It's me again!

A huge thanks to all of you who took the time to review, you totally make my day! As promised, I post the 4th chapter now and hope you like it.

I guess it's time again to send a massive binary hug to my lovely Me_Azrael who helped to get this story forward. Honeypie, you're the best!

And now let's see how Dean is doing, shall we?

Let's not forget the disclaimer: Supernatural and it's characters belong to the CW and Master Kripke – but at least I own Hel.

Enjoy!

Chapter 04

Birds. Chirping birds. The first things Dean noticed as he slowly aroused from his unconscious state made him wonder where all those birds came from. He opened his eyes only to squeeze them shut again the second he was blinded by way too eager sunbeams. He swallowed and clenched his jaw, deciding to think first, act later. Lying on his back, not daring to even twitch a muscle he tried to recall the last events.

The memories hit him like a train and he once again opened his eyes, this time careful and in a blinking manner. He stared up into a cloudless sky which was turning into twilight; his view was only disturbed by a bunch of branches and grasses. As he slowly turned his head a little he recognized the steep hillside he had rolled down.

Fan-freakin'-tastic. He had gotten his ass kicked by a huge ugly poultry and had chosen the dumbest escape route, the scenic route to be exact, right down a freakin' cliff.

Still unmoving, still blinking and breathing slowly, Dean tried to assess his injuries. He was cold, terribly cold. This, however, didn't surprise him as he had obviously spent a few hours down here, unmoving, lying sprawled out at the bottom of this hill, wearing only jeans and his black thin jacket over a t-shirt and an equally thin over-shirt.

He slowly drew up his knees, first right, then left, and was relieved that his legs hadn't taken any damage. However, when he tried to turn on his side he was rewarded with a searing pain in his left shoulder and he had to bite down hard on his bottom lip to stop himself from screaming out. He jerked and reflexively grabbed his annoying left shoulder. The movement caused a whole symphony of aches and pains cutting through his whole upper body. This time Dean didn't bother to stifle anything and let out a short scream, rolling back on his back and stopping any movements instantly, still grabbing his shoulder.

He panted and watched the sky once more, beads of sweat forming on his skin, despite the chilling cold of the evening. Carefully Dean pulled his hand away from the throbbing wound on his shoulder and wasn't surprised that it came away bloody. Swell. Not only that he had to roll down a cliff, he had had to scramble with a ten feet tall bird with badly manicured talons as well.

Frowning, he let his hand fall back to his side, his eyes open but seeing nothing specific. What the hell had that been anyway? He had never seen something like this before.

Deciding that he had to find a way out of his personal mess first, and deal with this thing later, Dean moved again, this time slowly and with caution. While struggling to sit up, his head informed him of it's presence with a painful hum. The nauseating feeling of something supposed to be solid moving slightly underneath his skin told him that he had at least a few cracked ribs.

After Dean had managed to sit up and take deep breaths to keep the dizziness at bay, he continued the stocktaking of the damage his body had taken. A mass of cuts and bruises he had acquired during his nose-dive down the hill were decorating each inch of his body, his clothes were partly torn and filthy. On top of this he was thirsty and starving.

Dean took a deep breath, closed his eyes again and tipped his head back, letting the late sun warm his face. He had to think. He had to get out of here. Had to get help. Now. And where the hell were the others?

He opened his eyes and looked around. He was surrounded by briars and bushes, a few feet away the Snake River rushed through the landscape, it's current filling the air with a soothing gurgle. Dean patted his pockets and cursed when he wasn't able to find neither his phone nor his gun. He reached into his boot for the knife he always kept there and was glad to find at least this was where it belonged.

"At least something is where it belongs", he said aloud and got up slowly, pressing his left arm close to his chest. He surveyed the cliff he'd encountered before.

"No way I'm going to climb up there with one busted arm and moving like a 90 year old", he muttered and took a few steps back to get a glance at the top.

"Jason? Patrick?" he hollered, cocking his ears for any sound that might come from above. "Seth? Anybody?" Apart from a couple of angry croaking birds flushing out of the bushes and the constant rushing of the river no reply was heard.

