A/N: Sorry, folks caught a huge formatting error, fixed it and reposted.

A/N: It's Heather03nmg's birthday and this fic is for her, a healthy dose of hurt Dean, worried protective Sam and all the other yumminess she loves. Thank you so much to TraSan for tracking Jim down for me and sharing a little bit of a scary ride. Thanks to Abni, the most amazing beta I could ask for, and Dennis for very helpful insight. Have no fear those of you following Be Still my Beating Heart, there will be a new chapter up very soon, but I had to premiere Heather's story for her birthday! Title and chapter quotes are from the song by Black Sabbath.

Behind the Wall of Sleep

Chapter One

Feel your body falling to its knees
Sleeping wall of remorse
Turns your body to a corpse

It was a sunny day, a blindingly bright day. The cold air sparkled with snow, the light dancing like bright diamonds on the white ground. The yellow and brown leaves still clinging to the trees were frosted with snow. The air was fresh, the smell of frost, of frozen moisture filling the air.

"Tell me more about it again?" Dean said looking across the car to his brother. After a late night, And ok, maybe one or two too many, he was in the passenger seat, sunglasses over bleary eyes and the mother of all headaches pounding behind his temples. He turned the stereo down a bit. To hear Sam, not because I have a hangover at all.

"Charlie called, remember him? He and dad used to hunt together sometimes." Sam turned the stereo up a tiny bit.

"I haven't seen him since that last hunt with dad," Dean said a little nervously. He turned the stereo back down.

"That's the one when…" Sam turned the stereo up.

"Yeah, demon got him, lost his sight and his leg, yeah. Dad blamed himself, I blame myself, Charlie never said anything at all," Dean said. He turned the stereo down.

"I remember. Anyway, he said there is something killing hikers and even skiers and snowshoers in the backcountry. He wants us to check it out. Said he'd appreciate it," Sam said, turning the stereo back up louder than before.

"Maybe it's just a bear or something," Dean said, turning the stereo down again.

"Could be, but no footprints or anything, and Dean? Bears are usually napping at this time of the year, remember?" Sam smiled and turned the stereo back up.

"Remember from where Sam? The three bears only sleep in their beds." He turned the stereo down.

"Wild Kingdom? Didn't they do a show on bears once?" Sam eased the stereo up again.

"I only watched that to see if that one guy ever got eaten—you know 'while I stand here Jim will wrestle that killer crocodile that has already consumed fifteen natives'." Dean said with a smile, turning the stereo down.

"Oh, yeah I remember, but bears sleep at this time of year, trust me on that, Dean" Sam said, he turned the stereo back up, even louder than it had been.

Dean stabbed a finger towards the stereo and nearly broke it when he turned it off, a little more violently than he had planned. "So tell me more about the hunt." He looked over at his brother, Sam was grinning at him. "Shut up, Sammy."

"So we are meeting Charlie and a friend of his up the road here. His friend will take us up to the line shack we can use as a base, it's in the general area of most of the attacks," Sam said. He was still smiling, although he looked a little nervous, maybe even a little worried.

"What?"I am getting suspicious. He's not telling me something. What, Sam?

"Nothing, Dean."

Dean leaned his aching head back against the seat, cracking the window a little to let the cold air wash over his face. He was listening to his brother humming softly, a much more soothing sound than Black Sabbath. Not that I would ever tell him that.The melody started forming into words in his head. He started silently singing along until it hit him. "Dude, are you humming Rocky Mountain High? John Denver?" he said with mock horror.

"Uh, maybe, hadn't really thought about it," Sam said, looking over at him.

"What is it, Sam? You might as well tell me now, it can't possibly be worse than hearing you humming John Denver," Dean said.

"Does it worry you that you were humming along with me?"

"What? No I wasn't. Come on, tell me. You nearly made me hum along with John Denver, how much worse can it get?"

