Supernatural 1. Chapter 1

**Title:** The Reader's Special: Fourth Edition

**Author**: Disasteriffic Kaz

**Info:** Set post 8x17 "Goodbye Stranger"- This is the Reader's Special where you tell me what YOU want in each chapter & I write it. Every event prompted by you after each chapter. Hurt/limp/awesome/caring!Sam/Dean

**Author's note:** This is the Fourth Edition. If you weren't involved in the last three editions, I recommend going to have a read. :D This story, like the others, will be entirely driven by Reader Participation! So, get those prompts ready, kids!

**Rules for the 4th Edition of the Reader's Special.****  
**Please read them. :D Ignorance of the rules will not save you if you ignore them. LOL

**1:** One prompt per person per chapter.

**2:** LOG IN when you leave your prompt. If I don't have a name, your prompt won't be used and you won't receive a reward story. No Anonymous/Guest prompts.

**3:** Unlike previous Editions, not every prompt will make it into a chapter. I will choose a maximum of 15 prompts for each chapter. The last edition was my abject lesson that this has become popular and even I have trouble working over thirty disparate prompts into each chapter. LOL You may resubmit an unused prompt for a later chapter if it will still fit within the story.

**4:** A prompt may be as simple or as involved as you like, from hurt Sam or hurt Dean to a whole scenario, but PLEASE try to choose something that fits within the framework of the story. For example, don't ask for characters who didn't appear or can't appear during the chosen season; if the boys are on the Appalachian Trail, don't prompt for a high seas chase. LOL Ain't gonna happen.

**5****:** Remember that you are giving a prompt for events in the next chapter, not the story over all. Leave that to me. :D

**6****:** In line with the above rules - no trolling prompts. You know who you are. LOL Don't prompt something completely ridiculous in an actual effort to throw me off. Not only will it not get used, but you won't receive a reward story at the end. This is designed to try and create a great story while giving readers scenes that you will really enjoy on a personal level. It's not "stump the author."

**7****:** Anyone who prompts, even if your prompt was not used, will receive a one shot reward story of your choice once the Reader's Special is concluded, as per previous editions. (That's my favorite part by the way, writing those. LOVE doing those. 3)

**8****:** No Wincest/Slash/Mpreg. Nothing wrong with it, but this isn't that sort of story. This is gen so prompt appropriately please.

**9:** If you don't prompt the story at least once, don't ask for a reward at the end of it. Only prompters for the 4th Edition receive one shot rewards. :D

**10****:** Show your appreciation. Reviewing to only leave a prompt is fine, but throw a bone to the chick doing literary contortions for you and let her know you're enjoying the story and the effort involved along with your prompt. It keeps her and her Muse smiling and writing.

**Remember:**

This story is a marathon, not a sprint. You're helping me write it so let's not break both of Sam's legs and put Dean in a coma in chapter 2 or we won't have much of a story to tell.

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_**CHAPTER 1**_

Gary pulled the hood of his parka closer around his head and turned his face out of the wind as he dug his radio out of his pocket with a gloved hand. His booted feet crunched through the snow, and he reminded himself that he only had two short weeks left before he'd be sunning his happy ass on a beach in Hawaii. "Gary to base. Come in. Over." He flicked on his flashlight and aimed it at the ground penetrating radar. It looked like a cobbled-together snow blower and had stopped working ten minutes before despite his begging the damn thing.

"Base. Find anything, Gary? Over."

Gary smiled at Tessa's voice and hunched deeper into his coat when the wind picked up. "Hell no, Tess. The damn GPR packed it in from the cold. You sure we can't drill oil somewhere warmer? Maybe wait for spring? Over."

Tessa's laugh filtered over the line. "What's not to like about three months of night and cold? Head back to base. Over."

Gary snorted and rolled his eyes as he looked at his watch. It was three in the afternoon, but, as he looked around at the night-darkened December landscape, it may as well have been nine at night. "Yeah, I'm heading back. Put some of that whiskey in the coffee pot for me. Over and out." He tucked the radio away and grabbed his pack, slipping the loops over his shoulders. Whatever genius had decided drilling an oil field on this godforsaken island in December was a good idea was going to get an earful from him…eventually…if he didn't freeze to death. He started the long trek back around the hills back to the refinery with his head down against the wind. The moon was bright enough to light his way, and he absently watched his shadow play on the snow ahead of him. He retraced his steps from earlier in the day, watching his shadow weave in and out of each and frowned.

Gary stopped and lifted his head. "What the…" Two shadows stretched out ahead of him across the snow. He turned to look up into the sky at the moon and then around for any other source of light but found nothing. Gary looked back and staggered back a step in surprise. The second shadow moved but not with him. It split from his shadow and wavered across the snow. "This isn't happening," Gary muttered and shoved a hand into his pocket to pull the radio out again while he watched the other shadow. Suddenly, he remembered all the strange stories he'd heard before he made the boat trip to the island, every softly spoken tale of terror that he'd discounted as old hands trying to scare the new guy. It made his already cold skin chill even further when the shadow seemed to draw closer to him and then suddenly rushed toward him. "Gary to base! Gary to freakin' base! Tess!"

The sound of Gary's terrified scream carried over the snow-covered hills and then faded away to silence, broken only by Tessa's voice crackling out from a discarded radio in a pool of quickly freezing blood. "Gary?"

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Dean watched his brother from the hall. Sam didn't know he was there yet, and it was the only time Dean could get an honest look at him. Sam sat hunched into the table over his laptop and Dean could read 'pain' in every line of his body. His little brother was becoming an expert at hiding what the Trials were doing to him and snowing Dean on how bad it was…or he had been before Castiel had let THAT cat out of the bag. Dean shivered slightly in fear. The knowledge that whatever was happening to his brother was something that even an angel couldn't fix was…terrifying and keeping him up nights.

Sam shifted at the table with a soft cough and Dean sighed, hefting the tray in his hands. "Dinner time, Sammy," he said with forced cheer and gave his brother a lopsided grin when Sam looked up at him. "What?"

Sam smirked and shook his head as he leaned back in his chair, going for nonchalant and hoping he pulled it off. "Nothing." He looked at the plate of food Dean set in front of him and smiled again as he reached out and picked up what looked suspiciously like a salad wrapped in a tortilla shell.

"Shut up and eat already." Dean dropped into a chair at the head of the table and pulled the laptop away from Sam. "Rabbit food and chicken wrap. Found a cookbook in the kitchen."

Sam laughed around a mouth of actually damn good wrap, accepting Dean's weak excuse for doing something nice for him, and nodded. "I think I like your new nesting skills."

Dean gave a satisfied smile and turned the laptop around to see the screen. "What are you looking at?"

"Job," Sam said and swallowed. He grabbed the beer Dean had brought him and took a sip, savoring the cool flavor in his mouth that seemed to always feel parched these days.

Dean narrowed his eyes at his little brother. "We've got demons AND angels crawling up our asses. Cas is…I don't even KNOW what the hell he is right now, and the Trials, and you wanna go off to…" he looked at the screen and his brows flew up his forehead in surprise. "Alaska, Sam? In friggin' December? Are you cracked?" Dean slapped the laptop closed. "This is not Deadliest Catch, dude."

Sam snorted and set the beer down. He'd known this was going to be an argument and had finally settled on the one thing Dean couldn't pass off no matter how worried about his little brother he was. "People are dying, Dean."

"I'll call Garth. He can set someone else on this one." Dean tapped the lid of the laptop. "We are not gonna go play in the damn snow while you're…"

"I'm fine, Dean," Sam said quickly and shook his head when Dean looked at him darkly. "You know what I mean. And this…" Sam waved a vague hand at himself. "…whatever this is, it's not gonna get better. I'm pretty sure it'll just get worse with every Trial, so I want to do whatever good I can now."

'While I still can' hung unsaid in the air between them, and Dean squeezed his hand around his beer until his knuckles whitened and then loosened his grip with an act of will. "You do plenty of good, Sam," he said fiercely. "HAVE done plenty of good. The rest of the damn world's still around to NEED saving because of you." Dean blew out a breath when Sam just watched him with suspiciously damp eyes and a pleading expression. Just like that, Dean's anger fled and he knew his brother was right. They were hunters and they had a job to do. "Would you put the damn puppy dog eyes away already? Fine." He emptied the last of his beer and thumped it on the table. "Alaska."

Sam smiled, pleased to have gotten what he wanted so easily and took another bite of his wrap. "Actually it's an island on the Bering Sea."

"Aw, come on!" Dean groaned and glared at him while Sam chuckled.

"People have gone missing, turned up dead. Some of them are just frozen." Sam nudged the laptop with the bottom of his beer. "A few though, they've found what's left of them, torn apart. Maybe chewed on, but the reports are kind of sketchy on that."

"Awesome." Dean flipped the laptop back open and looked at the page Sam had pulled up. "What the hell is Black Gold Corporation?"

"Alaskan oil drilling company. They think there's an oil field under Umnak Island." Sam finished off his wrap and pushed the plate away. "I think they're the ones who've stirred something up and it's started killing people. The first attacks happened shortly after they set up shop."

"Umnak," Dean sounded out the word and quirked a brow. "What sort of name is that?"

"Inuit I think." Sam shrugged. "In fact, I did some research into the history of the island, and we've got a few suspects from Inuit lore, and my favorite bit -" Sam grabbed the laptop and pulled it back. He clicked and brought up another page before shoving it back to Dean. "Check that out."

Dean read down the page and looked up at Sam with surprise. "Seriously?"

Sam nodded. "Better bring a lot of salt just in case."

"Holy crap." Dean read the rest of the article and wondered just what they were getting themselves into. "The entire crews of four Russian trading ships murdered on the island three hundred years ago. Well, my money's on ghosts."

"Maybe." Sam leaned back again. "I'm not sure though. It's a different part of the island, over where the abandoned naval base is. These attacks are happening on the other side between the geyser fields and the refinery platform at the base of the volcan…uh…"

Dean slapped a hand on the table and stared at Sam. "You better'a been goin' for a Star Trek reference there, Sammy. If you wanna keep livin' long and prospering, tell me you were gonna say Vulcan."

Sam shook his head and couldn't stop the smirk. He hadn't planned on telling Dean about it ahead of time but it had slipped out. "Volcano. Actually…two volcanoes, one on either side of the island, and uh…both sort of a little active."

"Sort of a little? Are you five?" Dean grabbed the beer from his brother's hand and finished that off too. "How active?"

"Minor tremors, some smoke. Nothing major." Sam raised his hands with a smile. "I checked, man. Technically, they're listed as dormant, but they're on the Ring of Fire so 'dormant' doesn't mean a whole lot there."

Dean shook his head and set Sam's empty beer down. "I'm calling Garth."

"I already did." Sam smiled and shrugged. "There really isn't anyone else available for this right now, not that he'd trust with it anyway. He said he'd go himself but he's got Kevin to look after."

"Dammit." Dean growled and thumped back in his chair to glare at his brother. "I'm not flying."

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_Prompts are now closed for the next chapter. :D Chapter 2 coming soon!  
_


	2. Chapter 2

**Title:** The Reader's Special: Fourth Edition

**Author**: Disasteriffic Kaz

**Info:** Set post 8x17 "Goodbye Stranger"- This is the Reader's Special where you tell me what YOU want in each chapter & I write it. Every event prompted by you after each chapter. Hurt/limp/awesome/caring!Sam/Dean

**Author's note:** As always, we have a few kinks to work out. Lol So, couple things.

**First:** Remember that this is a multi-chapter story and putting the boys at death's door early on is going to make it end awful damn fast. Pace yourselves with the hurt. We don't want life threatening danger in chapter 2 that leaves one or both of them incapacitated.

**Second**: Sam has only completed the First Trial at this point. He's sick yes, but still in control. Coughing a little blood but he's not an invalid; not yet. He didn't truly start down the pain and suffering road until after the second trial. At this point, if you'll recall, Dean didn't even realize he was sick until Castiel told him. I'm not going to go AU and have Sam suddenly hacking a bloody lung and hanging on for his life because of Trials side-effects because he wasn't there yet.

**Prompters represented in this chapter**: Amiable Loner, Becksupernatural, emebalia, firstcatfish, golden starfish, Hacked It Out and Fell, Holliday1081, hotshow, hyb108, Jaden Grace1, Jeanny, Jenjoremy, judyann, Kailene, Kelisem, Leahelisabeth, LotRia, Lucydolly22, mb64, Miuda22, NiDubhChair, Nouri, Shee1, SPNxBookworm, SupernaturallyEgocentric, SuperVikinggirl, zemyx1995

**RULES are in the 1st Chapter and Remember:**

This story is a marathon, not a sprint. You're helping me write it so let's not break both of Sam's legs and put Dean in a coma in chapter 2 or we won't have much of a story to tell.

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_Dean slapped a hand on the table and stared at Sam. "You better'a been goin' for a Star Trek reference there, Sammy. If you wanna keep livin' long and prospering, tell me you were gonna say Vulcan."_

_Sam shook his head and couldn't stop the smirk. He hadn't planned on telling Dean about it ahead of time but it had slipped out. "Volcano. Actually…two volcanoes, one on either side of the island, and uh…both sort of a little active."_

"_Sort of a little? Are you five?" Dean grabbed the beer from his brother's hand and finished that off too. "How active?"_

"_Minor tremors, some smoke. Nothing major." Sam raised his hands with a smile. "I checked, man. Technically, they're listed as dormant, but they're on the Ring of Fire so 'dormant' doesn't mean a whole lot there."_

_Dean shook his head and set Sam's empty beer down. "I'm calling Garth."_

"_I already did." Sam smiled and shrugged. "There really isn't anyone else available for this right now, not that he'd trust with it anyway. He said he'd go himself but he's got Kevin to look after."_

"_Dammit." Dean growled and thumped back in his chair to glare at his brother. "I'm not flying."_

_**CHAPTER 2**_

"Remind me again how I let you talk me into flying?" Dean snarled over at his brother as they drove.

Sam smirked and ignored him, keeping his attention on the phone. "Yeah, Garth. We'll be fine. We're gonna pick up cold weather gear in Anchorage. Are you sure about this plane?"

"Of course I'm sure, you idjit," Garth retorted and smiled when he heard Sam's snort. "The pilot's a friend of mine. He won't give you boys any crap about getting your weapons on board. You just worry about crossing the border."

"Dean's already on that." Sam assured him. "He's dragging us up some back road to avoid the usual border crossings."

"Well, if you do get stopped, play nice with the border patrol." Garth rolled his eyes. "Those guys have NO sense of humor. Trust me. In fact, Dean shouldn't speak to them. You should do all the talking."

Sam laughed and glanced at his brother. "Good idea. Thanks, Garth. I'll call you when we get to Umnak." He flipped the phone closed and smirked over at his brother. "Garth suggests you let me do all the talking if we do get stopped by the border patrol. He seems to think you'll have trouble not pissing them off."

"Hey!" Dean glared over at him. "You sayin' I can't be diplomatic?"

Sam snorted. "If by diplomatic you mean smart-ass, arrogant pain in the ass who doesn't know when to back down and play nice."

Dean had to laugh at that and shrugged. "Well, it doesn't matter. We're not gonna have to deal with border patrol." He smiled in satisfaction as they drove along the lonely country road and crossed what he knew was the Canadian border. The world was white around them with the deep of winter and Dean turned the heat up a little higher when he saw Sam shiver from the corner of his eye.

"How much?"

"Huh?" Dean looked over at Sam's odd question. "How much what?"

Sam smirked. "How much you wanna bet on us not crossing the border patrol's path?"

Dean grinned and shook his head. "Fifty." He put his hand out. "Gonna enjoy takin' your money, dude."

Sam clasped his brother's hand in a tight grip and chuckled as he let go. "Look in the rear view and pay up." He'd seen the vehicle pull out in the side mirror and laughed when dismay flowed across his brother's face.

"Son of a bitch!" Dean watched the border patrol car's lights flash to life and headed for the snow-packed shoulder of the road. "Doesn't count," he said angrily as he parked. "You already knew they were there."

