Summary:  While hunting a sasquatch, Sam and Dean are reminded that not all dangers are of the monster kind.
FYI:  Pre-series. Teen Winchesters.
A/N:  This story is dedicated to puddleofdrool, who gave me this idea. She wanted to see: Sam and Dean being hunted in the woods , then Sam getting caught in a animal trap.Dean manages to free him and they try and find shelter .Sam is slowly bleeding to death and Dean has called Bobby but help can't get there until the morning.
I made some changes to the prompt but not too many. I hope you like it. Oh, and everlasting thanks to Sendintheclowns for a speedy and marvelous beta.
Disclaimer:  All things "Supernatural" belong to Kripke.

“Sammy, have you completely lost your mind?” Dean whispered through clenched teeth. He had to watch himself. All he wanted to do was scream bloody murder and tear his little brother’s head off with frustration, but that would definitely alert the ever stealthy Sasquatch of their presence in the dense woods.

Sam just continued walking through the forest, completely unfazed by Dean’s harsh tone. “No, I haven’t, Dean. Pardon me for keeping my options open,” he replied sarcastically.

Sam didn’t see what the hell the big deal was. It wasn’t like he was thinking about joining a vampire gang, or worse, becoming a priest, he was just curious as to what lay beyond the back seat of the impala.

He had already spent his first sixteen years staring at the back of Dean’s head, God forbid he may want to stare at something else for the next sixteen.

Dean simply rolled his eyes as he stepped over a decaying tree trunk. “Dad’s gonna slaughter you when he finds out,” he muttered beneath his breath.

Who knew one simple phrase could push young Sammy over the edge?

“For what?! Looking at a couple college pamphlets?!” Sam hollered as he spun around. “It’s not like I’m even applying yet!”

With a quick look, Dean ever so subtly warned Sam to shut the hell up before he completely gave away their location.

Seeing Dean’s heated stare more times than he would like to admit, Sam quickly realized his mistake and shut his mouth before ashamedly looking away.

Dean whipped out his gun and slowly inspected the dense woods. He remained still for a moment or two, waiting and watching for any sudden movements.

Deciding they were in the clear, Dean turned towards his brother and whispered, “Exactly. But Dad won’t see it that way and you know it.”

No matter how much he hated to admit it, his brother had a point. Of course John wouldn’t look at it as innocent curiosity. He would take one gander at those pamphlets and tar Sam’s hide for having thoughts of going to college - effectively leaving the ever-loyal Winchester family behind.

“I just…I want to know what else is out there,” Sam mumbled as he despairingly kicked a small rock with his foot.

Dean kept walking, as if he was completely unfazed by the remark. But his unseen face was set in a grim line, revealing his stun and fear.

He knew Sammy was thinking about going to college after graduating, the brochures made that clearly evident, but hearing Sam state his plans out loud was a bit more than he could handle. It was all happening so fast. It was just that morning he found the pamphlets, and if he remembered high school correctly in a couple months Sam would be eligible to apply.

He knew Sam always had his sights set on something other than hunting, Dean just never thought Sam would be able to pinpoint exactly what he wanted. The kid seemed to be trying new hobbies every week.

Evidently, Sam had a different plan in mind. A plan that involved going to college and moving thousands of miles away from his family.

Dean didn‘t know when his shock turned into anger, but he supposed it was somewhere between his brain and his mouth. “Look, it isn’t me you have to explain yourself to. All I want is to stop a fight before it happens. So could you just not be a dumbass and hide your shit before someone finds it?”

Sam looked up at his brother behind his thick bangs. “Fine…” he whispered as he gave a final, sweeping kick to the gray stone. To be honest, Dean’s compromise seemed fair enough, Sam just wished he didn’t have to live in a place where he had to hide something as stupid as college brochures.

None of his friends had to keep their plans for a future hidden. Hell, their parents were even proud of them. But Sam learned long ago one didn’t earn John Winchester’s pride through smarts and SAT scores, they earned it through weapon knowledge and great kills.