"Hey, here's Charlie's place," Sam said, changing the subject as he pulled through a gate in a log fence. He maneuvered up the winding gravel road. "Doesn't look like our ride is here yet. There's Charlie," he said pointing at man on the top step of the cabin.

He parked the car in front of the cabin and they got out, grabbing backpacks and the weapon bag Sam had packed the night before while Dean was out. They walked up to the man standing waiting at the cabin door. Dean hung back a little behind Sam.

"Hi, boys," Charlie said, grinning and holding out his hand so he could grab Sam's hand in a hearty handshake. "It's great to see the two of you," he held out his hand for Dean's hand as well. "Sorry about your dad, I still miss him." He ushered them inside. "Bill isn't here yet, so come in and have a little coffee before you take off."

"Aspirin? You have any aspirin, Charlie?" Dean said pulling his sunglasses of in the relatively darker cabin.

Charlie glanced over with his sightless eyes and laughed. "Like that is it?" He left the room and was back a minute later with two cups, small wisps of steam rising off the coffee. He also had a slightly brown-tinged glass of water in his hand. "Sorry, lots of iron in the water up here." He handed a cup of coffee and the glass to Dean and pulled a pack of alka seltzer out of his shirt pocket.

"Thanks," Dean said, dropping the tablets in the water and watching them dissolve. There was a little layer of sediment floating at the top of the glass. Dean drank it in one gulp and belched.

Sam sat down with the other cup of coffee in his hands. "Can you tell us anymore? Have there been more attacks?'

"Not since I called you," Charlie said. "Last ones we found were a couple of early-season skiers, heading out into the backcountry. When they were overdue their friends called, Bill headed out and found them, well sort of, skis covered in blood, one of them must have been dragged off, saw the track of the body, that's all."

"Nice, and you think it's not natural?" Dean said, already feeling a little relief from the alka seltzer. Head still hurts, but it's better. But that water? Gross. Coffee covers the taste though. He paused, he could hear something, but couldn't quite identify the sound yet, it was mostly just the pounding against his headache.

"No, I definitely think it is not natural," Charlie said. "Why I called you boys, it reminds me of a case your dad went out on a couple of years ago. Up Montana way."

"Yeah," Dean said. That was a fun hunt. Really fun—best part? The night we were attacked by whatever it was and I was nearly mauled, if it hadn't been for dad's quick thinking neither one of us would have made it out. The sound was getting closer.

"Dean?" His brother was looking at him, the little frown of concern on his face. He knew something was bothering Dean.

"Nothing," he said, cocking his head listening to the approaching sound. It got closer and closer then the sound was reduced. Suddenly it made sense. He got up and looked out the window. His heart stopped.

"Rides here," Charlie said with a smile.

"No, no. Hell no, Sam," Dean said, his mouth was dry, he was starting to panic. Calm, I need to be calm, breathing easy. See how calm I am, Sammy? I wonder if I can get to the car before he can grab me.

"Let's go," Sam said grabbing his backpack and the weapons bag. "Dean?"

"No, no way," he said. That didn't sound very calm. Breathe. "Let's drive, we can drive." I might sound a little hysterical.

"There are no roads, Dean. This is the only way in, this or walk," Sam said, grabbing his elbow and pulling him out the door. "And the last time we walked into a hunt it went so well."

"No, Sam, come on, please." Calm, breathe, in through the nose out through the mouth. Calm, see I'm calm. Please, Sam, please no. Oh god, Sammy. Why didn't you tell me? Sam practically dragged him down the steps, pushing Dean's head down so the blades of the helicopter didn't decapitate him.Although that might be preferable, at least then I wouldn't have to do this. I swear if I live through this he's dead. I'm going to kill him for not mentioning this. Dead. Hear me, Sammy?

"It'll be fun Dean," his brother said wrenching the door open and pushing Dean up onto the seat. "People pay a lot of money to do this."

