First off – thank you so much for your wonderful reviews.

I'm absolutely flattered and just a little bit under self-imposed pressure now to live up to your expectations here ;-)

Hope you enjoy:

Chapter 4

Sam spotted the top of the shaft when breaking into a small clearing at the very edge of the premises. He was panting heavily by now, breath clouding furiously in front of his face, his throat burning from the cold air when he charged towards it at full speed. He skidded to a stop only a foot or two away, going down to his knees before actually stopping entirely, his duffel already off his shoulders and thrown onto the ground next to him.

He had noticed a strange gurgling noise, a very faint rumbling of the earth underneath his feet a couple of minutes earlier. If he'd been in a city he'd have guessed on a subway or underground train or something the like but out here that couldn't be. It had only served to make him go even faster.

He quickly searched the area around the rusty latch in the ground, found the whole area littered with dried leaves from the past fall, nobody had cleaned them away this far from the estate. Only the trapdoor had miraculously been spared, or, more likely, cleaned off at some time in the immediate past.

Sam knew, he just knew that this had to be the place…this had to be where Dean was.

Still he couldn't suppress a slight shiver, a mere second of hesitation before getting to work, afraid of what he might find upon opening the door. His hands were actually shaking, and it was not just from exhaustion after his dead run.

He put the flashlight down on his backpack, adjusting the angle of the beam so it would let him see the lock of the hatch clearly and leaving both is hands free.

The first violent pulls at the bolt that weighed down the door, laced through two hinges on either side of it, didn't do much good besides almost spraining his fingers. There was an ancient looking lock holding it in place and Sam desperately fumbled through his pockets until he found one of the paper clips he always kept on him now for situations like this…or when again, being chained to something or other. Dean had got a whole pack, made him spread them throughout basically every pocket of every piece of clothing he owned. It had actually already caused them much trouble in the Laundromat a couple of times, the damn things getting stuck in the machines and actually damaging some of them. Still Dean had insisted and Sam knew where it was coming from, so he bent to his brother's wishes and kept sticking the damn things into every single pocket he could find.

Now he was glad he had listened to Dean. Maybe big brother did know best after all, at least every once in a while… He'd make sure to tell Dean just that once he had found him. Or, maybe not. It would just boost his ego right through the roof and Sam really didn't think he'd need that. He might give big brother a thorough beating though, for scaring him the way he had, for disappearing on him like that. So far, Sam had been the one doing the disappearing acts. Now he actually understood what that must have felt like for Dean.

It took but a few seconds to pick the lock and he wrenched the rusty thing open with his bare hands, throwing it away carelessly. The hatch opened with a disgusting creak, the old metal or steel impossibly heavy. He heaved it over on its hinges until it crashed heavily onto the ground on the other side, opening up the small rectangle of a shaft underneath it.

Sam picked up the flashlight, went down onto his stomach and shuffled over the opening until his head cleared the edge and he was able to look down into the abyss. He couldn't see a thing until he shone the strong beam of the flashlight down, running it along the walls anxiously until he found the bottom.

Dean…There, huddled into a ball at the bottom of the shaft, some thirty feet down, lay his brother.

"Dean…Dean, hey man, can you hear me?" Please, please, hear me, dude. Say something.

His voice sounded hollow, bouncing off the walls of the shaft to disappear in its depths. But the prone form of his brother didn't move, didn't so much as twitch at his voice and Sam go just a tiny bit desperate.

"Dean, hold on, man. I'll get you out of there. I'll get down to you now and then we'll get you out, you hear me?"

Apparently Dean didn't hear him, but it didn't stop Sam from keeping up an incessant swell of words, no real meaning behind them, while retreating from the opening, keeping his voice loud enough for Dean to hear, should he actually wake up.

They always kept a coil of rope in the trunk and for some weird reason Sam had decided to bring it along on his little excursion. The thing usually deteriorated pretty quickly since they had to cut off pieces for tying up people – demons or whatever else quite frequently. Luckily they had just bought a new coil some two weeks ago and Sam could only pray that the rope would be long enough to get him down as far as he needed.