Both lost in their thoughts, they trekked through the woods in silence. They had been out on the trail since sun up, their father going one way and them going the other. Through the overcast sky it was hard to tell how much longer until sunset, but both knew if they didn’t see a sign of the Sasquatch soon they would have to start their long trek back.

Glancing at his watch, Dean let out a sigh of annoyance. “Will Big Foot just make his appearance already?” he growled with frustration.

“No word from Dad yet?” Sam softly asked, keeping his voice low.

Dean turned around and rolled his eyes at his brother’s stupidity. Maybe college would help the boy get some common sense. “Obviously not. I haven’t felt the phone vibrate,” he paused a moment as if to think something over. “Then again, I’m not the one with the phone, am I?”

Realization dawned on Sam as he reached into his front pocket and brought out the small phone. “…there’s no reception,” he whispered as he moved the phone through the air, trying to pick up a signal.

Dean immediately threw up his hands in frustration. “Well, that’s just great,” he said, trying his hardest to keep his voice down. “For all we know Dad could have killed the thing hours ago.”

Dean sharply turned around and started walking in the other direction. “C’mon let’s go. It’s getting dark, and I have a feeling it’s gonna rain soon.” The Sasquatch hunt may have been a bust, but there was no way in hell he was going to get caught in the rain.

Sensing Dean’s impatience, Sam silently followed, placing his gun safely in the back of his jeans. Maybe they would have more luck the next day. Or better yet, like Dean said, their father could have killed the Sasquatch and was anxiously waiting for them at the car.

They slowly walked back in silence, Dean navigating with the compass while Sam kept an eye out for the ever-elusive Sasquatch.

Neither of them seemed to notice as the clouds slowly gathered above them, diminishing the sun’s evening rays.

Neither of them seemed to notice the sudden onslaught of dusk that made it much more difficult to see.

Both of them were so caught up in their thoughts of their father, the Sasquatch, and the unknown future, that neither of them remembered that as important it was to keep a look out for the malicious monster, it was just as important to keep an eye trained to the forest floor for a malicious trap.

While many people didn’t leave traps out for supernatural creatures, many people did for dangerous grizzlies that roamed through the forests of Montana. At least they did decades ago when even the cruelest of bear traps were legal.

And while both of them forgot the golden rule to always be aware of their surroundings, it took one misstep to bring them both down.

Dean wasn’t sure which he heard first, the bone-wrenching crunch or Sammy’s sharp cry, but both brought him out of his reverie all the same.

Dean didn’t know when he reached his brother, he was pretty sure he never ran faster in his life, but Sam’s scream seemed to go on forever. A scream that would alert the Sasquatch of their exact location.

Dean immediately dropped to his knees and stuffed his leather clad arm into Sam’s mouth. Anything to stifle the torturous sound coming out of his brother.

Cautiously holding his brother, Dean did a quick scan to find the source of his obvious pain. His eyes immediately landed on the rusty bear trap that was cruelly clutching his brother’s ankle. Son of a bitch. It looked like Sam’s foot was nearly severed off.

Sam was now laying chest down on the forest floor, his left leg extended awkwardly, the bottom part of his jeans already bloody and torn.

When Sam’s scream finally faded into a soft whimper, Dean removed his arm and carefully, oh so carefully, brought his brother up by his shoulders and rested him against his chest. Sam immediately crumpled in on himself, as if he was trying to make his six foot frame disappear against Dean’s body.

“Oh God, Dean,” Sam hissed through his teeth, obviously trying to ride through the pain.

“Deep breaths, Sammy,” Dean encouraged as he rubbed soothing circles on his brother’s back. “Deep breaths.” He looked over the mop of hair in front of him, attempting to see the severity of the injury.

It was hard to see through Sam’s blood-sodden jeans, but it was clear by the size of the sharp teeth that it had most likely hit the bone. And if that wasn’t enough, the copper-brown coat of rust on the contraption definitely meant a tetanus shot would be in order.

That was if they could get to a hospital before infection and shock set in.

Aw, shit. Dean swallowed hard at the thought of undoing the trap. It was inevitable, but that didn’t make the thought any more appealing. “It’s okay. It doesn’t look too bad. I’ve seen worse.” All three sentences were said in the same soothing voice, and all three were boldfaced lies.

