Note: Shucks thanks guys for the lovely reviews, and for spotting my mistakes grins sheepishly - you really keep me going … and to PA Davis for being her fantabulous self and beta-ing this chapter for me, your ideas really ironed out the kinks … especially after I nearly killed poor Dean and Sammy with a 'thermostat' last chapter LOL ;0) - all mistakes are mine - and to Vixxenfairy for her support and for listening to me bitch when I can't get my ideas out of my head (trust me I can bitch) LOL again ;0)

Warning: Mild Language

Chapter 2 continued - 'The Amulet'

Kawacatoose's POV

Northern Montana – November 1999

You couldn't have waited a few hours? I look up at the dark sky, challenging the Great Spirits. The blizzard has hit full force and we can barely see two feet in front of us. It's all good and well they send me on this 'mission' but do they need to make it 'impossible?'

I snort at my own humor, my wife's right … I do watch way too many movies. I squint to my right, watching as Dean weaves on his feet, the kid's on the verge of falling over. I quickly stop, reaching over to steady him.

"Easy there Dean … you okay?"

He grabs onto my arm, huffing, eye's glassy … but he nods as he bends over his knees, pain etched on every inch of his face.

"How much … further?"

I take out my compass, getting my bearings … I'm still on track.

"Couple of miles, should be there in the next half hour or so … maybe we should have a break."

He straightens, shaking his head.

"No … can't … won't be able to carry on … if I stop."

His face is flushed, god he looks bad … probably an infection and fever setting in. Wouldn't surprise me, Wendigo's are filthy creatures, and their claws carry a shit load of bacteria and who knows what else. I watch in surprise as he shucks off his big jacket.

"Hey, what you doing kid?"

He gives me a heavy-lidded look, like he's too tired to explain, but he tries anyway.

"We're nearly there right? … I'm moving, keeping warm … Sammy's lying still, don't want him to become hypothermic."

He moves over to bend down painfully next to Sam. Sam is also wearing the same type of jacket, but Dean puts his coat over his brothers shivering form anyway. Sam still hasn't woken up, which is worrying me a bit. I watch as Dean tucks the coat in, brushing his fingers through his brother's long hair, pushing it off his face and back under his hood. He gets up unsteadily, but there's a determined glint in his eyes as he begins walking.

He shouldn't be without a jacket but I also reckon it won't hurt, probably bring down his fever a bit, which will save me from having to do it back at the cabin. I follow, watching him with renewed respect … the love he displayed in that small gesture shows me what he's made of, and I'm impressed. I smile.

We trudge on in silence, reserving our energy. The wind howling around us is causing a vortex of snowflakes to swirl up, making it difficult to see. Dean holds his arms closer to his body, bending his head down, just focusing on each step, one foot in front of the other. I'm cold, these boys must be freezing, but Dean doesn't complain. Every now and then I catch him looking back at Sam … his face is impassive but his eyes reflect the turmoil inside him … he's worried. His eyes are a dead give-away, displaying his inner feelings like a book if you look carefully and quickly enough. If you blink, you'll miss it, he'll put up walls to hide his pain. It's probably his protection against the crazy world he lives in.

I'm keeping an eye on his unsteady gate, ready to catch him if he collapses but he manages to stay on his feet. I have questions I want to ask him but I don't get a chance because I instantly smell the unmistakable essence of wood smoke in the air. We're here … the coals I left smoldering in the fireplace are probably dead by now, but the smell is still hanging in the air.

"We're here Dean … just a few more paces and we should see my cabin."

He turns to look at me, snow plastering his skin and hair, a lopsided but relieved grin on his face. He takes a step forward but suddenly his eyes roll back as he collapses in front of me. I carefully lower the stretcher as I bend down next to him, rolling him over gently. He's out cold … literally. He's breathing, but it's shallow … poor kid used up all his reserves to get this far. I bend down, lifting his arm and throwing his weight easily over my shoulder. I'll get him inside and then come back for Sam. He's pretty heavy but I'm fit, have to be being a Park Ranger out in these mountains.

I see the hazy outline of the building through the heavy snow fall, walking up onto the porch and pushing the handle with my elbow and opening the door with my foot. I move Dean over to the couch. Quickly throwing a blanket and pillow on the floor in front of the fireplace I lift him up again and carefully settle him down, covering him up before I leave.