He tied one end around the hinges of the trapdoor, testing if it would hold his weight. The rope did seem to reach to the bottom of the shaft, the end lying curled only inches besides his brother's still too prone form. When he was reasonably satisfied that it would indeed carry him, Sam slung his backpack over his shoulders, hefted the flashlight between his teeth and slowly descended down into the hole.

All the way down he couldn't take his eyes off of Dean and when he finally reached the bottom of his brother's prison he carefully made sure that he didn't step onto his still lifeless body. Immediately he dumped the duffel, dropped to his knees next to Dean. The beam of the flashlight shook almost violently and he had to force himself to calm down enough to take a closer look at his fallen sibling. He had no clue as to what had happened to him. If he had fallen down the shaft, or been thrown down it, more likely, he would have to be careful not to jostle him too much, make sure he didn't do more damage than good. A fall like this…it wasn't bound to be good.

God, did he look pale, his skin almost translucent despite an almost purple gash on his forehead and a likely colored split lip. Other than that Sam could not discern any other visible injuries, but he knew enough to not be too relieved at that. The worst injuries were usually the ones you couldn't see. Almost reluctantly Sam reached out his hand, laid trembling fingers against his brother's throat, holding his breath until he felt it…and he felt it almost immediately.

Not quite what he had originally hoped for, though, not the steady rhythm of a strong pulse but instead, the second he touched his brother's clammy and oh so cold skin, an almost violent shudder that went through his formerly too still body, a tremor so fierce it made Sam jump back involuntarily, he was so startled.

He had himself back under control quickly though, moving forward again to clamp a hand reassuringly over Dean's shoulder, pushing his other hand underneath his face to keep his head from hitting the floor with the intensity of the tremors raking through him.

"Dean, hey. Dude, it's me, Sam. I'm right here. Why don't you try and wake up for me there, bro? Come on, just open your eyes, let me see that you're OK."

Sam couldn't quite keep the tremor out of his voice and while he kept talking to his brother he carefully removed his hands from his body, shrugged off his own jacket and draped it over Dean's shoulders. He wasn't only cold, he was also wet, his shirt and jeans completely soaked through, his short hair flattened against his head and temples.

He was lying on the bare ground, the floor still muddy and squishy where apparently water had covered the packed earth and again Sam slipped a hand underneath his brother's face to keep it away from the muddy surface.

When he reached out to brush the wet strands of hair away from his forehead automatically, Dean's eyes flew open.

For a second or two, his eyes were empty though, glazed over and unfocused, squinting against the glare of the flashlight that apparently blinded him. Sam reacted right away, readjusted the beam so it would only illuminate the room indirectly.

"Dean, hey…" his voice soft and reassuring now, not quite as frantic as before, and he could basically hear his brother snapping back into reality.

"S'my?" His voice was hoarse and raspy and he coughed and sputtered for an eternity after just this one word, spitting up surges of stale water that had collected in his throat and mouth. Sam held on to his brother, determined to not let go of him, to make it right again.

"Sammy…y-you better…be real. If this is just…a s-sick…imagination…it's…where…h-her…?"

Sam laughed nervously, a little hysterically maybe, but he felt that he was entitled to a little hysteria right now.

Another coughing fit and the tremors racking Dean's body seemed to get more violent instead of better by the minute.

"Yeah, Dean, I'm real. I'm right here."

"…t-t-took you…?"

"What took me so long? Jesus Dean, it's not like you left a whole lot of clues as to where you've gone to. I didn't sleep a wink since you left…"

Ok, so maybe this was not the time for reproaches right now. Dean chuckled a little at his outbreak, though, or at least he tried to before succumbing to another round of hacking coughs, squeezing his eyes shut with the effort it apparently took.

"Ok, well…are you alright? Are you hurt somewhere?"

Dean seemed to need to think about this for a while, still not trying to sit up though and that alone did tell a lot, really.

"'m k-kinda…c-cold…"

Stating the obvious. Stupid idgit. Sam couldn't help but roll his eyes at that statement, hiding his nervousness with the familiar gesture. But he did realize that the cold probably was a huge problem, a lot bigger then he might imagine and he automatically scooted closer, tucking the jacket more tightly over his brother's bare arms.