"Does too count," Sam assured him and nodded. "Better come up with a good way to keep them out of the trunk."

"Shuddup." Dean rolled his eyes, groaned and rolled his window down when the car, a big, red and white four wheel drive parked behind them and a uniformed woman climbed out. He smirked. "I got this."

Sam rolled his own eyes with a laugh and figured Dean was probably right. It wasn't often his big brother failed to charm a woman. "Oh, boy."

Dean leaned his head out the window into the wintry cold as the border officer reached the door. "Morning, ma'am!" he said in what Sam had once laughingly referred to as his 'man-ho voice'. "Come here often?"

"Ha. Funny. Step out."

Dean frowned at the very unamused reply and put his smile back in place. "Sure thing."

"Passenger too." The border cop rolled her eyes. There was no such thing as good pick-up line when every man in two countries hit on you day in and day out trying to get out of something. "Identification, please." She looked at Dean and had to admit, he was handsome. Her eyes shifted past him to his passenger as the man rose up and up on the other side of the car and felt her mouth go dry. "Whoa."

Sam blushed and ducked his head, looking up at her with a smile. "Uh…hi."

Dean watched and threw his hands up in the air in exasperation behind the officer's back. "So, what seems to be the problem?" he asked and tried to get her attention back.

Sam decided his brother could use a dose of humility and walked around the front of the Impala. He leaned on the hood so he didn't tower over her quite so much and smiled more widely. "Anything I can…I mean we…can do for you?" The words had the desired effect as her eyes darkened and she swallowed before smiling and blushing herself.

"Oh. I uh…border check. You're supposed to cross at the uh…crossing." The officer laughed softly and shook her head.

"My brother has this thing for shortcuts." Sam shrugged and set his hands behind him on the hood. He smirked over at his brother while the officer's eyes were riveted to his chest rippling under his shirt. "Personally, I like going the long way around."

Dean could practically hear the woman drooling and he washed a hand over his face for patience. It couldn't be possible that his little brother suddenly had more 'game' than he did. "I didn't realize we were in Canada already. I'm really sorry about that."

"Gracie." She held her hand out to Sam and bit her lap when he covered hers with both of his own, letting the warmth from his skin warm her chilled fingers. "You can call me…I should check your car."

Sam nodded, still smiling and straightened, using her hand to 'accidentally' pull her closer. "We're just on our way to up Anchorage looking for work." He rubbed his thumb on the back of her hand, feeling her tremble and grinned. "You can search anything you want."

"We could use a place to stay later tonight. Any suggestions, Gracie?" Dean asked and wasn't surprised when her eyes didn't leave his brother.

"Oh, keep uh…keep going north-east and there's a little town about eight hours from here. Wakito." She looked up into Sam's eyes again and felt her breath clog in her chest with those beautiful blue-green eyes focused on her. "There's a bed there." She coughed and blushed furiously. "Bed and breakfast. Tango's bed and breakfast. They have good…beds. Oh, good God."

Sam chuckled and let her hand go. "Thank you, Gracie." He licked his lips, watching her eyes follow the movement and smiled again. "Did you want to search something?"

Gracie swallowed and then smiled up at him. "Oh, you have no idea, but, uh…I think you boys are good. Yeah. You're fine. Damn fine. I mean…you should…you can go."

Sam leaned down and whispered 'thank you' into her ear, watching her shiver and blush before he walked back around to the passenger side.

Dean stared slack-jawed for a moment and then shook his head. He got back into the car before Gracie remembered she actually had a job to do and fired up the engine. "And you call me a hound."

Sam laughed, a full-throated laugh with his head rolled back on the seat, and looked over at his brother. "You're losing your touch, Dean. Must be getting too old for the ladies."

"Dude, I will kick your ass," Dean growled and started the car. He pulled away, noting that Gracie stayed standing in the road staring after them. "I am not old. Clearly, Officer Gracie has no taste." He slapped his brother's arm when Sam burst into laughter again. "Shut it."

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Anchorage was close to snowed in by the time they'd reached it almost two days later. Dean checked his watch as they left an outfitter's store and frowned. "It's four in the afternoon, man, and it's already dark." He looked up at the twilight-darkened sky and groaned. "It was barely light for, like, an hour today."

Sam chuckled and clapped a hand on his shoulder. "Welcome to the arctic. Come on. Gotta meet our plane in twenty minutes." He opened the back door of the Impala and tossed the two bags, heavy with everything they'd need on a winter-locked island, into the backseat. Sam climbed into the car and huddled forward in front of the vent when Dean turned the engine over. "Why couldn't whatever it is wait until summer?"

Dean snorted and backed out of the lot, heading for the small airfield next to the harbor. "Don't think it's much warmer then, dude." He smirked when Sam held his fingers over the vent. "You wanted to come to Alaska."

"I changed my mind," Sam said and chuckled. "Let's go home."

"Too late for that." Dean wasn't happy about having to leave the Impala behind in a long-term lot in winter in Alaska. "This cold's gonna do awful things to her undercarriage."

Sam snorted and leaned back in his seat. "Pretty sure the car's gonna be safer than we will."

Dean frowned at the truth of that and followed the signs to the airfield. "Who puts an airstrip next to a harbor like this anyway?" He asked. "I don't even see any runways."

Sam swallowed as they turned through set of gates and tried to smile reassuringly. "Well, these planes don't…technically…need a runway."

Dean slowed at a stop sign and looked over at him. "Explain that."

"They're bush planes." Sam said and shrugged. "They can land on, you know, land or…well…water."

Dean's eyes widened as he saw the harbor, the boats moored here and there and the line of pontoon sea planes bobbing in the icy water. "Oh, HELL no. Those aren't even planes!" he exclaimed and pointed at them. "They're friggin' kid's toys! I am NOT getting on one of those things!"

"Park over there." Sam nodded to a lot of cars marked 'long term' and smiled when Dean glared at him. "Look. It's either a couple hours on one of those or half a day freezing our asses off on a boat in rough seas, and, believe me, I checked the weather report for the sea out there. It's cold. Like, beyond cold. The ocean spray actually freezes to the boats. This is the more comfortable option."

"Like hell." Dean saw a man wave at them from the edge of the docks and drove over to park near him. He was short and stocky and bundled in a bright blue parka with the hood up against the frigid wind blowing in off the ocean.

Sam got out before Dean could change his mind and smiled at the man. "Are you Fred?"

"Yep, that's me." Fred nodded and shook Sam's hand. "Garth told me to look out for that beauty." He whistled appreciatively at the Impala. "Sixty-seven, right?"

Dean grinned and decided there was at least one bright spot about the whole mess. "Best car ever made," he said and ran a hand over the roof, meaning more than just the model. He smirked when he saw the same look on his brother's face.

"Well, the weather's getting a bit dicey out there, but I should be able to fly you in to Umnak no problem." Fred smiled and clapped his hands together. "Let's load her up!"

Dean's good mood vanished just like that, and he went around to the trunk. He popped it open and handed Fred a heavy bag loaded with weapons. "Careful with that."

"Like my momma's fine china," Fred assured him with a grin and walked off in a peculiar rolling gait toward one of the planes.

"Boat is sounding better every minute, Sammy." Dean hauled out another bag and closed the trunk.

"You boys want a boat? I can take you. Where to?" A man's voice asked,

Sam looked over at the man who strode up beside his brother and raised a brow. He was fairly tall, six foot perhaps, thin, wearing a green combat flak jacket and thick-lensed glasses. "We have a plane chartered already. Thanks."

"Not so fast, little brother." Dean smirked. "Umnak island."

"I knew it!" the man exclaimed and clapped his hands. "Soon as I realized who you were I KNEW that's where you were going. I'm coming with you. Come on. My boat's over there. Oh! I'm George. Come on!"

"Whoa, George!" Dean scowled at the over-excited man. "Just who do you think we are?"

"You don't remember me?" George's face fell. "Man, I remember you two. You're Dean and Sam Winchester. Like…the REAL Dean and Sam. I mean, I didn't believe it at first when Barnes and Demian told me, but then Becky…"

"Becky?" Dean asked angrily and looked over to watch his brother's face darken. "Ok. Plane it is. Get the gear out of the back seat, Sam."

"No, no!" George looked honestly confused. "You don't understand, guys! Missy died on that island, alright? She died, and no one…" he swallowed and looked down at the ground. "…no one would believe me when I told them what killed her."

Sam took the bag out of the car and set it on the ground, meeting the now-curious look on Dean's face. "You were there?"

George nodded. "We were, you know, investigating. Weird crap's been going on over there for a long time." He sniffed and rubbed an arm under his nose.

"What did you see?" Dean asked and tried to keep the anger out of his voice. He wasn't interested in giving another of Chuck's ridiculous fans the time of day. He'd had enough of that four years ago.

"The shadows killed her," George said softly and looked fiercely up at them. "I saw it. You know I'm not lying. You guys…you're the real deal. They took her and they…they tore her up, and I'm going back to find what did it."

"No, you're not." Dean cut him off and waited for George's eyes to meet his. "You're gonna stay here nice and safe and let us do what we do."

"George." Sam picked the cold weather gear bag up again and closed the Impala's door. He did remember the guy, vaguely at least, from the convention. "We'll take care of this, but you're not coming. It's too dangerous."

"Ready to go when you are, guys!" Fred called and waved from the pier.

Dean sighed and clapped an awkward hand to George's shoulder. "We'll get what killed your friend. Thanks for the intel." He turned away and pushed Sam ahead of him before his little brother's soft heart could get them in trouble. "Swear, Sammy. One of these days, we're gonna find Chuck and string his ass up from the nearest chandelier over an open barbeque."

"That won't make his books go away." Sam said ruefully.

Dean snorted. "No, but I'll feel better. Come on. Time to get on the damn deathtrap."

Sam glanced over his shoulder at George. He was still standing by the Impala's trunk, looking lost and Sam felt for him, but bringing him along was too dangerous. "It won't be that bad, Dean. Promise."

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It was that bad. Forty-five minutes into the flight, the turbulence hadn't stopped, and Dean was curled over his knees in his seat, breathing through his nose and fighting mightily not to either throw up or just scream like a girl until he passed out. "Hate planes. Hate 'em. Shit."

"Ok, Dean. Breathe, man." Sam smiled and dropped his arm back to his brother's shoulders again. The plane was small; there were only four seats in the back, and he could see Fred up in the cockpit as he fought the stick to keep them level. "Won't be much longer now." The plane bounced up in the air and back down again and Dean moaned loudly.

"Why…why'd I let you talk me into this thing?" Dean groaned and leaned back in the seat quickly, trapping Sam's arm behind him while he grabbed the arm rests with a deathgrip.

For his own part, Sam was having trouble of his own. The rapid changes in altitude were messing with his head. He was dizzy and becoming more so every time the plane took a nosedive. He put his free hand to his head and closed his eyes, trying to will the feeling away. Dean needed him more. "We're gonna be fine, Dean."

Dean looked out the window next to him for a dizzying moment and slammed his eyes shut. For just a second, he'd seen the memory of a tower of light rising up into the night sky. He shook his head. Remembering Lucifer's escape from the Cage was not somewhere he wanted to go just then. "Plane rides do not go well for me, dude. They just…I should never fly. Never. Jesus."

Sam watched him hunch forward again as Fred pulled the nose back up and the plane rose once more. "We can take a boat back to the mainland when we're done. Promise." Dean nodded with his eyes squeezed shut. Sam squeezed Dean's shoulder to give him something else to focus on and covered his own eyes, trying to muffle a moan of his own when they took yet another bumpy nosedive and his head swam dangerously. He'd never had trouble flying before and decided it must be something to do with the Trials. "Fred?" he called and opened his eyes to look into the cockpit. His vision swam a little and Sam blinked to clear it.

"Yeah! We're, uh…we're gonna be fine, just…yeah, we're…shit! We're good." Fred growled as he pulled on the stick again, trying to level her out. "Probably," he muttered. Lights were beginning to flash warnings at him, and he was regaining less altitude every time he pulled her up. "Son of a…come on, baby. Play nice for daddy!" The temperature had dropped a lot faster than he'd thought, and the storm they'd said wouldn't hit until tomorrow had clearly picked up speed from somewhere, and they were now grazing along the edge of it.

Dean swallowed hard around the lump in his throat and dragged his head up. "Gonna hurl, dude, if he doesn't level this thing out." He felt Sam's arm settle heavier over his shoulders and when he didn't get a response, Dean turned his head enough to see his brother. "Sammy?" His own fear forgotten, Dean lurched back and grabbed for Sam as he slumped forward. "Shit! Sam?" Dean pushed him back up and put a hand to his head. He was unconscious. "Fred! Dammit something's wrong!"

"What?" Fred spared a glance back into the cabin and his eyes widened. "He pass out? Shit! What's wrong with him?"

Dean shook his head and held on to Sam as the plane dove again. "I don't know! Sam? Wake up!" He tapped his fingers on his brother's face, trying to wake him, and clasped his arms around him to hold him up while his head lolled. "What the hell's going on?" Dean shouted.

"Uh…hold on to something!" Fred yelled and groaned.

Dean's eyes shot to the left side of the plane and out the window as the sound of the engine on that side suddenly stopped. He watched the propeller grind to a stop and his eyes widened in horror. "Oh, no way. This is not happening!"

"It's ok! We're gonna…holy crap…just hold onto him!" Fred white-knuckled his grip on the stick. They were going down. He couldn't change that, but he could damn well make sure they didn't die. He spared one hand from the controls long enough to slap the radio on. "Mayday! Mayday! Flight november-two-two-three-alpha-charlie. We are going down! Making an emergency water landing!"

Dean listened to Fred shout out their coordinates and pulled Sam into his shoulder, fighting to hold his own panic at bay for his brother's sake. If he lost it now, who was going to take care of an unconscious Sam when the plane went down? "Told you we should have taken a damn boat!"

The plane dove out of the sky with the remaining engine howling with effort. The sound filling the cabin was deafening, punctuated by Fred's curses from the cockpit, and Dean bent forward with his brother held desperately tight against him. "Hang on, Sammy." It was barely more than a whisper, and as far as last words went, Dean figured those were as good as any. On some level he was glad that Sam was unconscious if this was really going to be it. He just hoped if they were going to die, it would be quick. He felt the plane begin to level out slowly and felt his heart in his throat with the sudden feeling of an impact. They bounced along and then came to a rolling stop. Slowly, Dean raised his head and stared around in surprise. "We're not dead?"

Fred slumped back into his seat and blew out a breath. "Not yet." He threw off his harness and turned off most of the controls. He swayed along with the motion of the plane and righted his headset as a transmission came through. "Copy that. We're down and safe for now."

Dean turned and looked out the window in surprise. They were floating on the ocean. Ice flows rolled on the waves while a heavy snow fell out of the night sky, lit in flashes from the plane's lights. "I'll never mock pontoon planes again."

Fred smirked and came back to them, pushing the headset's microphone away from his mouth. He knelt next to Sam and put a hand on his shoulder. "Help's on the way. There was a boat already heading toward Umnak, same time we left. Should be here in about an hour. We'll be warm enough in here for now. How's he?"

Dean shook his head and pulled Sam upright again. "Ok, Sammy. Wake up." He was scared that it was something from the Trials that had gone horribly wrong at the worst possible moment. "Sam!" Dean smiled in relief when Sam moaned softly and his eyes blinked open. "Really lousy time to take a nap, dude."

"Dean?" Sam rolled his head forward and closed his eyes while a headache pounded behind them. "You alright?"

Dean snorted. "Yeah, buddy. I'm good. We're, uh…not flying anymore though."

Sam's head jerked up and he looked out the nearest window to find the ocean rolling outside of it. "Holy crap!"

"Lost an engine to the ice." Fred smiled and patted Sam's shoulder and then stood. "Don't worry about it. Boat's on the way to pick us up."

