Long time, no see! Done nothing productive since we last saw each other. But, did discover Band of Brothers.
Omfg, it's fucking mint.
Disclaimer: own nothing.
The stars remained concealed by a thick layer of black cloud as the storm still raged, illuminating the creaking forest every now and then as lightning flashed overhead. The leaves on the trees rustled continuously as the wind battered their branches, accompanying the thunder in the terrifying chorus that shook the forest.
The shivering cries of an eleven year old boy would have barely been audible without the rumbling storm as he crouched in the hollow base of a huge tree, the triangular hole abandoned by its animal tenants and now barely sheltering a trembling Sam Winchester as he curled in its tipi shaped center.
Sam shook from cold, from fear, and from dread as he watched the storm that loomed low over the forest, engulfing hope and warmth and just about any other nice thing that a little boy could feel as he trembled in the falling rain.
When Dad had mentioned a week in Caleb's cabin, he hadn't thought he'd be huddled in a hollow tree trunk as he had been for God knows how many days, the damp floor soaking his pajamas hours ago, Dean's jacket still tight around him…
It felt like weeks ago they'd fled from the cabin in the dead of night, an entourage of hunters tearing through the trees as the one thing they'd come to hunt came for them, teeth bared and claws extended as it had smashed through the thin wooden walls of the bedroom Sam had been sleeping in; no-one had expected a non-lunar werewolf, after all.
It felt like weeks ago Dean stowed Sam in this damn tree trunk, kissing him fiercely on his forehead, tears streaming down his face before dashing after the older hunters.
"I will come back for you, Sammy," he'd smiled weakly, shrugging out of his jacket and wrapping it around Sam's shoulders, "We're leading the thing away, then I'll come right back. Stay here, okay? Promise me?"
Sam had nodded tearfully, still not releasing his grip on Dean's arm. "Don't leave me here."
A distant voice called the older brother's name, and both siblings searched the thick forest for its source. "I'll come back. I'll be back."
Dean reached into the waistband of his jeans and pulled out a silver blade, pressing it into Sam's palm.
"I'm so sorry."
Sam jerked his head forward as sleep threatened to overcome him once again. He reached out a shuddering hand from the cocoon he'd created with the jacket and extended it into the rain. His cupped hand quickly filled with rainwater, and he splashed it onto his face as he tried to stay awake.
I'm so sorry.
He'd heard distant gunshots, the odd yell and sometimes a sickening howl, each new sound stirring a what if as exhaustion harnessed all common sense.
It must have been at least a day, a whole twenty four hours, since he'd been out here. The rain had been persistent, varying from a freezing mist to the waterfall that seemed to be streaming down right now. And it was so damn cold.
A whole day, and no sign of any of the guys that had been at the cabin; Dean, Dad, Caleb, Pastor Jim, Bobby, Jake – one of Caleb's friends – or Joshua; two days since he'd slept properly, or eaten properly, or even talked properly; two days since a pair of werewolves had ripped their way into the bedroom where he and his brother were sleeping…
God, it felt like weeks since he'd been curled into himself, hoping and wishing and praying that his family were alive, that their friends were unhurt.
At least there's only one werewolf after 'em now, he thought, comforting himself as he glanced at the dead beast man to him, his own arms covered in its blood.
It had jumped out of nowhere.
He'd heard a low growl mix in with the thunder, trickle over from the bristly bushes across the way.
Before he could furrow his brow, the beast had thrown itself across the clearing, its pearly fangs bared menacingly, the eyes glinting dangerously as it cranked its jaw wider-
Then Sam closed his eyes and held out the knife, hoping for the best, praying his head wouldn't disappear down this werewolf's jaw.
He'd felt it descend upon him; felt the steaming breath in his hair, felt the claws reach for his flesh, felt the teeth yearn for his blood…
The he felt the knife in his extended hand plunge deep into the skin and muscle and heart as the wolf stuttered backwards, staggering drunkenly as it cried its final howls, mourning and sad, before it slumped to the ground, the silver spread through his veins.