"This is just peachy!" Dean swore and furiously kicked a lump of earth into the undergrowth. The movement caused his ribs to scream and Dean hissed in pain, falling on his knees. After minutes of shallow breathing through clenched teeth he sighed.

"Pity-party not helping, Winchester", he panted and gathered his thoughts. He looked towards the river, decided to do first things first and got to his feet. He staggered to the water, dropped on the riverbank and cupped his hands before he plunged it into the clear water. I hope it's halfway as clean as it looks, Dean thought before he swallowed the chilling liquid. Then he splashed another handful on his face, clenching his jaw due to the painful sensations running through his shoulder, ribs and head.

"Son of a bitch", he ground out and took deep breaths. He took his jacket, over-shirt and t-shirt off, shivering and grunting, and ripped two broad strips from his over-shirt. He dampened one strip and cleaned the wound on his shoulder, which at least had stopped bleeding. He weakly tossed the fabric aside and wrapped the wound firmly with the second strip. After he had put his clothes back on he was drenched in sweat and tilted slowly sidewards until he rested with his right side on the ground once more. He watched the raging current rushing along with his eyes on half-mast, shivering despite his sweat-covered clothes, his right hand resting on his left shoulder.

"Oh god, I want a bed", he mumbled as he thought of the soft mattress he had slept on at the Roadhouse. He thought about Sam, who was probably preparing himself for a Greyhound bus ride towards California right now, and Dean's heart grew heavy. The first hunt in years without Sam having my back and see what happens. You're dependent on your baby brother, Deano. Dean couldn't suppress a humorless chuckle and pushed his thoughts back again. He had to get his ass up, search for help, search for the others.

No one knew they were here except for Ellen, but to the time she'd get suspicious several days would pass, and with his injuries, the lack of food plus all the cuddly animals inhabiting the park Dean wasn't sure if he could hang on that long. The possibility of meeting a hiker was also quite small. He had no choice but get the hell up and move. There was no way for him to get on top of that hill where the truck was – if it was still there – and where the weapons were. And as if all this wasn't bad enough, he had no clue in which direction he should go.

Dean clenched his jaw once more and sat up, an angry growl leaving his lips. He slammed his right fist into the coarse gravel as white-hot pain erupted from his upper body, but he continued his intention of getting to his feet. As he finally stood on unsteady legs, he glanced around and decided to walk along the river towards the direction they had come from with the truck this afternoon. With the river at his side he'd always have something to drink and he knew that the stream passed some campsites. If he would follow the river, his chances might not be that bad. So Dean began to walk.

"We have to turn right in..." Hel stated, studying a map in one hand and holding a flashlight in the other. Suddenly he straightened and waved a hand "...here, right here, turn right!"

Sam slammed on the brakes and pulled the steering wheel around, turning into a gravel path and leaving the paved road behind. Both men tilted to the side, Sam bumping into the drivers side door and Hel nearly into him.

"Geez, Hel, that order came a bit late, don't you think?" Sam grumbled and shifted in his seat.

"Sorry, I haven't been able to see the turnoff in time."

The two hunters had been driving half of the night and had finally arrived at the Park. Shortly after midnight Hel and Sam had changed positions in the Cherokee so that Hel had been able catch some sleep as well. Now they were both wide awake and following Ellen's notes as good as they were able to in the pitch black of the night. She had told them about the vantage point at the Snake River where she had sent Dean and the others and had written the directions down on a sheet of paper. They were still about an hour out but Sam felt already better now that he was here. was strangely comforting to feel near to his brother

"This path will lead us straight to the vantage point", Hel muttered and stuffed his papers into the side compartment. They drove in silence for a while. At some point Hel grabbed his bag and pulled a thermos flask out. He carefully poured some coffee in a cup and held it out to Sam, who gratefully accepted it. Sam reduced the speed in order to avoid spilling the hot liquid all over the seats and took a sip.

He was glad that he'd been driving, it distracted him a bit from his concern for Dean. He knew that blaming himself for what was happening wouldn't help anyone. With one hand gripping the steering wheel in a vice-like grip, the other clutching the cup he stared ahead, trying to ease his mind.

"Sam, can I ask you something?" Hel interrupted his thoughts. He had poured some coffee into another cup and had put the thermos flask back into his bag. He held his cup with both hands.