"That looks like a storm," Sam said as he watched the wildly swirling snow in the plane's exterior lights.

"Yeah, forget the storm. How are you?" Dean grabbed his brother's head and turned it toward him so he could get a better look. "What happened?"

"Nothing. I mean…" Sam scrubbed a hand over his face and frowned. "…I think it was all the changes in altitude." He smiled ruefully. "Gave me a killer headache, and then…nothing."

Dean watched him a moment longer and only when he was sure Sam wasn't lying to him did he let him go. "What do we do now?" he asked as he unbuckled his seat belt and Fred headed for the rear of the plane.

"Get comfy." Fred pulled open the small cargo door and dug out a camp stove with a smirk. "I'll just make us some coffee."

Sam hit the release on his seatbelt and decided sitting was just fine with him right then as his stomach rolled along with the waves. He slid a look to Dean and sighed. "You know, Jess used to drag me out on the ocean."

"And?" Dean asked. He raised a brow when he saw Sam swallow several times.

"Don't do so well on the ocean. I'm great with lakes." Sam swallowed again and held on to the arms of seat. "Definitely not…not good with oceans."

"No puking in the plane, dude," Dean warned.

"Here." Fred handed Dean a couple airsick bags with a chuckle. "That's actually pretty common you know. Lake's don't roll like the ocean, and you can usually see land. Gives your stomach a frame of reference while you're rolling and swaying and..."

"Not helping," Sam said quickly and had to swallow hard again.

Fred snorted. "Yeah, sorry. Just get comfy guys."

Sam leaned back in his seat, trying to ignore his stomach and managed a small smile for his brother. "At least we're not flying anymore, right?"

Dean rolled his eyes and snorted a laugh. "Dude, we weren't flying before. We were crashing."

It was nearly two hours before their rescue reached them. Dean helped Fred open the door in the side of the plane and spared a glance for his brother. Sam had barely moved, focusing on keeping the contents of his stomach on the inside. Dean shoved the door open and gave a whole body shiver as the snow-laded, freezing wind blew inside and took the warmth with it.

"Holy crap, that's cold." Dean wrapped his arms around himself and went back to Sam. "You ready to move, dude?"

Sam nodded and stood shakily. "Ready to get off the ocean now."

"Fred said maybe another hour to Umnak." Dean clapped Sam on the shoulder and steadied him against the roll of the plane in the water. Lights flared from outside and they both ducked to get a look.

Sam raised a brow. "That looks like an old fishing trawler," he commented as the ageing boat slowly moved alongside them, shining spotlights from the rail down to illuminate the stranded plane. He saw someone come up to the rail and throw a line that Fred easily caught.

"Ok, boys. Gear first." Fred tied the line off on the pontoon strut and climbed back inside. They made quick work of tossing all the bags up to the trawler's deck.

Dean groaned when he got a good look at the man's face. "Dude. It's fanboy."

"What?" Sam stuck his head out the door and sure enough, George was leaning over the rail to pull up the last of their bags. "Oh, awesome."

"Dean, you first." Fred grabbed Dean's arm and pulled him to the door. He ducked in so Sam wouldn't hear. "If he's gonna get seasick making the climb, you'll wanna be up there to pull him up."

"Crap. Yeah. Ok." Dean looked out at the waves breaking over the pontoon and shivered when the icy spray started to soak into his legs. "This is gonna suck."

"Be careful, Dean." Sam watched from inside the plane nervously. Once Dean was out the door and standing on the pontoon, Sam eased into the open door.

It took Dean two tries to catch hold of the rope ladder hanging down the side of the trawler. "Holy crap," he gasped and tried to get a good grip with frozen fingers. He swung his legs over and yelped when his hands slipped and he fell.

"DEAN!" Sam bellowed. He jumped down onto the pontoon, feet slipping from under him in his haste but he kept hold of the support strut. Sam thrust an arm down into the icy waters and caught his brother's shoulder. "Hang on!" He pulled Dean back up with him and managed to get his brother sitting on the freezing metal. "Dean?"

"Sam, look out!" Fred yelled as a wave barreled in between the boat and the plane.

Sam turned and put himself between the wave and his brother. He gasped as the water sluiced over his back and felt his feet taken out from under him. He shouted in pain as the cold water closed over his head and felt two hands clamp around his arms. Sam came up sputtering to find Dean and Fred both holding on to him.

"Dean, I've got him. Get up the damn ladder!" Fred gave the older brother a shove. "Before you can't climb! Go, Dean!"

"Dammit!" Dean's teeth were chattering in his head and he knew Fred was right. A few more minutes and hypothermia was going to take him down. He got shakily to his feet, bringing Sam back up onto the pontoon with him and then lunged for the rope ladder. He caught it again and this time refused to let the ocean's movement shake him loose. He was grateful when George reached down and pulled him the rest of the way up.

"There are easier ways…to get on my boat, man." George groaned while he pulled the much heavier man up over the rail and let him stumble to the deck in a heap. "Don't go anywhere. JOE! Get the hell down here!"

"On it, boss!" The call came from the wheel house and Dean saw a younger man run out onto the deck with an armful of blankets.

"Ok, Sam. You can do this." Fred pulled the much taller man, steadying him. "Just reach out and grab hold."

Sam nodded and took a deep breath. His whole body was shaking but there was no way he was going back in the ocean. "I'm g-good." He waited for the plane's roll to tip him closer and then stepped out, catching hold of the rope ladder with both hands. His skin was so cold it hurt, but he held on and listened to the two men yelling encouragement to him until his head rose over the rail of the trawler. George was there to grab hold of him, and Sam gave him all the help he could until finally he tumbled to the deck beside his brother and just lay gasping.

"Well," Fred heaved out a breath in relief as he climbed over the rail. "That was an adventure. Let's get these two inside before they freeze to death."

"Y'ok, Sammy?" Dean asked between gritted teeth while he watched his brother get to his feet with George's help.

Sam nodded shakily. "N-next j-job…Flor…Florida."

"D-deal." Dean agreed and let Joe steer him toward the wheelhouse.

"I got the bags." Fred rolled his eyes and started hefting the heavy bags over his shoulders. The brothers were going to need whatever dry, warm clothes they'd brought with them.

A half an hour later found Sam holding his heaving brother over a bucket in the trawler's small galley. Sam had thrown up once while being peeled out of his ice crusted clothes by Fred, and since then, the nausea he usually experienced on the ocean had fled…for Dean apparently. "Breathe, Dean." They were both dressed in every warm layer they'd brought with them and Sam pulled the edge of Dean's blanket away from the bucket while he threw up again.

"Still fillin' the bucket, huh?" George asked as he came down into the galley and shook his head. "How are you feeling?"

"Still freezing," Sam told him and shrugged. "Better though."

"Want…hot shower," Dean gasped between rolls of his stomach and sagged sideways into his brother.

"Sorry. No can do." George sat on one end of a u-shaped booth across from them and shook his head. "When we get to Umnak, you can have all the hot water you want, but, for now, can't risk the cold blood in your…"

"…hands and feet getting to our hearts. We know." Sam sighed and gave him a sheepish smile. "Not our first go with hypothermia."

"Right." George watched the brothers and sniffed. "So I guess I get to come with you after all."

"George." Sam met his eyes and gave a shake of his head. "It's too dangerous. You don't know what you're doing out there, and we can't be watching you and whatever's coming after us at the same time."

"No offense, but, at the moment you two don't look much like the guys in those books." George raised a hand at Sam's insulted glance and the glare Dean gave him, weak as it was. "I know. Not exactly a normal day."

Sam snorted softly and held on to Dean when he lurched back over the bucket again. "Actually…this pretty much is how our luck goes."

George laughed a little sadly and went to the cabinets along the back wall. He pulled out a bottle of water and a small pill bottle and brought them over to Sam. "Get two of these in him the next time it eases up. It should help if he can keep it down."

Sam took them and set them on the floor beside them. "Thank you, George."

"Got about a half hour to Umnak." He grimaced as Dean heaved anew. "I'll, uh…see if Fred wants to come down and get him a new bucket."

Sam chuckled. "Whoa." He grabbed his brother when Dean slumped into him again. "Ok. Hey. Here." He grabbed the bottle and shook two of the motion sickness pills out into his hand.

Dean grimaced but took them. He popped them in his mouth quickly and let Sam help him hold the water bottle so he could get a few small sips. "Sucks," he groaned and shivered. "Feel like…got hung up wet in an ice cave on Hoth." He heard Sam start to laugh and jerked his head up when Sam started coughing and tried to get a good look at him. "Sammy?"

Sam shook his head and covered his mouth. He'd been fighting the need to cough for the last twenty minutes. Breathing in the freezing spray and the cold air on deck hadn't done him any favors. His chest felt like it was burning and his throat hurt. He barked painfully a few more times and then wasn't sure who was holding who up anymore. "Oh…ok. I'm ok. Sorry."

"Bullshit." Dean tried to disentangle himself but his stomach chose that moment to roll dangerously again and he leaned back to the bucket. "Not done with you."

Sam smiled, both warmed and irritated by his brother's protective streak and got his breathing back under control. "It's nothing, Dean. Just a cough." He surreptitiously got a look at the hand he'd covered his mouth with and sighed seeing the spots of blood there. Sam wiped them on the inside of his blanket so his brother wouldn't see and overreact. There was nothing to be done about it. Castiel had made that perfectly clear. Whatever the Trials were doing to him, there was no easy fix…only finishing it. He just hoped he'd still be around to enjoy a demon-free world when he was done.

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_Prompts are closed for this chapter! To Be Continued...  
_


	3. Chapter 3

**Title:** The Reader's Special: Fourth Edition

**Author**: Disasteriffic Kaz

**Info:** Set post 8x17 "Goodbye Stranger"- This is the Reader's Special where you tell me what YOU want in each chapter & I write it. Every event prompted by you after each chapter. Hurt/limp/awesome/caring!Sam/Dean

**This chapter is un-beta'd**. All mistakes are my own. :D Forgive me. Lol

**Author's note:** Some fantastic prompts for this chapter and a special note to a long, loyal reader who's never able to sign in:

TG - YES you can leave a prompt. Of course you can! LOL I know who you are.

**Prompters represented in this chapter**: BackgroundRobot-11, Becksupernatural, emebalia, firstcatfish, Hacked It Out and Fell, hyb108, Jaden Grace1, JaniceC678, Jenjoremy, LotRia, missingmikey, murphy9202, NiDubhChair, sammynanci, Shahenaaz08, SPNxBookworm, SupernaturallyEgocentric, VanessaSgroi, Visionary

**RULES are in the 1st Chapter and Remember:**

This story is a marathon, not a sprint. You're helping me write it so let's not break both of Sam's legs and put Dean in a coma early on or we won't have much of a story to tell.

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_Sam shook his head and covered his mouth. He'd been fighting the need to cough for the last twenty minutes. Breathing in the freezing spray and the cold air on deck hadn't done him any favors. His chest felt like it was burning and his throat hurt. He barked painfully a few more times and then wasn't sure who was holding who up anymore. "Oh…ok. I'm ok. Sorry."_

"_Bullshit." Dean tried to disentangle himself but his stomach chose that moment to roll dangerously again and he leaned back to the bucket. "Not done with you."_

_Sam smiled, both warmed and irritated by his brother's protective streak and got his breathing back under control. "It's nothing, Dean. Just a cough." He surreptitiously got a look at the hand he'd covered his mouth with and sighed seeing the spots of blood there. Sam wiped them on the inside of his blanket so his brother wouldn't see and overreact. There was nothing to be done about it. Castiel had made that perfectly clear. Whatever the Trials were doing to him, there was no easy fix…only finishing it. He just hoped he'd still be around to enjoy a demon-free world when he was done._

_**CHAPTER 3**_

The boat pulled in to Umnak harbor just as the storm hit in earnest. Dean and Sam steadied each other as they made the short jump from the boat to the dock and Dean stopped just short of dropping to his knees and kissing the solid ground.

"No more planes and no more boats," Dean groaned and pulled his parka tighter around his chest.

Sam chuckled. "So, you want to swim back?"

"Bite me, Sam." Dean grabbed the zipper and yanked it up to close the parka. "Son of a bitch!" He yelled in frustration when it only rose halfway and then lodged firmly. He could pull it back down, but not up and was left with the top half hanging open. "That's it! I'm done."

Sam tried not to laugh and made a grab for the zipped. "Just let me…"

"Knock it off." Dean slapped his brother's hands away and glared when he heard George and Fred both laughing as they hopped off the boat. "Bet I can drop 'em both in the damn harbor and no one notices."

Sam snorted and covered his face before turning back to the guys. "Thanks for getting us here in one piece."

"More or less," Dean grumbled and picked up two of their bags. He was still freezing from his little swim and shaking and could see Sam was suffering the same. He narrowed his eyes at his brother when Sam started coughing again. "Ok. George. You've been here. Where's a good place to hole up?"

George nodded and ducked his head against the blowing snow. He pulled the heavy bag out of Sam's hands. "There's a, well there isn't really a motel or anything here but I know a lady who runs a house for seasonal workers. She'll put you up. Come on."

"He doesn't sound so good," Fred observed to Dean as Sam walked past them, coughing into his elbow.

"Yeah." Dean didn't bother explaining. He caught up with his brother and grabbed the hood of Sam's parka, flipping it up over his head. "Stay warm, dude."

Sam nodded and put all his attention on walking and not coughing hard enough to dislodge a lung. He couldn't see much of the town through the blowing snow; just the shadow of low buildings in the dim glow of too few street lights. The cold wind burned his lungs with every breath he took and Sam hunched his nose and mouth down behind the scarf he'd wrapped around his neck.

"This storm's gonna make it pretty damn hard to get out to the oil platform." George pulled a scarf up over his nose and wiped the snow from his face. "We should wait a few hours and let it pass."

"This isn't gonna pass in a couple hours." Fred laughed and gave George's shoulder a shove. "It's a winter storm in the Bering Sea. How long you been in these waters, kid?" He shook his head. "Harbor's gonna be frozen solid in a few hours."

"Long enough, thanks. Hey, Dean? Dean!" George moved to catch up with the Hunter and fumbled in his pocket for what he'd tucked away there before leaving the boat.

"What?" Dean glanced wearily over as George came up beside him and scowled when the man pulled a dog-eared paperback out of his pocket and held it up.

"I know it's kind of a weird time to ask and all but you know I really wanted to…" George grinned a little sheepishly. "Could you sign this for me? I mean you being the real deal and all; you and Sam. Please?"

Dean looked at the cover and snarled the moment he realized what it was. "Son of a bitch." It was a copy of one of Chuck's Supernatural books but not just any book. The title, 'Devil's Trap', and the image on the front of a semi-truck crashing into a gleaming, black Impala with three shadows inside made it clear that this book detailed the accident which led to their father's death…to Dad selling his soul to save him. "Are you kidding me?" Dean said angrily. He grabbed the book in cold fingers, pulled his arm back and launched it through the snow into the darkness.

"Hey!" George protested and stopped, staring after the book in dismay while Dean kept walking. "That was lame, dude."

Sam shook his head and dropped back to George. He'd seen which book it was and it had made him go cold…colder. "To you it's just a story," Sam told him softly and had to swallow hard against the visceral memories of Dean dying in that hospital bed and of holding his father's lifeless body. "We lived it and it was…so much worse than you think. That was our dad," he finished with a spurt of anger all his own and turned away.

"I…I'm sorry," George watched Sam lurch to a stop ahead of him. "Wow. I guess…it's all gotta seem pretty douchey to you two, huh? Sam?" He gasped when Sam spun suddenly and tackled him to the ground. "What?"

"Dean!" Sam shouted and then lurched back to his feet. "Stay there! Fred! Bag!"

Dean turned back in confusion and jerked in surprise as he saw a shadow move through the blowing snow…a shadow that shouldn't be there. "Son of a bitch!" He dropped his bag and ran for his brother and Fred and the weapon's bag.

"What's going on?" Fred demanded as Sam reached him and wrenched the heavy bag from his shoulder.

