Author: Cheryl W.

Disclaimer: I do not own any characters or any rights to Supernatural, nor am I making any profit from this story.

Summary: By the time Sam figures out that trekking through a forest, looking for a Wendigo, is the last place on God's green earth Dean wants to be, it's too late to turn back. No Slash.

Author's Note: This chapter's flashback happens soon after Cas joins up with Benny and Dean.

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Chapter 10: Your Life or Someone Else's

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Rule # 10: You can decide to save your life or someone else's, you can't do both.

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Exiting Zeke's tent, Sam heads into Ivan's, roots through the ex-soldier's possessions until he discovers the pill container he saw the man slip a pill from earlier in the day, notes it's a prescription pain killer, just like he thought. Though he hadn't seen any outward signs, Sam had had his suspicions that Ivan had been wounded in battle. The ex-soldier's stiff movements and pinched look of pain giving it away to someone trained to observe secrets in others. Pocketing the pill bottle, Sam also grabs the man's extra gun, box of cartridges, an insulated long sleeve shirt and his spare jacket. Then, after making a detour to pick up Dean's discarded bag, Sam comes back to Dean, this time dropping down to kneel in front of his brother.

It's an improvement that Dean has the energy to at least raise his eyes up to him. Would be worth a lot more…if the agony in Dean's eyes wasn't so blatant. It makes Sam's plan even harder to contemplate, especially when it's only going to hurt Dean further.

At the sound of the foursome's return, Sam drops the long sleeve shirt on the ground in front of him, covers Dean with Ivan's coat and hastily tucks the rest of his confiscated items into his bag before he stands up and turns to face the group. Though he's bracing himself for their decision, in his gut, he already knows what they've elected to do.

Mac stalks forward to Sam and emotionlessly proclaims, "Sam, keep Dean as comfortable as you can tonight and then tomorrow, when we return, we'll help you get him to the ranger's station."

And as much as Sam knew that would be the outcome, it still infuriates him, that these four people, whose help was crucial to Dean's survival, simply took a vote about his brother's fate and unapologetically decided that their ambitions trumped Dean's life. "You can't do this! Dean's hurt…he's…." but he can't say the rest. It would be admitting too much, accepting something he refuses to. And besides, the hard look in Mac's eyes, the shame in Vicki and Zeke and even Ivan's eyes, tells him it's a lost cause. But he rages against their decision all the same.

Stepping menacingly forward, invading Mac's personal space, Sam snarls, "Seriously, you're going to let my brother die so you can study a flesh eating monster."

Mac doesn't even bat an eyelash at Sam's statement.

It's Zeke who makes a reply. "Sam, look…you couldn't have gotten Dean very far tonight anyway. So when we come back tomorrow morning, we'll help you carry him to the ranger's station."

"If we find the Wendigo fast enough, we could be on our way back to camp tonight, reach here by first light," Ivan pipes in, not sure what he's trying to do more: reassure Sam or assuage his own guilt.

Strangely, Ivan's lame encouragement, it's the opening Sam needed. "I know where the Wendigo's heading," he states, eyes swinging from Mac to Ivan, as if there's a kinship between he and the soldier now.

"Where?" Zeke asks even as Mac suspiciously demands, "How?"

Levelly meeting Zeke's gaze, Sam explains, "Dean and I tracked it earlier, found where it was taking the bodies of the other campers. It's an abandoned trapper cabin, about 5 miles west of here." Sam nearly startles when he feels something wrap around his ankle..until he realizes it's his brother's hand. He doesn't spare a glance down to Dean, doesn't have to. He knows exactly what Dean's touch means: that his brother's not happy that he's giving Mac and his group directions to the Wendigo lair. 'I'd friggin' lead them there if that's what it took,' he grimly thinks, wishes he could reciprocate Dean's touch but knows he can't, not right then, not until he has done what he can to set Mac and his group on the right path.

"And you're telling us this why?" Mac suspiciously challenges.

