#i dont think im in danger so this bad mood could be cured by curling up into blankets and watching something comforting

[saxxxology]

BITTEN - Ch.4

After getting bitten by a werewolf, Sam finds himself trying to adapt to a brand new lifestyle that brings him closer to the girl he loves, but threatens to tear him apart from his family for good.

PAIRING: Alpha!Sam x Omega!Reader

WORD COUNT: ~2200

WARNINGS: non-consensual werewolf bite (not sexual), a/b/o dynamics: heat/rut, knotting, claiming, breeding kink, angst, time hop (season 9 to 12), and more.

NOTE: Edited by @kayteonline and @kittenofdoomage - please heed all warnings and enjoy! This is NOT intended to be a dark fic, but if you read something that bothers you, it is your responsibility to stop reading, keep scrolling past it, or contact me for content clarification.

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Dean was in the kitchen when you walked up. He was cradling a large cup of coffee in one hand, and when he saw you emerge from the basement, his gaze fixed on you.

“How is he?” he asked urgently, “is he okay?”

You nodded. “It’s over. He’s fine, just hungry. Where’s Garth?”

“He went out with Bess. She’s in shock over what happened, so he took her to a safehouse out of state.” Dean watched as you pulled a pan from the rack on the wall and set it on the stove. “What do you mean by ‘fine?’”

“He’s not in pain anymore, his fever went down.” You cracked eggs into a bowl and whisked them around. “He just needs to recuperate for a few days, maybe a week.”

“Can I see him?” Dean asked.

You nodded and pulled a couple bagged chicken hearts from the fridge. “After he’s eaten. He’s gonna be stronger than normal for a while, so we gotta keep his human contact minimal.” You heard Dean exhale heavily as you started chopping the hearts into chunks. “Dean, I know you wanted to find a cure, but there’s nothing you could have done. I’ve seen people get bit and go through a lot worse. At least he’s alive. He’s a little different than he was yesterday, but he’s alive.”

Dean nodded and leaned against the counter. “You’re really intent on taking care of him, huh?”

“It’s my job to take care of my pack.” You replied, pulling four sausages from the fridge and tossing them in the pan, along with an entire pack of bacon. “Russ and Joba are gone. The Reverend’s… well, let’s just say I’m in charge of the pack, now. I care for Sam, deeply. If it were up to me I would have killed Joy myself so that didn’t happen.”

You heard Dean scoff, but when you looked at him you could see he was grinning.

“What?”

“Nothing.” Dean finished his beer and set the empty bottle on the counter. “Just… I never thought you’d actually spook over a guy getting turned.”

You shrugged. “I know when to care about someone getting bit. I wanted Sam to leave, I wanted him to forget about me, about the pack. I never wanted him to get bit.”

Dean nodded shortly. “The way I look at it now is, he could have been bitten and left to die. At least this way he’s got you and Garth and Bess to look after him, make sure he won’t get into trouble.”

You finished cooking in silence. Piling most of what you’d cooked onto a large plate, you slid one of the sausage links, a small pile of eggs, and several strips of bacon on a separate one, which you offered Dean. He accepted it gratefully, noting that you’d cooked the chicken hearts in  a separate pan. When you re-entered the basement, you found Sam sitting up and stretching his arms above his head.

“I could smell that from down here,” he muttered, turning his head to look at you, “is that normal?”

You handed him the plate and watched him begin to devour the food, shoveling a mixture of everything into his mouth with a fork that seemed comically small in his large hands. “Yeah, it’s pretty normal. And don’t worry about eating everything there, your appetite’s going to be pretty out there for the next couple days.”

Within minutes, Sam had completely annihilated the food on the plate. He tilted his head back against the wall, his lips parted as he sighed in satisfaction. “There was a heart in there, wasn’t there?”

“Two. Small ones, just chicken, nothin’ special.” You took the plate from him and set it down on the floor before snuggling into him. “How do you feel?”