I quickly return to get Sam, dragging the litter to the door, scooping Sam into my arms as best I can, he's all legs and arms, and then moving inside to settle him on the couch, gently propping his leg up with pillows and throwing another blanket over him.

I shut the door and bolt it before I return to the fireplace. It's still warm inside but I need to get a fire started again. Once I have a blazing fire, water boiling and collected every medical supply I have available I move back to check on the boys.

I start with Sam … he hasn't moved and I'm scared that he's suffering from hypothermia. I kneel next to his still form, gently tapping his face.

"Sam? Sam? Can you hear me? Can you open your eyes?"

No response. Shit. Well at least I can patch him up before he wakes up in pain. I start by removing the bandages around his leg. I take my knife and carefully cut through the shoelaces and leather surrounding his swollen ankle. I finally manage to get the boot off but his ankle looks much worse. Red lines are snaking up, radiating away from the deep gashes … infection … I need to clean this quickly. The cold seems to have stopped most of the bleeding, and his toes are a bit blue. I rub them between my warm palms trying to return some circulation before I sit him up to remove his wet clothing. Once I have him totally undressed, I cover him with a pile of warm blankets, gently putting a pillow beneath his head.

I quickly take the time to also remove Dean's cold, wet clothing, covering him in a thick blanket as well. He's still unconscious. That's when I see it - an amulet. I stare at it in shock. The spirits act in mysterious ways and the realization of what I'm looking at hits me hard. Shit. He's the one. I gently smooth my thumb over it. Damn … I haven't seen this thing for over seven years, didn't think I'd ever see it again. When I can stop staring, I place my hand against his forehead, he's warm but I'm not sure if it's from the heat of the fire or the remnants of his fever. I'll make double sure when I check his back, in the meantime I'll finish up with Sam.

I rummage around in my first aid box, pulling out a bottle of broad spectrum antibiotic … Primaxin … I read the label, need to administer this every 6 hours. I take out a syringe and fill it with 500mg, before taking Sam's arm, tapping it and sliding the needle into his vein. He groans as his eyes start moving behind his closed eyelids.

"Dean?"

Crap, I was hoping to be finished before he regained consciousness.

"No Sam … it's George … do you know where you are?"

He slowly opens his eyes and looks around confused … then recognition flickers as he looks at me again. His eyes trail down to his arm as I pull out the needle, pressing a swab against the small bleeding puncture mark. He shivers.

"George … you saved us …"

"Yeah, that's me, just remember to say that really loud when you meet my wife, she thinks I'm pretty useless at everything."

Sam tries to grin but his face wrinkles up as he grunts in pain, squeezing his eyes closed as he huffs.

"Leg … hurts."

"I know kiddo, I'm working on it … it's pretty busted up …"

Sam's eyes suddenly fly open.

"DEAN .. where's Dean?"

He looks around frantically as I keep a calm hand on his chest, easily pushing him down. He spots Dean lying next to him on the floor.

"Dean? What's wrong … is he okay?"

"It's okay Sam … he's unconscious, collapsed when we got here … he just needs to rest up for a bit."

Sam doesn't seem convinced and tries to push himself up again. I push him back down.

"Listen kid, I need to check your leg, you've got a serious infection and you've been out of it for a few hours … the quicker I can check you over, the quicker I can tend to Dean."

This seems to work as he settles back, but he still keeps his eyes on his brother's flushed face.

"He's going to be alright though?"

I can hear the desperation in his voice.

"Yeah, I think so … I'm not too shabby in the first aid department … you should only lose one or two toes at the most …"

Sam looks at me wide eyed, but then sees the grin plastered on my face, and chuckles.

"Your bedside manner really sucks pal."

I snort as I move down to check his ankle again. Cleaning these wounds and setting the fracture is seriously going to hurt but it needs to be done. I reach over to give him two more painkillers with some water which he drinks down greedily, before flopping back against the pillow. He looks down at himself, probably realizing for the first time that he's stark naked. He lifts the blankets and blushes bright red. I bite back a chuckle at his modesty.

"Don't worry Sam … you haven't got anything that I haven't seen before, except maybe that mole …"

"… oh god …"

His face flares up again and I burst out laughing as he tightly secures the blankets around himself. Damn kids going to give me a hernia with all this laughing. I try to distract him with conversation.

