Supernatural 1. It wasn't Silver

**I had a beta for this but she suddenly said she couldn't do it, so forgive me if there are spelling mistakes. That being said is anyone open to be a beta? Someone that is not too busy? It would be much appreciated!**

**This is my first Supernatural fic so please tell me if they seem to OCC!**

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><p>A fourteen year old Sam was currently laying vertically across the motel room's stained couch. He twirled the remote in his hand as he halfheartedly watched 'Fox news.' The upside down newscasters on the screen quibbled on about thunderstorms moving toward the northern front. He tapped his right foot against the wall above him, impatiently waiting for them to get to something exciting. Sam tilted his head in mild interest as he heard heavy footsteps walking up to the motel door. The door knob jiggled frantically before finally opening with a soft click. A dark silhouette emerged in the doorway, blending in with the dark night. Sam shifted his position to see who it was.<p>

"Good, you're still up." a deep voice said hoarsely. Dean stepped over the threshold carrying two soft drinks in a cup holder along with a bag of food. "Went out and got food since we ran out last night." he said while holding up the grease-stained bag. Sam instantly sat up right on the couch. Dean threw over his sandwich, his nose scrunched up like he smelled something rotten. "If you keep eating that vegetable crap all the time you're never gonna grow past five feet Sammy."

Sam threw a mildly heated glare at his brother. "If you keep eating that heart attack inducing crap all the time you're never going to live past thirty." he retorted. Dean rolled his eyes before sitting next to Sam on the couch and grabbing his bacon cheese burger from the bag. The newscaster's voices on the T.V screen broke through the following silence.

"Chloe Morgan, a young girl at the age of twenty, disappeared two days ago around midnight. After a prolonged search her mutilated body was found in-" the female announcer was cut off as the channel suddenly changed to 'Dr. Sexy MD.'

"Doctor, you're brilliant you know that?" a nurse whispered to a dark haired man on screen as her hand slid down his chest tantalizingly slow.

"Yeah, now _this _is what I'm talking about!" Dean grinned slyly. Sam's head whipped in Dean's direction, his face not sharing the amusement that was clearly placed on Dean's.

"I was watching that!" he growled indignantly. Dean brushed him off with a wave of his hand before taking a large bite of his sandwich.

"You're too uptight Sam, you need to learn to relax once in a while." he mumbled, bacon poking out of his mouth as he chewed. Sam scowled but bit his tongue so he wouldn't start a ridiculous fight over the news, especially when neither of them had had a good nights sleep in days. Their dad was doing a job over in Massachusetts and he was supposed to be back a week ago. Sam sighed and lowered his half eaten sandwich from his mouth.

"Any word from dad?" Sam asked in a low tone. Dean peeked over at him via the corners of his eyes. The small green-tinted gleam in them temporarily disappearing. A wide smile spread across his face, though it didn't touch his eyes and Sam flinched at the pseudo of it.

"Yeah actually, he said he'd be home in a couple days. That witch was no problem for him. Don't worry Sammy." his tone was light but clipped short. Sam nodded slowly and adverted his eyes to the television.

"Seriously doctor?" a female with a low cut top said in an over dramatic voice. Said doctor faced her in an exaggerated turn.

"She _needs _this nose surgery. If she doesn't get it..." he paused for effect. "She'll die!" Corny music played while the screen went black. Sam shook his head in disbelief. How did this even get aired? He crumbled his sandwich wrapper into a ball and threw it into the garbage as he got up.

"I'm going to get ready for bed." he mumbled as he made his way to the bathroom. Dean grumbled a reply back while also crumbling his wrapper in a ball and aiming it at the trash can. The paper bounced off the rim and landed on the puke colored carpet near by. Dean glowered but didn't move to correct it. The bathroom door closed with a small bang and the gush of water from the shower head drowned the noise of the television.

Dean clicked off the next segment of 'Dr. Sexy MD' and pulled his disposable phone from his pant's pocket. He punched in a number he knew by heart and impatiently waited for them to pick up. After three rings a click was heard as the person took their phone off the hook.

"Hey boy, it's good to hear from you." a gruff male voice answered. Dean took in a deep breath before responding.

"Hey Bobby." his voice cracked. There was a moment of silence before the other spoke.

"I'm guessing this ain't a pleasure call. Tell me what's wrong." Dean ran a shaky hand through his short brown hair.

"It's dad. He's a week late and he's not picking up his phone." Dean paused to take in a quivering breath. "I just – I don't know what to do Bobby. Sam's starting to ask questions I can't answer and we're running out of money fast." An almost inaudible sigh sounded from the other line.

"Where's your dad's job?" Dean cleared his throat to lose his pathetic tone before answering.

"Massachusetts."

"Alright I'll send a guy down there to find him and hot wire you guys some money but Dean-" Bobby paused and Dean's eyes narrowed in confusion. "Just be careful. Something's going on down where you're at."

"What do you mean? Like what?" Dean whispered just as the spray to the shower died out.

"There's been an increasing grow in dead bodies; all of their hearts ripped out..." Dean ran his hand over his face, trying to find his calm.