At Dean’s statement, Sam slowly turned his head to get his own look at the damage. If Dean said it wasn’t that bad, maybe he was just overreacting…taken aback by the suddenness of it all. He barely saw the beginning of the trap before Dean roughly turned his head back into his chest.

Sam crinkled his brow at his brother’s movement. What didn’t his brother want him to see? He said it wasn’t that bad.

“Don’t look, Sammy. It will just make it hurt worse.” Dean’s hand moved from rubbing circles on the boy’s back, to holding his head in place.

Okay, something was definitely not right. “It’s Sam,” he whispered a bit shakily, the pain slowly ebbing away.

“Okay, whatever you say,” Dean responded in the same soothing yet obviously distracted voice.

Now, he was scaring him. Dean never agreed with him when Sam corrected him on his name. If anything it just made Dean want to call him ‘Sammy’ more. “Seriously, how bad is it?” He tried to look once again, only to have Dean’s grip on his head tighten.

Dean finally tore his gaze away from the trap and looked down at his brother’s pleading eyes. “I told you. It’s not that bad. Stop being such a pussy about it.”

Liar. Sam deflated against his brother, knowing if there was something his brother wasn’t telling him, it was probably for a good reason.

“C’mon, man, now’s no time for a nap,” Dean encouraged as he patted Sam’s shoulder. “We gotta get you out of this thing.” He could feel his brother flinch beneath him. My sentiments exactly, Sammy-boy.

Not waiting for a response, Dean gently placed his hands around Sam’s shoulders and slowly guided him to his feet. Sam just clung on for dear life, helping when he could, his right foot searching for solid ground beneath him.

“You okay there?” Dean asked, trying to peer under the mop of hair that covered his brother’s face.

Sam merely nodded, his shoulders slightly shaking with exertion. The slightest movement of the trap brought on agonizing pain. It felt like metal was grating against his ankle bone.

In retrospect, it probably felt that way because it was exactly what was happening.

Dean looked down once again at the trap. There was nothing too special about it. Besides the fact that it snapped his little brother’s ankle in half.

His dad had prepared them for predicaments like this. All he had to do was put direct pressure on the two prongs exposed and the trap would snap open. It wouldn’t be too hard to get Sam out of it. Well, too hard for him, at least. Sam…that’s a different story.

The thing that worried him the most was the obvious aged look. It was quite possible the trap had been in the dense woods for decade untouched, living through dozens of rainstorms. With the amount of rust built up on it, it looked like it could crumple at any second.

Dean was almost scared to put any pressure on it for fear it would fall apart and Sam would be stuck in the trap with no way to get free.

“Sam, You ready?” he asked, his eyes not moving from the trap. When Sam didn’t answer, he tore his gaze away from the rusty contraption and lifted his brother’s head up with on hand. “…Sam?” His tone had a slight edge to it, much like his father’s when he was giving them an order.

Peering up through his bangs, Sam blinked a couple times before breathing, “Okay.”

Dean placed a firm hand on his brother’s shoulder. “The Sasquatch is still out there. So I need you to make as little noise as possible. If you need to scream, you can do it in my shoulder,” he instructed as he gestured towards his right shoulder.

Sam knew long ago he’d probably broken a bone, but Dean’s voice just confirmed it. While his brother showed more compassion than his father, Dean wasn’t one to coddle him. He knew it took extremes for Dean to act like he was, it was going to hurt like hell.

He took one long, deep breath, mentally preparing himself. He never saw the damage the trap caused, but he sure as hell could feel it. As far as he was concerned, the sooner he was free the better. He placed his hands at Dean‘s side to steady himself and closed his eyes. “Go for it.”

Dean took one last look at his brother before stepping directly on the two inclined prongs. Please don’t break. Please don’t break.

As quickly as it snapped shut, the trap released Sam, its teeth bloody and gnarled from its prey.

