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Sam sighed heavily as he hung up the phone. Dad and Dean would be another few days. Which meant he would be forced to wait around in the motel room even longer. He already felt he was going out of his mind with boredom and worry; another three days he would be totally insane.
“I need to get out of here,” Sam mutters to himself, but Sully hears him.
“Get out of here? Like go on a walk?” Sully asks curiously.
Sam shakes his head. “No, like… maybe going to meet up with Dad and Dean? I know where they are, and we could take the bus…”
Sully looks at him worriedly. “I don’t know, that might be kind of dangerous, Sam. They’re hunting scary monsters, and your dad said to stay here, where it’s safe.”
“I know they don’t want me there, especially Dean,” Sam remembers Dean yelling at him the last time he begged to go on a hunt with them, “but-but maybe I could help somehow? They don’t know they need me. That’s it, I’m going!” His mind firmly made up, Sam got to packing his meager belongings.
“But Sam-”
“Don’t try to talk me out of this Sully, I have to do this. If I show Dean what a great hunter I can be, maybe…” Sam pauses, the beat up comic book Dean had bought him months ago sticking out of the duffel. “Maybe he’ll want to hang out with me again? Like we used to?”
“Awwww, Sam,” Sully picks Sam up in a crushing bear hug, “Okay, let’s go find Dean and show him what we can do!”
One day and many, many hours on a bus later, Sam finally arrives at the motel Dad and Dean are staying at. He’s about to search for the Impala in the parking lot when Dean suddenly walks out of room 17, furthest from the check-in as possible.
“Dean!” Sam can’t help it, he’s so overjoyed to see his big brother after a week apart that he barrels into him, nearly knocking Dean over.
“What the- Sam? How the hell did you get here?” Sam pulls away reluctantly when Dean doesn’t hug him back, instead sounding mad and anxious.
“I- I came to help… with the hunt,” Sam trails off. It sounds so stupid when he says it out loud. Dean’s obviously not happy to see him. He’d messed things up, again.
“Get inside. Now.,” Dean snaps. Sam feels the beginning of tears prick at the corners of his eyes as he’s hurriedly shoved through the door. At least his Dad isn’t here to see him cry like a baby.
“Um, Dean, I-”
“You need to leave right now. Before Dad comes back and sees you. Go back to the motel we left you at. Now.”
“But Dean, I wanna stay here with you-”
“We don’t need you here!” Dean shouts and Sam’s heart breaks into a million little pieces that not even Sully can help him put back together again. He throws the door open and runs out, tears obscuring his vision so completely he has no idea where he’s going. Without knowing, he runs into the forest behind the motel.
“WAIT! SAM, STOP! SAAAAM!” Dean screams but Sam keeps running past the trees. He runs and he runs and he runs until his little legs simply can’t carry him anymore. They give out and he’s greeted with a face full of wet mud.
For a long time, he just lays there. Distantly, Sam can hear Sully trying to coax him up, but he just doesn’t care. He doesn’t have the energy. Dean doesn’t want him. Dad doesn’t want him. Why should he care about anything? As rain starts to fall onto his back he curls into an even tighter ball. He just wants Dean.
And then he hears the growling.
It’s low and sinister, coming from directly behind him. Not knowing what else to do, he holds his breath and hopes whatever it is will move on.
Razor sharp teeth sink into his left leg and he screams. Fangs dig even deeper as he’s dragged across the slick muddy forest floor, pulling at the flesh of his leg. He begs for Dean, outright pleads, but all his pleas fall on deaf ears. Nausea rises in his throat, cutting off his screams, as he flies through the air, rolling down a steep incline.
Finally, mercifully, Sam’s back hits the trunk of a tree, stopping his momentum. A quick hard snapreaches his ears through the thrum of adrenaline in his veins and suddenly he doesn’t feel much of anything at all in his left leg. When he works up the courage to open his eyes, sure enough, his leg is bent at an unnatural angle.
Sam sucks in a shaky breath, swallows the hot tears flowing from his eyes. He needs to calm down. To think. What would Dean do in this situation? He would get away as fast he could and call Dad for backup, Sam thinks. He would be strong.
Just as Sam tries to sit up a little to get his bearings, without warning a heavy weight lands on his chest. For the first time he can see the creature pinning him down.
Werewolf.
Dad and Dean had been hunting a werewolf. He’d walked right into their hunt.
Sam’s mind quickly went through every bit of trivia he knew about werewolves, learned through the many hours of flipping through Bobby’s old tomes. Namely how to kill them. Which meant silver.
“Sam! Your silver knife! In your boot!” Sully shouts, attempting to manhandle the werewolf off Sam to no avail. But Sam got the message, and before the deadly claws can sink into his chest he reaches for the knife and stabs it into the werewolf’s chest. Its the first time he’s genuinely thankful for all the training he’s been forced to endure over the years.
Sully shoves the wolf’s prone body off him, crying out, “Oh man, oh man, that’s a lot of blood, oh sweet- DEAN!”
Sam cranes his neck in the direction of the pounding footsteps on the forest floor. There, like a shining beacon, his big brother makes his way through the trees.
“SAAAAAAM!” Dean screams when he sees the state his little brother is in. He runs to him as fast as physically possible and holds him close, whispering “Sam sam sam sam sam sammy samsamsamsam,” like a mantra.
Their father isn’t far behind Dean. He parts the branches in his way, gasps, and immediately calls 911, seeing that his eldest son is in no state to think clearly, still clutching Sam with a death grip like he’ll never let go.
“Sammy? I’ve called 911, and we’ll get you to a hospital, probably by helicopter. Okay? How you doing?” John crouches to Sam’s level. His voice shaking with emotion at finding his son alive.
“I’m-I’m okay. Just w-walk it off, right?” Sam smiles grimly. The adrenaline is wearing off now that he’s safe and he’s starting to feel some kind of pain in his leg. So he buries his face into the crook of Dean’s neck like he used to when he was little. Dean holds him all the tighter.
John clasps his hand reassuringly. To keep him awake, he tells Sam about the hunt. About how the only reason they didn’t want Sam with them was because this particular werewolf had a favorite flavor: almost all of it’s victims were kids around Sam’s age.
Even when the paramedics come Dean doesn’t let Sam go, and whispers into Sam’s ear that he never will again.
In the middle of the helicopter ride, just as Sam begins to drift off to sleep, he sees Sully give him a thumbs up. He gives one back.