Sam's First Hunt
Summary: Sam (12 years old) goes on his first hunt. Dean doesn't agree with it, but Sam and John decide to go ahead. Dean believes Sam just wants to prove to John that he has grown up. But is that really the reason?
Note: I'm not exactly the biggest fan of this story. It was my first fanfic. Sometimes I like it and sometimes I don't. And that's why I had it published on but not here. But I decided to bring it. Comments are love.
This fanfic was inspired by the image of teenage Dean sitting protectively and calming Sam. I tried to create a context for what became Sam's first hunt. The image was posted by cyberdelph: I protect you by いつ吉
Of course, Sam participated in the hunts. Even at such a young age, his mind was brilliant, and he had always been competent in research and deduction. But Dean feared the day Sam would cross the line. The day he would stop just researching and actually step into the field.
Telling him that this world existed had already been hard enough. And now, Sam was about to go on his first hunt. Alongside him and John.
Dean had tried to stop it. He had tried to convince John to leave Sam out of this.
"Dean, let your brother grow up. I took you when you wanted to go."
"The thing is, he doesn't want to, Dad. He doesn't want to be part of this world. And he doesn't need this."
John sighed, impatient.
"Sorry to break it to you, son, but he agreed. In fact, he seemed pretty excited."
Dean blinked. His stomach twisted.
"What?"
That took Dean completely by surprise. Sam agreed to this? And without talking to him?
He stepped into the room and found Sam getting ready. But what made him stop in his tracks was the expression on his younger brother's face. He looked... excited. Determined.
That was not what Dean had expected.
"Sam, talk to me. Did Dad force you to go?"
Sam looked at him, adjusting the backpack on his shoulders.
"Dean, I'm not a baby anymore. When are you gonna get that?"
Dean watched his brother and saw in his words the need to assert himself. The desire to prove himself. And suddenly, everything became clear.
Sam wanted to show John that he could be part of this.
But why did that hurt so much?
The First Mistake
The forest was dark and silent. But Sam couldn't hear the silence.
He heard his own breath, fast and shaky, felt the sweat trickling down his neck and the cold weight of the rifle in his hands. He knew he was prepared. Dean had trained him to exhaustion.
He could do this. He had trained for this.
The sound of leaves crunching underfoot made him plant his feet firmly, knees slightly bent, eyes sharp. The creature was approaching. He waited, held his breath for the right moment, and... fired.
Just like they had trained!
But the creature was moving. The shot hit the target, but not the exact point needed to kill it. The monster staggered back and disappeared for a moment.
And then Sam heard it.
His own breath caught in his lungs.
"Sam!"
Dean.
Dean calling for him. And... in pain.
No.
No, that couldn't be.
Sam forced himself to remember John's words: The Crocotta lures its prey by imitating the voice of someone they love.
But... it wasn't an imitation.
It was Dean.
Sam hesitated. His hands were sweaty, his eyes blinked rapidly. He shouldn't move. He shouldn't lose focus.
But he did.
And then, before he could react, the creature lunged.
Then he sees him—Dean. The real Dean, who hadn't made a sound until that moment. Dean shouts at the creature to look at him. The creature changes direction quickly and goes after his older brother.
And that's what Sam can't handle.
He doesn't want to shoot because he's afraid of hitting Dean. And panic sets in. Complete. He's utterly paralyzed. He can only think about losing Dean... the person he loves most. The only person who makes him feel at home. He doesn't even see the forest around him anymore. He only sees his thoughts in front of him. Losing Dean. His brother dying. The guilt consuming him. His legs give out, and he curls up in complete despair near a tree.
...
John watches everything. He lets Dean and Sam act first. It wasn't a difficult hunt. He wouldn't have put Sam in a risky hunt on his first time.
He observes Sam's perfect stance. He sees Dean ready to attack at any moment. He hears Sam's shot and, judging by the aim, he knows it was perfect. It would have been a kill shot if the creature hadn't moved so much.
And that's when everything falls apart in a matter of seconds.
He wasn't going to let Sam get hurt. He would kill the creature first. Yes, everything was fine. If it weren't for...
...
Dean didn't even want Sam here.
It didn't matter that at his age, he himself had already gone on many hunts. Sam wasn't him. He had lost count of how many times he had told John that. John had even considered his objections. But the fact that Sam had sided with John made his arguments be dismissed just as quickly.
He had tried to convince Sam to step back, to reconsider, to give up on this insanity. But Sam was determined. And when he made up his mind, not even Dean could change it.
Dean knew the reason behind all that determination. Sam just wanted to prove to John that he could do it. That he didn't need so much protection.
Dean rolled his eyes just thinking about it. It was pathetic.
Once he couldn't change Sam's or John's minds, he did everything he could to make sure Sam was safe. If Sam thought John's training was intense, he had no idea how to even define the kind of training Dean had put him through. It was exhausting. Dean didn't care.
The day arrived, and the creature appeared. Dean didn't want to admit it... but Sam was ready. Safe. Confident. With a determination on his face that reminded him of the look John had when he was heading into a hunt. His focus was sharp, his aim was precise. Sam was ready.
He saw everything. Sam's focus, the creature approaching, the perfect shot they had trained so hard for. The creature getting angrier for being hit but not killed. And at that moment, if Dean had had time to think, he would have realized that no training had prepared him to allow Sam to get hurt.