"Get down now!" Sam shoved him to the ground near George and tore the bag open. His eyes followed the shifting shadow in the snow as he dug out the first shotgun. "Dean, here!" He tossed it over to his brother and felt around for the second.

"Stay on them!" Dean ordered and went wide toward where the shadow was slithering across the snow-covered ground.

Fred and George watched in stunned awe while Sam stood over them like a dark protector with his gun out and Dean circled around them; the older brother putting himself in harm's way to lure whatever danger was out there in their place.

George jumped with the deafening sound of Dean's shotgun going off. In his mind, he was caught back in the snow with Missy…watching as the darkness seemed to eat her up. He didn't realize he was hyperventilating until Fred's hand slapped hard into his chest.

"Take a breath!" Fred gave the young man a shake flinched when Sam fired his gun over their heads.

"Can't stay out here, Sammy!" Dean yelled and backed slowly toward his brother where he stood vigil over the two civilians.

"George, how far to this bed and breakfast?" Sam glanced down at him and saw the naked fear on the guy's face. "George?"

"Uh…hundred more yards maybe…that way." George waved a hand off to their left.

"Ok, both of you get up." Sam moved aside to let them stand. "Dean?"

"You lead. I got the rear." Dean nodded firmly and moved to bracket the men between him and his brother.

"You two stay between us. Don't step out." Sam spared a moment to watch them until they both nodded. "Grab the bags if you can."

George nodded numbly and bent, sliding the open weapons bag toward him. He heaved it up in his arms and they started walking. "Rock salt?"

Sam nodded and didn't take his eyes from the darkness around them. "Have they ever come into town before? The shadows?"

George shook his head slowly. "I…I don't think so. I don't know."

"It's ok. Just stay between us. Dean?" Sam turned his head slightly to catch his brother in his peripheral vision.

"Can't see 'em. You?" Dean backed step by step, using the sound of Fred and George's feet crunching in the snow as a guide.

"Yeah." Sam saw a shadow slip across the snow in front of him. He turned his head and thought he saw something tall standing to his right. He turned his head and it vanished, leaving only a shadow on the ground that zoomed toward him. Sam took a chance and, rather than fire at the shadow, he leveled his gun at chest height above it and fired. The rock salt seemed to find something almost substantial for a moment, hanging in the air before scattering against a fence beyond. There was an eerie howl and the shadow vanished.

"You get it?" Dean asked. He wanted to turn and see for himself but he wasn't going to let something sneak up behind them.

"I don't know." Sam narrowed his eyes looking into the falling snow but he couldn't see any more moving shadows. "Think I scared it off at least."

"Let's move!" Dean reached behind him and found Fred's shoulder without looking, giving the man a push forward. "Go!"

Sam passed a white picket fence and jogged over a snowy walk and up a flight of stairs to a large, brown house that he hadn't been able to make out through the blizzard until he was almost in front of it. Light glowed from the window in the door and he banged loudly on it.

"Hang on!" George pushed past him and took out a key. He opened the door and went quickly in, moving aside as Sam, Fred and Dean all piled in behind him. He slammed it closed and leaned against it to stare at them.

"Wow," Fred said softly and looked at Dean and Sam with new respect. They'd operated out there like a military unit, with precision and selflessly made sure he and George escaped with their lives. He finally believed what Garth had told him…that if there was something evil on the island, these two could take care of it and would no matter what.

"Ok so, whatever they are, they're getting bolder." Dean said in an exhausted voice. He suddenly realized warm air was wafting over his face and his whole body shuddered, leaving him weak kneed as he leaned against the wall. "Holy crap."

"If disaster's been averted for now, we need to get these boys warmed up." Fred felt a sudden need to get them healthy again, to protect them, knowing that they had just saved his life. He braced Sam's arm when the boy started coughing again and frowned.

"Back this way." Fred moved past them down the hall. He looked in the living room and didn't see anyone. He turned into the kitchen and looked up the stairs to his left. "Aunt Fay?" he called.

"Aunt Fay?" Dean asked with a raised brow and grabbed Sam's arm when he swayed. He felt just as wrecked. There was only a finite amount of time left before he had to sit down and didn't get back up again. "This is your aunt's place?"

"That's how I knew something was going on here in the first place. Here. Back here." Fred pointed to another short hall and a door at the end of it. "Aunt Fay keeps this room for lodgers."

Dean blinked when Fred turned the lights on and then stared. "Dude, no way. You're not serious."

Sam chuckled wearily. There was a bureau, a desk, a table and two chairs, two footlockers side by side and taking up the rest of the room was a set of full-size bunk beds. "Top or bottom, Dean?"

"Shuddup." Dean elbowed him lightly and looked at Fred. "You gotta have a real bed in here somewhere."

"Just Aunt Fay's." Fred smirked. "Dude, this is spacious compared to what the guys on the fishing boats normally sleep in." He opened a closet beside the door and pulled out an armful of blankets, depositing a couple on each bed. "That door right there's the bathroom. He probably won't fit in the shower stall unless he kneels."

Dean laughed and decided he didn't really hate Fred. "It's ok, sasquatch." He clapped Sam on the shoulder. "You can roll around in the snow to get clean if you have to."

"Bite me, Dean." Sam moved into the room and rolled onto the bottom bunk with a groan. "I'm good right here."

"Nope. No sleeping yet." Fred grabbed Sam's arm and pulled him back up, putting a hand on the boy's head to keep it from hitting the top bunk. "Shower first and finish warming up. Go on."

Sam rolled his eyes and looked over at his brother who was being helped out of his parka by George. "I think we're being managed."

"Ya' think?" Dean snorted and grabbed one of the blankets from the top bunk to wrap around his shoulders with a shiver. "Better do what they say."

Sam nodded and stood. He wanted sleep so badly but being warm did sound pretty much like a slice of heaven and he went into the bathroom and shut the door. He eyed the shower stall with a critical eye and sighed. He'd be bumping his head on the ceiling of the thing if he wasn't careful. He felt another cough brewing and quickly opened the shower stall door, turning on the water and hoped it would hide the sound as he muffled the cough he couldn't put off any longer in the bend of his arm.

Dean looked at the door after Sam closed it and, as he heard the water start, could just make out the faint sound of more coughing. He frowned and looked at George. "Any chance of something hot to drink? He's gonna need it."

"Yeah. I'll put the kettle on. Come on, Fred. We'll see what Aunt Fay's got in the fridge." George smiled and left the room with Fred on his heels.

Dean groaned and dropped into the desk chair with his blanket. He heard another round of muffled coughing from his brother and scowled. "We're gonna have a talk when you get outta there, Sammy," he said darkly. He wasn't going to let Sam hide anything from him now that he knew the Trials were hurting him. Dean couldn't do them himself but he could damn well make sure Sam didn't die in his place.

He was huddled over the radiator beside the beds when the door opened again and Dean raised his face in the air, sniffing. "Dude. What is that?"

George chuckled. "Food. Warmed up some leftovers for you guys." He set the tray down on the desk. "Fred's gone out to the harbor office to radio the mainland and let them know we're all here in one piece. He uh…borrowed one of your shotguns."

Dean twitched but nodded. "Probably a good idea." He stood and went over to the desk to look at the tray. There were two plates with two mounds each on them and both were covered in a thick, brown gravy. "What's that?"

"Dinner Alaskan style." George shrugged. "Deer roast, mashed potatoes and Aunt Fay's deer gravy."

"Deer, huh?" Dean looked at and sat down with a smirk. "Well, I've never met a meat I didn't like yet but uh…deer gravy?"

"You get used to it." George smiled and looked over when the shower cut off. "You guys get comfy. Help yourself in the kitchen or whatever and if you need me, I'll be upstairs."

"George." Dean sat back and gave him a serious look. "Thank you." The guy may have been a fan of Chuck's crap books but he'd done nothing but help them, even to giving them somewhere to stay. They owed him.

George shrugged and gave a small, sad smile. "You're gonna find what killed Missy and gank it. Whatever you need, I'll do it."

Dean watched him close the door and sighed. Everyone got into Hunting somehow; everyone had a story and it looked like George had found his. He turned back to his dinner and determined to try and find a way to keep George from following them. "Ok, deer gravy. What do you got?" He grabbed a fork and piled it with meat, mashed potatoes and the suspicious brown gravy and took a bite.

Sam opened the bathroom door and his brows winged up his forehead when he got a look at Dean's face. "Dean?" He was staring hard at a plate of food in front of him like he was concentrating on it. "What are you doing?"

Dean glanced up at him and swallowed. "Trying to decide if this is really good or if I should dump this whole tray in the trash. Food's not supposed to require deep thought, dude."

Sam chuckled and looked at the plates. "What is it?" He tossed his parka, scarf and sweater onto the bottom bunk and watched Dean shake his head.

"Better if I don't tell you. Here." Dean grabbed up his plate and headed for the bathroom. "Sit and eat while I take a shower." He was still cold. His fingers and toes still felt icy and he couldn't wait to get under a hot shower spray. "If you used all the hot water, I WILL hurt you."

Sam laughed softly and shook his head. "You're good. It was still steaming when I got out." He pulled his towel over his head to dry his hair when the bathroom door shut and sat at the desk to look at the food. He put a finger in the sauce and took a taste. Sam grimaced and pushed the plate away as his appetite fled, not that it had been around much lately to begin with. He coughed into the towel again and was relieved to not see blood for a change. "Small mercies," he muttered and stood, grabbing his duffel from the floor by the door.

He'd gone from freezing to being too hot in the shower and Sam shook his head when he had the thought to go stand outside just to cool off. "Stupid, Sam," he told himself and found his sleep pants. He changed into them and then sat heavily on the side of the bed. He felt like crap and wasn't sure how in hell he was going to hide it being in a room so small and in a bed directly under his big brother. He shook his head with a rueful smile. Dean's over-protective streak had hit a new high lately. Sam groaned and flopped back into the bed. He tugged the blankets out from under him and rolled into them, hoping that if Dean thought he was asleep, he wouldn't look too closely.

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Dean woke with a start and stared at the dark ceiling above him for a moment, trying to figure out why he was awake and then he heard his brother cough and moan. "Dammit," he said softly and threw his legs over the side of the bed. He leaned down to look at his brother under him and jumped to the floor. "Sammy?" He put a hand to his brother's shoulder and grimaced.

"Shit, Sam." Dean rolled Sam to his back, feeling a fever heat under his hand and groaned when Sam thrashed in the bed. "Sam." He shook him and frowned when his brother didn't wake up. "Sam!" Dean shook him harder and then had to grab Sam's hands when his arms flailed out on a choked cry. "Dude. Stop!"

Sam gasped, heaving for breath and blinked furiously until Dean's face came into focus. "Dean." Sam latched onto his arms like a lifeline and didn't care that he was clinging. For a moment, he had trouble accepting that he was really there…that he wasn't roasting over hellfire and the fact that he felt like he was cooking in his own skin wasn't helping.

Dean sat on the side of the bed, concerned with the grip Sam suddenly had on his arms and the fear deepened when he realized his brother was grinding his left palm into his arm. "Sammy." He shook him again more gently and waited for Sam's skittish eyes to meet his. "You know where you are?"

Sam stared hard at him, waiting for Dean's image to waver but it stayed firm and solid as did the arms under his hands and Dean's grip on his shoulders and he sobbed out a breath, slamming his eyes closed. "Yeah…yeah, I…sorry." He sagged back into the bed. "Nightmare." He'd been dreaming of hell…of Lucifer and could still almost hear that laugh he'd learned to fear down in his bones.

Dean nodded and didn't say anything. He just let Sam hold on to him and shake. He could imagine what Sam's fevered brain had dragged up and couldn't help the knee-jerk worry that he'd lose his grip on reality again. He let go of Sam's right shoulder and took his brother's left hand. Dean pried it off his arm and then pressed his thumb into Sam's palm over the faded scar until Sam gasped and his eyes shot open. "Right here, buddy. You good?"

Sam let the small pain center him and he nodded. He loosened his grip on his brother slowly and swallowed hard. "Sorry. I'm ok."

"We gotta cool you down." Dean pried his other hand from his arm and gave him a small smile. "Didn't think I'd be saying that tonight. Stay here."

"Dean?" Sam grabbed Dean's wrist in sudden fear as a wave of heat seemed to swamp him again and then let go just as quickly; feeling like a ridiculous child for holding on to him. "No…nothing. Sorry."

"Don't worry about it." Dean patted his leg under the blankets. "Be right back." He made himself leave Sam alone and left the room for the kitchen. The light was still on and he went to the refrigerator, pulling open the freezer. He found a bucket of ice and took it out and then looked around at the multitude of white-washed cabinets and drawers. "If I were a baggie, where would I be?"

"Bottom drawer to the right of the fridge."

Dean spun, heart pounding and found an older woman standing in the door in a fuzzy, blue bathroom. "Uh…Aunt Fay?"

She smiled and nodded. "George told me he had two friends here. Whatever do you need ice for? Figured you'd have had enough of that before you got here."

Dean smiled sheepishly and ran a hand through his hair. "Yeah, well, my little brother decided to go and get himself a fever so…"

"Ah." Fay smiled again and came over, moving him gently to the side. She bent and found the ziplock bags and handed them to him. "That happens sometimes with hypothermia. It's like the body gets confused. He'll be fine in a few hours probably."

"Thanks." Dean started filling bags and quirked another smile at her when she handed him a bottle of juice. "You always this nice to strangers?"

"Well we don't get many of them around here." Fay brushed fading blonde hair out of her blue eyes and crinkled a grin at him. "Certainly not as good looking as you."

Dean was taken slightly aback as Fay was at least old enough to be his mother. "Uh…I don't…"

Fay laughed and clapped him on the arm. "I'm old, not dead. Just appreciating the scenery. Come on. Let's how bad this brother of yours is."

Dean shook his head, bemused and followed her back down the hall with his bags of ice and juice. He stopped her at the door. "Let me go in first, ok? He's not…not exactly lucid at the moment." He was worried what Sam would do if he saw a strange face just then without Dean to explain it to him and flicked the light in the room on as he went in. "Sammy?"

"Dean?" Sam looked up from where he sat on the edge of the bed, unable to stay lying down in the dark without Dean in the room to ground him. He kept hearing chains jangling and couldn't stop himself looking fearfully around as though they would burst through the ceiling at any moment and come for him.

"Right here, Sam." Dean went to the bed and knelt in front of him while Fay stood in the door. "This is George's Aunt Fay. He told us about her, remember?"

Sam looked up to the door and flinched at the strange woman there but he nodded, looking back to his brother. "Yeah. Yeah, I remember."

"Ok, buddy. Come on. Lay back down." Dean took his shoulder and gave him a gentle nudge back to the bed. "This is gonna suck a little," Dean said softly and placed one of the bags of ice on the side of Sam's neck. "Easy!" Dean grabbed Sam's arm when he jerked, gasped and tried to grab it. "It's just me, Sam. Take a breath." He definitely didn't like the sound of wheezing coming from Sam's mouth, like he was having trouble catching his breath.

"Oh, my." Fay moved into the room slowly, looking at Sam and shook her head. "They do breed 'em sexy wherever you two are from."

"Kansas, ma'am." Dean told her and spared a small smile over his shoulder. "Kinda broke the mold with us." He put his attention back on his brother and set another bag on the other side of his neck. "You still with me?"

"Yeah." Sam kept a grip on the hem of Dean's shirt without being fully conscious of it but it helped settle him. "S'wrong wi' me?"

"Gotta fever, dude." Dean smiled for him when Sam's glassy, blue-green eyes rolled back to him. "Aunt Fay here says it's normal sometimes after your little dip in the ocean. It'll pass. You're fine."

Sam shook his head in confusion. "Not fine. Cas said so."

Dean grimaced and took a firm hold around the side of Sam's neck. "Hey. You look at me." He waited and smiled again. "You're fine. You're gonna be fine and I'm make damn sure that's the truth now just shut up and get better already." It startled a weak laugh from Sam and he nodded, closing his eyes. Dean glanced back at Fay. "You can probably go now. I got him."