Sam felt like he was going to throw up. He expected the pain to be intense but swift. He hoped, prayed, for it to be over quickly so he wouldn‘t have to depend on Dean to get back to their father. But there was no way he could prepare for the agony he was in right now. It felt like his whole foot was being slowly sawed off.

He crumpled against Dean, screaming into his shoulder. His hands clung onto Dean’s sides for dear life. He knew if Dean moved the slightest bit he would probably topple to the forest floor.

He could hear Dean’s voice, but it was muffled and distant, as if he was underwater. His brother’s words didn’t matter though, as long as he knew Dean was there he’d be okay.

Dean slightly grunted under Sam’s weight. God, the kid grew a lot over the past year. He slightly shifted his feet and moved Sam closer to his chest. It wasn’t Sam’s weight that hurt the most it, it was the soft mutterings of, “Oh God, Dean…Dean,” into his leather jacket.

He wasn’t even sure Sam realized he was saying it. Regardless, Dean held his brother tighter and whispered back, “It’s okay. The worst is over.”

The moment the words exited Dean’s mouth he felt the first few raindrops hit his head.

Looking up at the dark gray sky, Dean knew they had to find shelter and fast.

He glanced down at his brother, who was still trembling with pain. Softly swearing, Dean looked back up at the sky. God hates us. He really does.

“C’mon, Sammy, just a bit farther,” Dean encouraged as he guided his brother around a steep incline. He learned early it was much easier to take a flat path, even if it took a bit longer.

Steadying his pace, Dean looked over at his brother, who was clinging desperately to his left side.

The rain turned into a full-fledged downpour long, slowing their pace considerably. The mud continually sloshed beneath their feet, making it extremely difficult to find their balance.

Feeling Sam listing a bit down his side, Dean strengthened his grip around his back. “Sammy, you with me?”

Sam breathed a shaky "Y-Yeah,” which did nothing to ease Dean’s nerves.

Dean glanced down at his brother’s waterlogged hair. Sam was all but limp in his arms, his left foot just skimming above the ground. Dean bent down a bit closer to look at his makeshift bandage around Sam’s ankle. Even through the rain, it was easy to tell the torn t-shirt was doing nothing to stanch the bleeding.

Shit. It was amazing how their whole situation could be summed up in one word. They were in the middle of the worlds, with no reception, a broken ankle from an old, rusty bear trap, and no way to yell for help with a Sasquatch roaming around. And to top it all off it was raining cats and dogs…supposedly cats and dogs had something to do with how bad it rained. Shit, shit, shitity shit shit.

It was amazing how their whole situation could be summed up in one word. They were in the middle of the worlds, with no reception, a broken ankle from an old, rusty bear trap, and no way to yell for help with a Sasquatch roaming around.

He was so busy looking over Sam’s bandage and cursing to himself, he almost toppled over as Sam swayed against him. “Sam, wake up!” Dean yelled in a harsh whisper as he steadied himself and his brother.

Sam merely sank into Dean’s arms, no longer having the strength to hold himself up on one foot. “C-cold,” he stammered between his chattered teeth.

Dean bent down and placed each of his hands on Sam’s face, forcing the boy to look at him in the eyes.

Sam swayed a bit, trying to find his balance on the slippery forest floor. He blinked a couple times trying to get the rain out of his eyes and focus on Dean’s face. He kept on readjusting his eyes against the dark and the rain. Why was the rain making everything so blurry? Dean was barely three inches away from his face and he still couldn’t see him clearly.

Not liking the detached look in Sam’s eyes, Dean placed his arms around Sam’s shoulders and hoisted him up against him once more. “C’mon, Gimpy, we gotta get you out of the rain.”

“Don’t call me that,” Sam slurred, sounding like he had one too many drinks in him.

Focusing on trying to find shelter from the storm, Dean slowly started moved a couple steps forward, guiding the one-legged Sam with him. “What…Gimpy? Would you prefer something cooler like Gimpsters? Or what about Mr. McGimp?” he asked, his voice light, hoping his teasing would keep the kid alert.