Fury flares in Sam's eyes as he glares at Mac. "Because the sooner you find your trophy, the sooner you'll come back and help me save my brother's life," he bit out, like it is deplorable to him to aid Mac's research but a necessary evil if he wants his brother to live.

The explanation satisfies Mac, has the professor nodding. "Good. Ok, everyone grab your equipment and let's head out."

As Mac, Vicki and Ivan break away to their tents, Zeke remains, seems ill at ease under Sam's glare. "Sam, listen, if it were up to me…."

"Just get back here soon as you can," Sam curtly mandates and before Zeke can say more, he turns around, crouches down again by his brother's side, effectively dismissing the tracker.

Getting the message, Zeke leaves Sam and his brother alone.

Reclaiming his place at Dean's side, Sam notes that his brother's hand hasn't released its weak grip on his ankle, is still tenaciously there. 'As if he's afraid I'm going to leave him too.' And Sam hates that Dean's worry, it's not baseless, is routed in past experience. 'But never when he was hurt, when he needed him.' But even his own little voice won't let that declaration go unchallenged. 'Right, because he didn't need you in Purgatory."

But a more disturbing thought springs into his head: that Dean didn't need him in Purgatory, not when he had Benny. 'Isn't that what Dean's been trying to tell you all along?!' But Sam rails against that outcome, at simply conceding his rightful place in Dean's life to a vampire, to even an Angel of the Lord…to anyone.

Knowing that he can't be selfish, not when lives are at stake, that he has to let Sam go, Dean retracts his hand from Sam's ankle, forfeits his possessive claim on Sam, buries the fact that the decision hurts worse than any physical wound ever could. "Sam…you have …to go with them," Dean weakly commands, as if he has the strength to enforce a thing.

His brother ordering him from his side when he's gravely hurt?! It's the height of lunacy, even coming from Dean. "What?! No, Dean! No!" Sam vehemently denies, tucking Ivan's coat tighter around his brother's traumatized frame.

"They'll…be …killed, Sam," Dean haltingly states, eyes boring into Sam's, needs his brother to see the outcome that is a given if Sam doesn't go with Mac and the others, if Sam doesn't kill the Wendigo before it snacks on the brainless research team.

Eyes purposefully dropping from Dean's, Sam makes himself busy by pulling out the pilfered pain killers and water canteen. Dumping two pills in his hand, he slips his other hand under Dean's neck and carefully lifts his brother's head a few inches off the ground. "Take these," he softly orders, not encouraged that Dean obediently opens his mouth, lets him drop the pills onto his tongue and, a second later, lets him press the canteen to his lips. Silently he watches Dean swallow down the pain pills, prays that they work fast.

Gently resettling Dean's head back onto the ground, he slides his hand to Dean's cheek, keeps it there as he looks down into his brother's pain-filled gaze. "We need to go. To head for the ranger's station, Dean."

But Dean has shoved his agony into a box, is not so out of it now that he doesn't understand the tense of his brother's statement, that Sam means to move out…now, not tomorrow morning. Stubbornly, Dean rolls his head in denial. "No, not without …Zeke…the others."

And Sam knows Dean's ruling isn't so Zeke can help Dean…no, it's because his brother fears for the four stranger's lives. Sam makes no reply, only recaps the pill bottle and canteen and stows them away. Then he opens Dean's bag, starts stuffing everything he deems necessary into his own bag and then pulls his coat back on, unobtrusively gearing up for the trip ahead.

Sam's refusal to answer him, to even look at him, it stirs something dark within Dean, has him reaching out, snagging Sam's hand. The unexpected contact finally gives him the chance to see his brother's eyes. "We can't leave…these people."

'We're not so much leaving them as they're leaving us,' Sam wants to shout but doesn't, would not let Dean dwell on the fact that Zeke and the others thought Dean's life was worth less than a friggin' Wendigo's. Aloud he says, "I need to get you to a hospital."

"Fine," Dean consents only to tack on, "They travel… out of here …with us, Sam."

