Behind the Wall of Sleep

Chapter Two

Chill and numbs from head to toe
Icy sun with frosty glow

It was cold, the wind slicing into open wounds like the claws of the bear. There was something feather-soft gently falling on his face. The tiny puffs of cold melted and ran down his cheeks like tears. Dean wiped the snowflakes away with an icy hand. He felt oddly warm, sleepy, the ground unyielding and yet soft beneath his injured body. Hmm, might be a little delirious. Tremors were moving through his body. I shouldn't feel warm, I think I am in bad shape, what happened? The memory of the bear dragging him through the snow slid obediently into his awareness. Right, polar bear. Where am I? If I stay here I'm dead.

He tried to sit up, and dropped back down, the fall jarring the wounds on his back. That's not going to work. He managed to turn over and pushed himself onto his hands and knees. He shifted around, trying to get his bearings. The snow was silencing the world around him, the flakes taking away any sound except the soft hiss as they fell onto the frozen ground. He could feel the wind blowing on his face. Head into the wind, that's the way we were going. Into the wind. As long as I can feel it, I can't get lost. The snow was hitting him hard now that he was trying to move into the wind, driving tiny particles of ice into his face like little nails. Might as well close my eyes. Oh, god. He forced himself on. Sam? You out there somewhere?

The storm was getting worse. He could hear the wind picking up. He kept going forwards. He ran into something hard. Reaching out a hand he felt his way around the tree trunk and then kept moving. All we need is a storm. I wonder if the polar bear is dead? I dumped the whole clip into it. Where did it come from anyway? Sam will know. Uh, Sammy? Might need to find me soon

How far is it to the cabin? How far can I go before I collapse? He stumbled a little, coordination getting harder and harder. I'm in trouble. Sam? The dizziness was getting worse and his hands were tingling almost continually, like pins and needles, but never ending. He was shivering violently, the tremors making it hard to keep moving. I wonder if that's from the cold or the other? Pretty sure I was poisoned, but how?

He stumbled again, going down hard on his left shoulder. He got his hand back under him and forced himself forwards. I feel weird. Hypothermia? How bad? The warm sensation could be bad. He stopped, picked his right hand up and tried to touch his thumb to his little finger, on the third attempt he gave up. That's bad, I'm moving into stage two hypothermia. If Sam doesn't find me soon I'm dead.

He kept moving, knowing he was stumbling, feeling each forward movement getting slower and slower. He put his hand down and the ground dropped out from under him. He was falling, dropping endlessly down until he landed against something hard and all sensation, warm, cold, pain, was gone.

XXX

Earlier

The wind was blowing and it had started to snow, tiny flakes twisting on the wind. It was also getting colder, the wind cutting into Sam's hands, into his face. Where Dean was leaning against him it was warm, but the fact that his brother was leaning against him, allowing Sam to help him along, was not comforting. In fact I might be a little freaked. Seeing him collapse like that, then the disorientation, the dizziness. It's not a hangover, Dean, something is seriously wrong. But what? Whatever it was seemed to get worse the closer we got to here, can that have something to do with it?

Dean stumbled, his weight dragging Sam down a little. He paused for a minute, hitching his brother back up and then kept moving. I need to get him back, get Bill back here and get us out. He was watching the storm clouds gathering over the mountain. Massing like great gray birds waiting to swoop down on them. Nice image. Yeah, I might be little freaked to come up with that. I don't think I'll mention it to Dean. He looked down at his brother. Dean looked bad. Sam wasn't sure what he saw there, but he could tell something was seriously wrong.

"What's that?" Dean said suddenly.

Sam glanced in the direction Dean was looking. What the hell? Sam reacted instinctively, bringing the gun up to fire at the charging bear. It slowed with the first shot and then came again, faster than before. He emptied both barrels and dropped the gun, grabbing the other and emptying it as well. Still the bear kept coming. It stopped briefly, scenting the air, then came on again, hitting them with its body and swiping at Dean. Sam saw the claws connect, tearing a bloody swathe out of his brother. The bear grabbed Dean's arm in its mouth and took off.

"DEAN!" he forced himself up and started running after the bear, knowing he couldn't catch it, but following nonetheless. Ok, bears can run at more than twenty-five miles an hour, it's moving away from me how fast? Let see, at top speed I can run, hmm I wonder how fast I can run and then how fast is it moving away from me? Am I doing story problems?"Dean," he shouted again. "I'm coming!"

It came straight for Dean. It should have come for me shouldn't it? I was the one shooting at it. But it went for Dean, why? I wonder if it has something to do with what was wrong with him. Dean? I'm coming, hang on, don't do anything stupid, ok?