"Then let them go, I'll walk," he said trying to hop out. Sam jumped onto the seat beside him and closed the door. Oh god, I can look right through the floor to the ground. That will make this so much more fun. Not panicking, see how calm I am? See Sammy? Not screaming, see? At least not yet. Sam handed him a set of headphones with a mic on them. Sam already had a set on.

"Hi, I'm Bill," the pilot said turning around. "Ready to go?" The blades started turning faster.

Breathing, calm, very calm, see how calm I am? Here we go, oh nice I can watch as we plummet back to the ground, this is great. I remember reading once that helicopters really shouldn't fly, there is no reason they should. And the pilot, he looks like he's barely in control. We're going to die. How far is it? Why can't we walk? I wonder if I can get out here and drop on that tree and then walk in? I don't think the fall would kill me. Maybe it would, that would be better than this.

"Dean, you ok?" Sam said.

Dean nodded without speaking. If I don't open my mouth maybe that coffee will stay down. I don't feel all that good, probably the hangover and the coffee. I wonder how hard my heart is going to pound before this ends? We're going to die. I can't breathe, getting dizzy. Oh, this is not fun. What was that? Did we just hit a tree, I swear we hit a tree. Oh, god we're going to die out here in the middle of the snowy wildness. He tried to calm his breathing, he knew he was starting to hyperventilate. He closed his eyes, swallowing. A hand closed over his arm.

"It won't be long, Dean, just hum, remember?" Sam said gently. "I thought it would be easier if I didn't tell you, that way you wouldn't panic until he got there."

"Thanks, Sammy," he said trying to smile at his brother. "I'm ok, this isn't bad at all." Compared to having my leg gnawed off by rabid mice over several days, not bad at all. Oh, I think the wind is coming up. That coffee is making me sick to my stomach. I will not vomit, I will not vomit, I will not vomit, I will not…He swallowed hard. Not screaming, Sam, see how calm I am? Oh, god the ground is getting closer, we're going to crash. His breathing got even faster, he was starting to see spots in front of his eyes.We're going to crash, we're going to crash! The helicopter settled gently to the ground. He grinned at Sam. "Don't know why you were worried, see, not bad at all."

Sam looked at him with his eyebrows up. "Right, Dean, I don't know why I get worked up that way."

"Call me when you are ready to come back, there's a radio in the shack, all set for you, don't mess with it and you'll be fine," Bill said.

"Thanks," Sam slid out the door.

Dean followed, his knees were a little weak when his feet his solid ground. He stumbled. Sam had a hand under his elbow just long enough to steady him, and then pulled it away. "Thanks, Sammy," he said. They stepped away and the copter lifted off.

They headed across the snow toward the tiny cabin. The small building was standing in a circle of fir trees, branches weighted down with snow. The breeze took the snow off the trees in small puffs of smoke, curling around the cabin, swirling through the air in sparkling whirlwinds.

Dean opened the door, a single cot stood against the wall farthest from the door. There was a small fireplace. Wood was stacked against one wall. There were cupboards on their right and just to the left of the door, a small table with two rather rickety wooden chairs just to the right as they went it. Dean tossed his pack on the table. "Nice, Sam, really luxurious." Man, I'm still a little sick from that flight. I need to get over that some day. Dizziness is never fun.

"We won't be here long Dean." Sam pulled a map out of his pack. "Charlie said three of the attacks were here," he indicated a spot about a mile from the cabin. "Let's head out that way, and see what there is to see."

"Did your research turn anything up?" Dean said. See Sam, I paid attention to what you were doing last night before that waitress showed up.

"Not really, I think it might be a skinwalker, or maybe a were-creature. Charlie thought that's what it might be too, although wendigo does come to mind."

"Were-creature sounds fun, not a wolf?"

"Charlie said it seemed too big to be that, maybe a werebear. They have been seen in this part of the country. Moon phase is right, too"

"Silver bullets, rock salt, regular bullets, knife," Dean was pulling items out of the weapons bag. "You think I'll need a machete?"