Sam's heart makes an erratic skip, because Dean's not even bothering to protest his need for a hospital. And that revelation only generates a more heightened level of fear in Sam's gut. Fighting to not let that reflect in his features, he steadily holds Dean's gaze. "They're not coming with us, Dean," he uncompromisingly declares.

Wanting to insist, Dean tries to shift upright. Instantly agony rips through him and he miserably realizes that he hasn't managed to smother his cry of pain After that, he loses a bit of time, comes back to the land of the living with the familiar sound of Sam's frantic, "Dean! Hey! Come on, wake up for me!" showering down on him and the reassuring touch of Sam's hand on his cheek, on his chest. Blinking, his brother's harrowed features come slowly into focus. "Convince them …Sam. Put a …a gun ..to their heads. Can't stay…"

And it would be awe-inspiring if it wasn't so frustrating that Dean could pass out from an onslaught of agony and still come to arguing his case, for someone else's wellbeing and not his own. But Sam will not give in this time, will not give Dean what he wants. Can't. Too much is at stake; Dean's life is at stake.

Sam's head jerks up as Zeke calls his name and he looks over his shoulder, notices that the other members of the research team have already headed out, are on the trail of the Wendigo.

"Sam, I'll be back by first light, even if I have to come alone," Zeke vows but Sam makes no reply, his glacier gaze simply sears into him. So, with one last look at the brothers, the tracker sets out with his team to locate, study and tag a Wendigo, to make scientific history, maybe at the cost of Dean's life.

From his vantage point on the ground, Dean can see Zeke, watches helplessly as the tracker leaves the camp. He wants to shout at him to stop…would too…if he had the breath. As it is, it's a study in agony to get out a few meager words loud enough for Sam to hear. "Sam…don't let …them go," he entreats as he slides his hand to his own chest and finds Sam's hand. He gives the hand in his a squeeze, desperate to get Sam's attention, for Sam to do what he's telling him to do, to head off the pending slaughter.

But when Sam's eyes leave Zeke's and come back to rest on Dean's damaged body, Dean's breath catches. He's seen the look in his brother's eyes before…but only a few rare times: When Sam's only wish was to have Lilith's head on a platter, after Sam killed Samuel and Dean couldn't fight the feeling that it had more to do with their grandfather's betrayal of him than being possessed. When his brother wanted to sacrifice Virgin Nancy so they could survive that standoff in that police station, when Sam demanded blonde Ruby teach him whatever dark tricks she knew so he could save Dean from going to Hell, when a just-out-of-a-coma Sam stabbed god-complex Cas in the back in what should have been a death blow. Eyes that blazed with unremorseful determination, determination not so much to champion the greater good, but to avenge the hurts inflicted on his brother, to save his brother's life.

Starting to see Sam's plan, what Sam is about to do for him, to save him, Dean forbids, "No, Sam…don't."

His mind made up, Sam doesn't deny Dean's perceptive guess of his intentions. "We don't have much light left. We have to go now." And with a final squeeze of Dean's hand, he reluctantly pulls his hand from Dean's grip and slips it around his brother's damaged form, preparatory getting a fistful of the back of Dean's jacket.

Understanding that Sam's not going to listen to him, not about this, not when he's blinded by his need to protect him, to save him, Dean presses, "The flare gun….Zeke has it…and the protective mojo bag…it's still in Zeke's backpack where I put it?" A backpack, thankfully, that Zeke had slung over his shoulder when he left camp.

Though Sam makes no reply, his eyes are dangerously obscure, and his body language telegraphs that he's geared up for a confrontation.

It's answer enough for Dean. And though he understands Sam's motives, (after all, he would do it for Sam, without hesitation), that doesn't mean that he condones Sam doing it for him, will allow Sam to heap the guilt of innocent blood shed on his soul. "Go after them, Sam," he commands, hands pushing, albeit weakly, against Sam's chest. "If you can't…stop 'em…teach 'em 101 …on Wendigos."