Dean hissed in pain when Sam moved his right arm a bit closer to his body, quickly reached out to push Sam's hands away from him.

"Oww, m-man…the a-arm…think...t-think it's b-broken."

Under closer inspection Sam found that to be true, too. The whole limb swollen so badly that Dean was unable to move one single finger, let alone the wrist.

"OK, ok, what else, Dean? You know you got to tell me. No playing the hero here…"

Again Dean seemed to think about it for an uncomfortably long time before being able to answer.

"R-ribs might be c-cracked…but that's…OK, r-really. I…I just…I'm s-so damn c-cold…"

"Yeah, OK. Alright..." Sam ran a hand over his face, pinching his lower lip.

As if to prove his point, show his brother that he really, really did need to get out of here, preferably yesterday, Dean pushed himself up and with a little help from Sam managed to sit up against the wall. Still he was shaking so badly, Sam couldn't imagine he'd be making it back onto his own feet anytime soon, not under his own steam anyway.

"OK, here is what we do…"

Sam could feel Dean's eyes on him, even though half hidden by lowered lids, hanging onto his every word, waiting for him, his baby brother, to make the right decision, to get him out of this mess. It struck him how unfamiliar a feeling that was, how usually their roles were quite the opposite, or at least equal. Seldom like this. And did it just make him a tiny bit proud that Dean did indeed trust him like that? Not that it should surprise him, he knew his brother loved him, no doubt about that, trusted him with his life in so many situations but still… it also went to proof that Dean was indeed bad off, he wouldn't readily give away his role as protector of little Sammy, not even with a severed limb and his brain half smashed out of his skull. Dean would still be Dean.

"I'll tie that rope around your chest, right under your armpits. I know it's gonna hurt like hell, but there is no other way, I'm afraid… I'll go up first and then I can help you get up there, pull you because with that arm you won't be able to climb up by yourself."

Sam winced when he said it, almost feeling the pain and discomfort this way of hauling his body up would cause Dean. But there was no other choice, really. The rope was too short to make any other kind of harness that would make this any less uncomfortable. It would have to do. They'd have to get through this.

Dean only nodded, teeth actually chattering, and accepted Sam's help in getting the jacket put on properly, then tying the rope around him. Sam knew that it had to hurt, the sharp intakes of breath between those terrible tremors bearing witness to that, but of course Dean didn't say one word, just took it with that stubborn stoicism that sometimes drove Sam mad.

He had closed his eyes, lids unable to stay open for any longer period of time, and his long, damp lashes, laying curled up against his pale skin gave him an ridiculously young and helpless appearance in the poor lighting of the room.

Sam felt bad in leaving Dean down here, even if it would just be for a couple of minutes. He had no idea what exactly had happened to his brother but he'd have to wait a little longer to find out.

He kneeled down in front of Dean, laid a hand on his brother's shoulder, the other against his neck, waiting with forced patience until Dean had himself under control again, until he was able to focus on Sam once more.

"OK, see you up there in a bit, alright?"

Once again Dean pried heavy lids open, mossy green orbs searching for his brother's face, finding it and hanging on to it as long as he was able to before he let them drop shut again. He rested his head against the cold wall behind him, apparently fighting against the spasms shaking him, the muscles in his jaw cording with the sheer effort to keep his teeth from chattering. A lost fight, though.

With one last reassuring squeeze on the shoulder Sam finally tore himself away and started the arduous task of climbing the slick wall up himself. Going up was way harder than going down, that much was for sure. He kept slipping, his feet hardly finding any grip on the slick surface. Every couple of inches Sam could make out small holes in the old bricks, figured this must have been where, once upon a time, some kind of ladder had been fixed to the wall. Some way to get up and down besides the door at the bottom he had noticed, but hadn't been able to investigate any further.

All the way, he still kept talking, through huffs and puffs of his own incoherent breathing.

Just so Dean would know that he was still there…

xxxXXXxxxXXXxxxXXXxxx

The familiar rumble of the Impala's engine helped Dean pull himself out the last bit of the way. All the time since Sam had found him, had pulled him out of the damn hole, had half dragged, half carried him through a freaking forest to get him to the street and the parking lot where his baby sat and waited for him, dark and reassuring, her vinyl seats reaching out to comfort his aching body, he had not been entirely sure it was really…real. Somewhere deep inside there had always been this nagging doubt, the fear that maybe, just maybe, this was all just a trick, a sick game Isabella was playing on him. To make him pay for rejecting her.