"Sometimes I think you enjoy all this too much, Dean," Sam said rolling his eyes.

"Killing evil things Sammy, it's what it's all about," he said giving the machete a little practice swing. The room suddenly did a flip-flop. He stopped, blinking suddenly blurry eyes, trying to bring the room back into focus.

"You ok?" Sam said, concern on his face.

"Just hungover," he said with a smile. That was strange, never had that happen with a hangover before, but never had a hangover and a copter ride on the same day. He blinked again, trying to clear his blurry vision. Oh, this is getting fun.

"You sure?"

"Yeah, fine. Let's go, it looks like it might snow or something, it's getting cloudy," he said, walking out the door. "A mile you say?"

"Yeah, there's a clearing up there, Charlie said it was a popular stopping place on the trail," Sam said, catching up with him.

They walked through the snow. Gray clouds were beginning to catch on the mountain peak that towered over the valley they were walking through. The air smelled fresh. Dean was a little out of breath. Must be the altitude. He kept up a steady pace, matching his brother's long strides as they headed towards the clearing. He could see it now, a break in the trees, part of the mountain protruded over the clearing creating an area of very little snow. Dean blinked as everything went out of focus, his footsteps faltered.

"Dean?" Sam stopped and looked at him, frowning.

"I'm ok, Sammy," he said, starting out again. He stepped off the snow onto gravel under the outcropping, he took a breath to steady his pounding heart and to calm the dizziness spinning around him like a small tornado. Without warning his legs went out from under him. He hit the ground hard.

"Dean!" his brother dropped to his knees beside him, Sam pulled him into a sitting position, one hand on his back, holding him up.

Dean blinked, trying to focus on Sam, Well, actually trying to decide which of three Sammys I should focus on."What happened?"

"You collapsed," Sam said, worry very apparent in his voice.

"No I didn't, I tripped," he said, deciding to focus on the middle Sam.

"No, Dean, you just dropped, what's wrong?" Sam said, putting a hand on his forehead. Dean batted it away. The movement made him dizzier and he grabbed at Sam's hand to steady himself. Sam picked up his wrist, counting the pulse against his watch. "Fast, too fast, I think, Dean. What's wrong?" he repeated.

"Nothing, Sam, I'm fine," he pushed himself up, and promptly dropped back down. "I might be a little dizzy, stupid hangover."

"This doesn't seem like a hangover, Dean. You've had a few, does this feel like one?"

"Not really," he said swallowing the nausea that had suddenly formed as his three brothers wavered in front of his eyes. "Huh."

"What?" Sam said, Dean heard the "staying calm, Dean, not panicking but you know you're missing an arm" voice.

"My hands are a little tingly, too," he said, blinking at Sam, his vision was no longer coming back into focus after each blink.

"Let's go back to the cabin and call Bill to come get us, we need to get you checked out," Sam said, pulling Dean to his feet.

Dean took a breath to protest, but settled for grabbing onto Sam as the whole world tilted. "Good idea, Sam." He leaned against Sam, waiting for the earth to spin back on the right axis. Sam patiently put an arm over his shoulders, steadying him. "Thanks," he swallowed again, blinking. "You're all fuzzy, Sammy."

"Let's go Dean," Sam said, picking up Dean's shotgun. He put an arm around Dean's waist and steered him towards the trail.

The wind had started coming up, tiny particles of ice were hitting Dean's face like small needles, the wind taking his breath away. This just gets better and better. My vision is blurry, hands tingly, legs not working. What the hell happened?

"You ok?" Sam said quietly.

"Sure, Sam, great," he said. His voice sounded thick to him, not quite on-key. His brother looked over at him, concern etching his face with lines of worry. "I'm ok." He realized he was leaning heavily on Sam as they walked. "Why do you suppose the trail leads straight into the wind?"

"They always do, Dean. Like how dad always had to walk to school in the driving snow, uphill both ways," he said with a little laugh.