"Sure."

"How did you and your brother slip into all this?"

"What do you mean?" Sam lowered the cup and glanced at Hel.

"Hunting. I mean, look at you, you're young, you should go to college, have a beautiful girlfriend, some less dangerous hobbies."

Sam pressed his lips together and put his cup into the cup holder beside him. He gripped the steering wheel with both hands now, his knuckles turning white. "Well, I've been to college. And I intended to go back there the other night."

"When this Seth-guy showed up?"

"Yes."

"And Dean? What about him?"

Sam took a deep breath. "Our story is...it's very long and complicated." And with that, Sam began to talk. He told Hel about Dean's and his mother, burned alive on the ceiling in his nursery, told him about their father's crusade, his hunt for this demon and the way they had been raised. Hel learned about Sam's attempt to live a normal life as he had gone to Stanford. Sam told Hel about the day Dean had shown up to find their father and how Jessica died. He told him about Dean and the last year when they had hunted together, grown together and had become brothers again. He told Hel of their reunion with their father and the deal John had made to save Deans life a few months ago. And finally he told Hel about his decision to go back to California again, without Dean, because his brother was a stubborn jerk.

Hel had remained silent. He had listened closely, not able to say a word as he learned of the lifes Sam and Dean Winchester had lived and were living. After minutes of complete silence, Hel took a deep breath.

"God", he whispered. "I'm sorry for what happened to your parents and your girlfriend."

Sam nodded and swallowed hard. Hel stared out of the windshield, his mind working up what he'd just heard.

"You know", Sam started, "I thought it would be a good idea to go back to California, I really did. But now...I'm not sure anymore."

Hel glanced at Sam. "What do you mean?"

"Dean's everything I have. He's been there for me whenever I needed him. And I always run away from him, whenever I get the chance." Sam chuckled sadly, blinking the tears away. "And now this. He's out there, I don't know if he's still alive, I don't know if I'll ever see him again. And I realize I can't do this. I can't leave him, live without him, having him not included into my life. It's as simple as that."

Hel nodded slightly and turned his gaze back on the road ahead. "When I was your age, maybe a bit older, I met this wonderful woman, her name was Aiyanna. We've grown up at the same reservation, but we didn't know each other until we met one day. We fell in love, we married, she expected our first child." He paused and looked down. "One night, I was with my two brothers out in the field, I heard her screaming. We raced back and found her behind the house – Sam, I'll never forget this sight. There was this wolf standing above her. Now I know what kind of wolf it had been, but back then I hadn't a clue. My older brother tried to shoo it away from Aiyanna but it just stared at him. It just stood there and stared at all of us, like it was laughing at us with the saliva running down his flews and the blood wetted fur."

Hel ran a hand through his hair. Then he continued. "And then it turned and ran away. Just like that. My wife, my unborn child, both dead."

He swallowed and both men fell silent for several minutes before Hel went on. "I left the reservation and learned whatever there was to learn about this creature. I learned were lots of other supernatural creatures and I became a hunter. And I swore to myself that I won't ever let someone get too close to me. I swore that I'd never face such a loss again."

Sam looked at Hel and nodded, understanding. "It's a shame that every hunter has a sad story to tell."

"Yeah. But you know what?" Hel patted Sam's knee and flashed him a weak, but genuine smile. "We can save other people from suffer the same fate. And that's what helps me to get out of bed every day."

Sam mirrored Hel's smile and opened his mouth to reply when suddenly his features froze. He reduced the speed of the Cherokee and straightened in his seat.

"Hel, over there", he called out and brought the car to a halt. According to a road sign, they had reached the vantage point.

Sam turned on the full beam of the car and both men climbed out of the vehicle, waving their flashlights and taking in the scene in front of them. Nothing could be heard except their boots crunching on the gravel and some nocturnal animals.

A few feet away laid some kind of weapon with a tank, nothing modern though. Sprawled over the whole platform were bags. But what Sam and Hel disturbed the most was the mess that once had been an adult man.

"I guess we just found Jason", Hel stated dryly, took a few steps and went down on his haunches to examine the corpse. Where Jason's chest had been Hel was met with a gory hole, his throat looked like something had ripped every single muscle out before it had teared the artery to shreds. "Good lord", Hel muttered and put a fist to his mouth.