It was hard to discern what had been real and what hadn't. Had the water been real? It sure had felt that way. And he was dripping wet, soaked through and through, so it probably hadn't just been a dream. But then again…he had drowned, hadn't he? He had felt the water entering his lungs, had let go…

He shuddered at the thought…or at least shuddered inwardly since on the outside there was no way he could tremble any more than he already was. Another coughing fit shook him and he could feel Sam's gaze fix onto him, felt the car slowing when his brother tried to decide whether or not to stop and help him. After a minute or two Dean sank back into the seat, exhausted beyond belief, all but spent. Sam's eyes still on him, his tension noticeable. But he kept driving, speeding up some more, apparently determined to get them back to the motel even faster.

The pain was real, that much he could tell, the cold definitely too. He had barely been able to walk, his legs giving out on him every couple of steps, his feet so numb he didn't actually feel them at all anymore. Not much feeling left in his arms and fingers, either. Besides the freaking pain in his right arm. But that had to mean that they weren't completely frostbitten, right? Still had to be some nerves functioning properly for the damn arm to hurt that much.

Sam had put a makeshift splint on it…some sticks and pieces of cloth wound around it to keep the arm as immobile as possible. Still the whole limb hurt up into his teeth, every vibration of the car, every unevenness of the road reverberating through him like shocks of electricity. It actually scared him a bit to think about how much more he would hurt once the cold was gone from his body. If it ever did go away completely. Right now that was kind of hard to imagine.

Sam drove the car impossibly fast, reckless almost but Dean could neither find the energy nor the heart to tell him to slow down, spare his baby. He could just imagine what Sam would have to say about that.

The heater was turned on to full blast, he could see his brother sweating already, but somehow the warmth did seem to stop before being able to warm him up any, like an invisible wall around him keeping the heat away from his desperate body.

Sammy had basically smothered him in another jacket, a blanket and a sleeping bag he had dragged up from the trunk but all those layers didn't help to warm him one bit. Involuntary groans pressed out between his closed lips, every single muscle ached from the cold, the tremors.

Just freaking great.

He couldn't make his body stop shaking.

Like a goddamn baby.

Sammy kept talking, chattering, and if the sounds of the Impala hadn't convinced him completely, then this definitely did the trick. He found himself smiling painfully into the folds of his cocoon, hidden from his brother's view, but smiling nonetheless.

He had known Sammy would find him. It had taken him a freaking eternity, but eventually he had. Timing had never been his little brother's strength.

He really wanted to sleep, wanted to spare his own body the agony, but there was just no way he could let go right now. His body was wired and tensed to the point where he thought it might snap apart at any second now, muscles so cramped from the shaking, it actually hurt to just sit, to just breathe.

"Just a bit longer…only a couple of more minutes…just hang in there."

He wasn't sure if it was Sammy's voice saying that to him, or if he was just imagining things, but he chose to believe, once again.

Sam had found him…had gotten him out. Had never given him a reason not to trust him so far. No reason to stop believing him now.

XxxXXXxxxXXXxxxXXXxxx

„H-hey dude…I m-might be f-freezing to death...but...s-still got p-privacy issues here…"

Dean looked at him with this almost comical look of indignation and Sam had to work hard on keeping his determined face on. If he hadn't known better he'd say that Dean was putting on a show here, but unfortunately his big brother really was feeling miserable. No doubt about that. But even that didn't keep Dean from cringing at the thought of his little brother having to help him take a damn shower.

Sam had manhandled his brother out of the car and into the room, then gotten his clothes off and dragged him into the bathroom, carrying most of Dean's weight in an awkward grip that allowed his brother to pretend he was doing at least some of the work himself still. It stopped there, though. There was no way Dean would be able to get into the shower himself, let alone keep himself upright for more than a minute, tops and they both knew it.

