Summary:  Sam and Dean are on a hunt for a Wendigo, and though everything starts out fine, nothing ever ends that way for the Winchesters.
A/N:  I had this idea while sitting in my dad’s truck staring at the scenery around me… There was this tree right there in front of me, that made me think, what if?
Disclaimer:  I own nothing except the pretty little butterflies that swarm in my stomach every time I see Jensen and Jared on the screen, and the swoon that I have perfected at Jared’s puppy dog expression.

“Dean would you shut up and pay attention.” Sam growled at his brother, hoping desperately that his brother would heed his words for once in his life.

“Aww c’mon Sammy, have some fun little brother.” Dean whined back at his Sam.

“I do have fun, just not while I’m hunting a damn Wendigo.”

“Fine, don’t get your panties in a bunch, Samantha.” Dean said with a smirk.

Sam was about to make a sarcastic remark about Dean’s own man-hood when he heard the snap of brush behinds him, and he set his mind back on the hunt. He turned, sending a hand signal to Dean, to follow him. Dean shook his head making his own signal for Sam to stay put, but Sam crouched low, and started to shift slowly towards where he had heard the snap.

“Sam!” Dean hissed, following behind his brother, when there was no acknowledgement.

Sam held his flare gun in front of him, his aim steady as he trekked through the brush quietly. There was another snap, a lot closer than the last one had been, to his right, and Sam swung his body and the gun in the direction of the sound, ready to fire and kill.

He never got the chance to shoot as a large, clawed hand swiped at him. The blow struck his stomach, and threw him back into a tree, about five feet off the ground. Pain seared through his lower abdomen, and Sam bit back a cry of pain.

He didn’t look down, not wanting to see how badly he was actually hurt, when he had a hunt to finish. Looking up from where he had fallen at the base of the tree, Sam saw Dean take a swan dive just like he had, into the tree next to him. He winced as Dean hit the trunk of the tree, and slid down it, crumpling into a limp heap at the bottom.

Knowing that he was the only one that could take down the beast in front of him, now that Dean was down, Sam pulled himself up, until he was half standing, and half leaning against the tree he had been thrown into. He was glad at the moment for the training that their father had instilled into them, because even though he had been propelled into the tree, his gun was still in his hand.

Sam wrapped one arm around his stomach, grimacing at the pain that even that small movement produced. He turned when there was another snap of brush, and saw the Wendigo coming slowly, almost warily, towards him. It was almost as if the thing was amazed that Sam was still standing.

The fact that Dean was stirring not eight feet away, seemed not to matter to the hideous creature in front of him, only the fact that Sam was now standing in front of him, gun aimed at his chest.

“Die you fugly son of a bitch.” Sam growled as he pulled the trigger. The flare shot out from the gun with a blast, and embedded itself into the stunned beast’s chest, as Sam looked on in satisfaction of the kill.

Stumbling over to Dean, Sam grit his teeth at the pain that spiked through him. Now that the adrenaline and the ‘thrill’ of the hunt had worn off, it had come back with a vengeance.

Sam never made it to Dean’s side, only making it about three steps before he fell to his knees, the wet ground below not bothering him at all, only the fact that it was starting to hurt every time he drew a breath, mattered.

The impact of his knees to the ground sent another wave of pain through him, and Sam cried out, effectively alerting Dean that something was wrong.

Dean turned towards his brother with unfocused eyes as he heard the cry of pain. Getting up as fast as he could without letting the vertigo take him down, Dean crawled his way over to Sam, knowing only that he had to get to his baby brother and make everything right again.

As Dean reached his side, Sam pitched forward, his strength leaving him. Dean caught him before he hit the ground, and his concern grew. “Sammy?” He asked, worry evident in his tone. “Sammy, c’mon little brother, tell me what’s wrong.”

Sam grunted out a mumbled response, and Dean helped him sit up, so he could see and hear Sam better. “Ah, God it hurts.” Sam cried out as Dean lowered his hand on his back to help steady him.

Dean was about to ask Sam what he meant when his hand came in contact with a warm sticky liquid on Sam’s lower back. He pulled his flashlight out of his pocket, because even though it was still twilight, it was hard to see.

“Oh shit, Sammy!” Dean said as he saw the branch that was impaled through Sam’s back.

“It’s Sam,” his little brother breathed through the pain. “And what do you mean, oh shit?”