"Thanks Bobby." Dean quickly shut his phone and stuffed it back into his pants before flicking the television on again.

"Dr. Sexy please, this woman only has a limited amount of time!" a nurse pleaded with the male doctor who turned to her with a hair flick.

"What seems to be the problem?" his voice was low as he drew out each syllable.

"Miss Wattson's nose needs immediate attention!"

The door to the bathroom swung open and Sam walked out wearing pajama pants and one of Dean's old Zeppelin t-shirts while purposefully drying his brown locks with a towel. He eyed Dean with an odd expression before shrugging and sitting on the bed farthest from the door.

"Hey Sam what do ya say to me and you going on a little vacation for a while?" Sam's head snapped up in suspicion.

"Thought you said Dad was coming back soon." Dean licked his lips nervously.

"Yeah he is, but you know him; as soon as he gets back we're off to another hell-hole town. I thought we could take a few days off, go somewhere fun like an AC/DC concert." Sam scrunched up his nose at the suggestion but nodded nonetheless.

"Yeah sure Dean. That would be great." Dean flicked off the ignored T.V show and stood up.

"Go to bed Sam, we'll talk more about it tomorrow." Sam stood up to stretch briefly before throwing the wet towel into a hamper against the wall. He pulled back the generic covers and crawled beneath them, willingly closing his itchy eyes.

"Night Dean." he said mid-yawn. Dean locked the door to the motel then slowly got into his bed as well.

"Night Sammy." he murmured. He clicked off the lamp beside him, emerging them in darkness.

X~X~X~X

Sam stirred in his sleep, subconsciously kicking the heavy covers from his body. A sheen of sweat covered his skin in a failed attempt to cool him down. Sam rolled onto his side restlessly as his brown orbs twitched open in irritation; only to be met with solid blackness. His vision blurred as he sat up in bed, and he blinked several times to clear it. When that didn't work he rubbed relentlessly at them with his palms. His throat ached as if he hadn't had water in months and he opened his mouth slowly, feeling the skin on his lips peel away from each other. He glanced dazedly at the clock on the bedside table and it read '12:00 A.M.'

Sam dryly licked his lips as he contemplated going to the vending machine around the corner for some water. He felt incompetent for thinking he should wake Dean up to go with him. It was just around the building! What was going to happen? Sam thought about it for a moment before opening his mouth again to speak.

"Dean." he choked, his voice coming out hoarse and barely audible. He winced as a burning pain appeared in his throat and looked over at Dean's sleeping form. His face was calm and relaxed, the worry lines that were visible in the day were smoothed out like they were never there, and he just looked so _peaceful_. Sam's lips thinned briefly before he grabbed some change off the nightstand and stood up. He looked back down at his brother, suddenly getting an idea. His hand slowly reached towards Dean's head, pausing shortly as he saw Dean's eyes flutter in the dark. He reached under Dean's pillow, feeling hot pants of breath on his fore arm before his fingers finally came across a cold metal. He pulled the gun out from underneath the pillow and tucked it in the back of his pajama pants before heading over to the door.

Sam unlocked the bolt and twisted the gold painted handle until the door opened with a low groan. He stepped outside, closing the door behind him, and was immediately greeted with fresh night air that whipped coolly around his body, soothing his burning flesh. He took in great pants of breath, feeling it scorch his dry throat. He walked around the corner of the motel, relieved when he saw a vending machine in the dim lighting overhead. He walked up to it and examined the choices along the side eagerly. He pushed the button with the water picture on it and inserted one dollar and fifty cents.

He waited patiently for it to come down, scowling momentarily when it didn't. He pushed the button again but nothing happened. Sam angrily kicked the vending machine, before turning away glumly. A loud thud was heard and Sam almost cheered with joy as he bent down and pulled the water from the slot. As he straightened back up he caught a glint of light reflecting on the vending machine and stared curiously at it. Illuminating on the machine was a strange image of a person crouched behind him. Sharp fangs gleamed in the reflection and in the middle of it's eyes were thin black slits, more beastly than human. It's head tilted to the side menacingly as its eyes held a glimmer of dementia.

Sam spun around, his heart leaping into his throat as he came face to face with the creature in front of him. It's mouth opened, a feral growl passing it's lips as it lowered more in a crouch. _Werewolf. _Sam grabbed the gun from the back of his jeans and aimed it at the heart, not an ounce of hesitation in him as his finger pulled the trigger. The bullet zipped through the air at point plank range and gouged itself into the werewolf's heart. A crimson red substance oozed out of the bullet hole and dripped onto the sidewalk below. As the thing roared in anger and swung back it's clawed hand, seemingly unaffected, one thought raced through Sam's mind. _It wasn't silver... _Then blackness covered his vision as he fell unconscious.


	2. Bitten

**I'm sorry that this chapter is so short, I wanted to write more but I'm still waiting for my beta to get back to me and so I don't want to upload too much without her going over it, so the next chapter will diffinently be longer don't worry ^_^**

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><p>Dean straddled the chair eagerly as a tall blond appeared on the stage before him. She threw a sly look at him as she shook her hips teasingly. Dean let out a wolf whistle and glued his eyes to her exposed naval. She slid against the pole slowly as two more woman suddenly appeared next to her.<p>

"Now we're talking." Dean grinned as all three walked over to him. Sultry music began playing the background, and every few moments a loud clash of drums would sound.