Sam watched the figure transform back into its human shape, curled naked into a foetal position, his hand still held out in the rain, bloodied and warm. He let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding, air coming out in quick, short puffs as tears fell down his face.
His first kill.
Dad would be proud.
He'd curled back in on himself, his cries shuddering out in shivers and trembles.
God, he wanted Dad.
He wanted Dean.
He wanted anyone who could tell him it was all okay, that it's gonna be fine. Everything's fine. To tell him it was all a bad dream and when he woke up he'd be safe in his bed, a silver bullet-loaded gun next to him.
But he was still in this damn tree in this damn forest in the damn rain with no idea how many members of his family were remaining.
Slowly, he let his grief pull him into sleep, his head lolling into his knees, his arms never losing their grip around his legs.
It was the rain that awoke him.
That and the wind, and the thunder, and the distant crashing of branches coupled with the rustling of dead leaves underfoot that screamed 'Danger.'
He whimpered as the thought of another werewolf – if that's what you could call these things – bearing down on him made him quake with fear, and he glanced through the darkness at the knife protruding from the dead man nearby, but fear – or cowardice – had him folding into himself, disappearing into the back of his tree.
The crashing came closer.
The rain fell harder.
Sam peeked over his knees; he could see the branches moving in the distance, out of sync with the rhythm of the wind. He pulled the coat tighter around him;
But Dean wasn't here to protect him now.
The crashing was near.
And suddenly, out of the wall of tree trunks and leaves and branches and twigs and bushes and brush, came a haggard looking, blood – coated, rain-soaked Dean, his eyes wildly searching the trees that edged the circle.
Sam watched in fascination the man ahead of him, who's chest heaved as he paced the area, one hand clutching a long silver knife, the other white and tense as he held it in a fist, positively drenched in water which fell off him in torrents.
He saw his brother's eyes fall on the dead body next to his tree, and widen comically. Dean's bottom lip quivered as he inched towards where Sam hid, still frozen in the darkness.
"S-Sammy?" Dean whispered, crouching low as he analyzed the shadow beneath the tree, hand still gripping the knife tightly.
Sam finally pulled himself from his catatonia, poking out his head warily.
Sam watched as Dean tensed at the movement, blinking as fat raindrops flickered past his eyelashes. He pulled his eyes up, adjusting to the light, and they locked with Sam's own terrified pair.
"Dean," croaked Sam.
And suddenly big brother arms were tight around him, gripping the back of his jacket, rocking him back and forth as the rain fell around them.
"I-I hadda leave you here, S-Sammy… There were th-three… Th-th-thought you were sa-safe," Dean garbled into Sam's ear as the younger boy collapsed into the strong arms, exhaustion pouring into him as adrenaline rushed out, the pair collapsing into the sodden leaves. "I'm so-so sorry… I'll never, n-never leave you again."
Sam nodded weakly as his tears joined the rain tumbling from the black sky, his eyes slipping closed as he succumbed to his need of sleep.
Just as a bliss of peace began to envelope him, he was shaken madly as Dean rasped his name.
"Sam? Sam! Jesus, are you h-hurt? Did it claw ya'?" Sam felt the warm coat being pulled from him as Dean quickly checked him for injury, rambling on as he worked.
I got it."
"Too God damn right you did. I'm proud of you, kid."
Sam shuddered involuntarily, turning into his brother. "Y'okay?"
"Yeah. I'm fine. We all are. Sammy… I didn't wanta leave you out here… It was best… we were running targets, and we led it away and I tried to find my way back…"
A weight was lifted from Sam's chest as he heard this. Dean had been looking for him. He smiled slightly. "S'okay."
Sam felt the coat being pulled over him, and Dean pick him up and hold him tight as he stood, both blades forgotten in the mattress of leaves, the rain still pounding down. "You're safe now, Sammy," Dean assured.
And Sam knew it.
Because I've missed brotherly moments in the new series.
Not brilliant; just needed a break from revision. I hope you've enjoyed!
Reviews are love and they make me smile lots, :)