“Sam, there is a branch stuck into your back, and to tell you the truth, I have no idea how you are still conscious.” Dean said softly, and as if on queue, Sam shuddered, and Dean felt more weight being added to his arms.

“Hey Dean?” Sam slurred.

“Yeah little brother?” Dean asked in concern as he helped Sam lay down on the ground, taking off his jacket and folding it up to let Sam’s head rest on it.

“I don’ fell s’good.” Sam mumbled, and his eyes closed as his body and mind succumbed to unconsciousness.

“Sammy?” Dean asked, shaking his brother a little. “Sammy, c’mon wake up?” His brother remained unresponsive. “Ah shit, this is so not good.”

In less than ten minutes Dean had his brother’s back and stomach wrapped tight to stave off the bleeding, leaving the branch in, for fear that taking it out would lead to Sam bleeding out. Knowing that it was going to hurt his brother, but also that they couldn’t stay in the woods all night, Dean rolled Sam onto his back, and gently shook his brother.

“Sammy? C’mon little brother, open them eyes.” Dean said softly as he shook Sam, and was rewarded when a garbled groan came from low in his throat. Dean continued to shake him lightly, and Sam raised a hand to swat Dean’s arm away from his shoulder.

“Five more minutes,” Sam slurred in a grumble.

Dean chuckled at the old response, remembering when Sam used to say that every time he would try to wake him up when they were teenagers. “Nah-ah Sammy, not this time. You gotta wake up this time.” Dean replied gently.

Sam woke in a haze, oblivious to anything and everything but the incessant shaking originating from his shoulder. He tried to swat the hand away, but it seemed insistent with its ministrations.“Nah-ah

Sammy, not this time. You gotta wake up this time.” He heard a familiar voice say, but he couldn’t quite figure out just who it was.

The shaking got a little rougher and Sam again lifted his hand, figuring that a hard swipe would get whoever was shaking him away, even if it was only for a minute. Using his hand as a bat, Sam smacked the one holding him, and a deep pained filled gasp left him.

As soon as his hand went too far, a sharp pain shot through him, making his eyes snap open, and then almost immediately shut tight in pain. After a sharp cry left him, Sam clenched his teeth, and tried to pant through the sharp pains shooting through his back and stomach.

“Easy there Sammy.” He heard Dean say, and looked up to see Dean looking down at him with sympathy in his eyes. He tried to remember what had happened to make him feel like this, and bits of memory came back to him, almost making him wish that he didn’t know, or that he was still unconscious.

‘…a large, clawed hand swiped at him. The blow struck his stomach, and threw him back into a tree, about five feet off the ground.’

‘Dean unconscious at the bottom of a tree…’

‘“Die you fugly son of a bitch.”’

‘The impact of his knees to the ground sent another wave of pain through him, and he cried out.’

‘“Sam, there is a branch stuck into your back…”’

‘Darkness…’

“Sammy? You okay there?” Dean asked, and Sam’s eyes focused onto his brother’s in an effort to figure out what was happening.

“Dean?” His voice was a lot rougher and lower than he had expected, and Sam’s face contorted into one of confusion.

“Yeah Sammy, I’m here.” Dean answered the plea softly. “You’re hurt pretty bad Sammy… That Wendigo really did a number on you, and man that tree was pretty damn relentless too.” Dean told him, hoping to get a least a small smile out of his brother, anything to let him know that Sammy was still hanging in there.

Sam’s lips quirked up, always one to please his older brother. “Yeah they’re pretty harsh, aren’t they?” Sam breathed, trying to ignore the pain that just wouldn’t go away.

“Yeah.” The monotonous tone told Sam how worried his older brother was. “Sammy, we have to get out of here, we need to get you to the hospital, this isn’t something that I can fix.” Dean said quietly, and Sam’s heart clenched knowing how much it had cost Dean to even say that to him, to admit that he couldn’t help him this time.

“I know.” Sam closed his eyes, trying to steady his breathing. Pushing his hands into the wet ground below him, he started pushing himself into a sitting position, gritting his teeth the whole way. ‘Ah God, it hurts…’

“Whoa there little brother, let me help you.” Sam felt Dean’s hands settle on his upper back and chest, and gently help him up, and he was extremely grateful for the help, not even stopping to think about his pride when the pain was this unbearable.

“Thanks,” Sam breathed, and Dean nodded, his worry skyrocketing at his brother‘s breathy voice, so full of pain.