Sam gently captures his brother's hands, stills them. Meets Dean's imploring gaze with a mixed expression of sorrow for disappointing Dean and of unflinchingly resolve because he's committed to his path, to the choice he's made. And he's not going to deviate from it…not even to salvage Dean's good opinion of him. His refusal isn't defiant, is instead almost tender, "No."

"They're civilians. Without our help…they'll be hunted down …like sheep… for the slaughter," Dean stresses, needs Sam to recognize the full extent of what he's put into motion.

Solemnly, Sam declares, "I know." And he does, God help him, he knows that's exactly what's going to happen. Dean's horrified expression spikes hurt into his heart, makes his declaration, "We're leaving now" hoarse but no less determined.

"No, we're not… abandoning them, Sam," Dean refuses, can't let Sam do this.

But Sam's unrepentant gaze clashes with Dean. "Yes…yes, we are. Iam," he amends because the guilt of this decision, its on him…not Dean.

And as much as he doesn't want to, Dean knows he has to confront Sam, state the unvarnished truth of what Sam's about to do, has set into motion with the group's departure, with Sam's "helpful" mapquesting Mac and the others right to the Wendigo lair, with his retaking of the flare gun and the removal of the protective mojo bag. "You can't put their lives …at risk… just to save mine,… Sammy."

"You doubted our…my 'deep abiding love for you ', well, this is it in action," Sam counters, tries to smile, to make it light, something Dean will accept.

Sam's justification leaves Dean shaken because the paths love has taken him down, like to Hell and being apprentice to Alastair, they aren't places he ever wanted Sam to go. "So say it… with a card…not this."

Giving a bitter smile, Sam huskily says, "That's not the way we do it Dean." Is not how their lives work, with choices easy, guilt free, evil free.

"You can't…" Dean protests.

"Yes I can and I will," Sam unwaveringly vows, because his mind is made up and he's going to see his plan through, even if Dean ends up deeming him a monster. Knowing they are wasting time Dean just doesn't have, he gives a soft warning to Dean, "Brace yourself," before he levers Dean up into a sitting position.

With a stifled cry of pain, Dean slumps bonelessly against Sam, whose arms immediately go around him, hold him against his chest, gives Dean something to focus on beside the agony howling through his every cell.

Dean's smothered cry reverberates in Sam's soul long after the sound dies in the air. And he can't move, can't maneuver Dean from his chest to secure the bandage, can't rob Dean of whatever comfort stillness can offer after the cruelty of the enforced movement. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he murmurs in Dean's hair, wishes his acts of ruthlessness weren't just beginning. But just as he has sentenced four innocents to death, he will inflict pain on Dean to save him, has and will continue to do so many many deplorable things to keep his brother with him.

And that resolve has him easing one hand free of Dean to blindly search on the ground for the shirt he liberated from Ivan. Finding it, he scoots even closer to Dean until he's sure Dean's wholly supported by his body. Reluctantly lifting his arm from around Dean, he maneuvers the shirt over the wound, then, to ensure the bandages stay in place and to add extra pressure to the sight of the wound, he pulls the sleeves around to Dean's chest and ties them tightly, forming a makeshift tourniquet.

Dean lets out a feeble whimper of hurt that pierces Sam's heart worse than a scream. "I'm done, I'm done," Sam reassuringly murmurs by his brother's ear. But Dean's head is lying heavy and still on his shoulder. It makes Sam fear that Dean's no longer conscious. "Dean?" he tentatively calls, his apprehension filtering through his brother's name.

"Yeah," Dean mumbles and then he does what he thought was impossible a second ago: he shifts back a few inches from Sam, raises his head and meets Sam's eyes. Does it for Sam, because Sam sounds freaked out, because Sam needs him to not lie down and die.

At Dean's stubborn show of loyalty, Sam's relief is palatable and he can't hold back a tremulous smile. "Thought you passed out, were gonna let me stuck doing all the heavy lifting, like usual."

"Builds character…." Dean mumbles, tries to straighten his posture, to prove that he doesn't need Sam's support to keep him upright. But it's a sham he can't pull off, his meager efforts only ending with him unceremoniously toppling forward to crash against the safe harbor that is Sam.