He was following the drag marks through the snow, the passage of Dean's body as the bear pulled him away. He'd slowed to a fast walk, trying to keep an eye on the track, watching for the bear to return. Once or twice the track disappeared, narrowing down to nothing more than the smear of blood. No footprints. None at all, just Dean's blood and the track of his body. What's a polar bear doing here? Obviously not a polar bear, an actual bear would have left tracks. Oh, god, that's a lot of blood. Dean, hang on. The long smear of blood continued through the snow ahead of him.

Sam stopped when he heard gunshots. He counted. That's the whole clip. Didn't I just say something about not doing anything stupid? He heard the bear roaring and something large moving down through the trees to his left. Sam turned in the direction of the shots and started running again. The ground sloped up from where he was, he forced himself up, the cold wind burning his lungs. How long ago was that? How far away was he? The snow was pulling at his feet, slowing him down, he forged on.

He'd been running for an eternity when he saw something ahead of him. No. He ran towards the huge patch of red in the snow. "Dean!" His brother wasn't there. Sam started following the trail of blood that led away from where his brother had obviously fallen. He's crawling, he can't be far ahead of me, he can't. Dean? You idiot, did you forget the when-you're-lost-stay-put rule? How many times did dad beat that into our heads when we were kids? Stay put, that way someone can find you, if you're moving it's harder.

The ground dropped away in front of him, Dean's trail led right to the edge. "Dean!" he shouted at the still form lying at the bottom of the small cliff.How can I get down there? He looked around, to his left there was a slope, steep, but a slope as opposed to an actual cliff. He plunged down, tumbling head over heels at one point. That was smart, I should listen to that not doing anything stupid advice. He pulled himself up and ran towards his brother.

Oh god, Dean. His brother's back was a mass of white and red stripes, the jacket torn away, the wounds sending small rivulets of crimson down Dean's back. There was a huge slash on Dean's neck, running from the back to the front. Oh, god, that looks bad. He turned him over. His brother's lips were blue, standing out against his pale skin. "Dean?" he said, shaking Dean's shoulder a little. He was quickly scanning the total extent of the damage the bear had done.Not good. He's freezing, but it probably saved his life, looking at these wounds, the cold slowed the blood loss. Great, so when he gets warm…One bridge at a time Sam. "Dean? Come on, man."

Dean's eyes fluttered open, they didn't focus on Sam, but they were open. "Sam?"

"Hey, Dean," Sam was running his hands quickly over Dean's arms and legs checking for broken bones. He did the bloody wrist last. Nothing broken, thank god. "Think you can get up?" he said, keeping his voice light.

"Yeah, I think so, help me up," Dean held out the uninjured hand, Sam pulled him carefully to his feet, catching him as his knees buckled. "How far back to the cabin?"

"Not far, you cunningly found a short cut," Sam said, getting an arm around Dean. His brother was shivering violently.

"That's me, cunning. Falling off a cliff is always cunning." Dean said with a smirk. His speech was slurred, almost like he was a little drunk. Sam got them moving, more than half carrying Dean as they headed back towards the cabin.

"Still with me, Dean?" he said when he felt Dean slump a little, when he noticed Dean's stumbling gait become even less coordinated. If I don't get him back soon he's dead. The cold will kill him before the wounds.

"Yep," Dean said. "Where're we going?"

"What? Back to the cabin." Confusion, not good, not good.

"Oh, right, how did you find me in the dark?" Dean asked, sounding confused.

"I followed your trail," Sam said.

Dean stumbled again, Sam wrenched him upright and kept moving on. His brother was getting heavier and heavier as his body started really succumbing to the cold. And whatever was affecting him earlier. "Still there?" he said, glancing at Dean. His brother had his head down.

"Yeah, sure," the words flowing together.

"Stay with me, it's only a little further, I can see the cabin now," Sam said, unconsciously increasing his pace. It was further than he thought, the storm slowing him down to a snail's pace. It took another ten minutes to get there, by then he was dragging his brother forwards with each step. Dean was muttering answers to Sam's continued "still there?", but it was more a sound than a word. Sam opened the door and carried Dean over to the bed, set him down and then turned to close the door.

He grabbed a towel from the cupboards by the door. "We have to get you dried off, Dean, and into something warm, ok?" Now that he was in the cabin and able to get a good look at his brother, he was starting to panic. "Dean, can you touch your thumb to your little finger?"

"What?" Dean glanced at him with the unfocused eyes. "No, tried that awhile ago." He tried again, Sam watched as his fingers refused to do his bidding. "I'm in bad shape, Sammy."