“No prob Sammy.” They sat there for a few minutes as Dean waited for his brother’s breathing to get into a steady rhythm. When he was sure that Sam was okay for the moment, he said, “C’mon, I’ll help you up. I want you to lean a lot of your weight on me, I don’t want you trying to do it yourself right now. Please just do what I ask this time, and take care of yourself Sammy.”

Sam nodded, and Dean couldn’t help the sigh of relief that escaped his lips, knowing that he was probably making Sam feel embarrassed, but at the same time not caring. Sam needed help, and he was going to except it whether he liked it or not.

Dean stood, and then leaned down to lace his arm under Sam’s and draw his little brother’s arm over his shoulder to help him stand. The gasps, grunts, and cries of pain that came from Sam as he helped him to stand make Dean want to rip his heart out.

As soon as they were standing, Dean wrapped his arm around his brother’s waist, being careful not to hurt Sam more than he already was, and let his brother just lean on him. He wished that they had thought to bring along pain medication when they had come on this hunt, and Dean was kicking himself for being so stupid.

As Sam started to take some of his own weight off of Dean, he knew that they had to move, but again Dean hesitated. He didn’t like the idea of making Sam walk anywhere, and the fact that it was now mostly dark out made him hesitate even more. They were more vulnerable in the dark, and the fact that Sam was injured made them a prime target for anything, supernatural or not…

It took less than half an hour before Dean had most of Sam’s weight resting on him again, and they couldn’t have gotten more than a mile and a half away from where they had killed the Wendigo. Sam’s strength was fading fast, and the fact that Sam was no longer trying to control the sounds of pain coming from him concerned Dean all the more.

“Hey Sammy,” Dean said softly, trying to catch his brother’s attention.

“…wazzap?” Sam slurred, and Dean’s worry grew at the faint reply.

“We’re gonna stop for a few minutes. You need to keep your strength up, and I need to scout ahead a little bit.” Dean said softly, and felt more than saw Sam’s jerky nod in acquiescence.

“Okay.” came Sam’s soft reply.

Dean helped Sam down to the ground, leaning him up against a tree trunk to keep him stable. As soon as he was sure that Sam was comfortable, and that he was at least coherent enough to shoot a gun, Dean walked away. He took the Maglite out of his pocket to make sure he could see where he was to get back to the same spot, and ‘scouted’ on ahead.

He had only walked for a few minutes before he had to lean up against a tree of his own, and let himself feel the worry and concern he had for Sam in full force. It threatened to take him down, but Dean kept a firm grip on the tree, trying to push away the thoughts of Sam’s potential death that tried to consume him.

After a moment he took a few deep breaths and made his way back to Sam. His brother was still awake, but Dean could see that it was only sheer determination that kept him from unconsciousness.

As he got close, he found the gun leveled at him, and though his pride in Sammy soared, he was uneasy at having his own gun aimed at him. “Sammy it’s me.” He said softly, hoping that Sam would know it was safe to put the gun down.

“Dee-?” Sam asked, his voice unsure and confused.

“Yeah Sammy, it’s Dean.” The gun wavered, and then fell with his brother’s hand to his lap. The sigh of relief that came from his little brother was audible, and Dean let a little chuckle slip from him. “Well at least I know you can protect yourself,” he snorted under his breath.

“Gotta move ‘gain?” Sam asked lowly, and Dean felt his heart clench at the vulnerability in his brother’s voice.

“Yeah Sammy, we gotta move again.” Dean walked over to his brother, and crouched down in front of him. He placed a hand on Sam’s shoulder, trying to reassure the younger man.

“Whattid you do wi’my brother?” Sam asked, a small smile on his face, and Dean drew back in confusion. “He would n’er do chi’flick.” Sam finished, and Dean laughed, low and rich at the sign that his brother was still in there.

“I ate him… Okay?” Dean answered after a minute. “But really little brother, we have to go.” Dean laced an arm under his brother’s, and around his waist, again being careful of the wound there. When he heard the soft grunt of pain from his brother, he looked at him in concern, and though Sam gave him a small, tight smile, he could tell that his little brother was in more pain than he wanted to let on.

“M’okay,” Sam said quietly, but it did nothing to assuage Dean’s worry. He nodded, and started to move, helping take Sam’s weight as much as he could while they walked. They trudged through the forest in silence, and no sooner had they started walking did it start to drizzle, making the already wet ground even more slippery.