"Well, tough, Dean, because I got issues with you falling over and splitting your head on the tiles in the shower. So just stop being a prude and suck it up. I ain't going anywhere."

He planted his feet apart firmly to state his case and stared his brother down until he relented. Not really hard going considering Dean was sitting on the closed toilet-seat, wrapped in a flowered comforter from one of their beds – daisies and tulip, for crying out loud - shivering like a newborn, not even able to keep his teeth from chattering. His lips had started taking on a slightly bluish tinge and his injured arm, hideously swollen still, was starting to change into an even deeper shade of blue already.

Dean tried to smile at the remark, which seemed to be hard work, muscles sluggish and unresponsive, when suddenly his demeanour changed, the shivering stopping completely, muscles relaxing so suddenly it made him slump forward with the lack of tension in his formerly rigid body.

Sam was on his knees in front of his brother in an instant, catching him in the movement before he'd be able to fall to the floor, propping Dean back up with his own upper body.

"Whoa, Dean, easy there. What are you doing? What's wrong?"

The blanket had slid off Dean's shoulders and Sam quickly tugged it back up around his body, wound it tightly and clasping it shut in front of his chest with his own hand, since Dean had somehow lost his grip and didn't seem to be able to pick it back up.

"Dean, hey. What happened? Are you alright?"

Sam gently nudged his brother's shoulder, searched for Dean's eyes, craving for contact. Confused green eyes finally flicked open to meet his', skimming his face, not saying anything.

"Hey… You with me again?"

Dean just kept staring at him, eyes wide and slightly glazed over, before they suddenly started darting across the room, towards the door that led into the bedroom, fixing on something Sam couldn't see.

"She's coming back…"

His voice a whisper at best, confused and… something else…fear, maybe? No, that couldn't be, could it?

"What? Dean, who's coming back? There's no one here but us…"

Dean's eyes remained fixed away from him, pupils widening gradually.

Sam grabbed onto his brother's shoulders, trying to ground him, pull him back into reality. He had seemed coherent enough until just one minute ago. What the hell had happened? Sam's mind was reeling, feverishly searching his brain for an explanation for his brother's behaviour. When he couldn't get him to respond Sam reached out a long arm to close the door, blocking Dean's view of…whatever it was he was seeing, locking them both into the small confinements of the bathroom.

Dean seemed to snap out of it, head almost whipping around to face Sam again and for a moment it seemed as if he might be struggling against his brother's grip but failing miserably. Sam realized that Dean didn't seem to be back from wherever it was his mind had been wandering to. His eyes again darted around the room, panic creeping up towards the surface some more. His left hand shot up and tried to grab onto Sam's arm, numb fingers slipping off empty, trying again.

"Sammy…make it stop…"

Sam cringed at the sound of utter desperation in his brother's voice.

"What, Dean? Make what stop?"

He toned his voice low and reassuring, working hard on keeping his own fear at check, placing a reassuring hand around Dean's neck and gently forced him to focus back on him, look into his eyes again.

Dean blinked rapidly, looking at Sam but not really at him at the same time. His teeth were clamped shut, the muscles in his jaw twitching and jumping as he swallowed convulsively, apparently trying to make sense of the situation.

Sam gripped him harder, squeezed his cold neck while his other hand, still holding on to the blanket and Dean's hand, pressed against Dean's chest, centering him. Not pressing too hart, always conscious of the damaged ribs, but keeping a firm enough grip to hold him steady.

It took minutes, and Sam was about to get desperate, thinking feverishly about other options, when Dean's eyes suddenly cleared just a little bit, the slightly distant look once more turning towards his little brother, truly seeing him again, the snap back into reality almost audible. Sam held on to his brother's hand which again had started to slip off his arm, held it gently but firmly in place.

"Sammy…?"

"Yeah, Dean. I'm right here… Not going anywhere. What do want me to do? Make what stop?"

"What…I…I don't know. What…are you talking about?"

His eyes were fairly clear now, the confusion written all over them clearly because he didn't remember a thing that had just happened. His words were a little sluggish though, the violent shivering not yet returned, only small, involuntary shudders rippling over his skin wherever Sam touched it and it was at that moment that Sam knew that he had to change his plan of action.

