Chapter 3:
Sam was glad it was finally summer. He had been working his butt off and had managed to pull his grades up to a 75. Dean was please, and Sam knew he could do better next year. He was right about his Dad, he wanted him to take his GED and start helping on hunts full time, but Dean told John that Sam needed to stay in school, and their Dad let the issue drop for now. He would probably bring it up again at the end up summer, but for now they had other things to worry about.
They had taken a hunt in Texas this week. A werewolf, they had three days to find it before the next full moon. That meant Sam was in full gear living off of coffee until they found whoever they were looking for. On the day of the full moon Sam had found the werewolf but then when he did, he had wished he had never had to known who it was they were hunting.
"What did you find Sammy?" Dean asked coming out of the shower.
"Well… only one serious dog bite was reported in any of the local hospitals in the past 3 months."
"Okay sounds like that's who we are looking for, name?"
John walked in before Sam could say anything.
"Sam, report now." John barked.
"I got her Dad."
"Name and address?"
"Dana Meyer, 154 Brinkley Avenue, the house backs up into the woods, so that is probably where she will go."
"Okay, we hunt her tonight."
"Dad, there's something you should know about her…"
"What's that Sam?"
"Dad… she's thirteen… I doubt she even knows what she is."
John looked at his sons and sighed. Sam always had a big heart. He wasn't saying that was a bad thing, but it wasn't something you can have in this world.
"She is a monster Sam, and she needs to be dealt with. She is killing people. I am sorry, but that is just the way it is. Pack up; we leave to scout in two hours. I will go grab us some dinner."
John left and Sam and Dean were left alone in the room. Sam sighed, and started packing the guns that were lying on the bed.
"You okay Sam?" Dean asked from the other side of the bed.
"Yeah, I am fine."
Dean was packing up extra silver bullets into the weapons bag, and watching his little brother load bullets into his gun. Sam looked tense; he looked like that a lot lately.
"Maybe you should sit this one out Sam." Dean suggested
Sam had fire in his eyes at that comment.
"I can do my job Dean, it's summer, and I have nothing else to do. Don't treat me like a kid."
Dean stared at Sam for a minute then nodded. Sam grabbed his backpack and went into the bathroom to change. He was mad, mostly because Dean was right. He didn't want to do this job, she was just a kid. Sam sat on the toilet and took his secret weapon out of the front pocket, only three cuts today. Just enough to take the edge off. That was enough. He felt better and put on a pair of jeans and a long sleeve shirt. They were in Texas; it was too hot for a sweater. By the time he went back out into the main room of the motel John was back with burgers for everyone. Sam sat down at the table and began to eat.
"Do you have a hatred for t-shirts or something Sam?"
Sam hadn't worn a t-shirt in a long time, and Dean was starting to notice.
"We are going into the woods Dean, figured it would be better to cover up, you never know what you could catch out there."
Dean seemed to think that was a good enough answer because he let it drop. After dinner they headed out towards Dana Meyer's house, John in the truck and Sam and Dean in the Impala. They sat down the street from the girl's house until they saw the girl run into the woods. It was time to hunt. They split up, Sam and Dean went one way and John went the other. They were circling the woods, looking for the werewolf.
"Sam, time to circle back and go find Dad." Dean said.
Sam nodded and stepped ahead of Dean. He heard Dean scream and a thud and Sam whipped around. Dean was unconscious against a tree with a werewolf standing over him.
"DEAN!" Sam yelled.
He took one shot, which hit the werewolf in the shoulder. She let out a scream and she turned toward Sam. She was fast, and ran at Sam swiping her claws across his stomach. Sam felt the pain but could not let it hurt at the moment. The werewolf had him pinned to the ground and was trying to bite him. Sam held the wolfs face with one hand and shot the werewolf through the heart with the gun he held in his other hand. The werewolf was dead, and it morphed back into the little girl. Sam pushed the girl off of him and pushed himself off the ground, he walked over to Dean and collapsed next to him.
"Dean wake up! If you don't, I am going to scratch the Impala."
"You wouldn't dare you little brat." Dean mumbled. "God, my head. What the hell happened?"
"You got knocked out by a thirteen year old werewolf."
"Shut up Sam. Where's Dad?"
"No idea, I am sure he will be here soon. He must have heard the gunshots."
"Gunshots? You got her?"
"Yeah. She's dead."
"Salted and Burned?"
"Sorry I didn't get to that part. I was having some difficulties standing."
Dean shifted and turned on the flashlight he had in his hand.
"What do you mean Sam? Are you okay?"
Sam laughed. He wasn't even sure why he was laughing.
"Not really. I am bleeding pretty bad."
Sam tilted Dean's flashlight down towards his stomach and moved his hand. There were four long deep scratches starting at Sam's ribs and going down across his stomach and they were bleeding through the fabric and onto the ground. Bright white bone was shining through the carnage.
"Jesus Christ! Why didn't you say something before?"
Dean took off his t-shirt and pressed down hard on the wounds. It made Sam hiss in pain, but he knew Dean was just trying to stop the bleeding.
"Had to make sure you were okay Dean." Sam could feel the darkness closing in around him; he was going to lose consciousness soon. "I don't know how long I can stay awake."
"Sam you stay with me, okay? We will get you patched up, but I need you to stay awake."
Dean was panicking. Sam had been injured on hunts before, but this was bad, really bad.
"I'm trying Dean, but I am tired."
"Sam! Dean! You guys okay?" John yelled from somewhere in the woods.
"Dad, we need your help! Quick!"
John Winchester came running through the woods towards his sons, and he saw his older son holding his shirt on his younger sons' abdomen.
"What happened?"
"I got knocked out, and Sam killed the werewolf, but she got in a swipe. He has lost a lot of blood Dad."
John kneeled down next to Sam.