Dean groaned as the drops of rain hit his face, wetting his hair, and making it stick to his head. He heard a similar sound come from Sam, as he tried continuously to push his wet hair out of his eyes. He finally gave up after many failed attempts, and groaned again at the pain in his side, and the unfairness of the world.

Dean smirked a little at his brother, happy to see that even though Sammy may be dying, he was still there with him right now. “We need to get you a clip there, Samantha?”

“Shut up Sadie.” Sam said lowly, and Dean’s smirk faded.

How he had hated that damn bitch of a dog…

“That was low, Sam,” Dean said pouting.

“Maybe, but totally deserv…!” his sentence was cut off as they lost their footing in the mud, sending both brothers sliding down a hill. Dean tried his hardest to keep a grip on Sam as they went down, but as he hit a small tree trunk, his wrist snapped, and his hand automatically opened, releasing Sam’s coat from his grip.

Dean cried out as the pain from his broken limb hit him, but he couldn’t stop to think about it as he slid further down the hill. He tried to get a grip on the moving ground beneath him, but the slippery mud provided nothing for him to grab, and he continued down.

He hit the bottom of the hill with a smack, and his head smashed into a rock, adding to his already concussed brain. He heard Sam scream in pain somewhere to the right of him, but try as he might to get to him, Dean’s body was uncooperative to his commands.

Sam tried to grab hold of Dean as he lost his footing, and started to slide down the hill. He caught nothing but air, but he felt his brother’s hand wind itself into his coat, and he felt a sigh of relief pass through his lips… That was until he realised that he was still sliding down the hill.

Somewhere in the fall he heard Dean cry out, and he was let go. Though Sam called out to his brother, there was no answer, and he continued to slip and slide his way down the hill. He cried out as his side hit a rock, sending shocks of blinding pain through his body, as the branch in his lower abdomen moved, and the rock ripped a hole through his coat and into his side.

He heard a cry of pain from Dean, and tried to call out to his brother, but found himself hitting the bottom of the hill with a resounding thud that sent pain spiking through him. As he hit, the branch turned and burrowed itself deeper into his stomach, and Sam let out a blood curdling scream as the pain encompassed him.

He gave one more thought to Dean as the darkness swallowed him, offering him a reprieve from the pain, and he willingly let it take him.

Twenty Miles Away…

“I know they can take care of themselves,” Caleb Reaves told Bobby Singer. “But they were supposed to be back this afternoon, and I have a feeling that something bad happened to them, and you know not to ignore my feelings.”

“Fine, we’ll go after them, but do you really think they’re going to appreciate us showing up without warning?” Bobby asked, his tone stressing the point that these were Winchesters he was talking about, and that they were on a hunt.

“Right now, I think that they would be glad for any help that showed up. Something’s wrong Bobby, I can feel it. If we don’t get to them soon, I don’t think they’re gonna make it home…”

Dean woke to find himself at the bottom of a hill, lying in a muddy ditch. The rain had long since stopped falling, and for that little fact, Dean was happy, but at the same time it made him wonder how long he had been out. It had been pitch black outside when they had slid down the hill, and now the first signs of sunrise were showing, six hours?

Grunting in pain as his broken wrist touched the ground, Dean pushed himself into a sitting position slowly, trying to take stock of his injuries. He knew that his wrist was broken, and from the dizziness and uneven jerking of the world around him, he definitely had a concussion, though he didn’t know what grade.

Flashes of memory pounded into him, and Dean winced in pain. He remembered walking with Sam through the woods, trying to get his brother to safety, and then all of the sudden they were falling down a hill. He had tried to grab Sam, and though he had gotten a good grip on his little brother’s coat at first, somewhere along the ride his wrist had broken and he had been forced to let go…

‘Sammy… Where is Sammy?’ Dean thought to himself, and looked around frantically, forgetting about his own injuries in favor of helping his little brother. Sammy could be dying or even dead, and Dean wouldn’t have known it… He had to find his little brother, and he had to find him now.

“Sammy?” Dean yelled as he pushed himself to his feet, ignoring the tilting of the world as he did so. He looked all around him, searching for the giant that was his brother, and he heart almost stopped when he found him.

