyone of them get hurt because of him. He just hadn't presumed that Sam would actually mean what he said …

Dean's thoughts jumped back at the wolf in the dining-room, pinching the bridge of his nose with a deep sigh.

Sam shifted on the couch uncomfortably, trying to make out what Dean was doing in the kitchen for so long. Maybe he was looking for Thomas? - He had seen that Ellen's car was back on the yard as they returned to the house. He had also seen the blood-trails in the snow in front of the porch, where Thomas had lain.

Sam swallowed thickly, staring at the doorway, waiting for Dean to come back to him. Waiting for Dean to say something – anything.

But Dean didn't. He didn't come back into the living-room. He didn't come to talk to him, telling him what a failure he was, that he had screwed up AGAIN. Dean didn't even came and look after him. He just didn't.

At least not until Sam drifted off to sleep.

…... to be continued

… just if YOU WANT ME TO CONTINUE?