"So, how old are you boys anyway … aren't you a bit young to be hunting?"

Sam suddenly becomes indignant.

"I'm 16, Dean's 20 … we've been hunting our whole lives … Dean started when he was younger than me."

"Easy tiger … it's just that all the hunters I've ever met only started hunting later in life."

Sam looks at me in surprise.

"You … you know about hunters … about what we do?"

I chuckle.

"Yeah … I'm part of the club, kid. Been hunting for years … it's kind of a family tradition, passed down from one generation to the next."

He seems relieved at my admission and relaxes a bit … probably glad to be in familiar company. I look over at Dean again.

"So, that's a nice pendant your brother has, it's really unusual, seems kinda old."

I start wiping at the swollen skin around the gashes, they're deep and oozing blood and puss, probably need some stitches as well. His hands clamp into the blanket and he hisses, but he stay's focused on his brother.

"Yeah, I got it from our uncle, well he's as close to an uncle as we've got … Bobby Singer, he's also a hunter. I remember he told me it was 'really special'. I'm glad Dean's got it though, he never takes it off if he can help it. I kind of like it that way … don't tell him, but it makes me happy that he has something I gave him, something that he has with him all the time."

Bobby Singer … I chuckle … funny how things come around full circle. I pull the infected skin open, letting the blood and puss run out. Sam's back arches up from the couch, swearing loudly.

"Aaah, SHIT!!"

He grunts as he tries to regain some control. Teeth grinding together as he hisses with each labored breath.

"Sorry kiddo … shouldn't be much longer."

"It's … okay … just think, I'm going to hurl …"

I grab a basin next to me just as Sam leans over, heaving. Not much comes out, except the half digested pills he had earlier, and whatever else was left in his stomach. He spits out the nasty fluids in his mouth, pulling a face. I wipe his mouth before he lies back, pale and sweaty.

"Sorry …"

"No need to be sorry … you're doing great …"

He looks over at his brother again … worry etching his smooth features.

"You sure he's okay?"

I look down at Dean, he hasn't moved, but his body shudders ever now and then.

"Yeah, he's got a fever … I'll get to him now … why?"

Sam looks at me, eyes gleaming with moisture.

"It's just that … well … if I'm hurt … he tends to sense it. He would never be lying that still if he knew I was hurt, or heard me in pain … he has to be seriously injured or sick … and he hasn't moved."

I understand his worry … I need to hurry and check on him but if I don't clean Sam's ankle it could lead to serious complications … blood poisoning … or worse. I can't take that chance. I give Sam some more painkillers and then continue with the draining of the infection, cleaning and cutting away dead skin, finally stitching the wounds closed. He doesn't speak, just fights through the pain, tossing his head on the pillow and shouting out when the pain gets too much. He's completely exhausted by the time I've splinted and wrapped his ankle. In about five hours I'll give him some more antibiotics.

He watches me with tired eyes as I finally move over to Dean. His body is covered in a fine sheen of sweat. I feel his forehead … he's definitely starting to burn up again. His breath hitches slightly as I gently roll him over, propping his body along some larger pillows so that I can take a look at his back. I've got his back facing Sam so that I can utilize the extra light from the fireplace. He hisses when he sees the four deep gouges running horizontally across Dean's back. They've stopped leaking blood but the skin is very puffy and red … damn it. Looking at his back, I can see that he's been through this before. I can see it from the faint scars marking his body. A testament to the many battles he has already fought in his young life.

I take out another syringe and fill it with the antibiotic, finding a vein in Dean's arm and injecting the medication.

"How bad?"

Sam's soft voice startles me, I thought he might have fallen asleep. I look up at him, I can't lie … he'll see right through me.

"It's not good … the wounds are infected … I'm going to have to do the same procedures on him that I did on you. Hopefully he'll stay unconscious until I'm done."

Dean needs to get some fluids back into his body, so I carefully lift him up, tilting his head back and dribbling some water from a clean wet cloth between his slightly parted dry lips. Even in his unconscious state, he swallows the liquid greedily.

Sam just watches, swallowing hard as I lower Dean again, getting ready for the task ahead.

"What can I do?"