Sam wrinkled his nose and looked around, his gaze falling on one of the scattered bags immediately. He knew this bag. He would recognize it everywhere. In three long strides he was on his knees beside Dean's duffel and opened it up, checking it's contents. Sam wanted to start crying, now, as he remembered watching his brother neatly clean and load the weapons which had been stuffed into this bag the night before he'd left for this godforsaken hunt. Looking up and searching the ground around him he spotted Dean's beloved .45 lying a few feet away in the gravel, gleaming in the beam of the flashlight. The gleaming gun almost distracted Sam from the red-brown stains on the ground.

Almost.

"God", Sam choked out biting onto his bottom lip and clenching one hand into a fist.

"Sam? What is it?" Hel asked, concern in his voice.

Sam stood and walked slowly over to the gun, took it up and checked the clip. "This is Dean's bag", he said, nodding his chin to the duffel, still lying in the gravel. "And this is his gun. The clip's empty."

"Like Seth had said, they had emptied their clips into this beast and it didn't even flinch." Hel mumbled in frustration. Sam fought the urge to throw the gun away or slam it on the ground and stomp on it. He had to keep himself together, for Dean's sake. Hunter mode, Sam, panicky brother mode won't help he commanded himself before he tugged Dean's gun into his jacket. He then stepped to the cliff's edge and looked down, letting the flashlight wander over the bushes and rocks. He walked slowly along the edge in search of any signs for his sibling or the other lost hunter, Patrick.

Hel had turned and checked the other bags, a light brown day pack containing maps, some notes, spare clips, a hunting knife and provisions. Another duffel, gray, stuffed with knifes, torches and guns. What truly impressed him was the heap of metal that looked like one of those things the Ghostbusters used in the movies, without the blinking lights and shiny paintwork. As he inspected it further he recognized it as a flamethrower.

"Well prepared", he muttered to himself "for a Wendigo hunt, that is." Hel stood, grabbed the bags and put them into his truck, then returned for the flamethrower to stow it away as well. With his head bowed and his eyes on the floor he walked around, searching the gravel for a trace to start. Where tracking in daylight was hard, tracking at night was nearly impossible. Come on Hel, time to unwrap the Indian with the magnificent tracking abilities. He went on his haunches again and took a closer look at the gravel, his eyes narrowed, scanning the area.

"Anything?" Sam asked with a rough voice as he stepped up beside Hel a few minutes later and went on his haunches as well.

"Yes. Here..." Hel replied, his free open hand hovering over some tire tracks in the dirt, "... these are the tire tracks from the Ford, one set from the car arriving here and one set of it rushing away." He raised his head and looked around, running his flashlight over different corners of the platform. "I've found four different footprints from heavy boots and I've found traces coming from large claws. And I've found three spots of disturbed ground that look like some kind of struggle had taken place there. Well, if you count Jason's fight it's four, but we already know what happened to him."

"Okay", Sam nodded, his stomach churning. This was so not good.

"One spot is where the car had been, so I'd say this was Seth, crouching under the car. But those two..." Hel got up and walked toward the cliff's edge, his free hand pointing at two different spots of ruffled dirt "...will give us a clue to what happened."

Sam had followed, his eyes and flashlight darting from one spot to the other. "Fill me in."

"This one ends", Hel pointed to one spot, "There are footprints toward this spot, but none walking away."

"Is that Thunderbird able to grab an adult man and carry him off?"

"According to the lore – it is. And I think that's exactly what happened here."

Sam crouched down and inspected the footprints. He was glad that Hel had managed to read the traces up here like other people read books or magazines. Of course Sam would have been able to read the tire tracks and the footprints, but with the speed Hel had found out how many prints there were and how many people had left them behind and it which direction every single person had gone – it was amazing to Sam. However, there were things Hel couldn't tell.

Sam had to know if these were Dean's footprints. And Sam was able to detect them.

After seconds, he sighed, one part of him relieved, the other part as concerned as before. "These aren't Dean's", he said, getting up from the ground. "Too small, and the tread doesn't fit with Dean's boots."