"You've been a _very _bad boy Dean." the blond said while running her red nails down his arm. The music kicked up a pace and the collision of drums began appearing closer together. Dean's eyes shifted to his right as the red head stepped out from behind the blond wearing a dominatrix outfit. The brunette appeared next to her just as the sound of drums began sounding sharper, like a rush of air cutting through space. Dean found himself concentrating on it more than the three beauties in front of him, but he just couldn't figure out where he heard it before. As a figure stepped in front of him the music became clearer and the rush of air suddenly sounded like a miniature explosion.

"Dean." But it wasn't just an explosion, it was a gush of air at a high speed that made a whirring noise. "_Dean." _And there was a slight 'pop' somewhere between the beginning and middle. "Dean help!" Dean's head whipped up at the plea. In front of him no longer stood three women but a scared little kid in a tattered looking jacket. "_Dean." _he said again in a whimper. His shaggy brown hair covered his eyes and his tawny frame was shaking like a leaf.

The boy suddenly lifted his head and looked right into his eyes and Dean was overwhelmed by the kicked puppy look. "Dean help." he repeated and right at that moment the noise appeared again. BAM! And Dean realized what it was like a slap in the face. This little boy was Sam, and the noise,...the noise was a gun shot.

"Sam!" Dean yelled as he woke from a dead sleep. His hand instantly went under his pillow, feeling for his ever present gun; upon not finding it Dean jumped to his feet and rushed to Sam's bed before yanking the cover to the floor. His eyes searched in the darkness before his mind caught up with him and he hurriedly flipped on the bed side lamp. The bed was empty and the covers cold, Sam had been gone for a while. His eyes scanned the room for a note, something to indicate if Sam just left to grab a soda. Nothing was out of place, nothing held a clue as to where Sam was. He grabbed his knife from his bag and all but ran outside. The sky was a dark pinkish orange as the sun rose into the sky but there was still a decent amount of darkness to be considered night.

The parking lot in front of him was nearly empty, not a soul in sight to question or badger. His grip on his knife tightened as he began to search around the motel, the knot in his stomach grew with the lack of evidence. He couldn't have just disappearedinto thin air! Dean's mind reeled and he suddenly felt very nauseous. Oh but he could;...all of the supernatural _crap _out there proved he could. A wendigo could easily over power him, a demon could easily possess him, and a ghost could very well throw him hard enough into something to crack his skull open. All of the possibilities spun in his head, taunting him, with all of the outcomes leading to something Dean didn't want to think about, Sam dead. He had to calm down, sort through this mess, narrow the culprits down. Wendigos only appeared in heavy forests, he had never heard of a ghost that could travel before, and there wasn't any sulfur near by. Dean suddenly stopped in his tracks, feeling a hard tug in his stomach; but it didn't have to be something supernatural to kidnap Sam, he was still little, could be overpowered by an adult. Dean groaned and rubbed his forehead, anger was swelling inside of him, hiding just below the icy calm.

Whoever it was that took Sam, he was going to _kill _them. Dean walked around the motel corner before coming to a dead stop. His gun was laying on the pavement haphazardly with spatters of blood and a busted water bottle near it. Dean felt boiling rage filling his body and his vision turned red as he bent and picked up the gun, not realizing when he had walked over to it. His eyes stun as he stood up, not looking away from the bloody handle of the gun.

"Sammy," he whispered, his eyes burning as tears threatened to slide down his face. "where are you?"

X~X~X~X

Sam cracked his eyes open slowly, feeling crust gluing his lids closed. His head throbbed unpleasantly and there was a metallic smell of blood filling his nostrils.

"Sylvia! You were given specific orders _not _to harm the boy! He was supposed to be our bargaining chip and now he's tainted!" a voice whispered roughly near him. Sam's eyes widened as the hazy comfort of sleep left his system. Cage bars closed in around him that were only six feet tall and the room surrounding the cage was very lush and elaborate with french zebra print sofas with replicate art models hanging above the Rococo design carpet. Sam almost gagged at all the useless junk in the room that cost enough to feed Africa for a decade.

"The boy _shot _me! It was instinctual, I had to get the gun away from him didn't I?" a female voice crescendo in volume and Sam's eyes shot to the doorway where the two people were arguing. The man was burly with a sharp jaw line and furrowed eyebrows while the woman was pale as snow with a tiny figure and had an expression that made her look weak. Sam recognized her as the werewolf that attacked him and moved to sit up quickly. A sharp, burning stab appeared in his right arm and he had to bite down on his tongue to stop a pained scream from escaping his lips. Fear rippled through him before he even looked down at it, tears of denial ran down his cheeks. On his forearm was an angry bite mark that went in deep; blood was still coming out of it steadily and Sam knew it would get infected soon but that wasn't what worried him. The bite mark was from a _werewolf_.


End file.