Sam exhaled heavily and slipped an arm around your shoulders. “Not hungry anymore, definitely not tired… I feel strong. Stronger than before.” He flexed his arms, examining the muscles that bulged under the gray sleepshirt. He seemed bigger. “Actually, I feel like I need to run, get out…”

“There’s the punching bag.” You gestured to the slightly misshapen tool in the corner. “I can’t let you out yet, gotta know you can control yourself around humans.”

“Humans…” Sam looked down at his lap and swallowed. “That’s right, I’m not human anymore.”

You shook your head. “That’s not entirely true. You’re still human here,” you put a hand over his heart. “You’ll still be able to function like a human, your instincts are just rewired a bit, that’s all.”

Sam scoffed. “Yeah, what happens when I wolf out and go nuts?”

“That won’t happen.” You nuzzled his shoulder and stood with him as he shuffled over to the punching bag. He gave it an experimental nudge with his fist. “Want to see Dean?”

He nodded apprehensively. “Yeah, but I don’t wanna try to hurt him.”

“Sam, you won’t—”

“You don’t know that. Make sure I don’t try to hurt him.”

You bowed your head and trotted back up the stairs, closing and locking the cage door behind you. Dean was still waiting in the kitchen, and he stood upon seeing you emerge from the basement.

“You can see him, but we have to be careful,” you said quietly. “If he smells you he could try to get at you, that’s gonna be his first instinct. The cage door down there has silver on it, so if he tries anything it’ll hurt, bad, but I need you to stay on the stairs, keep your distance.”

Dean held his hands up as if in surrender. “Trust me, I’ll be keepin’ my distance.”

You led him down the basement, slowly, his boots clunking heavily on the thick wooden planks. You could hear the dull, repetitive THWACK of Sam’s fists against the punching bag, but after the basement door closed, they ceased, and the space fell silent as you and Dean came down the steps. A little more than halfway down, you motion for him to stop.

“Dean, stay here.”

He nodded quietly and waited for you to slip past the cage, locking it behind you.

Sam was standing in the corner by the punching bag, his arms folded across his middle. You motioned for him to walk over, but he shook his head. “Y/N, I can’t… I don’t want him to see me like this. I can smell him, I can hear his heartbeat.”

“You won’t hurt him.” You walked closer to him, reaching for one of his hands. “Sam, come on, I’ll be there. The door’s got silver on it, you won’t be able to get out.”

Sam lowered his voice. “What if I hurt you?”

“You won’t. Now come on.” You led him slowly over to the wire door. His heartbeat increased with every step, and you heard his breathing grow more and shakier.

When Dean came into view, you didn’t know if Sam was going to recoil or lunge at the gate. He could hear Dean’s heartbeat, steady and slow, the rush of blood pumping through his veins, traces of whiskey and cedar covering up the thick, coppery scent…

...No, stop it! That’s your brother! You wouldn’t bite your own brother!

“Sammy?” Dean’s voice was quiet as he took another step down the stairs. “Hey, it’s me.”

Sam paused, took a deep breath. “I know.” He looked down at the ground and closed his eyes, trying as hard as he could to stop from hurling himself at the wall of the cage. “How’ve you been?”

“Uh, worried, for one,” Dean chuckled in an attempt to lighten the mood, “I went out for a little during the night, tried looking for a cure or something…”

“Yeah.” Sam swallowed and clenched his fist. He didn’t know what the fuck was happening, but all he wanted to do was break out of the cage and rip his brother’s chest apart, get at the thick, pulsing muscle that was hidden behind bone and sinew, devour the warm, blood-drenched organ that kept his brother alive…

No! Goddamn it! Stop!

“I thought you’d be gone.” Sam cleared his throat as a fresh wave of hunger washed over him.

“Had to make sure you’re okay, didn’t I?” Dean caught your warning glance to stay where he was and decided not to take the last two steps down. Hell, he might be too close already. “How do you feel?”