Fay nodded and smiled. She patted his shoulder and went for the door. "Just holler if you need anything."

"Dude." Dean adjusted the bags of ice and smirked. "George's aunt's a total cougar. She checked me out in the kitchen." He grinned when Sam laughed again but it fell away with the laugh turned to a cough. "Hey, hey. Take it easy."

Sam fought the cough back after a minute and lay taking great breaths of air until the need to keep coughing went away. "Sucky way…to start a job."

Dean turned to pick up the bottle of juice and a warm, amused smile creased his face when he saw his brother had hold of the bottom of his shirt. "Can only go up from here," he said softly and turned back to him. It was something Sam had done often as a child. Other kids had blankets and bears; Sam had always had Dean as his safety blanket and there were times, like now, when Dean was grateful that had never changed though his little brother's need to cling so openly had left around his teens. "You're gonna be ok, little brother."

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The next dawned as dark as the last when Sam finally opened his eyes again. He groaned and rolled to his side and then smiled when he found Dean. His brother had pulled the desk chair over next to the bunk beds and was leaning back in it with his feet on Sam's bed and his head hanging off the back. "Dean." Sam slapped a hand out to his brother's legs to stop him tumbling over backwards when he jerked his head up on a gasp and Sam laughed.

"Holy crap, Sam." Dean thumped the front legs of the chair to the floor and scrubbed his hands over his face tiredly. He looked at his brother, really looked and decided he liked what he saw. "How you feelin'?"

Sam took a moment to consider as he sat up slowly and rolled his head on his shoulders. "Better than last night." His fever had broken and he was no longer cooking in his own skin or seeing things. "I'm ok."

Dean took a relieved breath and stood. He bent to his toes, listening to his back pop and crack and straightened. "Good. 'Cause I need some breakfast and hopefully it ain't deer."

Sam chuckled and stood up. He swayed for a just a moment and kept a hand on the top bunk to steady himself. "What time is it?"

Dean looked down at his watch and then out the window with a snort. "Ten am."

"Looks more like ten at night." Sam went to the window and looked out. Snow still blew through the town but it had lessened some. Everything was white in the glow of the streetlights except for the dark hulks of the various buildings and there weren't many of them. He turned and ran his hands through his shaggy hair as Dean went into the bathroom and turned the sink on. "Gonna see if I can find coffee."

Dean stuck his head back out with a toothbrush hanging out of his mouth and gave him a thumbs-up. "And no deer!"

Sam chuckled, nodded and left the room. He walked into the kitchen and stopped when he saw both George and his aunt sitting at the table. "Um…good morning."

"Sam!" Fay rose and quirked a brow at him. She came over and reached up, smoothing a hand through his hair with a laugh. "You look like you stuck your finger in a light socket. Coffee?"

"Please." Sam blushed and patted at his own hair when she moved away.

"You look a little better today," George told him and nodded to an empty chair. "Hungry?"

"Uh, not really." Sam sat and smiled when Fay set a steaming cup in front of him. "Dean is though."

"Sugar? Creamer?" Fay asked and Sam nodded to both. "I was just about to fry up some deer sausage and frycakes."

Sam smirked and added liberal amounts of cream and sugar to his coffee from the two pots Fay set in front of him on the little, yellow-checked tablecloth. "Do you have anything that's not, well, deer?"

Fay laughed heartily and squeezed his shoulder. "Not really. Around here in winter it's pretty much all deer, all the time. Or MRE's which…why would you want to?"

"MRE's? Really?" Sam asked in surprise.

"The company store stocks them for the rig monkeys." George rolled his eyes. "They're not big on the deer diet either."

"Company store?" Sam sipped his coffee and smiled happily.

"The oil company runs it. They bring in most of the goods and us townies snatch them up." Fay grinned. "But not those Meals Ready to Eat things. Awful. I tried one once."

George snorted. "They come with napkins all stuffed in there and she ate it."

"I did not." Fay swatted her nephew's arm with a reproving glance. "It was roast beef, or so it said."

"She ate the paper." George said and grinned at his aunt before looking back to Sam. "So, where do you guys want to go today?" He saw the look Sam sent his aunt and George shook his head. "Don't worry. She knows all about it. I kinda…told her everything after it happened." He smiled ruefully. "I was a little out of my head at the time."

"I'm not sure I entirely believe everything he told me," Fay said and reached out to brush George's hair back from his face. "But he's my nephew and if he says there's something dangerous out in the snow, there's something dangerous."

"I think…" Sam looked at George and hoped he wouldn't upset him. "…we should start with where your friend…where Missy died."

George swallowed hard and nodded, grateful for his aunt's hand on his shoulder just then. "No problem. Give me a half hour and I can get us a snow cat and take you out there."

"Whoa. No." Sam held up a hand. "You're not coming. We talked about this."

"No. You talked about it and I decided not to listen to you." George smiled and crossed his arms over his chest. "This is a real small town, Sam. No one's going to give you a Cat to get out there without me. I just know it."

Sam's mouth opened and he stared with the realization that George was effectively blackmailing them. "People are dying, George."

"I'm aware." George replied grimly and stood. "Now, should I go get the Cat or call Fred and have him find you a way back to the mainland?"

Sam shook his head slowly and groaned. "Fine."

"Good decision. Back in a half-hour." George bent and placed a kiss on his aunt's head. "Thanks, Aunt Fay."

"Go on." Fay gave him a little push when he walked past. She went to the fridge and opened it. "So, Deer and frycakes or Deer and eggs?"

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Dean pushed the door open into the company store and shook himself. Snow fell from his hood and shoulders and he shivered while Sam came in behind him. The store wasn't much of one. It was little more than a single room hut with two long tables, overflowing shelves on all the walls and a small counter with a register and a dark-haired man standing behind it. "Morning." Dean said amiably and smiled at him.

"What do you need?" The man asked softly, watching the two mainlanders as they looked over his shelves.

"MRE's please." Dean said and felt his stomach growl. Deer, he decided, was no longer on his menu of happy foods; not that it had ever been high on the list but cured, frozen, rehydrated and smothered in gravy was one of the worse things he'd tried to choke down. He just couldn't do it.

The clerk raised a brow and shrugged. He bent and pulled a crate up from behind the counter. "How many you need?" He gestured to the foil wrapped bricks, each the size of his hand.

Dean eyed the crate and smiled. "Take 'em all."

"Dude," Sam rolled his eyes and smirked.

"What? You can keep eating at Chez Deer if you want but I can't do it, Sammy." Dean told him seriously. "I'm gonna starve."

"Meat Dean won't eat," Sam shook his head with a chuckle. "I feel like I should call Guinness."

"Keep it up." Dean swatted his brother's arm and turned back to the clerk. "So, how much?"

The man chuckled and pushed the crate at him. "You can have them. I never sell the things." He raised a brow at the young man. "We like deer around here."

"No kidding." Dean grabbed the crate and nodded. "My stomach thanks you. Come on, Sam."

Sam laughed again and pulled a twenty out of his pocket, tossing it on the counter as he left. "Thank you."

Dean strode out to the big, yellow snow cat George had found for them and opened the back door. He shoved the crate in the backseat and purposefully ignored George's snicker. "Let's roll." He went to the driver's door and raised his brows when George reached for the handle with him. "I'm driving."

"I'm driving," George countered.

"Nope. You can back seat drive." Dean hooked a thumb at the back while Sam went around and climbed in the passenger seat.

"Have you ever even driven a cat before?" George asked curiously.

Dean shrugged. "More or less. I can handle it. Get in." He pulled the door open and then his eyes were caught by a group of men two buildings down. They were talking loudly, a couple of them were stumbling and a woman looked to be caught in the middle of them. "What's going on?"

George looked and groaned. "Rig monkeys. They come into town sometimes and cause trouble at the bar. Damn. That's Jolene. She tends bar."

Sam was at his brother's side as Dean started striding through the snow and the false night; no more willing to let a woman be hurt than he was. "Hey!" Sam yelled as they neared.

Dean grinned and raised his hands. "You boys having a problem?"

"Piss off, townie." One of the men, a large man with a head of black hair and mean eyes sneered at them. "We're just going to have ourselves a good time."

"Doesn't look to me like the lady wants to." Dean's voice dropped dangerously and he shook his arms out once. "How about you all just move on now and let her go."

"Are you alright?" Sam asked the woman, Jolene and saw her fearful look while she pulled at the hands holding her.

"No, dammit." Jolene looked to George, whom she knew with a pleading glance.

"It's alright, Jolene. Nothing's gonna happen to you." George reassured her.

"Can't say the same for you guys," Dean said firmly and angrily when the men holding Jolene jerked her back. "Let her go."

"Or what?" The first man who had spoken demanded and stepped into Dean, having to look up a couple inches at him.

Dean glanced at his brother, saw Sam's accepting shrug and nodded. He didn't bother speaking. Dean drove knee into the man's groin and slammed his elbow into his jaw. The oil rig worker sprawled into the snow and Dean looked at the remaining four men. "Let her go."

"Son of a…he just laid out, Wilson! Get him!"

Sam groaned and caught the first man to go for his brother. He spun him around and planted his fist in his face. The man tumbled into the snow limp and unconscious and Sam met the rush of another while Jolene squealed in alarm and broke free.

Dean kicked the legs from another and ducked under a punch of the last man while his brother came up behind him. "Should have let her go," he said and smiled when Sam wrapped his arm around the man's neck in a tight hold, arching his back. Dean watched the guy's face redden and then go slack as Sam let him go to slide to the ground.

George had an armful of bartended and patted Jolene's back. "It's alright. You're fine. You should go on home and stay there."

Jolene looked at the men on the ground, sniffed and nodded. "Thank you," She said in a watery voice to all three men then turned and jogged down the street and out of sight.

"Wow." George took in the men either unconscious or nearly so and shook his head. "You guys are good."

Dean snorted and headed back for the snow cat. "People are easy. Try arm wrestling a Wendigo sometime."

"He doesn't mean that literally." Sam told George with a smile. He shook out his right hand and frowned when the cold made his chest hurt again as he breathed. He pulled his scarf up more tightly around his face and made an effort to take shallower breaths.

"Nothing like starting your day with a good ass-kicking." Dean swung up into the cab of the vehicle and started the engine. He took a moment to look at the controls and saw that it was basically an oversized snowmobile and smiled. "No problem." He looked at George in the rearview. "Where to?"

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The snow cat's lights played over the sparkling snow as they drove, cutting bright swathes through the darkened day and Dean's eyes were burning a little from the effort of trying to see details. They were moving higher on what George informed him was the lower slop of a volcano. "Not gonna erupt in our faces or anything, is it?" Dean asked.

George shook his head in the back seat. "The USGS classifies all the volcanoes on the island as active but not a threat."

"Wait…all?" Dean spared a glance, turning his head back to see him. "How many are there?"

"Including all the satellite craters? Like…eight." George chuckled. "We're heading for the geyser fields near Mount Recheshnoi." The smile fell from his face as Dean rounded a large, snow-covered boulder and drove into the shadow of a cliff. "It was near here. Missy." He swallowed and sat back. "We figured it was the ghosts and came up here." He met Sam's eyes in the rearview mirror. "We came prepared. We did research, had guns loaded with rock salt…everything we needed to salt and burn some Russian ghosts but…"

"It wasn't ghosts," Sam said softly. He wanted to tell George they never should have been up there in the first place but it would only add to his pile of guilt and Sam couldn't do that to him. "I'm sorry for your friend, George." He looked back out the windshield as the lights moved past the cliff and he saw plumes of smoke. "Geyser field?"

"Yeah." George pointed to the right near the cliff. "Can't take the cat over the fields. It'd sink in."

Dean turned the snow cat and saw that the heavy snow they'd been driving over thinned ahead of them to give way to muddy, dark earth; the ground too warm to let the snow do anything but melt. He eased the vehicle to a stop and opened his door. He stepped down on the wide treads and jumped to the ground into a drift of snow that reached his knees. "Awesome."

Sam chuckled and climbed out more carefully. He grabbed a flashlight from the dash and flicked it on as he walked around the front of the cat to look out over the field. There were wide pools of water bubbling and steaming and in a few places geysers sputtered up seven or eight feet before dropping away. It sounded like a massive hot tub. "Wow." It put in perspective for him that the volcano looming above them was, indeed, active.

George hopped out and went to the back, opening the cargo area. "Do you have any idea what it is? What killed her and attacked us?"

"Actually, yeah." Sam followed Dean to the back and shrugged when Dean looked at him in surprise. "What?"

"How do you know?" Dean asked curiously.

Sam smiled and ducked his head. "I sort of…studied Inuit culture and lore at Stanford." He looked away from Dean's grin to George. "I think it's a tariaksuq or maybe an ijiraq. Actually, I remember when I was researching the lore, thinking they were actually two names for the same creature." He took his pack from the cargo compartment and pulled it over his shoulders. "They're shadow creatures, existing partly in our world and part in the world of the dead, according to the lore. You can't see them when you look at them head on."

"We can only see their shadows." George shivered from more than just the cold and pulled on his own pack.

"You can catch glimpses of them from the corner of your eye but yeah. They're basically invisible." Sam grabbed a shotgun and checked to make sure it was loaded.

"Could be daevas," Dean said while he smiled behind Sam's back. He was good and he forgot sometimes that Sam researched this stuff for fun, not just because it was the job.

Sam shook his head. "I know what I saw last night. Definitely not a daeva. For starters, it didn't care about the light." He frowned and stared down at the snow, trying to remember if there was anything special needed to kill them.

"How far?" Dean asked George as they walked to the edge of the geyser field.

"About twenty minutes that way, along the cliff face." George started down a slight incline, careful to keep his footing in the snow as it began to turn to mud. "Watch where you walk."

"No kidding." Dean played his light over the ground as he went and checked over his shoulder to make sure his brother was there. "You good, Sam?"

"Yes, Dean. I'm fine," Sam said repressively and rolled his eyes. He looked up at the volcano above them and could see three distinct cones on the ridge line, the center of which had a lazy stream of smoke curling out against the night sky. It was obscured as snow began falling again and the wind picked up. He tugged his scarf up over his face against the cold that seemed to sear into his chest with every breath. Whatever the Trials were doing to his lungs, they definitely were not handling the sub-zero temperature well.

Dean's eyes swept the area around them, alert for any sign of shadows that didn't belong and his skin crawled with the sensation of being watched. "Why would you come up here looking for the ghosts of those Russians anyway?"

George slowed, letting Dean catch him up and waved an arm in the direction they were heading. "They were killed down in the bay but the historical information I turned up said their bodies were buried up here on the other side of the geyser fields." He shook his head. "We were going to dig up the mass grave and salt and burn them. We thought it was them doing the killing, you know?"

Dean nodded. "Hell, I thought it was too when I saw that. Can't fault you there." He looked back at his brother. "So, how do we kill these shadow bastards?"

"Well, there's an old legend about them I remember reading." Sam caught up to them and narrowed his eyes, thinking. "They would pin the shadows to the ground with an iron nail and then splash holy water on it. It was supposed to drive them completely out of our world." He looked up at Dean with a crooked smile. "I packed iron knives and extra holy water just in case it was some Inuit nasty we found up here."

Dean clapped him on the shoulder with a laugh. "Never underestimate your geek brain, Sammy." He spun and brought his gun up at the sound of something growling nearby. "What the hell is that?"

"Don't know." Sam shone his light around the field, backing a step toward Dean when a geyser erupted a few yards away from them. "Can you see anything?"

"Sounds like a dog," George said and squinted into the gloom.

Dean moved further into the field, trusting his brother to have his back. The growl sounded again even closer and Dean swung his shotgun toward it. "Show yourself!" He yelled and reared back a step in surprise when a dog lurched out of the heavy screen of bushes near him and started barking. "What the…" His instinct was to shoot the thing but he held his fire and shone his light down on what turned out to be a Husky puppy. "What the hell is thing doing out here?"

