The Sam Winchester School of Hunting

Fallout

In hindsight, Sam wasn’t surprised that Dean beat the shit out of him when he found out about Ben.

Sam remembered sitting in the Impala, trying to express his unease at what Dean and Castiel had done to Ben and Lisa, only to be shut down with the threat of violence. So when Dean found out he’d been helping train Ben as a hunter?

Yeah, there was a reason he’d been stocking up the first aid kit in the bunker.

Sam hit the wall with a grunt, struggling against Dean’s hold and the ringing in his ears. Dean was yelling something at him -

- and then fell silent sharply.

Sam blinked the blood and confusion out of his eyes to see Ben standing off to the side, gun pointed steadily at Dean’s heart.

“Ben…”

“You know,” the teen said conversationally, “The only reason Jake hasn’t ripped your brain out is that Sam likes you. You might want to think about that when you’re working out your guilt on your brother.”

Dean’s eyes widened, but what came out of his mouth was, “Don’t point that thing unless you intend to shoot.”

Ben’s hand shifted lazily and cocked the gun. His stance was calm and steady, his grip sure. There was no doubt in Sam’s mind that Ben would shoot Dean (again) if it came down to it.

Sam saw Jacob step into range, eyes golden and fox-like. Over Dean’s shoulder he saw Jesse, shadows starting to warp around him. On Dean’s other side, Claire was fingering her blade.

They were all poised to attack.

“I think it’s time you let Sam go, Dean,” Claire said, her voice hard and clear.

Dean’s grip loosened and Sam slumped to the ground, biting back a groan. Fuck, his everything hurt.

“Good. Now walk away.”

“This isn’t your business,” Dean ground out, but he made his posture loose and unthreatening.

“I’d do what she says, jackwagon,” Jacob growled, fingernails lengthening into claws.

Dean’s jaw clenched for a moment, taking in the four teens, assessing them, before he huffed disparagingly and stepped back.

A little space was all it took, and suddenly Sam was shielded by four bodies, all glaring at Dean with weapons at the ready.

“Good,” Jacob snapped, “Now take a hike.”

Jesse turned to Sam, eyes big and wet and scared, and said softly, “I don’t know how to heal this, Sam.”

Sam smiled weakly, reaching out to tousle the boy’s hair. “Don’t worry about it. I’ve had worse.”

None of them looked pleased by that statement and Jacob muttered darkly under his breath.

“We should get you to the infirmary,” Claire said, assessing the damage Dean had wrought.

“Yeah,” Sam agreed with a pained groan, “Might need some help getting up.”

Jacob and Ben were at his sides instantly, claws sheathed and gun holstered, helping him stand. Sam decided against mentioning the way Ben’s fingers hooked around his absently, or the way Jacob’s grip remained firm and possessive as he tugged Sam’s arm across his shoulders.

It would figure that after everything, he would get adopted by four angry, broken hunters-in-training with issues that put his to shame.


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