“I…hate you,” Sam wheezed as he struggled to keep up with Dean’s pace. He knew Dean wasn’t moving that fast. The way he paused in between each step told him that much. But, for some reason, his one good leg no longer had the strength to lift itself off the ground, let alone hop along with his evil two-legged brother. ‘Gimpy’ my ass. How about I kick you in the head, and then we’ll see who’s gimpy?

Dean threw him out of his thoughts as he sharply turned to the left. Sam’s foot slightly slid under the soft mud, but he quickly regained his balance.

“I see an overhang. Let’s go before the storm gets any worse,” Dean said, walking towards what appeared to be a large, overgrown ledge that tilted inward.

Sam saw the ledge as a blessing, a chance to sit down and rest. Wait out the storm until the morning when their father would undoubtedly find them. “Thank God,” he whispered as he picked up his pace.

“Whoa there, Speedy Gonzales, where was this energy five minutes ago?” Dean asked, inwardly smiling at his brother’s eagerness.

Sam chose to remain quiet. As long as he was out of the rain, he brother could call him whatever he wanted…as long as it wasn’t Gimpy. At this point, he’d take Sammy over Gimpy.

They couldn’t reach the overhang fast enough. Granted, in Sam’s opinion, two hours ago, before the whole one-legged in a rainstorm situation, wouldn’t have been fast enough.

Dean promptly guided Sam to the floor and carefully stretched out the boy’s injured leg to check the wound.

It was strange. Sam barely felt it as Dean poked and prodded around his wound. He simply lay down on the ground and stretched his arms about his head until the rock stopped him. He just felt numb…and a bit fuzzy. He wasn’t sure if someone could feel fuzzy, but he didn’t care to elaborate on it. Right now, he was in paradise. A nine by four foot paradise.

And nothing else mattered.

“Sam…”

He slowly rolled his head towards Dean’s voice. What?

“Sam, wake up!”

I am awake. What’s your problem?

He instantly felt two strong hands on his shoulders. “Sam!”

He didn’t realize his eyes were even closed until he opened him to Dean’s blurry face.

“Wha’?” he asked. Even to his own ears his words sounded slurred and mumbled.

Dean didn’t like the glazed look in Sam’s eyes or how his cheeks appeared to be pasty white. “Sam, you feelin’ okay?”

Rolling his eyes, Sam looked away from his brother, tired of him treating him as if he was five. “I’m fine,” he proudly stated. He was sixteen for God’s sake. He could take care of himself.

That instantly irked Dean. Something was most definitely wrong. The boy was caught in a rusty bear trap, broke his ankle, and dragged through the rain. He should be anything but fine.

He didn’t like the pale look in Sam’s face, but he knew it was inevitable considering the blood loss. He was more worried about how much blood Sammy lost. Looking back over Sam’s elongated frame, Dean noticed a slight tremble in his upper body. “Dude, you’re shaking,” he said, his strong voice hiding his current fear.

Sam turned his head to the side and barely opened his eyes for his response. “I’m also wet and cold, Sherlock,” he muttered sleepily.

“Sam,” Dean snapped, hoping to wake his brother up from his reverie. He slightly leaned over and put his hand in front of his brother’s face. “How many fingers am I holding up?”

Sam’s eyes blinked open, but promptly closed them again. “A nummer…” he groaned.

Dean glared down at the kid. He really wasn’t in the mood to deal with his brother’s smart ass attitude. Sighing, he figured he would deal with grumpy Sam later; first, he had to make sure he prevented him from going into shock. Hell, the kid could be halfway there with the way his was acting so agitated.

He needed to stop Sam’s trembling. He knew it was probably from the cold rain like Sammy said, even his fingers were feeling a bit numb, but he still didn’t like the tremors that racked through Sam’s upper body. He bent over the boy’s lanky frame and carefully took off his jacket.

“Wha’…doin’?” Sam moaned as his body shifted.

“I’m getting you out of your wet jacket. Just try to stay awake for me,” Dean instructed as he shrugged off his own leather jacket and placed it over Sam’s trembling body. His jacket was lined to it was much warmer than Sam’s. After making sure the jacket was secure, he placed Sam’s jacket over his own, knowing the insulation was needed while the wetness wouldn’t penetrate through the leather.