"Don't shoot him!" George warned and jogged for Dean as the puppy began winding around the man's legs. "Must be one of old man Carper's dogs. They're always getting loose. Drives the town nuts."

"Great." Dean looked down and found cool, blue eyes staring up at him while the puppy panted and sat on his left foot. "Why's it doing that?"

Sam laughed and knelt next to his brother. "I think it likes you. Hey, boy." He held out his hand. The puppy gave it a sniff, sneezed and decided to start licking Dean's pant leg instead.

"Dude." Dean lowered his gun and knelt down to sit back on his heels. The dog took it as an invitation to lick the bottom of his jaw. "Eww, come on, man. Knock it off."

George chuckled and shook his head. "You know, in the books, it's Sam that always wants a dog."

"No dogs in the Impala." Sam said with an amused smile and stood back up. "It's one of the rules."

Dean stood and took a few steps and the puppy bounced along with him, weaving between his feet as he walked. "Go home, little guy! Go on!" He gave the puppy a nudge with his foot. It whined and then ran off toward the cliff and out of sight.

"He just wanted to be friends." Sam shook his head fondly.

Dean snorted and started along the field, following the cliff again. "He was kinda not awful I guess."

"You're hopeless." Sam chuckled and brought up the rear as they moved on. The ground alternated under his feet between spongy and soft to hard rock, slick with mud and melting snow. He had to concentrate to keep his footing and saw Dean and George walking unsteadily ahead of him. He looked up in surprise when he heard the puppy barking again and watched as she bounded back into sight. "Uh oh. I think you have a friend, Dean."

"Aw, what the hell?" Dean groaned and kept his light on the black and grey puppy as it ran back to him and frowned. "What the hell's it holding?" The dog had something in its mouth and it slid to a stop in front of Dean and dropped it at his feet with a happy bark.

"Oh…oh, God." George put a hand over his mouth. "Is that…an arm?"

Dean nodded and bent down. He caught the puppy as Sam came up beside him. He picked it up. "Come here, you little monster."

Sam knelt and looked at the appendage. He could tell just by looking that it had belonged to a woman from the slender wrist and fingers, in spite of its battered condition. The freezing temperatures had kept it from decomposing but it had the signs of teeth marks from more than one animal. "It's a woman's arm."

George paled noticeably and turned away. "Is it…it's gotta be hers…Missy. She's the only woman that's died up here recently."

"You left her body up here?" Dean asked in surprise, aware that it was a sort of thoughtless question but important none the less.

George scowled. "I…" He ducked his hand and covered his face for a moment. "I came back up here, ok? Even after what happened. I tried to find her to…I salted and burned her body when I found it but it wasn't…she wasn't…God, she wasn't all there."

"Shit," Dean groaned with feeling. "Sammy?"

"Yeah." Sam pulled his pack off his back and opened it, looking for salt and lighter fluid.

"You're just gonna do that right here?" George asked and it upset him more than he thought it would when Sam nodded.

"It's the safest thing to do. I'm sorry." Sam pulled out the salt container and opened it.

Dean held the puppy that seemed perfectly happy in his arms and put his free hand on George's shoulder. "Sorry, man."

George nodded unhappily and walked away from them, needing a moment of space and to not watch. "Dammit."

Sam turned back to his grim task and covered the arm in salt carefully. "We should have found a way to leave him back in town."

"Well he sorta had us by the short and curlies with transportation." Dean rolled his eyes and set the dog back down while Sam dug in the pack for the lighter fluid.

"I know. It's just…this really sucks for him." Sam looked back at George and gasped. "Shit!" A spirit was beginning to form between them and George. Sam shot to his feet with his shotgun and ran for him. "George! Look out!"

"Get down!" Dean yelled and grabbed his own gun, trying to catch up with his brother's longer stride.

George turned and was frozen in shock as Missy's face took form in front of him. "Missy?"

"Left me!" Missy's ghost screamed it and thrust her hands out at George.

He grunted in surprise when an invisible force slammed into his chest and threw him backwards. George saw Sam behind her and heard the boom of two shotguns before he struck the ground hard. The air was knocked out of him as he rolled and he didn't even realize he'd landed face down in a pool of uncomfortably warm water.

"George!" Sam fired at Missy's ghost again when she reappeared and sprinted past her for the fallen man. "Dean?"

"I got her! Get him!" Dean slid to a stop in the mud and waited for her to come back as he jacked a fresh rock salt round in the chamber.

"George?" Sam splashed into the shallow and felt warm water rise half up his legs as he took hold of George and rolled him over. He smiled in relief when George started coughing and pulled him out of the pool and up onto a rocky outcropping. "You alright?"

George shuddered as the wintry cold began to freeze the water in his clothes and nodded shakily. He rubbed a hand over his chest and tried to take a deep breath. "I…yeah. Where…"

"I don't know. Sit tight." Sam patted his shoulder and stood to find his brother. He walked toward Dean who was watching them and saw the moment she began to form behind him. Sam's heart leaped into his throat and he lunged ahead. "Dean!" He grabbed Dean's arm and pulled him off balance and out of the way just as Missy threw another wave of power at them. Sam felt himself picked up and spun off to the side with Dean's voice in his ears as he fell.

"Sammy!" Dean hit the ground hard, rolled and fired at her again; dispersing her in a cloud. He was on his feet a moment later and running for his brother as Sam slid to a stop against the cliff. "Sam?"

"I'm alright…I think." Sam groaned and put a hand to his head under his hood. There was a bump behind his ear and his shoulder was sore but other than that, he felt alright. He used the wall to get to his feet while Dean ran to him, took a step toward his brother and then cried out in pain when something clamped around his ankle.

"Sam!" Dean ran for him and fired at Missy again with an angry snarl when she reappeared. "George, get over here!" Dean dropped to his knees next to his brother where Sam writhed on the ground and curled around himself toward his foot. "What's wrong? What's hurt?"

Sam shook his head, bereft of speech for the pain and tried to reach his foot.

"What?" Dean looked where he was pointing, shining his flashlight toward Sam's right leg and felt his heart lurch into his throat. It looked like an old, rusted trap of some sort. It was big, the sort you used to trap bears and it had clamped around Sam's ankle. The part that left Dean reeling was the bloody snow. Sam's blood glistened darkly even as it froze over the white snow. "God, Sammy." Dean grabbed his brother's shoulders and pulled his arms away. "Don't. Don't screw with it. Come on."

"Crap!" Sam panted for breath and coughed as the frigid air burned his lungs. He leaned into Dean with his eyes slammed shut. "Hurts…like hell."

"I know. It's…you're gonna be alright." Dean nodded to himself and in that moment didn't give a damn when George shouted behind him that Missy was back.

George ran. He saw Sam's discarded shotgun lying on the ground and ran for it. "Dean, look out!" he warned when Missy's spirit appeared again. Rage contorted her once beautiful face and George understood that she blamed him for her death. He ignored the sharp pain in his chest and dove for Sam's gun; unwilling to add two more deaths to his list. His vision began to swim. He couldn't take a deep breath but it didn't matter as she loomed over the Winchesters. George aimed, said a silent apology to her and fired. Her ghost burst apart again and he dropped to the ground to gasp in short, painful breaths.

Dean huddled over his brother when pellets of rock salt rained down on them and then looked back to see George on his knees and hunched over. "Shit. Ok. Sammy?" Dean squeezed his shoulder and Sam gave him a short nod.

"Get…get it off." Sam's voice was a bare whisper. "Please."

"I'm gonna. Try not to move." Dean let go of him and moved down to his feet. He handed his shotgun to Sam. "Hold on to this. Keep her off us."

Sam nodded in a daze and tried to steady the gun in his shaking grip. He looked around and found George not looking any better than he was and groaned. This job was NOT going the way it should be. "How…how bad?"

Dean glanced up at Sam's breathless question and looked back down. He put his light on Sam's leg and tried to decide. In one respect, Sam was fortunate it was a bear trap. It was meant to catch something far larger than even his sasquatch of a brother. The teeth were widely spaced and it looked as though only two had bit into his flesh. "It's not as bad as it feels." Dean assured him and it was true. He felt carefully along Sam's leg around the trap and, in spite of Sam's hissed and pained breaths, felt that the bones were sound. "Not broken. Think this thing was too rusty to slam closed as it hard as it was meant to." If it had, Sam's leg likely would have been taken off below the knee and that was a sobering thought.

"George." Sam looked back at him. "Check on him."

"I will." Dean kept his gaze on Sam's leg and tried to decide the best way to get it off him. The simple fact was, his brother's life came before anyone else's.

Sam frowned and sagged back into the wall of the cliff. "S'hurt, Dean."

"So are you," Dean said angrily and looked up with a sigh to find that George hadn't moved. "Dammit.

"Back…back to town?" Sam asked and had to work to keep down the cough that wanted to burble back up.

Dean nodded. "Yeah, I think so. Alright. Don't go anywhere." He gave a wan smile to Sam's snort of disbelief at the order and got to his feet. "George?" Dean jogged over to him and knelt next to the man. "Thanks for the save." He put a hand on George's shoulder and gave him a little shake. "You alright?"

George shook his head and had both arms cradled over his chest. "Can't…can't breathe right."

"Ok. We gotta get you up and back in the cat so I can help Sam. Come on." Dean slid a hand under one of George's shoulders and worked as quickly as he could to get him standing. He bet money that the man had at least one broken rib; Dean knew well the look that put on a person's face and George had it. He looked back to his brother as they started back toward the snow cat and hated himself a little for leaving him there. "Sam?"

Sam waved one arm at his brother and put it back on the shotgun. Missy would be back, he knew and he wasn't going to be caught out again even while his leg burned enough agony up at him to make his vision darken.

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_Prompts are now closed for this chapter! To Be Continued... _


	4. Chapter 4

**Title:** The Reader's Special: Fourth Edition

**Author**: Disasteriffic Kaz

**Info:** Set post 8x17 "Goodbye Stranger"- This is the Reader's Special where you tell me what YOU want in each chapter & I write it. Every event prompted by you after each chapter. Hurt/limp/awesome/caring!Sam/Dean

**Beta'd by the Always Awesome JaniceC678** - Friend and Muse's co-conspirator

**Author's note:** As stated in the rules, prompts will not be taken from 'Guests'. If I don't have a name, I can't use your prompt since those who prompt receive a reward story at the end.

Also, let's try to remember that we want to keep the story moving forward. Try not to prompt for the same things every chapter like fever and hallucinations. That's two chapters in a row and this will make three. Change it up! Do you really want six or eight chapters of Sam fevered and hallucinating? Is that all you've got? LOL BRING IT! Give me something different, unique…not asking for pointedly crazy or cracky of course as it says in the rules but be creative! Think outside the box…except for Leahelisabeth who can think inside the box because that's generally where she likes Sam…and prompted for this chapter. :P *snicker*

Lastly - I make myself a 15 prompt limit so that I don't get buried in prompt apocalypse again and then…can't make myself stick to it, if you haven't noticed. LOL So many prompts! So! I may not always stick to the letter of each prompt I use but I hope the spirit of it is there.

**Prompters represented in this chapter**: Amiable Loner, BackgroundRobot-11, DearHeart, emebalia, Faye, firstcatfish, Hacked It Out and Fell, Jenjoremy, judyann, K Hanna Korossy, Klutzygirl33, Leahelisabeth, LostInDaydreaming, Lucydolly22, manonairs, mb64, Meliphyre, MMShadow, NiDubhChair, Nouri, Shee1, SPN Mum, SPNxBookworm, SupernaturallyEgocentric, SuperVikingGirl, WestwardWondering

**RULES are in the 1st Chapter and Remember:**

This story is a marathon, not a sprint. You're helping me write it so let's not break both of Sam's legs and put Dean in a coma early on or we won't have much of a story to tell.

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"_Back…back to town?" Sam asked and had to work to keep down the cough that wanted to burble back up._

_Dean nodded. "Yeah, I think so. Alright. Don't go anywhere." He gave a wan smile to Sam's snort of disbelief at the order and got to his feet. "George?" Dean jogged over to him and knelt next to the man. "Thanks for the save." He put a hand on George's shoulder and gave him a little shake. "You alright?"_

_George shook his head and had both arms cradled over his chest. "Can't…can't breathe right."_

"_Ok. We gotta get you up and back in the cat so I can help Sam. Come on." Dean slid a hand under one of George's shoulders and worked as quickly as he could to get him standing. He bet money that the man had at least one broken rib; Dean knew well the look that put on a person's face and George had it. He looked back to his brother as they started back toward the snow cat and hated himself a little for leaving him there. "Sam?"_

_Sam waved one arm at his brother and put it back on the shotgun. Missy would be back, he knew and he wasn't going to be caught out again even while his leg burned enough agony up at him to make his vision darken._

_**CHAPTER 4**_

Sam blinked his eyes open sluggishly as he listened to his brother's soft voice coaching George to the snowcat. He knew he needed to stay awake. The cold was eating through his leg in the trap. He looked down at his foot blearily, took a deep breath and tried to wiggle his toes. Sam gasped and dropped back. It hurt like hell, but they'd moved. He smiled a little in relief; his leg wasn't broken. He mustered the effort to open his eyes again when he realized they were closed and startled. Missy's spirit was a bare three feet away and watching him with an angry snarl on her ghostly face.

"Sh…shit." Sam struggled to bring the wavering muzzle of the shotgun up as she neared. "M-Missy. S-stop." His teeth were chattering.

"Left me." Missy's voice snarled through the falling snow. "Left you." She reached toward the fallen man. "To die."

"N-no." Sam groaned with the effort of making his arms obey him. Suddenly, there was a dark ball of teeth and fur in front of him, snarling at the ghost. The wayward husky puppy stood tall, or as tall as it could, in front of Sam and growled, the fur on its back bristling up almost comically. He barked loudly when the ghost's eyes turned down to him and danced away to the side. Missy's spirit followed the dog angrily.

Dean's head jerked up with the sound of the barking puppy. "The hell?" He leaned George against the seat of the vehicle. "Stay."

"I…I got it. Go. Go get Sam." George pulled himself slowly up into the back seat and tried not to use his shoulder too much. He saw Missy's ghost as he looked between the seats and out the windshield. Her translucent face turned to him, cold eyes fixing on his own for just a moment and George felt it like a punch to the gut. "Missy…I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." Tears coursed down George's face as she sneered and then turned back toward Sam. "God, forgive me please, Missy. I'm sorry." He buried his face in his hands and cried.

"Sammy?" Dean called as he rounded the door and stared in shock. Missy's spirit had returned and was, as he watched, being led away from his little brother by that mangy puppy. A slow grin spread of Dean's face as he broke into a run. "That's my little monster. Sam! Shoot the bitch!"

"T-trying." Sam groaned and finally managed to raise the shotgun high enough. He pulled the trigger with a finger gone numb and it boomed, sending rock salt through Missy's waist and dissipating the spirit. Sam sagged back into the wall behind him and the shotgun dropped to his lap. He was only vaguely aware of a wet nose pressing into his neck and the dog's soft whine before darkness won and he passed out.

"Shit!" Dean ran not for his brother but the discarded weapons bag. He slid to the warm, wet ground of the geyser field and grabbed up the lighter fluid Sam had dropped in the earlier scuffle. "Sorry you're dead, lady." Dean sprayed the fluid over her severed arm, tossed it aside and pulled out his Zippo. "But you are done pissin' me off tonight." He spun the wheel and quickly lit the arm as he backed away. It burst into flames, and he heard a distant, angry scream and then nothing but the cheerfully burning limb. "Son of a bitch." Dean ran a hand through his hair, dislodging the fresh snow and grabbed up the bag.

"Dean?" George called as loud as he could as he watched the Hunter jog back and move toward his brother.