I smile … the bond between these two is very strong. I pick up Dean's hand, placing it in Sam's as he reaches down, Sam's thumb immediately starts rubbing soothing circles in Dean's palm. He watches Dean's face with concern, looking for any signs of consciousness.

Once I check his pupils with a flashlight … still even and reactive ... I work methodically opening up the wounds as I did with Sam. Draining the infection and cleaning out each tear. Dean's skin twitches but he doesn't wake up. After half an hour I look up at Sam. The painkillers and antibiotics have finally taken. He's fallen asleep but his hand is still holding onto Dean's. I reach up to feel his forehead. He's also warm, will have to check his temperature again … it's going to be a long night.

I finally finish sewing up Dean's wounds, covering them with a dressing. I lift him up carefully again, intent on giving him some more water, when his eyes flutter open.

"Sammy?"

Sam's immediately awake.

"Dean … hey Dean … you with me?"

He looks at Sam groggily as he leans heavily in my arms, looking up at me in confusion.

"Where … am I?"

"You're in my cabin … you were attacked by a wendigo."

"George?"

"Yeah."

I can't help but smile, he isn't delirious and that's a good sign.

"You better … have a good reason … for me … lying naked … in your arms!"

Both Sam and I chuckle.

"God Dean … I was so worried … how're you feeling?"

"Hot."

He wiggles his eyebrows at his smirking brother … hinting at the other meaning behind the word.

"You are such an ass Dean."

The words are teasing but full of love.

"Okay boys … enough with the touchy-feely crap … Dean, I want you to try and drink these, okay."

I pop the Tylenol and then pain killers into his mouth and help him swallow them with some water. I also open the flask of 'herbal remedy' that my wife gave me … it's apparently full of nutrients, vitamins and natural antibiotics … it's an old Indian recipe, my wife got it from her mother. I can't believe she expects me to drink this shit … but I put it near Dean's mouth … hell … I'm not the one who needs it. Dean pulls his face away as the pungent aroma wafts up into the air.

"What the hell … is that?"

He cringes as I push it to his lips again.

"Drink this, it will make you feel better and help with the infection. It tastes better than it smells."

I chuckle inwardly … I know for a fact it tastes worse.

"Thanks … but no thanks."

Sam looks at him sternly.

"Dean … if George says it's good for you, then drink it!"

Dean just glares back in defiance. Sam tries another tactic.

"Please Dean, you need to drink it. It will help you get better … please … for me."

God … the kids got this act nailed … he has the most convincing puppy dog eyes I've ever seen … damn I'm almost tempted to drink this shit myself. Dean doesn't stand a chance.

He huffs irritably, face wrinkling at the smell, but he closes his eyes and takes a few long swallows of my 'mother in laws' concoction. No wander I hate that woman.

He shudders as he slowly wipes at his mouth with the back of his hand. The whole ordeal seems to have taken it out of him as he closes his eyes and almost immediately falls asleep again. I lower him down gently and cover him with a blanket. A smile still tugging at my lips.

Sam. I shake my head in amusement. He knows that his brother would do anything for him and he uses that knowledge to his best advantage.

"You know that you have your brother wrapped around your little finger."

He smiles.

"Yup, but he's so damn stubborn, always worrying about me or dad. I hate doing it, but sometimes I have to use that card to get him to take care of himself."

I chuckle.

"If it's for his own good, I guess it can't be all bad."

We sit in silence, just watching him breathe.

"He loves you more than anything or anyone else in the world … you know that don't you."

"Yup … I know."

Sam's eyes start drooping.

"Get some rest kid … and you should also drink some of this, it's really good for you."

I hold up the flask. He chuckles.

"Oh no way, I'm not crazy … that stuff smells like shit … and from the look on Dean's face, probably tastes like shit too."

I try Sam's routine, putting on my impression of a puppy dog face, which only garners a loud snort from him.

"Please … for me."

"That won't work on me you know."

"Go figure!"

We chuckle again as Sam settles down and after a few minutes his breathing evens out and he's fast asleep.

TBC ;0)

Okay, so I lied LOL ;0) … this chapter is still longer than I anticipated, therefore instead of hashing it all out in two chapters, I've split it into 3 sections (honest, there really is only one more chapter of 'The Amulet") … so we will return to 'George', wounded Dean, sick Sammy and the amulet in the next 'stranger still' installment ;0)