"Not that bad, Dean," Sam said. Do I get him dry or call for help first? Dry, fire, call for help, take care of wounds, at least the cold kept him from bleeding to death. He got his brother into dry clothes and wrapped the old quilt from the bed around him. Dean was shivering violently, the tremors shaking the bed. Sam headed to the fireplace, there was a fire already laid. Thank you to whoever did that. He lit the tinder and coaxed it into a blaze before turning the radio on to warm up. He followed the directions and a couple of minutes later Charlie came on the line.

"I need the helicopter back up here, Dean's hurt."

"Sorry, Sam, but we can't get the bird up in this storm," Charlie's rough voice sounded odd.

"It's not that bad, yet, is it?" Sam said, hearing the panic in his voice. "Dean's in bad shape, the creature attacked us." He glanced over at the bed, Dean was curled up in the fetal position, shivering. Sam could hear his teeth clattering together.

"Did it? Hmm, and he's still alive?"

"Yeah, it dropped him in the snow, he's freezing, I think that saved his life," Sam said. Come on, Charlie, just send the damn helicopter. "But he needs medical attention. The storm isn't that bad…" Because as soon as he's warm he's going to start bleeding, assuming I can get him warm.

"It is down here, Sam, sorry. We'll get to you as soon as we can, but it looks like at least twenty-four hours, maybe more, this looks like a bad one."

"But Dean…"

"Do the best you can, Sam. John taught you boys well, I'm sure you can handle it. Check in and let me know how he's doing," Charlie said.

"Yeah," Sam said, flipping the radio off. He went to the weapon's bag and dragged out their father's very well-used first-aid book.Hypothermia: Treatment: Blankets are not sufficient to treat hypothermia. They help retain body heat, but do not create it. Moderate and severe cases of hypothermia require immediate evacuation and treatment in a hospital. Sam snorted. "Yeah, not happening," he said aloud. Re-warming should occur with attention made to the trunk to minimize the potential for after drop, using warm water bottles or heat packs applied to the neck, armpits, groin and the abdomen. If these are not available, one can consider using skin–to–skin contact, but caution should be taken not to place the rescuer at risk for hypothermia. If the victim is awake, warm, sweet fluids may be given slowly.

Sam checked to make sure there was water in the cast-iron kettle sitting in the fireplace and shoved it further into the flames to warm. He quickly dug around the cabinets and found a couple of small cast-iron skillets and shoved those in the fire as well. The water in the kettle was already steaming. He found several cups and added the water and some honey he found sugaring in one of the cabinets and stirred it in. Sam picked up the mugs in one hand and the two skillets and a towel in the other and sat on the bed next to Dean.

"You still with me?" he said.

"Sm? Whr'm I?"

"At the cabin, Dean, we need to get you a little warmer, what do you think?" he kept his voice light, trying to keep calm for Dean. He's in bad shape.

"K." Dean said.

Sam pulled his brother up and eased the blanket away from him. He slid under the blanket, holding Dean propped against him. He put the towel-wrapped skillets on Dean's chest, holding them in place with one hand and carefully wrapping the blanket around both of them. God he's cold. I have to be careful, warm him too fast and he dies, of course there are those wounds, and whatever was going on before. "Dean, drink this," he held the cup to Dean's mouth and tipped some of the honey water in.

"Sweet," his brother said.

"Yeah, keep drinking if you can, ok?" It was hard to keep the cup still enough for Dean to drink with the shivers wracking his body. Please don't let me kill him with this. Dean obediently sipped the warm liquid, leaning against Sam, shivering. Sam managed to get all the warm liquid into his brother, Dean was still shivering. But he seems to feel a little warmer. The skillets had grown cold. Do I re-warm them? Or stay here? If I stick them in the fire again maybe I can get a look at those wounds. "I'm getting up, ok?"

"Going?"

"Just to warm the skillets up again, ok?" he got up and shoved the skillets back in the fire. He grabbed the first-aid kit and dug through it till he found the sutures. "I'm going to look at those cuts, Dean, see if I can stitch the bad ones while you're numb, how's that sound?"

"Sure," Dean said, Sam could hear confusion in his brother's voice. I'm worried about that, I don't think it's just from the cold.

"What happened with the bear?" he said, trying to distract Dean as he started on the deep gash.

"Bear?" Dean still sounded confused.

"The polar bear?"

"Oh, right, bear. I shot it, emptied the clip into its chest, I think. It dropped me and ran. They're cuter on TV, Sam."

Sam laughed, "Yeah, they are. Bigger in real life," he finished the last stitch. "All done." He carefully bandaged the area, fed the fire and grabbed the skillets and another couple of mugs of the honey water. Hopefully that delay didn't kill him, but I had to take care of those wounds before he bled out. He wrapped them both up in the blanket and started giving Dean the warm liquid again. The shivering was beginning to lessen when Sam pulled the cool skillets away. He wrapped his arms around Dean and pulled his brother tight against him.