"Stay in there!" Dean waved an arm and hitched the bag over his shoulder. He knelt next to Sam's feet and sighed. "Ok, buddy. This is gonna suck." He bent and took hold of either side of the rusty bear trap. The freezing metal burned his fingers through his gloves and he pushed. "Come on," Dean growled and threw his weight into it. The metal creaked in protest and finally slid open a few inches and then wedged tight.

Dean slowly eased up the pressure and wasn't sure whether to be relieved or nervous when the jaws remained open. "Ok, faster is better." He took careful hold of his brother's leg and pulled; sliding it out between the teeth. Just as Sam's foot cleared the rusted metal, the jaws snapped closed once more. "Too close, kiddo. Damn." Dean laid Sam's leg back in the snow and moved up to his head. "Sammy? You wake up for me now?" He tapped his little brother's cheek hopefully. "Come on, Sam. Open your eyes." He didn't like how cold Sam was, and Dean bent to get a better look at his leg. The cloth was stiff with frozen blood and crunched as Dean pulled the denim up carefully. He had to wipe some of the blood away from Sam's leg to get a look and went cold himself at the sight of the white, translucent skin. If he didn't get Sam warmed up soon, frostbite would set in.

"Sam, please." Dean pulled his shoulders up from the wall and gave him a shake. Sleeping was about the worst thing for his brother just then. "Sam!"

Sam swam up from the dark place he'd been mired in. It was cold, so cold he felt like he would never be warm again. There were voices there that made him curl in on himself and he realized it was Lucifer…and Michael. They were taunting him, and Sam's mind grew fuzzy with confusion. He'd thought he was out. He'd believed Dean had saved him, and yet…they were calling to him and Sam could hear the hated sound of those chains, feel the burn of the ice Lucifer forever pulled around himself, and bitter hands dug into his shoulders. Sam thought he was crying with the sense of loss, of betrayal, that all this time he'd thought he'd escaped and it had just been another fantasy to torture him. Dean had…Sam's fevered mind stopped in its tracks as he realized the voice he was hearing didn't belong to either archangel but to his brother. Dean was calling him.

"Dammit, Sam. Wake up!" Dean shook him again and swallowed the knot of fear in his stomach. Sam had started to whimper and mutter 'no; no more' under his breath over and over. Whatever the injury and hypothermia were doing to him, they were clearly shoving Sam's mind back somewhere it hadn't been in a long time, at least that Dean knew about. "Sam!"

Sam's eyes fluttered open as he fought for consciousness and scowled in confusion. Dean's face was before him and it was a mask of fear with wide, green eyes that bored into his own. His big brother didn't look like that; Dean only ever looked like that if someone was dying. "D'n?" Sam slurred in a sudden rush of terror of his own. If Dean looked like that, then Sam must be… "M'I dyin'?"

"What?" Dean stared, incredulous and pulled Sam in against him. He rubbed a hand up and down his arm to warm him and blew out a breath of relief. "Hell no, you're not. Not on my watch." He leaned his brother back to get a look at his pale face. "You with me now?"

Sam shuddered out a breath and gripped one of Dean's forearms. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm…we should g-go."

"Alright. Let me do the work." Dean stood and carefully pulled Sam up with him. He had to take all of his weight the moment Sam tried to stand on his bad leg. "Take it easy. I gotcha," he said while Sam gasped. Dean shook his head. "Sorry about this."

"Huh? Wha…" Sam groaned as he was suddenly tipped over his brother's shoulder and didn't have enough energy left to fight about it. He bounced along and gave a weary smile as the husky puppy trotted along at Dean's ankles. "Gotta friend."

"Little monster," Dean huffed as he trudged back to the snowcat and around to the passenger side. He smiled in thanks when George managed to shove the door open from the inside and lowered Sam gently back to his feet. "Alright, sasquatch. Up you go."

Sam's head spun with the change in position, but he managed to hold on to himself just long enough to get up over the tread and into the seat. He'd have slid over into the driver's seat if not for George's hand on his shoulder. Sam smiled dimly when the husky pup scrambled up into the cab with him and dropped into his lap like he belonged there.

"It's alright, Sam. I've got you," George assured him. As bad as his ribs hurt, and they did, Sam was clearly far worse off and George knew all too well what the bitter cold could do to an open wound. "We need to get him back to Aunt Fay's, like, now. No, don't." He shook his head when Dean climbed in, closed the door and reached to crank up the heater. "Leave it on, but don't turn it up. You don't him warming up too fast until we can get him back to the house and Aunt Fay."

Dean scowled but did as he was told. "Sammy?"

Sam rolled his head over and gave a short nod. "M'ok."

Dean knew that was crap but there was little he could do about it just then. He switched gears to put the big vehicle in reverse, pulled back a few feet and then sat and stared in shock when the engine sputtered and died. "What the hell? No way!"

"It's the cold." George groaned and rested his head against the back of Sam's seat. "Froze the fuel line probably."

"Son of a bitch!" Dean slapped the steering wheel and then looked at his brother. "Ok. I'll fix this. Just…don't fall asleep." He turned in the seat and looked at George. "You keep him awake."

"On it," George said softly and patted one of Sam's shoulders. "We'll sing Kumbaya or something."

Sam snorted and managed a smile. "No…won't. Hate that s-song."

Dean smiled and climbed back out of the snowcat. He went around to the front and popped the hood, having to climb up onto the front fender to shove it up and hook it in place. He looked in at the engine and put his hand over the manifold. He groaned. It was barely warm, and as long as the engine had been idling, it should have been hot. He did a quick search with his flashlight, easily identifying the varying parts of the engine. A car was a car was a car in his book, and Dean understood engines like he understood the hunt.

It took him a minute to locate the fuel line and when he did, it crumbled in his hand from the cold. The rubber had frozen and gone brittle. "Dammit!" He hopped back down to the ground and went around to the back of the snowcat, popping open the rear hatch.

"Dean? What is it?" George turned to get a look at the man through the back and groaned, having to hunch over the burning pain in his chest.

"Fuel line's toast," Dean told him and started pulling open the bags, looking for something he could actually use. "Too much to ask this thing actually has a spare fuel line in the tool box, huh?" he said disgustedly and ran a hand through his hair. He frowned and pulled Sam's bag over. "Sam, you still got that pen you swiped from that motel in Tulsa?"

Sam frowned. "Didn't…you stole it…jerk."

Dean grinned and shrugged. "Gave it to you though. Yahtzee!" Dean found it in the side pocket. It was a heavy ball point pen with a wide barrel that he'd thought would fit his brother's big hand. Normal pens always looked like kid's toys in Sam's hands.

"What are you gonna do with a pen?" George asked in confusion."

Dean chuckled and unscrewed the pen. He dumped the ink cartridge out and took the front half of the tube. "Get us moving again." He slammed the back hatch closed and ran around to the front of the cat. Snow was falling in earnest again and Dean brushed it out of his eyes while he climbed back up to the engine and took his pen knife out of his pocket. He propped the flashlight on the side so he could see and bent in. Dean carefully cut away the brittle section of fuel line, stuck his tongue between his teeth and eased one end of the pen tube into the line. He grinned and hooked up the other end, sliding it onto the pen and gave a careful tug when he was done. The rubber line held on to the plastic of the pen and Dean chuckled as he climbed back down and dropped the hood.

"Suck it, MacGyver," Dean said with a grin and got back inside. "Here we go, boys." He turned the key. The ignition sputtered a few times and then the engine rumbled to life.

"With a pen?" George asked, surprised and smiled in response to Dean's grin.

Sam smiled himself and gave a weary nod. "S…smarter than he l-lets on."

Dean grinned and backed the snowcat away from the geyser field before turning around and heading back to town. "I have my moments."

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"Aunt Fay!" George called as he pushed open the door of his aunt's house and leaned against the jamb. Dean was still trying to extricate Sam from the snowcat and get him in.

"George? Good lord, what's happened to you?" Fay stared in surprise and took his arm to pull him inside. "Are you alright?"

George shook his head. "Ribs are bruised maybe."

"Broken." Dean said as he reached the door with Sam held against his side. "And Sam's leg is a mess."

"Good grief. Get in here." Fay gave George a gentle nudge toward the kitchen and went back to help Dean with his brother. She took in the bloody leg of Sam's jeans and frowned. "What happened?"

"Old bear trap." Dean hitched Sam's arm higher on his shoulder and couldn't help but feel how hard his brother was shivering. "Didn't close all the way, but it still did a number on him. Where you want him?"

"Couch, I think." Fay nodded to the living room and knew her couch was longer than the bunk beds she had them sleeping on and the light was better. She glanced down in surprise when a husky puppy barged into the house, circled their legs once and then dashed into the living room to sit next to the fireplace. "Friend of yours?"

Dean snorted. "He sort of followed us home. Sam?" he asked as he more or less carried his brother to the couch.

Sam nodded once, barely managing to keep his eyes open. "Still…still here." His leg has become an all new level of pain over the last ten minutes in the snowcat as he'd warmed and begun to shake in reaction from the cold. It was all he could do not to break into tears at that point; it hurt that much. Sam moaned softly as he was lowered down to the couch and Dean turned him, laying him down with his head on the arm while Fay carefully lifted his leg up and pulled a footstool over to shove it beneath and prop it up.

"I'll get my kit." Fay left the room quickly.

"How you doin'?" Dean asked and dragged a chair over to sit next to Sam's head.

Sam clenched his jaw and pushed himself up a little higher. "Hurts. S'ok. M'good."

"Uh huh." Dean snorted. "Maybe I'd believe you if you were using whole sentences. Just stay still. Have you cleaned up in no time." He glanced up when Fay came back in with a large, khaki pack. "Let me see what you've…"

"Stay where you are and let me work." Fay smiled at Dean and patted his shoulder as she went and sat beside Sam's bloodied leg. "Might interest you to know that before I was George's feisty, pie-making aunt, I was a field medic in the army." She grinned up at the surprise on Dean's face. "I'm just full of surprises."

Dean stared and then slowly began to grin. "You make pie?"

Sam groaned and smiled. "S'gonna…gonna beg."

Fay chuckled and pulled her field kit open, taking out a pair of blunt-nosed scissors. "Tell you what, Sam. You stay awake until I get you cleaned up and I'll make him pie."

"D-deal." Sam raised one hand and then let it fall, not surprised when Dean caught it and tucked it back to his chest. "S'happier when…when there's pie."

"Is it just the cold making you slur, Sam?" Fay asked as she cut open the leg of his jeans and laid the pieces aside. "Or did you hit your head?"

"Little bit of both, I think," Dean told her. "He was out for a bit."

Fay put a hand to Sam's skin and frowned. While his leg looked like it had come close to being frostbitten around the wound, there was an unhealthy warmth to his skin. "I think we're trading hypothermia for fever here." She looked up when George shuffled back into the room with a hand held across his chest. "George, sweetie, grab the ice bucket from the freezer would you?"

George snorted good-naturedly. "Sure, send the guy with the broken ribs."

"One broken rib," Fay said cheerfully. "I checked while I was getting my bag. He whined."

"I did not!" George yelled from the hall and then groaned when it sent pain shooting through his chest.

Fay chuckled. "He'll be fine. Felt more like a small fracture than an actual break. No real give to it." She used a wet cloth to wipe blood from Sam's leg and hissed through her teeth. "You're very lucky, Sam." The teeth from the trap had broken the skin in two places but had clearly not slammed shut as they were meant to or his leg would have been shredded. "Other than these cuts, I think the worst you're going to have to deal with here is deep tissue bruising and probably an infection from the trap if it was as rusted out as you say. You know if he's up to date on his tetanus shot?"

"It was," Dean told her darkly and squeezed a hand to Sam's shoulder when his brother twitched at Fay's ministrations. "And he is."

"Well, the cold works in your favor." Fay brushed at some dried mud on Sam's clothes and frowned again. "Geyser fields?" She looked up when Dean nodded. "Alright, not so much in your favor. You never know what sort of nasties are waiting to get into an open wound out there. Sam? I need to clean this out." Fay smiled gently over at his bleary eyes. "It's going to hurt."

"Us'ly does," Sam muttered with a resigned sigh.

George returned with a small ice bucket in one hand and cloth in the other. "Put some water in it," he said and handed it to Dean along with the cloth.

"Thanks, man." Dean smiled and set the bucket on the floor. He quickly dunked the cloth and wrung it out then placed it over his brother's forehead.

Sam gave a hard shudder and hadn't realized until the moment the cold, wet cloth hit his skin that he'd been burning up. "Crap."

"Easy, buddy." Dean put his hand back on Sam's shoulder as Fay started cleaning the cuts in his leg and kept Sam from lurching up. "Stay still, dude. Take a breath."

Sam nodded and held on to Dean's forearm while Fay worked a minor torture on his leg. He jerked his head up when he felt the bite of a needle in his skin. "What?"

"Stitches, Sam." Fay smiled and patted his thigh. "No big deal. I just need to close these up so they can heal properly. Lay back, sweetie."

"She's almost as good as I am." Dean smirked down at his brother and re-wet the cloth with icy water before laying it back across his brow.

Sam chuckled. "She sews…straight line…she's better'n'you."

"Shuddup." Dean pushed the cloth down over Sam's eyes. He smirked when the puppy hopped and scrambled up onto the couch and settled in his brother's lap. "I think the little monster likes you, dude."

Fay tied off the last stitch and covered the wounds. She sent a fond smile at the puppy where it watched her from Sam's lap. "So, you just found a puppy out there?"

Dean shrugged. "Couldn't leave him out there. Sam would have whined."

Fay laughed. "Not a dog person?"

"No dogs in'a car," Sam muttered and dropped a hand to the puppy's back with a soft smile. "S'a rule."

"It's a stupid rule." Fay cocked a brow at Dean and grinned. "I'll just go fix up George and see if I can find something for your new friend to eat."

Dean watched her go and then leaned over his brother. "We're not keeping the mutt."

Sam smiled and rolled his head toward his brother. "Sleep now?"

Dean nodded and patted his shoulder. "Yeah, buddy. Go ahead." He watched Sam settle into the couch as he dropped quickly into sleep. "I ain't goin' anywhere."

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The next day dawned…or rather didn't…as biting cold as the last. Dean rolled his neck out in the chair and looked over at his brother. They hadn't bothered trying to get Sam moved to the bedroom once he'd fallen asleep, and his little brother was still sleeping soundly and Dean smirked, seeing the small wet spot under Sam's mouth that said he'd been drooling.

"Dean? You awake?" Fay asked softly as she came into the living room and smiled when he held up a hand.

Dean unfolded himself from the chair and tiptoed quietly out and back to the kitchen with her. "He looks better this morning. How's George?"

Fay rolled her eyes. "Upstairs whining." She chuckled. "I'm letting him get away with it for now. Your new friend migrated upstairs at some point and spent the night warming my feet." She grinned. "I think he plans on staying."

"Good. The little monster should stay somewhere nice." Dean cleared his throat. "Not that I like him or anything. He's a dog. Whatever." He looked away from the fond laugh Fay gave him. "I'm gonna go check around the general store for a few things. You keep an eye on Sam for me?"

Fay nodded seriously because after the last night, she began to understood what sort of trust he was placing in her. "He'll be fine while you're gone. I promise. He'll likely be walking when he does wake up." She laughed at his incredulous face. "I'm not saying he won't be sore, but his leg's intact and the cold actually mitigated some of the worst effects of blood loss he'd have suffered otherwise. It did him a favor."

"Yeah, well, you gotta watch him." Dean snagged a cookie from a tray on the table with a grin. "He lies when he hurts."

"Uh huh." Fay quirked a brow at him. "Wonder where he learned that from."

"No idea." Dean shrugged innocently. He went back out to the living room and pulled his parka back on with a last check of his still-sleeping brother and went outside. "Brr. Shit; it's colder." Dean pulled his parka tightly around him and headed away from the house and down the street. He still wasn't used to it being dark even in the daytime.

He trudged down the street through the foot of snow that had collected while they slept. Dean had a flashlight in his pocket, but the streetlights were proving bright enough for now. He had a gun at his back as well, though he didn't fancy his chances of getting it out from under the heavy parka in a hurry. Dean reached the store and pushed his way inside with a groan as the warmer air inside hit his wind-sore face.