As Hel raised an eyebrow at him and Sam just shrugged. "What? I've tracked him down a few times before, I know his soles as well as I know him."

Hel shook his head in disbelief, but had to admit that he once again had to marvel at the brothers relationship. Although he didn't know the older one, he knew that their bond had to be unbelievably strong.

"Alright Sam, look at this one..." In two strides Hel stood above the second spot near the edge. "What do you think?"

As Sam followed the tracks of a preceding fight, clearly identifiable by the blood stains and the loosened ground he stopped dead in his tracks as he noticed that the traces ended abruptly at the edge. Why didn't I notice this? He berated himself mentally.

"Someone did fall off the cliff", Sam breathed, once again trying to see something at the bottom. He looked up at Hel with wide eyes, then turned again toward the valley.

"DEAN!" He shouted, "DEAN? ARE YOU THERE?"

Both hunters listened intently, trying to catch whatever human sound might be audible. Except for the river and an angry squeal of a flushed up bird they weren't hearing anything.

"We have to get down there, Hel, now."

Hel nodded. „I was afraid you'd say that. Okay, let's get our stuff and do some climbing."

Loaded with a small amount of their provisions, the first aid kits and weapons Hel and Sam started to slowly climb down the hillside, managing to earn some cuts from the rebellious undergrowth that was hidden from their lights. Cursing, the two men worked their way to the bottom. Sam crouched ahead and waved his Maglite over the scrub as it's beam suddenly reflected on something. Something familiar and very un-floral. He stretched and pulled a cell phone from one of the bushes. The display was cracked and the battery was missing, probably lying in another bush.

Dean. Now we know for sure it was you taking a nose-dive down this hill. Sam stroked the small device with his thumb.

"Sam?"

Sam looked up and held the phone up to Hel. "Dean's cell. He must have lost it on his way down."

The men continued their way down and reached the bottom where they were met with blades of grass, normally standing upright. Except of one area directly at the bottom where it had flattened. Stepping up and inspecting the crushed grass, Sam winced as he again discovered blood, this time far too much to stay calm.

Shit. Shit. Shit. "Damnit, he's hurt, pretty bad, Hel. He'd lost a lot of blood."

"Easy, Sam, as long as he's able to walk away, he might be feeling better than we think. Come on, let's check out the river." Hel turned and walked off, toward the stream, leaving Sam chewing on his fingernails and once again raking a hand through his hair, his eyes glued on the blood stains in the grass. Hel was right, as long as he was marching around, he had to be fine. Dean is always fine, isn't he? Why couldn't he stay put, they would've found him already. Sam stalked through the high grass, following Hel to the river, his thoughts running wild. Aw...he knew no one would come. He knew I wouldn't come. I'm sorry, Dean. God...I'm so sorry.

"Sam! Over here!" It was Hel's shout that pulled him out of his thoughts and he ran the remaining feet to the spot where his new friend knelt at the riverside.

"What was Dean wearing?" Hel asked before Sam came to a halt at his side.

"Uh...Jeans, a black jacket, a black t-shirt and a dark blue over-shirt. You got something?"

Hel held up a dark wadded rag that looked like it had been ripped off of some larger cloth. The rag was nearly black but as Sam examined it further he could see that it's original color had to be dark blue. Dampness and stained with blood made it appear black.

"Seems like your brother had been able to tend himself. That's actually good news."

"Yeah", the younger Winchester mumbled, taking the rag from Hel. "This thing's nearly dry already, which means Dean has a couple of hours in advance."

"So, the Million Dollar Question is: which direction did he go? This shingle here makes it impossible to read any tracks."

Both men looked around, both being at a loss. Dean was injured, but lucid enough to take care of himself and with the determination to get help. To get out of here. Which didn't give any information on his condition, how fast or how slow he was going, how long he would be able to go on altogether. And in which direction he was headed.

After a few minutes Sam pointed downstream. "This way. This is the direction you come from when you want to get to the vantage point, the direction we came from and surely the others came from, too. It's the safest way to civilization, so I'd say Dean would go this way."

Hel nodded and adjusted his bag. "Okay. Let's go and find your brother, Sam."

To be continued...