"Hugging, Sam?" his brother's voice sounded ironic, confused, disoriented.

"Warming, Dean. You're hypothermic, remember?"

"Sure, Sammy," Dean said, he was quiet for a minute. "Do you think it's safe if I go to sleep for a minute or two?"

Sam put his hand on Dean's stomach, it was still cool, but not cold. "Can you do the thumb thing?" Dean sat up a little and pulled a hand out from under the blanket and haltingly managed to touch his thumb to his little finger. "I think it's ok, Dean, you don't seem too cold now, you're shivering less, too."

"Good, sleepy," Dean let his head drop heavily against Sam's shoulder. "Thanks, Sammy." He was asleep, his breathing even, the shivering diminished to tiny tremors, within a minute.

Sam leaned his head against the wall, listening to his brother's breathing. It sounded a little off to Sam's ears and his heart was pounding under Sam's hands. Hypothermia? Or something else? What's going on? He was in bad shape before the bear grabbed him. Something else then, poison? But how? When? At the bar last night? And what is it? He seemed dizzy, losing coordination. Drugged or poisoned? That could be an important question. Dean shifted, Sam waited until he was settled again before making sure the blanket was tight around them.He's going to give me hell for this later. Dean moved again, restless, in pain, perhaps. Sam put a stilling hand on his brother's forehead, holding him as a tremor tore through Dean's body making him cry out in pain, his body tensing, fighting, then relaxing against Sam again.

"Sam?"

"Yeah, Dean?"

"Don't feel very good," he said, the words thick. Sam heard pain behind them.

"Can you sleep more? It's probably just a reaction to the cold and those wounds."God, I hope that's it. I don't think it is, I think it is something else. We need to get out of here, before whatever it is gets worse, before those wounds get infected.

"Yeah, thanks Sam." Dean shifted a little, getting comfortable. He relaxed a little more against Sam. He's asleep again, good. Sam tightened his arms a little. I have a bad feeling about this, I hope I'm wrong but I have a bad feeling about this. Sam closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep as well.

"Sam?" Dean's voice drew him from his sleep.

"Dean?" he was instantly awake, something about his brother's voice worried him.

"Nothing," Dean said. Sam felt him relax. What was that about? "What time is it Sam, do you know?"

"Hang on," Sam glanced at his watch, the dial glowing faintly in the dark room. "Wow, later than I thought, about 10 p.m." Sam said. "How do you feel?"

Dean took a deep breath. Oh, yeah, Dean, going to try and lie to me and say ok? Don't even try it. "Not good, Sammy."

"Dean?" Sam stopped, he heard something.

"What?"

"Wait," Sam said, listening. Something had rubbed against the outside wall of the cabin. It was dark in the cabin except for the glow from the embers. "I need to get up, Dean," he said softly, knowing Dean would understand. Dean nodded.

Sam slipped across the cabin and threw a couple of logs on the fire, the flames blazing up the fireplace. He grabbed the shotgun and some shells. He didn't know what was out there, but something was. He loaded the gun while he listened, chiding himself for not taking care of that detail when they had first come back Unloaded weapon is no good, Sammy. His father's voice, full of annoyance, played in his head.

He glanced over at Dean, lying limp on the bed. His brother's eyes were open, unfocused. He's listening too. He doesn't look good. I need to get him out of here. There was the sound of something at the door, a snuffling breath. Sam saw the edges of dark claws and white fur under the edge of the door. The bear? How? It was pushing at the door now, Sam lifted the gun, his heart pounding.

"Sammy? What is it?" Dean said quietly.

"I think the bear is back, Dean."

"How? I shot it so full of lead it shouldn't be able to walk for the weight."

"Ha ha, Dean," Sam said, looking over at his brother.

The door was starting to give, the edges bulging as the weight of the bear was thrust against it. "Stay down, Dean," he said as he saw his brother trying to struggle into a sitting position.

"Give me a gun, Sam."

"No time, Dean," Sam said, aiming at the middle of the door. The blows were hammering through the small cabin. He saw one clawed paw break through the door. "Stay down," he shouted to his brother as the door gave way. The bear plowed through the door and into the room, Sam fired the gun twice before it got to him. He heard his brother shout as he hit the ground, the weight of the bear nearly driving him into the fire. He thought he heard Dean scream before his head connected with the stones of the fireplace and everything went dim.

"SAM!" his brother's voice, terrified, in pain.

"Dean!"

Sam tried to struggle up, his hand reaching around for the gun. The bear turned on him again, striking out. His head connected with the flagstones, he thought he heard it roar, thought he heard the gun go off, then everything went black.

To Be Continued