Sam didn't quite remember when he'd read this up, or why he had done it, for that matter, but something in his mind clicked, made him remember researching hypothermia on the internet once. Had been a while ago but he was pretty certain that he recalled the really important details and he really didn't like when, with frightening clarity he knew what was wrong and he knew that he didn't have all that much time left anymore.

"OK, dude, let's get you back to bed."

Sam almost expected a smug reply to that and it actually stung like hell when none came. Dean didn't give any sign that he attempted to get up either.

"Come on, time to go. We've got to get you warmed up. This is more serious than I thought."

"Shower…you said…I was gonna take a bath?! You wanted to help?"

Again the words would have been hilarious if it wasn't for the seriousness of the situation. Sam choked back a strangled sound that rushed up in his chest. Dean certainly was not laughing. Neither was Sam.

"Yeah, that was the old plan. But I think you've got a very serious case of hypothermia…don't remember exactly, but I think... Dean, we need to warm you up, and now."

"You…used up all the hot water?" A little more coherent now, still his speech was not back to normal.

"No, Dean, the water's fine. It's just that…we can't get your whole body to warm up at once…I think I read somewhere that you need to warm up your heart first, or else the cold blood pushes back towards it and then…" your heart might just explode from the pressure…better not say that out loud, that would make it real…

He could tell that he'd lost his brother again, though, when Dean's eyes once more started to drift. Damn, he was going up and down at an alarmingly quick pace. Still he was not shivering and for some reason that frightened Sam even more than the violent tremors from before.

Definitely a bad sign. Even worse than the shivering.

"Ok, come on there, bro. You gonna help me get you moved back to the bed now?"

Dean nodded, seemingly lost, and accepted Sam's arm around his waist to help him get up. He swayed slightly and even through the blanket Sam could feel the icy coldness of his brother's skin. Dean seemed terribly disoriented, not knowing where to go even though the door was right in front of him. Together they made it back to the room and over to Dean's bed, Dean stumbling about a half dozen times on the short walk, needing to lean heavily against Sam to stay on his own feet.

When Sam settled him on the bed Dean didn't immediately curl up like he had supposed would be the case but instead stayed propped up, unmoving, eyes focused intently on his brother, as if waiting for him to tell him what to do. The blanket had again slipped from his shoulders but he made no move to tuck it back up. His skin was exceptionally pale, a slight bluish tinge creeping up on his chest now too.

Damn it, he shouldn't be cooling out even further anymore. The heat in the room was turned on to full blast, but the appliances definitely had seen better days and it didn't really seem to get warm fast enough.

Sam tucked the blanket back around his brother's shoulders, gently pushed against his chest to make him lie down. Dean complied without argument and that in itself was more than unusual and enough to scare Sam almost out of his mind. He quickly grabbed the blankets off his own bed, draped them over Dean as well. He knew that it wouldn't help him to get warmer, though, only prevented him from loosing any more body-heat than he already had.

"OK, let me think…we need to warm you up. We still got any heat-packs in the first aid kit?"

Sam didn't really expect an answer, he just seemed to be thinking more clearly when at least pretending to discuss things with Dean. Had always been that way, even when he'd been away…at school.

He remembered Jess laughing at him that day when he'd tried to set up the new closet they had bought, the first piece of furniture they had acquired together. He'd sat pouring over the instructions which had apparently been translated to English from Japanese or Chinese or whatever by someone not being able to speak either language. When he'd asked her what had been so funny, she had told him that he apparently had been talking to some Dean-guy,asking him what to do next, what Dean would do now.

It had taken Sam a while to realize that indeed, he'd been talking out loud, making up a conversation with his brother, asking him for help… Just the way it had always been…the way it should be. Always.

So no, he didn't expect an answer now, either. Just talking for his own benefit, mostly. That was why he was actually surprised to hear Dean's voice from basically underneath the covers, apparently answering him.

"Not cold…anymore."

Sam smiled tiredly, searching Dean's face, but his brother's eyes were giving too much away, too painful to look at, exhaustion and pain clearly painted all over his drawn features.

"Yeah, well. You are…you just don't feel it right now. Your brain kind of confuses the information your body is sending its way at the moment. Trust me on this, OK? Just stay under the covers and let me handle the rest, alright?"