"Back again?" The man behind the counter watched Dean shake snow off his shoulders. "Whatcha' need this time?"

Dean tossed his hood back and rubbed his own arms a couple times. "For starters, a metal detector. Something compact if you've got it."

The owner raised a brow. "Find something in the snow did you?"

Dean snorted. "Yeah. A damn bear trap. I'd like to avoid a repeat."

The owner cringed. "Damn. Yeah, that can be a problem." His manner visibly thawed toward Dean and he waved him toward a door. "Come on back here. Got a few you can choose from."

"Thanks!" Dean said with a smile and followed him back.

Dean spent an hour in the shop going through it and came out with a heavy box and a nice metal detector he'd even paid the guy honest cash for. He hefted it under his arm and tried to tug his parka closed with the other as the snow started falling again. "I hate Alaska," he grumbled and started down into the snow-filled street again. No one seemed in a hurry to break out a plow, and he supposed in winter, it wasn't a priority in a place like this. He glanced up from under his hood as a group of people emerged from the next building over and then ducked his head against the wind with a shiver. Dean moved to the side to let them pass and his finely-honed sense of self-preservation kicked in a minute too late.

He loosened his grip on the box when Dean realized the men were surrounding him, but it was enough. Dean snarled when he was grabbed. The box dropped into the snow and hard hands dragged his arms behind his back.

"Where's the tall one?"

"Don't see him."

"Well, fuckin' look!"

"Alright already!"

Dean jerked against his captors when one man jogged back toward the store. "What the hell do you want?"

The man not holding him leaned into Dean's face with a nasty, bearded grin. "Payback."

Dean's eyes went wide as he looked at him and noticed the man had a black eye and a split lip and, with a rush of adrenaline, knew these were the men he and Sam had beaten to save the bartender the day before. "Son of a bitch."

"No sign of the other one." a fourth man said as he jogged back to them and looked angrily at Dean.

"He's not here. Just me," Dean said and decided he'd had enough. He sagged in the grip of the men holding him, throwing them off balance. Dean kicked out, catching the bearded man in the thigh and tried to wrench his arms free. He grunted when something heavy struck the back of his neck and sagged in truth with the two men holding him up.

"Get him off the damn street." bearded man growled and pointed an arm down between two buildings.

"Makin' a mistake." Dean didn't go easily. He jerked and pulled, trying to get an arm free even while his head swam with the blow they'd given him to the back of his head.

"Pretty sure you're the one who made the mistake," bearded guy snarled and drove his fist into Dean's stomach mercilessly. He grinned down at Dean's face. "Gonna make sure you understand that before we're done."

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Sam woke with a start and jerked upright. He looked around and realized he was in Fay's house and still on her couch. "Dean?" he called and then leaned up to get a look at his leg. It was wrapped in bandages from knee to ankle. He pulled it gingerly off the stool and set his sock-covered foot on the floor.

"Hey, Sam." Fay smiled and walked into the living room carrying a big, steaming mug. "Thought you might like some coffee."

"Thanks." Sam nodded and took the cup. "Where's Dean?"

"Went out to get a few things from the company store while you were sleeping." Fay sat on the now empty stool and bent over his leg. "How's this feel?"

"Aches a bit," Sam answered honestly and shrugged. "Actually, not as bad as I thought it would."

Fay chuckled. "Like I told Dean last night, you got lucky." She picked at the bandages to get a look underneath and smiled. "I think you're going to be just fine. Try walking on it."

Sam set the mug aside. "Yeah." He pushed himself up from the couch with Fay at his side and settled his weight slowly on his injured leg. It hurt, enough to make him break out in a sweat, but he could stand on it and he grinned. "Thank you, Fay."

"You're a good patient." Fay patted his shoulder and watched while he took a few limping steps around the room.

"When's Dean gonna be back?" Sam reached the doorway and put a hand out to the frame to steady himself.

Fay frowned. "Actually, he has been gone a long time. He left, oh, almost two hours ago now."

Sam looked at her and then out the window. "That's not right." He limped into the hall and found his parka hanging by the door.

"Sam, what are you doing?" Fay demanded while the man pulled the heavy coat on and then hobbled getting his boots back on. "Sam."

"He wouldn't be gone this long with me injured," Sam told her and zipped up the coat. "The guy has this ridiculous level of need to make sure I'm on one piece." He chuckled and pulled his scarf on as well. "He'd have called already at the least. You don't know him." Sam's smile fell away with a bad feeling worming into his stomach. He left the house to Fay's worried protests and limped through the snow out into the street.

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Dean's breath exploded out of his lungs as another fist drove into his stomach and left him gasping. He spit blood out onto the snow in front of him and dizzily let himself follow the crazy-quilt pattern of blood already there.

"Look at me, asshole!"

Dean groaned when a hand fisted cruelly in the hair at the top of his head and jerked his face up. Bearded Guy, as Dean had instantly named him, was glaring at him and Dean gave him a bloody smile. "Should…le'me go."

Bearded Guy snorted derisively. "We ain't done yet."

"S'bad…bad idea." Dean spit more blood and grinned again as his eyes drifted over the man's shoulder. "Gon'get yer ass…ass beat…bitch."

The bearded man roared a laugh and grabbed hold of Dean's chin. "Who you think's gonna come save your sorry ass? Huh?"

"M'brother." Dean gave a wet laugh through his split lip and the blood in his mouth.

"Too bad he ain't here," Bearded Guy snarled. He pulled his hand back and then froze wide-eyed at the sound of a gun being cocked behind his head.

"I'm gonna count to five," Sam said in a voice gone dangerously soft with anger as he leveled his gun at the man's head. "Make that three because I'm really pissed right now. You and your idiot friends are going to let my brother go and get out of here or I'm going to make sure you all have to crawl to the nearest hospital. One."

"There's only one of you, boy," Bearded Guy said angrily but inside he was quaking knowing there was a gun aimed at him.

"S'worth…ten o'you…asshole." Dean coughed and spat more blood before looking at the two men holding him. "Better le'me go now."

"Listen to him." Sam took a step closer and met the frightened eyes of the two men holding his brother. "Two." He watched the men and saw both of their eyes twitch. Sam let a small smile crease his face, gave it a two count in his head while saying a silent prayer that his leg would cooperate and spun. He kicked out and caught the fourth man sneaking up behind him in the chest. Sam's leg twinged and he dropped to his knee as he turned back. He fired one shot into the shoulder of the man on Dean's left and then swept Bearded Guy's legs out from under him; dropping him into the snow.

"Stop!" Sam shoved the gun up under Bearded Guy's jaw and forced his head back. He didn't look up and didn't need to as he heard two bodies hit the ground with painful grunts.

Dean leveled a fist into the face of the man Sam hadn't shot and laid him out. He turned his sore body and drove his elbow into the bleeding shoulder of the other man. He grinned at the sharp cry of pain as that man went down too and then sagged back against the wall behind him. "Sammy?"

"You gonna make me shoot you too, or are we done now?" Sam jammed the gun up harder into his flesh until the sight on the end dug a wound into the skin and a drop of blood oozed down the man's neck.

Bearded Guy nodded his head furiously. "Yeah…yeah. We're…we're done. Shit. Yeah."

"Good." Sam whipped the gun up and brought it down hard to the man's temple, knocking him unconscious and then got unsteadily back to his feet. He put his weight on his good leg and looked at the man he'd kicked behind him. He was curled in the snow with his arms over his ribs and wheezing for air. "You alright, Dean?" Sam limped to him and got an arm around his brother's back. "Come on. Let's go."

"Princess." Dean laughed and spit another gob of blood out. "Sleepin' in while'm gettin' my ass…beat."

Sam smiled ruefully and led Dean out of the alley and back into the street. "Your fault for going out alone." He stopped at the mouth of the alley and took a look at Dean in the light from the streetlight overhead. "God, Dean." Sam brushed careful fingers over a cut at his brother's left temple and over the split in his lip. "How bad are you hurt? Should we find a doctor? I mean a real doctor, not Fay."

"I'm fine." Dean looked at him and growled, suddenly angry at Sam for putting himself at risk so soon after being caught in the bear trap. "Wha're you doin' out here on that leg? Idiot!" He tried to take his weight back from his brother but Sam stubbornly held onto him. "Gon'make it worse."

"I'm fine, Dean." Sam tensed and reached for his gun again when a man ran down the street through the snow toward them.

"What happened? I heard a gunshot. Is..Dean?"

"S'guy runs the…the store. Hey." Dean blinked the one eye that wasn't swollen shut up at him.

"What the hell happened?" The store owner stared at Dean's battered face and shook his head.

"Some guys jumped him in the alley." Sam didn't want to elaborate.

The owner groaned. "Look, I found the box with your stuff in it. You guys are staying at Fay's right?" He smiled when Sam nodded. "I'll bring it over later. You should go. Get him out of the cold."

"Yeah. Thanks." Sam turned them toward Fay's and wished the sun would come out. He looked up into the clouded sky. There were breaks where he could see whole swathes of twilit sky, and Sam found himself staring for a moment as the brilliant green and yellow bands of the northern lights waved and curled over their heads. "Wow."

"Dude." Dean gave him a nudge to keep him moving. While he was relieved that Sam had shown up to save his ass and proud at the way his little brother had handled the assholes, hurt leg and all…he was also damn well pissed that Sam had come out after him injured; that he'd had to come out after him at all.

Sam sighed when Dean tried to walk on his own and pulled him back in. "Would you let me help you for once, dammit." He held on tightly when Dean would have jerked away as they walked and winced when it made his leg pull painfully. "Just stop, dammit!" He took a breath and reined his temper back in. "Do you know what it looked like?" He scowled at himself, at how panicked his own voice sounded and shook his head. Dean had looked dead, hanging between the two bruisers holding him up, bloody and dead, and for just a moment when Sam had walked into that alley and seen Dean, he'd had a visceral reminder of an empty room spattered in black goo and his brother…gone. It had punched the air out of his lungs while he'd drawn his gun and somehow he'd managed to keep his calm. It tore at him now that Dean thought Sam still wouldn't come for him, that Sam would have just left him to that.

Dean took some more of his weight when he saw how badly Sam was limping in spite of his brother's grip and frowned. Something else was obviously going through Sam's head. "Ease up, Sam."

Sam shook his head again and kept them moving down the dark street and through the snow. "You're not the only one who gets to worry, Dean." The fear he had felt made it come out harsher than he'd intended, and Dean glanced at him in surprise. He opened his mouth to reply, but before he could respond, they both suddenly became aware of a low rumble that was growing louder. "What the…" Sam stopped when he felt the ground beneath them shake.

Dean jerked his head up and looked around. "What the hell was that?"

"I don't…" Sam staggered when the ground rolled more violently and then seemed to buck beneath them. He rolled away from Dean through the snow and slapped his arms out to steady himself. "Dean?"

"The hell's goin' on?" Dean yelled from where he'd landed on the ground on his backside. He groaned and then looked off to the left when a sound like rolling thunder came through the air. "Oh, that can't be good."

"Oh, my God," Sam breathed, following Dean's line of sight and saw a red glow through the falling snow off in the distance. There was another rumbling roar through the ground beneath them. Sam tried to get back to his feet while a sick feeling swam through him. "It's the volcano."

"Ya think?" Dean snarled and found his feet again. They were taken out from under him once more while the ground rolled. Snow flew up in waves. There was a mighty crack and Dean looked over to his brother in time to watch the earth split under his feet and Sam started to fall. "SAM!" Dean dove for him, sliding through the snow over the uneven ground and caught his brother's wrist. It jerked his arm down into the new fissure and Dean yelled with the effort of holding on to him.

Sam felt himself slide into the earth, and just when he thought he'd fall forever, he stopped with Dean's vice-like grip on his left arm. He moved to reach up with his other arm and the ground quaked again. He was tossed one way and the other in the fissure. His head slapped into the rock wall and left him dazed.

"Sam!" Dean worked to get his other arm under him and tried to find the leverage to pull Sam up. He growled angrily when it seemed something was holding Sam back. Dean kept his tenuous grip and eased closer to look over the edge. He could actually see the earth moving, shifting with little aftershocks, and Sam was becoming well and truly wedged as the fissure began to close. "No!" Dean got both hands on his brother's arm and pulled. He arched back away from the hole and yelled out his frustration.

Sam came back to himself and gasped, or tried to. He couldn't take a deep breath and found with a hard jolt of fear that he was being crushed between the walls of the fissure. "Dean." He panted out softly. He couldn't get his other arm up and the sensation of being trapped, buried alive, was enough to make his heart race and make him panic. His short breaths came even shorter and spots danced over his vision. Dean was pulling, still holding on to him and Sam felt tears in his eyes for the big brother that refused to let go even as he started to be pulled down in with him. Sam could see Dean shifting closer to the edge each time the earth around them shifted a little more, pulling Sam down even while the gap was closing. If the edge collapsed…

"Dean." Sam tried again, working to get the words out around a chest being squeezed tight by the rock and raised his head enough to see his brother. "Let go."

"What?" Dean shouted and glared down at him.

"I'm trapped, Dean. You can't…" Sam shook his head and took another gasping breath. "It's okay, Dean. Don't you die here too." Sam's voice was desperate, pleading.

"Shut up…stupid…stubborn…DAMMIT! COME ON!" Dean roared and pulled on Sam's arm again while he could still hear his brother telling him to let him go and save himself. "Not…gonna…happen!" Sam came free with a lurch and a scream of pain. Dean fell to his back and pulled Sam with him until his legs were clear just as the quake moved the ground again and the fissure snapped closed in a shower of snow and rubble. "Son of a bitch. Sam?"

Dean convinced his own sore, abused body to move and sat up with Sam still half in his lap from tugging him out of the damn hole. He pulled his little brother over onto his side and turned his face up. "Buddy, talk to me. Come on. Sam." Dean looked up as panicked voices began to fill the dark and hoped to hell someone would come past them. "Sammy." He pushed dark hair off his brother's forehead and put a hand to his neck. He dropped his head when he felt the pulse beating strongly there.

Sam groaned and tried to fight his way awake, but it was hard. His head hurt. His leg hurt, and as he started to try and move, he realized his left shoulder was an agony of white-hot pain. His last coherent memory was wanting to die…failing Dean…it swirled through his dazed mind and Sam cried out. "Dean!"

"Hey! Hey!" Dean pulled Sam in, confused when Sam seemed to become more upset rather than less. "Sammy, I'm right here. What…" he paused when he pulled Sam up and felt his left shoulder move wrong under his hand as Sam cried out again. "Holy crap, Sam. I'm sorry. Shit!" Dean had yanked his shoulder out of the socket getting him out of the fissure. The pain seemed to ramp up whatever confusion Sam was stuck in in his mind. Dean eased him down to the ground. "Hang on, Sam. I'm gonna fix this." If there was one thing they were both far too good at, it was popping dislocated shoulders back into joint. Dean took careful hold of Sam's left arm and braced his other hand on his shoulder. "Deep breath, buddy." Dean grimaced and pulled as he pushed, feeling the joint pop back into place almost audibly and the yell Sam let out was agonized. "I'm sorry, Sammy."

"Dean!" Sam finally managed to get his eyes open and saw his brother in front of him. He forgot his own pain for a moment and lunged forward, wrapping his good arm around Dean's shoulders and just held onto him.

"Whoa! Ok, Sammy. Hey. I'm right here." Dean sat hard in the snow with his out-of-it little brother against his chest and held on while Sam's breaths wheezed into his neck. "Slow it down, alright?" He let his head drop onto Sam's shoulder while his own injuries caught up with him, and he really hoped the ground wasn't going to open up and swallow them both whole. He wasn't sure he had anything left in him to move again. "I gotcha, buddy."

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_Prompts are now closed for this chapter! To Be Continued... _


End file.

Supernatural, Angst, Hurt-Comfort