Satisfied with his work, Dean moved his attention down to the boy’s ankle. He had already tied a second bandage around the broken appendage, but it still wasn’t doing much to stanch the bleeding. Son of a bitch.

Already using his undershirt for the previous bandages, he took off his black Led Zeppelin shirt and looked at it longingly, sad to see it go. Sighing, he took out his pocked knife and cut it into long, thin strands and tied tightly around the blood sodden material. As he tied the knot, Sam sharply moaned and started to shift.

“Stay still, moving will just make it worse,” Dean bluntly stated as he wrapped one more strand around the injured ankle.

“Dea…” Sam grunted through clenched teeth. Whatever numbness that was previously there long left, leaving his ankle ablaze with pain.

“Almost done.”

He saw dark spots at another sharp twist of pain. “Hurry…up,” Sam gasped, his fingernails clenching the dirt beside him.

Out of nowhere Dean appeared in his field of vision…shirtless. Unable to form the words, Sam just stared, puzzled by his brother’s apparent lack of clothing.

Dean simply smirked at Sam’s expression. “Let’s just hope that works, ‘cause we are running out of material to use.”

Sam looked from his brother’s bare chest, to his own, which was covered with his two shirts and two jackets. Surely, Dean could have used one of his extra shirts instead of his own. They both knew he layered his clothing. “I-”

Dean promptly cut him off. “I’m not the one with the broken ankle bleeding all over the place,” he calmly stated as if he read Sam’s mind.

Too tired to argue, Sam merely sighed and closed his eyes.

“Hey! You need to stay awake,” Dean ordered, his voice sounding way too much like his father’s.

Sam groaned but made no effort to open his eyes.

“C’mon, talk to me. You always say I never listen to you.” Dean was getting desperate. He controlled the bleeding, but now he needed his brother to stay awake. They were stuck underneath the overhang until the rain let up…or their father found them…and he wasn’t going to let Sam slip into shock without him knowing.

At least when he was talking, Dean knew he was still alive.

“Abou…what?” Sam muttered, finally opening his eyes.

That stopped Dean right in his tracks. He didn’t know what the hell to talk about. He never knew. Sam always seemed to have that area covered. “I…I don’t know.”

Sam’s eyes started to close again.

Seeing Sam start to drift off, Dean began to panic. “College!” he exclaimed, pleased to see his brother’s eyes snap back open. “Talk to me about college.”

Sam looked at him skeptically for a moment. “Seriously?” For the first time since the reached the overhang, Sam’s voice was clear.

“Yeah, seriously.”

Sam rolled his head away from Dean. “You don’t care about stuff like that…” he said, his voice getting the same tired edge back.

Dean was almost hurt by Sam’s statement…he would have been more hurt if it wasn’t so goddamn true.

He couldn’t wait for his graduation day. Hell, he was thinking about graduating a semester early just to get the hell out of school. But moving around so much made getting the credits nearly impossible.

He always knew Sammy looked at school differently. Almost as if it was a blessing. A chance to be part of the normal world his family never allowed him to partake in.

But none of that mattered right now. All that mattered was that Sammy was awake and talking.

“It doesn’t matter if I don’t care about it. You care about it. And you’re the one that needs to talk. So go,” Dean prompted, almost eager to hear what Sam had to say. Okay, that was a lie. He didn’t care what Sammy had to say (and he would never be eager to hear about Sam moving away), he just had to hear Sam’s voice.

That was all the encouragement Sam needed. “I…I’ve been looking at a couple c-colleges. I mean I don’t have to be a full-time student. Just maybe t-take a class or two. A lot of colleges offer c-classes online, so I could still hunt with you g-guys,” Sam rattled off, rushed, as if he was defending himself for some heinous crime.

“Okay…” Dean replied, thinking it over. It did make him feel a bit better. At least then he could still watch Sam…protect him if something were to happen. Like getting caught in a demonic bear trap.

“I could go to a c-college in Missouri or something. That way I’d be in the middle of the country, and it w-would be easier for me to travel places. Maybe even Kansas, I could probably get a scholarship for b-being born there,” Sam continued, no longer paying attention to Dean’s reaction.

