I don't own anything. Probably takes place sometime during in season two… Enjoy!

Stupid Yeti

He couldn't fucking believe the mess he was in!

Face down in the snow; feeling his extremities slowly start to tingle with the onset of frostbite, his blood seeping into the snow under him. The wound wasn't serious; not really, he's had worse, (heck, he's been dead and dead is (almost) always worse).

And the Yeti, well the thing was lying beside him, pretty dead, and not at all pretty looking, or smelling for that matter. Dean didn't know if the things had a faster rate of decomposition then your average monster (that fell to Sam to find out—research) but the thing sure didn't smell that bad when it was on top of him, right before he put a dagger in it and heaved it off of him; or maybe it did… Didn't he say something to it about needing a breath mint or a shower or something?

Not that any of that mattered right now; trying to move a little further away from the dead monster—it was the cold that worried him. A Yeti, really? A god damned freaking Yeti would be the one who would finally take out Dean Winchester? Dean growled low in his throat and tried, again, to get to his feet, the problem was he couldn't feel his feet, the left one was tingling and the right—Dean really didn't want to think about the state of right side; to say it was a little bit of a mess would be putting it mildly.

With great reluctance he placed both hands on the deceased Yeti and used it as leverage to attempt to stand, balancing precariously on one foot he half hopped half limped around the beast to pull his silver blade out; wiping the excess blood on the dagger off he set his gaze determinedly on an out cropping of boulders probably two football fields away.

Fumbling he took out his phone—there was zero reception ten minutes ago but things could change right, something good could happen, right? Dean snorted, as he stuck the phone back into his pocket, "good my butt, when things get bad they can only get worse" he grumbled as he started on his journey. He knew he Sam was at least a half hour away but he had to do something, couldn't just sit on his ass in the snow and bleed out!

"Stupid Yeti" Dean groused as he set off—the sudden petulant urge to kick the dead thing that had gotten him into this situation came over him but as he only had the one good leg it probably wouldn't be a good idea.

He told Sam this hunt was stupid, stupid hunt, stupid Yeti, stupid hikers going up into the middle of nowhere and getting themselves killed, and in the freaking winter no less! Who in their right mind would actually chose to traipse around in the snow? "Crazy people" Dean muttered, taking his phone out again, more out of habit then actually expecting to see any bars, and—still nothing.

The impulse was to smash his stupid phone into the stupid snow but with the only one leg thing that was still going on he just put it back in his pocket, albeit in an angry manner. And where the hell was Sam, it's been at least, Dean looked at his watch, it had been a grand total of four minutes; four minutes! Really? And he had gotten a grand total of ten feet from the smelly beast he had killed 14 minutes ago.

"SAM!" Dean shouted, "Sam!" Nothing. Wasn't it always that way? Little brother trails happily along behind you your whole life and the one time you need him to carry your ass out of the snow and into someplace warm, with blankets, and a burger—Mmmm burger—and he was on the other side of a mountain!

The 'plan' had been to spilt up and converge on the thing from two directions, confuse it, (Yeti's weren't the smartest monsters) and kill it. But the beast wasn't where it was supposed to be and instead of them sneaking up on it, it has sunk up on them (Them meaning Dean). So as Sam was happily making his way along the thing had been trying to eat him.

Exhausted, Dean leaned up against a boulder. Wait… a what? His head whipped around and he couldn't see the dead Yeti anymore or smell it for that matter. He tried to fist bump the air but for some reason his arm wouldn't work. Shrugging (although that didn't really work right either) Dean sank into the snow, his back leaning on the boulder and thought maybe he'd just close his eyes and wait for Sammy to find him.

"Dean!"

The next thing he knew there was a fly, and it was saying his name. Why there was a fly saying his name he didn't know; all he wanted to do was go back to sleep but something kept shaking him and that stupid fly kept buzzing his name…

"Dean! Dean, I need you to wake up! Dean! Open your eyes! Dean!"

Slowly, because they must have each weighed at least as much as the Yeti he killed (how long ago he didn't know) Dean opened his eyes, 'maybe it will make the shaking stop and I can go back to sleep' he thought; and there, hovering in front of him was Sam.

"Sam" he said "Go back to sleep" and promptly did as he advised.

The next thing he knew he was waking up and it was warm, he smiled blissfully and turned to his right side to go back to sleep but a shooting pain came and throbbed and he groaned.

Hearing a door open he looked toward it; "Sammy? What happened?" Dean muddled blearily. Trying to push him self up Sam quickly came to his side to help.

"You tell me Dean. I found you on the side of the mountain half freezing half bleeding and a dead Yeti lying in the snow some 200 yards away. What happened?"

"I killed it after it tried to eat me" Dean said with a sleepy grin gazing at his brother through still sleep-muddled eyes. Sam smiled and shook his head, back; a hint a relief in his eye but Dean didn't see it.

Sam handed him the glass of water resting on the nightstand.

"Sam? A straw? What am I five? Dean questioned petulantly before drinking (through the straw).

Sam just smirked a bit, "You said me not me" he retorted be to which Dean glared and drank and when he was done Sam was there to take the glass (to be refilled later) and set it back on the nightstand. "Now go back to sleep" Sam said, in a voice that left no room for argument "but stay off your right side, I stitched you up and your not going to be passed out if I have to do it again"

A couple of days later Sam had finally deemed him fit for travel but he had refused to let him drive.

"Aw, come on Sammy, what are you afraid I'm going to fall asleep at the wheel?"

"You can barely keep your eyes open for a straight hour Dean; ever since I princess carried you—"

"Wh-what" Dean sputtered, "Whoa, whoa, wait a minute Sam, what exactly do you mean 'princess carry'."

Sam just smirked as Dean struggled to defend him self.

"Dude, I fought off a freaking Yeti! By myself!" Dean said indigently as they got in the car, Sam in the drivers seat; Sam turned the key in the ignition and the music came on. Dean looked over at him, a look of pure horror crossing over his face, Sam just grinned and said "driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cake hole,"

Dean grumbled "stupid Yeti".