A/N WOW! There were so many wonderful reviews for this story so early on that I absolutely HAD to post the next chapter quickly. So, as soon as I got home from the gym, I sat down and wrote this. I hope it lives up to everyone's standards! I'm sorry I don't have time to proof read it as closely as I usually do but I will make any necessary corrections on my lunch tomorrow - for now, I must go to bed. -snore- Anyway, my apologies in advance for any errors. Please R&R...

Previously on Supernatural - Can't Get Home:

Dean nodded reluctantly as his father knelt down beside him and placed both hands on the creature lying on top of him. He could feel the boulder digging into his lower back and his stomach felt like it was on fire, but he obeyed his father's instructions and remained still - gritting his teeth against the pain..

"Okay. On three," John told him. "One." The older hunter arranged his hands so that one was on the thing's shoulder and the other on its hip. "Two." Both father and son tensed. "Three." John heaved the Sasquatch off Dean's legs, only to be rewarded by a scream of agony from his eldest son.

John's attention was riveted to his son. "What? What is it?"

"My leg," Dean almost whimpered.

The older Winchester looked down at the leg Dean was grasping desperately at and quickly noticed it was bent at an unnatural angle at the knee. Dear God! John moved closer to his eldest, taking his hand in his own, partially to stop him from grabbing his knee and partially to offer some semblance of support. The weight of the creature being lifted off Dean made the excruciating pain of the injury instantly noticeable for his boy. "Don't touch it, Dean. Oh, son, I'm so sorry." Dean's head was tossing back and forth, the sweat pouring off him, as he continued to try and grab his leg - he wasn't focussing on his father at all. John put a hand on either side of his son's face, forcing him to be still. "Dean." No reaction. "Dean!" This time, Dean finally registered his father's presence... just barely but enough. "Son, you have to leave it alone until I set it." Dean's eyes widened in fear at John's words. Then the fear was quickly replaced by grim determination as he nodded weakly in acceptance. "That's my boy," John said proudly. "Wait here, okay? I'll be right back." Again, Dean nodded but the older of the two could see that his son's eyes were drooping. "Stay awake, Dean." He tapped one side of Dean's face when his eyes closed completely. "Dean!" When the green orbs opened again in response to John's marine-voice, the older man continued in the same tone. "You need to stay awake, Dean. Got it?"

"Yes sir," Dean mumbled, but he kept his eyes open - though he was unable to hide the weariness in them.

John stood and with one glance back to his son, he went in search of something to use for a splint. Once he found a branch which was both long enough and thick enough, he made his way back to Dean. Who, despite the pain, had kept his promise to his dad and remained awake. As an after thought, John grabbed a smaller branch from the ground and wiped it on his jeans, just before taking the final steps to his son's side and kneeling down next to him.

"Okay, Dean," he began, holding out the smaller branch. "I'm gonna have to set your leg, so, I need you to bite down on this so you don't bite your tongue instead, okay, sport?" After Dean gave a quick nod, John inserted the branch sideways in his son's mouth, between his front teeth. "Ready?" The younger hunter bit down on the branch as response. "Okay. On three. One." John put a hand on either side of his boy's knee. "Two." He felt Dean tense. Then, without another word, John simultaneously pushed and pulled on the bone to set it back in place. A gut wrenching scream tore out of the eighteen year old, after which, he promptly passed out.

Sam jolted awake with his big brother's name on his lips. Dean! Oh God! What happened to you? His brother was in a lot of pain, that much he knew for sure - he didn't know how he knew, he just knew. What he didn't know was what had happened! He could feel the tears burning behind his eyes but fought them back, not willing to let them fall for fear that that would make everything real… that it would mean his father and brother weren't coming home. Besides, Dean would want him to be strong!

A loud pounding on the door brought Sam out of his reverie. He glanced at the clock - 1:45am. Bobby couldn't have made it here yet, he'd just spoken with him a couple hours ago. But, who else could it be. Deciding that it had to be the man he had adopted as an honorary 'uncle', Sam threw back the single blanket that was covering him on the sofa and ran for the door. He pulled open the barrier between himself and the freezing temperatures and was met with someone who was most definitely not Uncle Bobby!

John placed a hand on the side of Dean's face and was unnerved at the heat emanating off him. He glanced up at the now dark sky and noticed for the first time that the snow was coming down much heavier now. They had to find shelter and quick. He had already set his son's leg and now had to wrap the wounds created by the creature's claws. One good thing about the cold was that it slowed down the bleeding. John grabbed the med kit out of his backpack and pulled out the gauze strips inside, praying that it would be enough to wrap Dean's abdomen to effectively staunch the rest of the blood flow until he could get him to shelter and stitch him up. John removed Dean's jacket and pulled his shirt up to reveal the huge gashes left behind by the now dead Sasquatch. He gently pulled his still unconscious teenage son forward until his cheek was resting on John's shoulder, then wrapped the gauze around his midsection as many times as the length would allow, leaving a few inches free to tie both ends into a knot. Once that task was complete, John lowered Dean's shirt, pulled the jacket up his son's arms once again and then zipped it shut.

Gazing at their surroundings, he tried to figure out which direction to head in. East would lead them back to the cabin and, more importantly, Sam. But John was pretty sure there was no shelter between said cabin and their current location, and it was too long of a walk this time of night, especially considering the condition Dean was in.

He pulled a map out of the inside pocket of his coat and quickly skimmed over it, doing his best to shield the paper from the falling snow. He saw what could be a rock formation, judging by the altitude showing on the map, but they would have to traverse a river to get to it. Unfortunately, it looked like the only feasible option, right now. He ran his finger along the depiction of the river and saw a symbol indicating a bridge of some sort a couple klicks further south. So, they would find the river first, follow it south for about two kilometres, cross the bridge and pray that what he saw on the map was indeed a rock formation and that it had some sort of shelter - a cave would be perfect… well, an uninhabited cave, that is. The last thing they needed was an encounter with a grizzly, or even worse, another Sasquatch.