While he was trying to listen, Dean far too distracted by the fact that Sam‘s tremors weren‘t stopping, even though the bleeding was slowing down. Shit.

Not even realizing Dean’s attention left his face and was now focused on his leg, Sam plowed on, lost in his own thoughts. “I mean if you guys don’t w-want me to go to Kansas, I guess I understand. It b-being Kansasand all. I just think I could save the most money by going there.”

All of the sudden, the dull ache his ankle had become skyrocketed to life, leaving him quivering and breathless. “Dean…” he moaned out reaching for the source of the pain.

“Just breathe through it,” Dean’s voice reached his ears. “We have to elevate your leg to stop the blood flow.”

Sam looked down at his brother, who was sitting beside him holding up his injured leg by the knee. “Dean…” he pleaded, blinking the dark spots out of his vision.

“It’s okay, Sammy, just keep talking. It will stop hurting eventually,” Dean encouraged trying to keep the boy’s leg steady.

“I…I…” Sam searched his mind, but he totally forgot what he was talking about.

“College, Sam,” Dean prompted, seeing Sam’s struggle. “Something about Kansas.” He felt slightly bad, he wasn’t really listening to Sam before. He was too focused on the pale look in Sam’s face and the way he shivered every once in a while.

He would try harder this time. He knew it was important to Sam, the least he could do was give him his attention.

Sam squeezed his eyes close and tried to talk through the pain. “I…I been really l-looking at this c-community college in Wichita, Kansas. It s…seems like a good one.”

“Community college?” Dean asked, bewilderment clear in his voice. Thinking about it, he realized most of the college brochures he had found on Sam’s desk were for community colleges.

Sam didn’t belong in a community college. He was the kid who knew his multiplication tables at the age of six. The kid who had at least a 4.0 at any school he was sent to. If anything Sammy was meant for the Ivy League, not a community college.

“Yeah, they’re the b-best deal. I’ll be taking the same t-types of classes as any other c-college,” Sam replied, even though he sounded like he was trying to convince himself instead of Dean.

“Sam, if you’re gonna do this college thing, don’t do it half assed.” Dean berated, shocked his brother would even consider selling himself short. “You don’t belong in some community college. You’re too good for them. You belong in some snotty place like Harvard or Yale.”

Sam looked at him for a moment, his eyes wide with trust. It was hard to Dean to think it was sixteen-year-old Sam he was talking to and not six-year-old Sammy.

“Even Stanford?” Sammy whispered as if he was telling a secret.

Dean couldn’t help but chuckle at the awe apparent in Sam’s eyes. Evidently, this ‘Stanford’ was the Holy Grail for Sam. “Even Stanford,” Dean stated, looking Sam straight in the eye. To be honest, Dean had never heard of Stanford before, but as far as he was considered, Sammy could get into any college he wanted.

“Thanks, Dean,” Sam smiled, his eyes half-mast.

“No problem, Gimpy.”

Sam simply sighed at his new nickname. He didn’t care what Dean called him. As long as Dean was there supporting him, he couldn‘t complain.

Dean looked down at his Sammy, knowing how rarely the kid genuinely smiled. They remained like that for a moment, both lost in their own thoughts of thoughts of the bear trap, their father, and the unknown future.

A stifled yell, snapped them out of their reverie.

“That’s Dad,” Dean whispered, recognizing the man’s voice anywhere. Standing up, he looked back down at Sam. “Stay here.”

Sam immediately gave him a look that screamed where the hell would I go…one-legged?

Dean rushed out into the rain, still shirtless, screaming, “Dad! We’re here! Over here!”

He did not know what the future held. As long as they lived to see the next day, he was happy.

The End

A/N:  The wonderful nickname was brought on by my dog, Misty, (aka: Gimpy), who, since her surgery, has been walking on three legs but has just started putting weight on the fourth. Every time I saw her sad, little puppy dog face it reminded me I had to finish my story about one-legged Sam. So don’t thank me for the update. Thank Gimpy.