"Yeah, he was always a bit dramatic about that," Dean said, trying to focus, trying to keep his now achingly heavy legs moving. He heard something, something that sounded like a "whumph" of air pushed out of the lungs of a large animal. He turned his blurry eyes to find the sound, and saw a large mound of snow moving towards them. "What's that?"

Sam looked over, he swung the shotgun up and fired, the mound of snow slowed for an instant and then came at them again. Sam fired again. Still it came. Dean could see it a little better, he had the impression of a large beast, teeth bared, baring down on them. Sam had dropped the double-barreled gun and grabbed the other, firing several shots in succession. The animal stopped briefly, scenting the air and then moved again, this time coming fast, very fast. It hit them hard, knocking Sam off his feet and taking a swipe at Dean. It connected with Dean's upper back and neck, the claws tearing flesh away. Before Sam could get up and fire off another shot the thing had Dean, and was dragging through the snow.

"DEAN!" Sam yelled. Thank god, you're not dead, Sammy.

Dean tried to struggle free, it had his arm in its mouth. He could smell his own blood over the fetid breath of the animal. Ok, I may not know as much as Sam, but I know polar bears don't belong here, and this is definitely a polar bear. They look cuter on Coke commercials. This isn't fun. I wonder if my arm is broken or just bleeding? He was dizzy, trying to focus his mind, trying to focus his blurry eyes. I need to get out of here so I can get back to Sam. I wonder why it grabbed me? It stopped and scented the air and then came right for me. Does it have something to do with why I am sick? I wonder if I can reach…?

He managed to get his free arm up and got his hand around the gun in the holster under his arm. He pulled it out, took a steadying breath and fired the gun directly into the bear. It dropped him and turned, growling, furious. It swiped at him, he felt the claws connect, but fired again and again, emptying the clip. Finally the bear turned, limping and ran into the trees. So which way back to the cabin? How far did it drag me? Sam? Where are you? He forced himself up onto weak legs, the world was spinning, the world was blurry.He turned his face into the wind and tried to force his way back to the trail.

Dean walked on, through the snow covering the ground, fighting the wind full of the stinging ice crystals. One step after another. The wounds on his back, on his arm, on his head were bleeding, he could feel the warmth of the blood flowing down his body and then cooling into rivers of ice. I wonder how bad it is? I don't hurt all that much, so it is either not bad at all, or serious. He stumbled a little on a large branch he hadn't seen, jarring his wounded body. I'm thinking pretty serious.He was dizzy, sleepy. Can't go to sleep, sleeping out in the snow is a great way to die. You get sleepy, feel warm and then fall asleep. Just lay down and die, not a good idea.

What was that bear doing here? Why did it grab me and not Sam? You'd think it would go for the guy shooting at it. I'm glad it didn't, but it seems odd. Sam? Where are you? He felt warm, fighting the wave of sleepiness, he forced himself onward. What is wrong with me, if I didn't know better I'd say I'd been poisoned, but how? Someone at the bar? I wonder how far it is back to the cabin? Stay awake, Dean, come on. You have to keep going. Sam? Are you out there? How long have I been walking? The world was rapidly becoming patches of shadow and light, twilight seemed to be fast approaching. I think the sun is already going down. He tried to focus on his watch, he blinked his blurry eyes, trying to make the dial out. Then cold, horrifying reality hit him hard. Oh, god, no. He forced himself on, keeping his face in the wind, hoping it would lead him back. Sun's not going down at all, is it? He kept walking.

Suddenly there was snow on his face. The ground was hard under his chest, his body pinning the wounded arm under him. He pushed himself over, looking up at the rapidly darkening world around him. His blood was flowing warm into the snow, steaming a little, before cooling in bright pools of crimson around him. The wave of sleep reached up and pulled him down into comfortable warmth. He closed his eyes.

Sam? Where are you? Can you see me?

Sam, I'm sleepy.

Sorry, Sammy. I'm sorry.

To Be Continued