"Sam you with me?"
Sam nodded at his Dad.
"Can you stand?"
Sam didn't answer for a second.
"Yeah, if you guys help me."
John and Dean flanked either side of there youngest, and helped him back to the car. Dean laid him down in the back seat of the Impala and got back into the front. John got back into his truck and they made there way back to the hotel room as quickly as they could without attracting any attention, because getting pulled over with a bleeding teenager in the back seat wasn't good for any of them.
"Sammy? You still with me?"
Sam's eyes were closed, but he was still awake.
"Yeah Dean, I'm still here."
"Good, we will be back at the motel in a few minutes and we will get you fixed up."
Sam nodded then opened his eyes.
"Hey Dean? Can you do me a favour?"
"Anything Sammy."
"Obviously this shirt is toast and it gonna have to come off when you stitch this mess up. So make sure it is you and not Dad who is stitching this up, and when you see the other scars, don't freak out okay?"
Dean pulled into the motel parking lot and looked back it his brother.
"What are you talking about Sam?"
Sam didn't answer, he was asleep. So Dean just picked up his little brother, who was not nearly as light as he used to be, and brought him into the hotel room. His dad was putting out the first aid kit and some whiskey on the table next to the bed.
"I can handle this Dad, the bleeding has slowed down. I am just gonna stitch it up and put him to bed."
"Alright Dean, I am gonna head back to my room, let me know if you boys need anything."
John left and Dean picked up the medical scissors from the first aid kit. He didn't know what he was going to find, but he knew that Sam had been hiding something from him. He cut the front of Sam's shirt and exposed the wounds on Sam's chest and stomach, they were deep and seeping, and they were going to hurt like a bitch when he cleaned them out.
He pulled off the rest of Sam's shirt and pulled Sam's arm out of the sleeve, his hand ran over something raised on Sam's arm. Dean looked and that is when he saw what Sam was so scared of him seeing. White, red, and pink scars crisscrossed Sam's left arm, and there were fresh scabs on top of all of that. Dean wanted to cry, because he knew that those marks had to be self-inflicted.
"Jesus Christ Sammy, why did you do?"
"I'm sorry Dean."
Sam had opened his eyes and was looking up at his brother and Dean's eyes were filling with tears. Dean wiped his eyes, and looked back at the first aid kit.
"We will talk about that tomorrow. For now I gotta get this mess cleaned up. Deep breath, this is gonna hurt."
Sam nodded and Dean dumped the bottle of alcohol over the wounds on Sam's chest, Sam stifled a scream. Dean began to stitch up the wounds as quickly as he could. Forty-three stitches in all, that bitch had gotten him good. Dean laid gauze over the wounds and sat back in the chair next to Sam's bed. He tried to look at Sam's arm again, but Sam had hidden it under the covers. Dean knew yet Sam was still trying to hide it. Where had Dean gone wrong? What could make Sam do something like this to himself?
"Dean? Are you mad at me?"
Sam sounded so young, like the child who used to worship the ground Dean walked on. Dean ran his hand through Sam's hair.
"No I am not mad at you. Sleep now Sammy."
"Don't tell Dad, please."
"We will talk about it tomorrow."
Sam nodded his head and then drifted off to sleep. Dean didn't know how to handle this, but he knew couldn't tell his dad, not yet. Dad and Sam had enough problems with each other he didn't want to give his Dad anymore fuel. He would talk to Sam tomorrow. For now he drifted off into a fitful sleep.
When he woke up there was a note on the table. His Dad was gone, would be back in a couple weeks once Sam was healed up. God forbid he sticks around for a while when his kid is injured. But it would be easier to deal with Sam's little problem if John wasn't around. Sam was still asleep, but he knew he couldn't put this off forever. He went over to Sam and sat on the bed.
"Wake up Sam, I gotta check those bandages."
Sam opened his eyes and looked up at Dean. Dean peeled the bandages back, the stitches looked good. He took the old gauze off and replaced it with clean ones. When he was done Sam sat up a little bit and the sheets slipped off his arm. When he noticed he quickly pulled his arm to his chest. Dean sighed.
"You don't have to hide that Sam. I have already seen them."
"That doesn't mean I want you to see them again."
The brothers were silent for a while, each trying to figure out how to talk this out.
"How long have you been doing this Sammy?" Dean asked.
"Six or seven months, it wasn't so bad at first, it has just gotten worse over the last little while."
"Why?"
"I can't really explain it. It just makes me feel better. When I feel stressed or tense or mad, it makes it all go away."
Dean shook his head.
"I guess this explains the long sleeve fixation… This isn't okay Sam, you have to know that."
"I do know that Dean, but I don't know how else to deal with all of this."
"I will help you, but this has to stop, right now. All my life I have protected you, hurt the things that have hurt you. I can't do that this time, because it is you hurting you. Please Sam, I can't lose you to this." Sam looked at his brother and saw the fear in his eyes.
"Okay Dean, I will try, but I just do not know how to deal with this."
"Well for one you aren't alone, I will help you."
Sam smiled.
"Thanks Dean."
The next year was a rough one, Sam was struggling, but Dean knew how to tell when Sam needed a fix. He would get agitated and he wouldn't be able to stay still. When it happened Dean would talk to Sam, or they would go for a walk. They never mentioned the reason, they just did something until the need for Sam to hurt himself was gone.
Eventually Sam got better and that look in his eye began to appear less and less. They were going to be okay. And then when the day came where Sam came to Dean and told him he was going to Stanford, Dean accepted it, making Sam promise to call if he ever felt the need to hurt himself. Sam promised, and when he left, after the fight with his Dad Sam never called Dean, and instead of thinking that Sam had forgot about him, he chose to believe Sam never called because he was okay, he was happy, because they had promised that no matter what happened they would always be brothers.