Sam could hear them whispering in the kitchen. They were obviously talking about him. It was an argument. Well not a argument, Dad saved those for him, it was more of a disagreement.

He strained to hear the muffled words. Once in awhile a word, broke through because of their raised voices. Yep, defiantly a disagreement.

Sam slide down to the next stair. He was as close as he could possibly be without getting caught. He was so close that he could see Dean's back hunched over the table trying to find the minuscule fact that would prevent Sam from going on the hunt.

"Dean he's old enough now, and we need the help."

"He just learned how to shoot not that long ago. It's too dangerous."

"You went out and hunted when you were thirteen. He's going, that's final."

"But..."

"No, he's going. Maybe he'll learn to man up and take responsibility" Dean sighed in annoyance.

Sam gritted his teeth in anger. It took all his willpower from marching in there and yelling at his father. His hands were clenched at his sides.

A comfortable silence emitted from the kitchen. Dean had obviously given up the fight. No one ever won against John in a fight, well not in his eyes.

Sam flashed back on his fathers words, and anger rose in him again. He would prove to his Dad that he could be the obedient child, the perfect hunting partner. Prove to him that he could be like Dean.

Sam considered just walking into the kitchen, reviling that he had heard everything that they had said. He didn't though. Instead he quietly walked up the stairs, and ran down them as nosily as possible, announcing his arrival.

Neither Dean nor his dad looked up from their work. Anger bubbled up higher, and Sam couldn't stop the comment from coming out. "So what are you working on?"

Dean jerked his head up in surprise, "Uh... just details on the next hunt. Sammy."

"It's Sam, and do I get to go on this one, or am I just staying in the car?"

Dean visibly flinched at this. "Dad thinks it would be good if you got some in the field training."Sam looked at his Dad briefly who was too engrossed on writing in his damn journal to pay attention to their conversation.

"Well princess you better go up and get your beauty sleep, looks like we're going to be up all night." Dean responded.

"What are we hunting?" Sam looked at the table. It was full of maps of the dense forestry near the house that they were renting.

"Something called a Fenrir."

"A what?"

"Fenrir. According to Norse mythology it's a gigantic, terrible, wolf. It's been preying on local hunters and hikers"

"Does it tell you how to kill it."

"Silver through the heart."

Sam flipped through the Norse mythology book on the table. "Is that it?"

"That's the fugly; gotta say one of his better pictures though." Sam couldn't contain his yawn, "Am I boring you there, Sammy?" Dean asked in mock horror. "Well you better go get your sleep, Dad wants to be in the wood by seven.

"I can stay up and prepare the gear." Sam argued.

Dean gave a long stare and answered slowly." There's no need, Dad and I already did. Is there something you want to tell me?"

"No why?"

"You've never offered to prepare the gear. You hate hunting, and now you suddenly embrace it?"

"I'm fine Dean." Sam called out over his shoulder on his way out of the kitchen. He knew that Dean would figure out what he was doing if he stayed any longer.

Seven o'clock snuck up on Sam. Before he knew it, he was stepping out of the Impala into the warm June air. The forest looked forbidding and Sam dreaded the next few hours he would be spending in it. Although instead of complaining about the hunt, he took the gun, like a man. His father should be so proud.

He stood beside Dean when their father barked out commands. Saying yes sir and no sir at all the right places. He was going to prove himself to his dad this time.

With that they decided to head into the woods. After thirty minutes Dean speed up to talk to Sam. "So Sammy, you going to tell me what's going through your big head?" Sam rolled his eyes and speed up.

"Oh touchy." Dean looked at him for a moment. "You're not going to tell me are you?"

"Nope"

"I'll get it out of you after this hunt."

Just then John yelled back, "Sammy get you ass back in line." Sam speed up and looked back at Dean who shrugged.

Hours went by and Sam was pissed. They had been out here for hours and they were no closer to finding the thing. The temperature had dropped with the sun, so it was freezing.

Sam dropped back to talk to Dean, "this is pointless, we're no closer to finding this thing. We should just go home.

Dean just shrugged, not wanting to hear the kid's complaints. They walked in silence after that.

A few minutes later Sam heard a twig break behind them. He jerked his head around, but all that was there was trees. "Did you hear that?"

"What?"

"That twig breaking."

"No..."

Sam heard it again, "There again."

"Maybe we should tell Dad it's time to leave and come back tomorrow" Dean said looking concern.

Sam knew he sounded crazy and began to walk again. Sam heard the noise, this time louder, closer. He turned around and saw the source of the noise. The Fenrir was stalking the outskirts of Sam's vision, slowly making its way toward him. Sam's mouth opened in a silent scream of fear, but he closed it swiftly when bile rose.

Dean stopped a few feet ahead and noticed Sam had fallen a few feet behind. "Come on Sammy, Dad need you... Holy shit. Don't move." Dean's face turned a deathly white color.

"Okay" Sam's voice answered brokenly.

"Don't panic, Dad will take care of this." Dean left for a brief minute and Sam's fear increased tenfold. He heard running and soon Dean and his dad were standing a few yards away from him.

"Dad can you get the shot?"

"No, Sammy's in the way." His dad yelled louder. "I need you to drop on the count of three. One."

"What?"

"Two, three." Sam dropped to the ground, landing heavily. The gunshot rang out, and Sam looked back to see if the wolf was finished. Instead it was running in the way that they had just come from.

Dad took off after it, following the trail of blood. Dean went over to make sure Sam was alright. "You ok?"

The truth was that he was terrified. His shaking was evidence of this. "Yeah" he muttered.

Dean look over him, making sure there wasn't any injuries. "Come on, we need to help Dad."

They ran in the direction that the wolf and their dad had taken off in. The trail of blood lead them into a clearing. They stood to the side and watched their dad search the perimeter. "Trail ends here so it has to be around here." John called to them.

Sam and Dean split up searching the outskirts of the trees. Sam turned and his stomach dropped. Across the field the Fenrir was stalking his prey. Dean.

Sam raised his gun, firing. Two shots rang out. Sam looked to his father and saw he too had his gun raised. Sam turned back to the scene. The Fenrir laid on the ground, dead.

Dean stood still with a dazed look. He fell to his knees and took his hands off his stomach. They were red, blood red.

Sam dropped his gun and ran. Tears spilled down his face. Dean had been shot and deep down San knew he was the shooter.

To be continued...

Firstly, I don't own Supernatural. Secondly this is a Sam angst, not Dean so keep that in mind. Lastly, Fenrir is an actual monster, although I added more to it. As far as I know it is a single wolf, not a race of mutant wolves, and it doesn't die from silver. I just didn't want to use a Wendigo.