"Hey, whoa!" Sam anxiously exclaims, rocking back on his knees a bit at having to take Dean's full weight back so suddenly. He barely gets his arms around Dean in time to stop his brother from pitching to the right and ending up on the ground. As it is, Dean feels like a big broken toy in his arms. "I gotcha. I gotcha, Dean," he tenderly murmurs as he pulls Dean's nearly limp body over his shoulders into a fireman's carry and then pushes himself to his feet.

He stumbles under his brother's weight at first. Determinedly tightening his grip on his brother's arm and leg, he shifts Dean a little more to the right until his brother's weight is more evenly disturbed across his shoulders. Then Sam makes his way past the camp and heads in the direction of the closest ranger's station, to the only place that offers any kind of help for Dean.

Though the forest's silence is unnerving as Sam makes his own path through the foliage, Dean's silence is so much worse. Every second of it tears a greater hole in Sam's composure. But Sam doesn't break the silence either, is suddenly too worried for words. Instead, he contents himself with marking the rise and fall of Dean's chest against his shoulders, of bearing the reassuring feel of his brother's head against his back.

He hikes with his precious burden for a few minutes, nearly startles when Dean speaks, his brother's gravelly words vibrating through his chest.

"Sam…they'll die."

"I know," Sam admits, even as part of him is callously thinking, 'I hope so because that means my plan worked.'

And Dean's not a fool, knows the sole motivation for Sam's actions: Him. "Don't do this…not for me."

"Who else would I do it for Dean!?" Sam incredulously replies before he stops, closes his eyes, struggles to bottle up his emotions because it won't help Dean if he loses it then and there. Unconsciously tightening his grip on Dean's arm and leg, he moves again, creates his own way through the forest, unerringly heading to the ranger's station, to someone that can save his brother's life…because he can't. He knows that much. And it's the worst feeling in the world…and it's not even the first time he's felt it: Electrocution, car accident, hell hounds, Alistair, Dick Roman. He was there for them all…and was helpless to save Dean each and every single time.

'Like I am now.'

Unable to raise his head from his brother's solid mass of bone and muscle, to move, at all, needing to concentrate just to ensure he remembered to draw in breath, Dean is left with no weapons save verbal protests. "Sam, you …can't…"

It shouldn't surprise him that Dean's using the last of his strength to protest Sam's lifesaving actions, but Sam can't let him do it anymore. To use his strength to do anything but survive, keep breathing, stay alive. "You're dying, Dean!" his voice quaking on the cruel utterance of that blunt fact. "I don't have the luxury of time…or mercy. I need to get you to a hospital, as soon as I can. And I can't take the chance of the Wendigo coming after us, of killing me and leaving you defenseless or it hurting you again. So yeah…they're bait for it, will make sure it doesn't care about two prey that got away."

Hearing Sam verbalize his plan, it's worse than Dean imagined. "No…you can…you can take it out, Sam. Make sure it …doesn't hurt ….anyone else."

"It already hurt you, I don't give a crap about who else it kills," Sam sharply confessed.

Stunned at his brother's fierceness, Dean refutes, "No…you…you do."

Sam pulls on a bitter smile and there's unapologetic steel in his tone, "No, I really don't."
"You'll…regret this," Dean warns, knows it's not too late, that Sam can still change his mind.

"No, Dean, I won't, because, contrary to what you think, I'm not Ok with you dying! Wasn't OK with you being…just gone," Sam admits, his own breath heaving, catching. "So believe me when I say, I don't care what I have to do…or who has to die to make sure I don't lose you again." Falling silent, Sam lets it sink in to his brother, what he's willing to do, how cold hearted he can be when it comes to protecting Dean, to keeping his big brother with him. When he speaks again, he has drastically gentled his voice, "Dean just…save your strength, alright? Because we're not going back for them."

