Legacy (Supernatural) [Rogue Trilogy] {3}

25. "Let 'Em Come."

25. "Let 'Em Come."

Maybe I should've stayed with Sam. He was there for me. He rushed me to the hospital as I bled out. I should be there for him.

My mind is very distracted right now as Dean and I collect wood by torchlight in the woods. I'm waiting for that fire to burn up a tree and start a forest fire or something.

My brother and I work desperately, time feels like it's against us. My limbs aren't working as fast as I want them to, even if they're at their top speed. It's not enough. It's not fast enough. Sam's patched up, but he's lost so much blood.

I glance at Dean, who's working just as fervently as I am. A branch catches a part of his jacket.

"Get off me!" he shouts at the tree, swinging wildly. I stop my wood gathering and look at my older brother. His body is shaking, and I can see he wears the same fear and desperation on his face as I do right now. We know there's a lot at risk. The time feels like it's crushing us and winning.

"Hey," I say gently, moving around the pile and touching his shoulder. "We got this." I'm having a hard time swallowing the huge lump in my throat.

Dean inhales a big breath. "Okay. Okay. Okay."

I clap Dean on the back and resume the collection. But as I go back and Dean continues to collect more wood, I hear the familiar noise of tires. "Dean," I hiss quietly. He's stuck in work-mode that he doesn't hear me. "Hey." I have to jump in front of him to stop him. He glares at me severely.

My mouth parts as I see past Dean, see the headlights of the truck. I turn my brother around, and he puts out the torchlight, plunging us into further darkness. It still looks like it's far away, but it looks as though it's heading for the cabin. Sam.

Wordlessly, Dean and I abandon our pile and run back for the cabin. Corbin, Michelle, Sam. They're sitting ducks. Michelle and Corbin are useless against werewolves, and Sam's too weak to fight any of them off.

Knives are stabbing my stomach from the inside. I don't want to be sick, I want the painful dread to go away.

I'm the first to the door, and I get it open.

"We got to go," I say urgently. But I stop as I take in what I see.

Sam is unconscious on the floor. At least, I want to believe he's just unconscious.

"Sam?" I panic. "Sammy?" Dean and I rush to our brother's side, Dean feels for the pulse. "What happened?" I look at Michelle and Corbin.

"I...I...I don't know," Corbin stutters. "He just went."

"No," Dean denies. "Sammy?" He gently shakes our brother's body. Sam doesn't stir.

My heart is squeezing tight with pain, and my throat is becoming sore. My vision is already blinded with tears. "Sammy, please." No. We can't lose you. You can't do this to me, Sammy. I know I didn't mean to do it to you, please don't do this to us.

My heart skips a beat when I hear the truck from before. It's getting closer.

"No," Michelle moans, "no, no."

Corbin hugs his wife. "It's them."

Dean pulls a knife from its sheath. "Let 'em come."

Right now, I'm on a delay. My killer instinct isn't coming out so quickly. I'm glad Dean wants to kill the werewolves. I do too, but the desire to is buried under my grief.