Sam swallowed thickly as you increased the pressure on his hand. “Honestly, I feel good. I’m strong, I’m not hurting, just wanna get the hell out of here.”

“And why can’t you?” Dean shifted his gaze back and forth between you and Sam.

“Because if I get out of here I’m not gonna be able to stop myself from trying to hurt you or someone else,” Sam stated bluntly.

Dean seemed taken aback by Sam’s words. Apparently, he hadn’t considered just how dangerous Sam really was until he’d said it. “Sam, you wouldn’t.”

“You don’t know what I’d do, Dean, hell, I don’t know what I’d do.” Sam’s body trembled as he spoke, but he stood his ground. “The only reason I’m not going after you right now is that I know I shouldn’t, but if Y/N wasn’t here with me, if this happened somewhere else… I don’t know if either of us would be alive right now.”

You saw Dean swallow, saw his Adam’s apple bob in his throat, and heard Sam growl, low and deep in his chest.

“Sam, don’t say that.”

“You’re not in the place to tell me what to do, Dean.” Sam retorted. “I’m a monster, both of us know that. You don’t know how… how hungry I feel right now. I don’t have a friggin’ clue what’s making me feel this way, but if you weren’t my brother… I’d kill you, without thinking.”

Looking up, you noticed Sam’s upper lip beginning to twitch. He was starting to lose control. “Dean, I think you should go, this isn’t—”

Dean, obviously, didn’t listen. Instead, he did the worst thing he could. He took another step, closing the distance between him and his brother by another two feet.

Overcome by hunger, Sam snapped. You saw his eyes flash yellow as his instinct to attack sprang free. He snarled, his lips curling back over his teeth as his muscles bunch. He lunged forward, slamming all two-hundred pounds of his body against the cage. His long fingers were pointed in two-inch claws, which curled in the wire before he stumbled back with a yelp of pain; the silver on the wire had seared his skin.

Dean fell back when Sam crashed against the cage, bringing an arm up instinctively to protect his face.

“Dean!” You shouted, pulling Sam back against the far wall and holding him there. “Get out! Now!”

You saw Dean stagger to his feet his eyes fixed on the snarling beast of a man now ten feet away from him. He was staring at Sam with a mixture of fear, anger, and sorrow on his face. Sam took several half-gasping, half-growling breaths before reeling himself back in. He collapsed to the floor, his fingers pressing hard into the smooth concrete. He bowed his head as his body shook even harder.

“D-Dean, I’m sorry!” He gasped out. “I didn’t mean to, I couldn’t help—”

The door at the top of the stairs slammed before Sam could finish, and seconds later you heard the rumble of the Impala’s engine and the grind of her tires scraping on the dirt road as she tore out of the drive and down the road.

Sam’s shoulders heaved with a sob as he collapsed back, breathing hard as he fought to still his shaking hands. The claws had vanished and his eyes were back to hazel, but he still shook with panic. “I didn’t mean to do that,” he choked, “I didn’t—I didn’t—”

“Sam, it’s okay, he’s just gone to cool off.” You soothed him. “He’ll be back, I promise.”

Sam shook his head and reached to grip your hand as you rubbed his shoulder soothingly. “No way in hell. He saw me snap and that was it. He thinks I’m a monster.” He turned his head, and you saw tears streaming from his now hazel eyes. “I am a monster.”

You sat next to him and wrapped your arms around him as tight as you could. “Oh, Sam, it’s all right. You’re not a monster, you’re not. You’re adapting to a new lifestyle, and yeah, you have some different urges, but you’re just starting out. It’s barely been an hour since you woke up, I didn’t expect you to stay under control.” You hugged him tighter and let him bury his face in the curve of your neck. “Dean got spooked, that’s all. He’ll come back.”

“Will he?” Sam straightened his back and practically glared down at you. “How can you know that? Hm? Tell me how you know my brother’s gonna come back thinking I’m still the guy he grew up with.”

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