And it's both a relief and heartbreaking that Dean doesn't make a reply, can offer up no more protests to his little brother's ruthless gambit to save his life. And Sam begins to fear that he's lost Dean's good grace, maybe forever this time, when Dean's previously dangling right hand fists some of Sam's jacket in his grasp and doesn't let go. Tears sprang to Sam's eyes at the simple gesture, at his brother's way of saying 'I still trust you Sammy, still have faith in you. Still want you with me.'

"Right back at you, Dean," Sam murmurs, holding tighter to his gravely wounded brother as he doggedly traverses the forest landscape. And in that moment, it does take much of Sam's imagination to figure out how Dean won over the loyalty of a vampire: by being the most stubbornly loyal person to ever walk earth..or Purgatory.

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"Go help Cas!" Dean had barked and Benny…he had done it, had turned his back on Dean and the ghoul trying to eat the man and came to the angel's rescue. He took down two of the ghouls and the angel had dispatched the other two with a show of white light Benny didn't want to even ask about.

But the vampire didn't reach down a hand to help the angel up, instead he anxiously spun around as Dean's grunt of pain reached him. In a case of desperation breeding confidence, Benny made his first ever knife throw, did it just like Dean had taught him. And he watched in knee-bending relief and grim satisfaction as the blade buried itself in the chest of the ghoul who had sunk his teeth into Dean's arm.

Stalking over to the wounded creature, Benny killed it with vengeance, its head thudding to the ground beside Dean. A Dean who already had his hand out, indicating he was expecting Benny to get him to his feet. "Brother, you alright?" Benny worriedly asked as he pulled Dean to his feet then ran his fingers over the teeth mark tears in the sleeve of his friend's jacket.

"Fine," Dean dismissed, jerking his head to the four dead ghouls by Cas. "We get all of them."

"Yup. Now let me see the damage." Putting action to words, Benny started to push Dean's jacket off his friend's shoulder but Dean grabbed his hand and their eyes met.

"I'm ok, barely broke skin and ghoul bites aren't transforming so I wouldn't be turning the tables on you and trying to eat you by night fall," Dean reassured, lips turning up into a small smile.

"Well that's a relief," Benny sarcastically retorted, because that wasn't ever something he worried about, Dean turning on him, knew the man too well to worry about that.

Then, without a word, Dean took the lead, leaving Cas and Benny to bring up the rear.

Benny stepped closer to Cas, lowly growled, "Aren't you supposed to be some holier-than-thou miracles-up-my-sleeve, angel. 'Stead you're a liability. I wasted my time saving you when I should have had his back," jerking his head to Dean.

"Yes, it would be unfortunate if your way out of here got himself killed," Cas tersely volleyed back, judgment carrying in his tone for the vampire's selfishness. He didn't see the blow come, stumbled under the impact of Benny's fist striking his chin, was harshly reminded that he wasn't the strong angel he had once been. Before he could recover, Benny got a hold on his jacket, yanked him to be eye to eye with his glittering glare.

"He gets even another scratch 'cause of you, angel or not, I will roast your hide," Benny vowed before roughly shoving Cas away. Then he stalked ahead, only slowed down once he had gained Dean's side.

Still stunned by the vampire's reaction, by the true worry he sensed in Benny for Dean's wellbeing, at the fierce loyalty sparking in the vampire's eyes, Cas didn't move for a moment, stood there and let Dean get further away from him. But when he started walking again, closing in the distance to Dean, to the man that had garnered fierce loyalty in him without his consent, he couldn't help but wonder if that was Dean's gift, to acquire the loyalty of the most unlikely of beings. And always be oblivious to his worthiness to evoke such loyalty.

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Tbc

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Thanks for reading.

Show of hands of who wouldn't sacrifice Mac and company's safety to save Dean? (Any takers? So hopefully you all aren't passing judgment on Sammy's decision. I do feel a bit bad about Zeke but the man has a mind of his own, is making his own choice.)

Ok, the next chapter is still a work-in-progress so any encouragement you send my way would be much appreciated to keep my muse alive and well!

Have a great day!

Cheryl W.