Dean nodded his assent, even though Sam doubted that he really was aware of what exactly he was agreeing to. There was this look in his eyes again and Sam was actually relieved when his brother closed them.

A quick search of the first aid kit and turned up nothing but he eventually found the seeked after items in one of their supply-duffels. Four gel-packs all in all and he quickly threw them into the microwave and heated them up for the time indicated on the packs. He grabbed a bunch of towels from the bathroom, wrapped each pack up and went over to the bed again. Dean appeared to be asleep and for a second Sam felt guilty for having to wake him up, but the eerie stillness of his brother's body freaked him out, big time.

"Hey Dean, sorry man, but you gotta wake up for me."

He ran a finger along the cut on Dean's forehead, edges puffed up and colored a deep unhealthy purple, but not bleeding. That was probably due to the cold and he had to remember to check on the wounds once he had gotten Dean's temperature back up. He'd have to take care of the wounds later, anyway. None of them seemed too bad, nothing he couldn't handle, or so he thought. He just really wasn't sure that he should be treating a case of hypothermia this severe by himself. Maybe he should get him to a hospital, after all. While at first Dean had raised hell at the suggestion Sam wasn't sure that he'd be up for the fight anymore. He'd be pissed, for sure, but at least he'd get better…

How far was the next hospital, anyway? There wasn't one in town, not even a decent clinic, as far as he could tell. Again he was startled by Dean's voice and realized that he had been staring at his big brother for some time now.

"Still here, Sammy…not going…anywhere…"

Sam smiled at that, began pulling off the layers of blankets engulfing his brother's body.

"I'll put these on your chest and underneath your armpits. I think that's the way to do it, anyway. We'll replace them about every twenty minutes or so…but you should try to stay awake, I'm pretty sure you've got a nasty concussion. And you should drink a lot, too. Something warm and sweet, if I remember correctly. There is a whole bunch of tea-bags in the kitchenette. I'll fix you a cup in a minute."

"No tea, man…get me…some coffee?"

Dean still sounded slightly confused, like a lost child and it made Sam cringe inwardly.

Was that the hypothermia bothering him or was there something else? The concussion, most definitely, but maybe also something else entirely?

"Nah, no coffee for you, sorry. You know the deal. Warm and sweet. As far as I remember, coffee is not on the list. It'll be tea for you."

Dean pulled a face at that and this time Sam allowed himself a low chuckle. He had peeled the blankets off his brother, gently placing the wrapped bags on his brother's clammy chest, noticing the bruises there but figured that those could wait, too. Nothing but some pretty ugly skin abrasions and a couple of cuts that would probably not even need stitches, so he'd save those for later.

No way to tell if his ribs were broken or "only" cracked, a couple of bruises along the left side of his ribcage suggested some damage there, but he was able to lift Dean's arms just far enough to stuff the two remaining packs underneath his armpits and again he chose to take care of it later. What worried Sam the most right now were the head-wound and his right arm. There was another gash right above his ear, too. The arm had to be broken, the two lumps stretching the skin hard and unyielding. This kind of swelling was not good, especially with the cold it already had been subjected to and still looking this bad.

What was he even thinking? Going to a hospital was unavoidable. They should really be leaving, right now. Only that, the more severe the injury, the greater the danger of the hospital staff informing the authorities. After everything that had happened in that bank…really not an option. Better stay under the radar – at least for a while.

A broken arm would not be something anyone would get too suspicious about. If he could get his brother back on his feet, treat the hypothermia himself, then take him to the hospital and get the arm fixed, everything should be fine. No need to keep him overnight, no need to file out any insurance forms. They'd just pay cash and leave before anyone noticed anything.

He absolutely wasn't sure that this was the right decision, but Sam had no choice really – they had no choice. Keeping Dean safe meant staying low. That meant Dean needing to suffer and as much as he hated it, there was nothing he could do about it. He chose to give it a little more time, to work through this and should Dean not get better soon, he'd figure something out.