Blood ran freely from Sam’s side, and from the lump under the bandages, Dean could tell that the branch had moved during the fall, further injuring his brother. Dean half stumbled, half ran trying to get to his brother, needing to know if he was alright, if he was even alive.

He dropped his knees beside his brother, and pressed two fingers to the exposed neck, hoping upon hope that he would feel the twitch under the digits. As he felt the thump beneath his fingers, Dean sighed in relief. Even knowing the fact that the unsteady and slow rhythm of the pulse was not good, it didn’t sway his relief from the fact that his brother was alive.

Blood matted Sam’s head from a gash above his right eye, which looked raw and deep. Dean cringed at the fact that his brother may have a concussion added onto all of the other things wrong with him. He continued to look for other hurts; other than bruises, scratches, and cuts, only a few that need stitching; there was a deep, welling gash in his side, just to the left of the branch that’s impaled in him.

Dean took off Sam’s shirt and the bandages that he had used to staunch the blood flow, knowing that the wet and probably disease infested clothes could easily lead to an infection.

Sam’s breath hitched as the bandages were pulled off, the branch moving a little, and Dean looked at him in concern. There was nothing he could do to help his little brother while they were still in the woods, and now since the fall, it was going to take longer to get Sammy to the car.

Dean took off his flannel shirt, and ripped it into strips, using his teeth and good arm, to use as bandages, and carefully wrapped Sam’s wounds again. Looking around him, Dean found two long branches, and he rose, going over to gather them.

In a little over twenty minutes, Dean had painstakingly made a stretcher for Sam, out of both of their coats and Dean’s tee-shirt, that he could tie around his waist to haul Sam out of the woods. It took a little longer than he had liked without the use of one of his hands, but Dean knew that it was better than nothing, and that he now had a better chance of getting Sammy to safety.

Dean dragged Sam onto the stretcher, and tied a knot in between the two branches. He ducked under the stretcher, and came up through the hole, using his good hand to steady the stretcher. Looking back at his little brother, the elder sighed and began walking, hoping that he could get Sam out of the woods and to safety before the day was over with…

Caleb used his intuition to track where the Winchester’s might have gone, the rain from the night before having washed away the trail. Bobby walked beside him, giving him sharp glances from time to time, as his eyes glazed over in concentration. The man had never liked the fact that he had powers, but Caleb’s senses had never failed them before, and he was counting on the younger hunter to find the Winchesters.

“We’re gonna have to get down there,” Caleb said, pointing down a muddy hill; effectively drawing Bobby out of his reverie.

“Why?” Bobby asked, knowing that they would have to go down there, but not wanting to have to waist the time that it would take to get down the hill.

“They fell down there last night, and one of them at least, is hurt real badly.” Caleb answered, and started to make his way down the slippery hill. Using rocks and tree branches, he made his way down in less than fifteen minutes, with Bobby not far behind him.

“Ah no,” Bobby mumbled as he came across the bloody bandages and remains of Sam’s black shirt. “I think Sammy’s hurt real bad.”

“I don’t think Dean is doing too good, either,” Caleb said from where he knelt, peering at a bloody rock. “I’d say we better get moving, and find them soon, before someone, or something else, does. With both of them hurt, they’d be sitting ducks out here.”

“Nah, not ducks, Dean’d be more like a pissed off Banshee, with Sammy hurt,” Bobby said with a smirk.

“Yeah, a pissed off, possessive, banshee. Remember when he was little, and he had that real high voice… He even had the wail to go with being a banshee,” Caleb said, snorting; as he started to walk in the direction of Dean’s footprints. Bobby joined him, and laughed along side him, remembering all too well Dean’s voice when he was younger.

Dean trekked through the woods, stopping sporadically to check on his brother. He knew that Sammy didn’t have that much time, and with the way things were looking, there was a good chance that neither of them were going to make it out of the forest alive.

The last time he had checked on Sam he had found that his brother had spiked a fever, even though he had taken care to make sure that his wounds had been cleaned out before he had bandaged them. His little brother was getting worse by the second, and Dean didn’t know what to do. He kept walking, pulling the stretcher along behind him, and tried to clear his thoughts of anything else happening to his brother.

Dean had been walking for a little over an hour and a half when he heard the leaves and branches snap behind him. With his luck, it would be a wolf looking for its next meal. Dean lowered the stretcher to the ground, and turned to look at whatever it was that had been following him.

‘I can’t believe this…’ Dean thought with a gasp.