Just when John was thinking he was going to have to carry his son to safety, the young man began to stir. "Dean? Can you hear me, son?"

"Dad?" The word was slurred but recognizable, just the same.

"Yeah, kiddo, it's me. We need to find shelter. Can you walk?"

Dean gave him a glare that clearly said 'Of course, I can walk!'

John held up his hands in a conciliatory gesture. "Okay, okay. Can't blame me for checking."

"Yeah, I can," his son told him, throwing in his trademark grin for good measure, though it was mixed with a grimace of pain as he tried to move.

The older hunter smiled back, then helped the teen to his feet, looping his left arm around Dean's waist and holding his son's right arm over his shoulders by grasping the wrist in his other hand. "Ready?"

"To get outta this snow? Definitely! Which way is the cabin?"

"We're not going back to the cabin, sport."

"What? Dad, we can't leave Sammy alone all night!"

"We don't have a choice, Dean. There's no way we'll make it back in these temperatures with your injuries."

"Go without me, then."

"What?"

"You heard me. Get back to Sammy. Then come back for me in the morning."

"Are you crazy?"

"It's been rumoured... Look, dad, I'm serious. Sam'll freak if at least one of us doesn't come home tonight."

"He'll freak out even more if I come home without you! Besides, I am not leaving you here."

"Dad --!"

"End of discussion, Dean."

The younger Winchester glared at his father but acquiesced nonetheless.

It was slow going but they managed to make their way through the forest and found themselves at the edge of the ice-covered river about half an hour later. Eventually, Dean's anger died down to a simmer and he tried his best to make light of the situation to get his mind off the pain… not to mention, Sammy. Man, he must be so scared!

"Now what?" Dean asked his father. "Cuz, you know, walking I can do. Skating? Not so much."

John chuckled. "We'd probably fall right through, anyway."

"Well, I don't know about you but, when I was a kid I had no future aspirations to become a popsicle when I grew up."

"Listen, smartass, there's a bridge about two klicks downriver. You think we could head down there? Or would you rather stay here and try out your comedy act on the frozen fish?"

"No, no, I'm good. I already know I'm funny. Don't need Cap'n Highliner's friends to tell me."

John shook his head as they made their way down river. It would never cease to amaze him how much Dean managed to hide with a little bit of humour. If John didn't know his son so well, he might not know that the teen was in the worst pain imaginable. But, he did know his son. He also knew that the charade would only last so long before more and more pain started to seep through the exterior mask and make itself known to the outside world. As it was, John could feel the shivers coursing through his son's body becoming more and more prominent with each passing minute.

After walking approximately two kilometres, Dean looked up at his father. "Didn't you say something about a bridge?" he asked, through panted breaths.

John released Dean's wrist but kept his arm around his waist, as he pulled the map out again. "It should be right here." He looked further down the river, then back the way they came, Dean wincing as he was inadvertently forced to turn along with him. "It should be right here, dammit!" The older Winchester took several long, deep breaths to calm himself. Then, he glanced at the river, trying to judge how wide it was and whether or not the ice would hold them. Seeing no other option, he made his decision. "Okay, son, looks like you're gonna have to try your hand at skating, after all."

"Seriously? Dad, you know hockey was never my sport for a reason, right?"

"I know," John sighed. "But, look at it this way, you'll be skating in your boots as opposed to being on top of two thin blades of metal."

"Not much of a consolation prize, dad."

With that, both men started across the river. John wished they could go single file with a few feet in between them so there'd be a better chance of the ice not breaking, but Dean still needed his support to walk. As if reading his mind, Dean looked up at his father and said, "Dad, why don't you go ahead? I'll lie down on the ice and pull myself along."

"What," John asked, his second incredulous reply of the evening.

"It's probably safer for both of us that way. Then, when you get across, you can reach out and pull me the rest of the way."

"Dean -- "

"Dad, go," Dean insisted, pulling his wrist free of his father's hand and removing his arm from his shoulders. With John's reluctant assistance, Dean laid down on the ice. After John took a couple steps away, he turned concerned eyes on his son. The teen seemed to actually be doing okay. It was certainly a more comfortable position for his knee.

John made it to the other side within just a few moments. He immediately turned and crouched down on the riverbank to reach his arm out to his eldest son who was only a few feet away, now. A loud cracking noise filled the air and Dean stopped his progress instantly. He turned wide eyes to his father and saw his fear reflected back at him.

"Okay, Dean, just stay there. I'm gonna come get you."

But the younger hunter held up his hand. "No, dad, it won't hold the both of us."

John looked at the ice and realized his son was right. If he tried to get to him, he would essentially be signing his son's death warrant. A branch. He needed a branch for Dean to grab onto. "Stay there. I'll be right back." John got up to leave, then turned back and said more urgently, "Don't move."

"Got nowhere to be right now, anyway," Dean replied, trying desperately to sound nonchalant instead of completely terrified - because he wasn't terrified. Dean Winchester didn't get terrified. Not a chance. No way. "Uh, dad, ya' think you could hurry it up a bit," he said, attributing the quiver in his voice to the cold ice pressed against his skin.

Another CRACK filled the air only seconds after John had moved from the riverbank. This one was different because, for one thing, it was much louder than the first. But it was different for another, much more important reason - it was accompanied by a loud cry of the word "Dad!"

John spun around to face the river once again. Oh, dear God, no! Dean was gone!

TBC

A/N There will be more Sammy in the next chapter, I promise! Hope you liked this one anyway, though. - Kelcor