Chapter 7

May 18th, 1998

I think I understand now why Sam is a panther. At first I thought his rebellion against me was adolescence or something…but I don't think that's really the case anymore. Dean never went through this. He never blatantly disobeyed me when I gave him a direct order.

Panthers are lone hunters, who usually lay down roots and stick to one spot – very aggressive.

Sam bitches at me every single time I pull him out of some town where he starts school. It's clear that he really wants to settle in one area.

But we have a job to do. So Sam had better get over it.

xXx

Sam sat at the table in the kitchenette area in their latest motel in Springwood Falls, Washington. In front of him lay papers in askew piles with cluttered scribbled writing on them as Sam researched their new creature of the week. His hand massaged his temple as his elbow lay on the table, supporting his head.

He didn't want to do all this work, but his father had insisted on it – since Sam argued with him last week in the previous town they found a hunt, when he and Dean forced Sam to come along on the actual hunt – causing him to oversleep the next morning, and miss school.

Sam was very serious about school, but even that wouldn't be a good excuse to ditch a hunt for long, because summer break was fast approaching.

Dean hadn't taken school so seriously, much to Sam's frustration. Half way through his senior year of high school, Dean dropped out and decided that getting his GED would be good enough.

Not Sam, though. Sam wanted an actual diploma. With a diploma and his GPA, Sam could present that to any college in the country and get away from this crusade their father forced onto them.

But for now, Sam had to take it one day at a time.

From what he could gather, it seemed they were hunting a werewolf. Month after month, people would disappear – only to be found days later in pieces – their hearts however, were never recovered.

Luckily, tonight just happened to be the first night of a werewolf's cycle - just one week before the full moon. This was good, Sam thought to himself – Dean and their dad would head it off tonight, and kill it before it killed any more people. So tomorrow – their dad and Dean would oversleep while Sam snuck off to school.

Sam did find it slightly funny that he actually had to sneak off to school. Most fathers begged their children to go to school. But then again, nothing about the Winchester's was really normal.

The motel room door suddenly burst open, and in walked Dean followed closely by their father in fine suits and ties – both of them looking rather drawn and tired. They'd been in town all morning posing as FBI agents, talking to victims' families trying to get a lead on this thing.

"Got anything?" Dean asked Sam in a chipper sort of way. Sam instantly knew Dean was putting up a front; he didn't want Sam to know how exhausted he really was.

Sam just rolled his eyes before replying. "Yeah…I think we got a werewolf on our hands."

"What makes you say that?" John demanded as he closed the door behind him.

Sam cleared his throat as he handed Dean the tiny stack of papers with his chicken-scratch handwriting on it which were his notes. Dean took them without complaint and skimmed over the words, muttering the sentences aloud.

"Hmm." Dean finally replied with an approving nod as he handed the notes over to their father, "Looks like Rebecca Cartright isn't the first person to go missing in this town. Turns out there have been more over the last few months…all with missing hearts."

"So we're thinkin' werewolf." John murmured to himself as he read through Sam's notes.

Once he finally looked up, and placed the notes back on the table in front of Sam – John gave his youngest a pointed look. "Sammy, if you're right and this thing's a werewolf – your brother and I could use some backup."

"Dad." Sam started as an angry warning, but then bit his tongue. Sure he was angry – his father had promised him last time that Sam could contribute to this hunt by just doing research.

But how could he say no when his father asked like that? That was a low-blow, and they both knew it. John knew Sam wouldn't let his brother and father walk into this hunt with no one to back them up. What if something happened? Sam would never live down the guilt.

But even still, Sam hated when they went on werewolf hunts. He wouldn't really participate in the killing – he considered it taboo. But it wasn't just werewolves – it was also skinwakers, and shapeshifters.

Dean on the other hand, didn't seem to have a problem with it. And every time Sam asked him why, Dean would shrug and try to assure his brother that what they are is nothing like what they kill.

But Sam isn't really convinced.

"Fine." Sam growled out, "But next time, I mean it – you and Dean are on your own."

"Unless we run into another werewolf hunt." John challenged.

"You're so full of crap, you know that?" Sam snapped, his anger rising, "You know damn well I don't kill these things, so I'm pretty much the crappiest backup you could ever bring along!"

"Sam, we need you out there hunting with us." John admitted, now towering over his son, "Your mother needs you out there hunting with us."

"Screw you." Sam spat as he swallowed a growl he felt rising in his throat.

"Sammy, cut it out!" Dean begged, his face looking genuine. He just wanted John and Sam to get along so the three of them could be a family. But each day, Sam seemed to want less and less to do with John. And Dean knew Sam wanted nothing to do with this hunt for their moms' killer.

Dean's biggest fear was that Sam would one day be so fed up with their father and this lifestyle, he would leave. He knew Sam had considered the idea before, but has never made the effort yet. Dean can only hope that he never does.

"We don't have time for your teenage rebellion, Sam. You're coming on this hunt, and every hunt I tell you to from now on – you got that?" John snapped sternly, his intent glare sat unwavering on his youngest son.

Sam's upper lip pulled back into a snarl as he faced his father, he tried to suppress the growl rising in his throat again – but that proved unsuccessful. He hated when his father told him what to do. It was like what he wanted to do didn't matter – who he was, didn't matter.

"Sam, no! Come on, back off!" Dean warned, as he sensed how close his little brother was to the edge.

He could practically smell the change Sam was barely keeping at bay. It was almost like a metallic sort of aftertaste on his tongue. Dean knew that even if Sam did lose it for just a second and shift, he wouldn't attack their dad.

Usually…

This time though, Dean couldn't really tell. John had been gently nudging Sam along for a few months now. And now he was abruptly breaking a promise he had made to Sam. And Sam clearly wasn't too thrilled about it.

Sam closed his eyes as he pressed his back into the chair, trying to anchor himself to the ground. He felt the panther clawing at his fingers gently urging him to reach forward and rip their father a new one.

But Sam resisted as he focused on steadying his breathing. He knew their dad didn't approve of what he and Dean could do…but he'd friggin' hate them, if Sam actually attacked him.

Just a couple more years, Sam thought to himself grudgingly. Just a few more years of this crap, and he'd be old enough to leave and not look back.

That day would be a great one, Sam thought to himself longingly with a sigh.

"Fine." Sam grumbled with an eye-roll, "Whatever you say…sir."

Neither Dean nor John missed the underlining emotion when Sam called John 'sir'. It was a name Sam rarely called John, unless he were cornered into making a decision he usually wouldn't make.

Truthfully, it had bothered John at first. When he was training his sons, he was their drill-sergeant first – their father second. Calling him 'sir' was a sign of respect. A name Dean had no problem calling him.

Dean felt a change in his little brother that moment, and knew that his fears were being recognized. He couldn't explain it, but in that moment Dean knew Sam had made up his mind.

Once he was old enough, Sam was going to leave them.