Dean groaned, the sound emanating low in his throat, shifting uneasily on the bed. Sam snapped out of his despairing thoughts, realized that he still crouched next to the bed. He replaced the blankets, covered his brother up to the chin and carefully pushed one of the pillows underneath his injured arm to prop it up and rest it softly until he had time to take a better look at it.

"I'll make you some tea now, Dean. And you know what? I came across this Chinese place when I was out looking for you…you do like that Chinese chicken soup, right? I think I might order us a couple of cups in a little while. You might like that better than tea."

Sam kept talking while fixing the tea, keeping up the one-sided conversation as much for his brother's benefit as for his own. He knew that Dean was clinging to his every word, the meaning behind them not important. He might not even hear half of what was being said, as long as he knew that someone was there it was OK. Being alone in that prison for that long a time, so cold and definitely in pain, had to have left him raw and bleeding in more ways than just the obvious. Sam knew Dean well enough.

When he returned to the bed to check on the heat packs he realized that already they were cooling out but his brother still wasn't any warmer than before. Since the tea was still too hot to drink Sam set about re-warming the packs and replacing them before moving back to the bed to sit on the edge beside his brother. Dean was stirring slightly, muscles twitching restlessly.

"Dean, you got to sit up a bit so you can drink. Think you can do that?"

Again those green eyes Sam knew so well opened, searched for him but didn't seem to find what they were looking for, even though Sam was sitting right in front of him. Sam watched in horror as his brothers unfocused gaze swept over him as if he wasn't there at all, searching the room frantically for…something. When he didn't seem to find it, he started to push himself up, panic creeping into his gaze, unconsciously using his right hand for leverage and before Sam could prevent him from doing so he cried out in pain, slumped back down onto the mattress.

"Sammy…please…make it stop…"

His voice raw and pained and so…vulnerable…

He shivered, almost cramped, his breaths coming in ragged gulps, his eyes dark, bottomless pits of fear and agony.

Sam cringed at the sound and sight of his usually strong, older brother, the person used to holding him, protecting him all his life. He had no idea what was plaguing his brother, made him sound so desperate, so broken, all he knew is that he had to stop it, now. Sam reached out for Dean, trying to steady him, completely at a loss as to what to do.

Well, maybe not completely. Dean's pride be damned…

Quickly he took a firm but gentle hold of his brother, propped him up and scooted his own body over onto the bed, pushing himself against the headboard and pulling Dean with him, resting his brother's back against his chest, his head tilting back against Sam's shoulder. Still no shivering, only the tremors of exhaustion and fear rippling through Dean's body, still far too cold.

"Ok, easy, Dean, take it easy. I'm right here, I'll make it stop, OK? Whatever it is, I'm right here, I'll make it stop."

He practically rocked his big brother, pulling the blankets up around the two of them, reaching out to hold the heat packs in place where they belonged, one hand creeping over his brother's heart, beating way too fast and out of rhythm, willing the warmth of his own body to warm Dean's, praying it would work.

So part of his dad's hated survival training might have paid off, after all. Wouldn't that just make him proud of his youngest…all those times of being accused of not paying attention.

But simply holding Dean somehow didn't seem enough. He tried to think of something, anything he could do to get his brother back to him, to make him feel better, if not physically at least mentally. He tried to think of a song to whistle or hum and had to laugh at the thought of what his brother might have to say to that.

OK, so maybe no singing then, it might just make him feel more miserable than he already was.

"Just breathe, Dean. Deep and steady breaths. Feel that? Just don't bail out on me... I'm right here now. I'll make it stop. I promise…"

XxxXXXxxxXXXxxxXXXxxx

AN:

So the next couple of chapters will deal with some serious comforting and brotherly love and caring… I'm just such a sucker for Hurt/Dean and of course Sam and Dean taking care of each other, so there's not going to be any shortage on that topic, I'm afraid ;-)

At least I don't care anymore if that makes me some kind of freak or not…I learned to accept the fact

Hope you don't mind…

But don't fear, Isabella's gonna be back...

Ok, hope you liked it and once again thanks to everybody who took and will take the time to read and review.

You guys honestly sweep me away and I'm working hard on answering every single review, still am a bit behind, though…but every single one is certainly highly appreciated!!

Next update will be up soon – if you want to stick with me, which I truly hope!