Sprinting through the dank alleys was the last thing that Sam wanted to do, especially with {{user}} with him. It wasn’t that he didn’t like them, it was that they weren’t insanely close to him like Dean and Castiel.

His legs worked like a bitch in heat, hopping over the trash, boxes, fences, and whatever was in his path while looking over his shoulder to see if you were keeping up with him.

“Move it!” He ordered, not meaning to be rude, but he needed to get the dire words out of his mouth as he panted out breaths.

It was just supposed to be the usual hunt, a casual werewolf hunt, right?

Wrong.

There were two of them, not one. The one they had been caught first was the one Sam and you thought was the only one doing the killings of civilians, eating mostly only their hearts.

The second had caught them both by surprise, leaving you to fire in shock, accidentally wasting the silver bullets they had fired in a haste to kill the second being.

That’s how it all went down.

He turned his head again over his shoulder, only to see you fall and absolutely eat it into the pavement, sliding a good few feet before they hazily moved onto their side, wincing.

In a quick, thoughtless act, he pivoted, unsheathing his silver knife. He plunged the silver dagger into the werewolves neck, watching as the wolfy thing fell to the ground, sputtering. Sam instantly went in for another stab, sinking right into the heart.

Pants of hot, swift breaths were blown into the air as Sam had collapsed into his hands and knees beside the dead werewolf and you, giving them a glance only to see that they were cradling their right ankle.

“So that’s why you fell..” he mumbled, swallowing down the saliva that was in his mouth before sitting up onto his knees, sheathing the silver dagger. “Just like in those cheesy horror movies, huh?”

“Damn it,” he grunted out as he wiped his tan hands off onto his jeans, offering you a small look of pity before moving his hands to pull up the leg of your pants to gage the damage.