And that was his biggest mistake.
He acted like the older brother, not the hunter.
He had a weapon in his hand. He could have just shot.
But he didn't care.
He just wanted the creature to take its eyes off Sam.
He didn't think. He just shouted.
"Look at me, you son of a bitch!"
A second later, he only felt his body flying through the air as the creature struck him.
He heard the impact before he felt it.
His head hitting a tree trunk.
The creature on top of him, already starting to suck out his soul.
Far beyond his fading consciousness, he heard a gunshot.
And then, only darkness.
...
John fired and saw the creature collapse onto Dean. He ran toward them and pushed the dead monster aside. His eyes immediately found the wound on his son's head. Blood stained his blond hair, and his face was pale. He needed to wake him up.
John lightly slapped Dean's face, checked his racing pulse. He had to wake Dean up. He knew it was a low blow, but he did what he knew would work if Dean had even the slightest bit of consciousness.
"This is an order, Dean. Open your eyes. Sam needs you."
And he did.
He looked dazed and confused. John checked his pupils—no signs of a concussion. He told him to stay awake, asking questions to assess his awareness. As the good soldier he was, Dean answered promptly. But John only felt truly reassured when he saw Dean's eyes clear, and he spoke desperately:
"Sam!"
John checked the back of Dean's head. The cut didn't seem deep. They would take care of it as soon as they reached the car. He helped Dean to his feet, and seeing that he could stand without swaying, he turned toward Sam.
Sam hadn't moved an inch. He seemed completely detached from everything that had just happened.
John felt a tightness in his chest... He wanted to go over and comfort his son. There would be adjustments to make in their training. Losing focus before ensuring the creature was dead wasn't an option. Dean had fulfilled part of his training—"protect Sam." But putting himself completely at risk wasn't acceptable.
It was clear: either he trained them properly, or one would always be the other's weakness.
But now wasn't the time.
Even after all these years, John knew how terrifying this life was. He understood the fear of losing the one you love most. But Dean was here, and this was Dean's territory. He knew he had forfeited the right to be Sam's comfort the moment he left all that responsibility to Dean.
There was no point in reclaiming it now.
It was the price he had to pay.
So instead, he turned to dispose of the dead creature.
...
Time dragged on.
Sam no longer saw the forest.
He saw Dean falling. He saw the monster striking his brother.
Again.
And again.
Until he felt something.
A touch.
Warm.
Steady.
Sam trembled but couldn't see anything. He only felt someone near him.
And then he heard it.
...
Dean panics upon seeing Sam so terrified. Sam shouldn't feel like this. He should be safe, waiting for him at the motel. Not here, like a frightened animal, curled up and crying in the middle of the cold, dangerous forest. This is why Dean hunts so relentlessly—so Sam doesn't have to. So he never has to put himself in danger. So he never has to fear the world of bizarre creatures.
He moves closer to Sam, placing a hand on his neck, feeling him flinch.
Dean speaks softly: "Sammy, it's okay. You're safe now. I won't let anything happen to you."
Sam doesn't even seem to hear him. He curls up even more, bringing his knees to his chest. Dean hears his sobs and can only think—Sam shouldn't sound like this. Sam is a child. He deserves to be a child.
Dean keeps murmuring comforting words. He doesn't take his hand off Sam's neck, gently pulling his head up so their eyes can meet.
...
"Dean?"
"Yeah, still as handsome as ever, right?"
"You… You were…" Sam starts crying again, terrified.
"Sammy, I'm here with you, okay? It's all right. The creature is dead. You, me, and Dad—we're safe."
"Dean, I'm sorry. It was my fault."
Dean sees the desperation in Sam's eyes, and all he wants is to pull him out of it. To make him feel okay again. He used to be good at this.
So he sits beside Sam, pulling him close, letting his brother rest against his chest. They stay like that for a while. So close they almost feel like one.
With Dean's arms wrapped around him, Sam breathes, and slowly, his breaths begin to match Dean's.
"Sammy, look. The creature is dead. Dad took care of everything. But your shot made it weaker. It wasn't your fault. It was mine. I messed up. I didn't protect you. You did everything right."
"Are you sure?"
"I'm always sure, okay? Now, enough of this drama. You already proved to Dad that you're capable. That's enough. You can go on hunts if you want. But not like this. If you're scared or don't feel ready, I want to know, okay?"
"Dean… it wasn't for Dad."
"What are you talking about, Sammy?"
"It was for you. I wanted you to stop seeing me as a kid. I wanted you to see that I can be a good hunter too. You love hunting so much. I wanted to do something that interests you. I know you think studying and researching is boring. And that's all I know how to do…"
"Sam… Sammy, do you really think that? That you have to hunt to be interesting to me? I love you just the way you are. My nerdy, pain-in-the-ass little brother who complains about everything. If you want to hunt, I'll be happy to have you by my side. But only if you want to. No matter what Dad says. I'll deal with him, don't worry. Okay? Now, Sammy, I'm sorry, but there is nothing you can do to stop me from seeing you as a kid. So don't even try."
"Now, enough of this chick flick moment. Let's go help Dad clean up and get back to the car."
Sam smiled and shoved Dean.
"Hey, geek boy, I've got a bleeding head here."
And they walked toward the car, no space between them, even though the forest was so vast.