Surviving Is Just Step One

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: Totally do NOT believe or try any medical stuff I put into this chapter. My cat could probably give you better medical advice than I can.

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Chapter 11: Ways To Die

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Rule # 11: There is no safe haven, only less painful ways to die.

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Even as each step he takes puts more distance between Dean and Mac's group, Sam expects to hear it at any moment: their screams, Zeke's and Ivan's and Vicki's and Mac's. To somehow know when they die, when the death sentence he gave them is carried out by the monster of the day. It doesn't matter that it isn't logical, that the sound, of even screaming, wouldn't carry the miles that must separate them now.

But for all of the heavy dread settling over him, he's not sorry. Can't be. Because to be sorry for condemning the four innocents would be the same as wishing Dean dead. Because a choice had to be made, their lives or Dean's. And by not heeding their warning about the Wendigo, by not helping him take Dean to the ranger's station, Mac and the others had made their choice. And then he had made his. There was no unmaking it.

Just like there was no unmaking his choice a year and half ago to willfully decide to not try and rescue Kevin from Crowley…and to give up hunting the very day his brother seemingly died to save the world. Decisions not bore from apathy but fury, grief. The levels of which…Dean couldn't see, wouldn't want to grasp. And Sam wasn't eager to make Dean comprehend the depths of the motivation for his actions, feared that his brother would think so much less of him, even than he did now, would be sickened by the darkness, bitterness in his little brother's heart.

Because Sam hadn't forgotten about Kevin as much as he just decided to not attempt to rescue him from Crowley's clutches. After all, the prophet was partially to blame for Dean being gone. Because if Sam hadn't had to go rescue Kevin, he would have been with Dean when his brother confronted Dick and he might have been able to change the outcome…or at the very least, share in his brother's fate. Kevin had made that impossible. Had condemned him, albeit unintentionally, to a life without his brother. And there was nothing more unforgiveable than that.

Then there were all the 'innocents' Dean thought he should have been off saving from monsters in the year that Dean had been gone. But when a hunt presented itself, all Sam could think was, 'Who was there to save Dean? To come to Dean's rescue?! To make sure I didn't lose my brother?!' And the answer was always the same: No one. No other hunter, no other good Samaritan, no other heavenly creature except Cas. If Dean, the most unselfish, heroic man Sam knew, didn't deserve help, didn't deserve to be saved…then no one did. Certainly not by Sam's hands.

But in the end, his bitterness and grief, it didn't just manage to condemn Kevin and random strangers, it condemned Dean too. Had blinded Sam to the real possibility that he could get his brother back, that Dean could be returned to him. And how could he justify that failing, that weakness?! He couldn't…so he didn't try. Instead he pretended stoic indifference to the fact that he left his brother in Purgatory to rot…to maybe die in a way more permanent than they could comprehend. To fear for his life, every second of every day. To indiscriminately take lives so he could live….for at least a few more hours.

And inexplicably, Dean ended up alone to do battle for his survival, with not even Cas there to have his back. And with Cas' absence, Dean was desperate enough to make a dangerous allegiance with a vampire.

Cas had more to answer for than Alfie's death. Way more.

'And still Dean doesn't seem to be holding a grudge against Cas anymore, has forgiven him ….quicker than he's forgiving me,' And Sam can't fight back the spike of jealousy at that truth, wishes he knew what Cas had done to get back into Dean's good graces, despondently wonders if that feat was only something an angel could pull off.

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It shouldn't have shocked him, or caught him off guard. There were monsters everywhere…Dean should have suspected that some Loch Ness Monster wanna-be would be swimming under the surface of the bodies of dark, oily water. But still he nearly shrieked like a girl when a tentacle splashed from the water and coiled around his ankle.

He didn't even have time to hack at the fishy appendage before he was knocked off his feet and, true to form, lost his grip on his knife. The next second he found himself being drug into the water. Hastily, he drew in a deep breath before his head followed his body and was wrenched below the water's surface. And it was stupid that, as he was being dragged down into the water's dank depths, his mind went to Star Wars, to the scene in the trash compactor. A scene that Sam loved so much, mostly because his little brother got to tease his fearless big brother about the time they took a dip in a bay without their Dad's permission and Dean had freaked out when some seaweed touched his leg.

'Sam might actually find it fitting, me being taken out by some sewer/water monster,' Dean darkly mused, even as he frantically struggled to get the tentacle free, to pull himself from the monster's grip. But Nessie wasn't giving up her prize and Dean was plum out of air.

Suddenly a hand grasped his wrist, pulled him up with incredible force and for a moment, he feared that he would lose his leg in the tug of war. Kicking out with his free leg, he connected with the tentacle and it slipped free and then he was being propelled to the surface. It felt like an eternity until his head broke the surface, until his burning lungs choked on their first breath of air. He didn't pull away as an arm hooked around him, kept him from sinking back under as his body's lack of oxygen made him lightheaded, made him forget a moment where he was, who he was with.

Looking over his shoulder, he saw that his rescuer didn't have shaggy brown hair, was not Sam but Cas, doing another version of his 'gripped you tight and raised you from Perdition', which Dean was so ok with him right then, even if it resulted in another memorable handprint burn scar.

Then Cas was half swimming, half carrying him to the shoreline, didn't release Dean until they were both standing on the embankment, drenched but thankfully in one piece. Bending over, Dean choked on the water he didn't even know he had swallowed, was about to offer a thanks to Cas when another slimy tentacle shot out of the water and slithered around his arm.

Anticipating what would come next, Cas tackled Dean and held onto his friend as the water monster used its latest hold to try and pull Dean back into the water. Dean gave a growled cry of pain by Cas' ear as his arm was nearly dislocated by the resistance.

Then Benny was suddenly there, slashing down with his knife, cutting the tentacle into two pieces. With his sudden release, Dean toppled backwards, right out of Cas' hold and landed on the ground. In sick fascination, he watched as the bloody, stumped appendage retreated back into the water.

Sinking down to his knees beside Dean, Benny worriedly demanded, "You alright?" But when Dean didn't tear his eyes from the water or make a reply, he grabbed Dean's chin, forced the man's eyes to meet his. "Any numbness? Any burning? I need to know if it had venom, if you've been poisoned, right now!"

"No, nothing," Dean stammered before he solidified his answers, "I'm Ok. Not poisoned, no bad reaction to whatever that thing is."

For a moment, Benny didn't reply, simply stared him down, until he was sure Dean wasn't shining him on about being OK. "Figures even the not so little fishys would like a taste of you," he teased as he began uncoiling the disembodied tentacle from around Dean's arm. He scowled at the abrasions left behind on Dean's skin.

Realizing that the creature had no intentions of letting Dean go, Cas waded determinedly into the water, would kill the monster before it made another attempt to take Dean.

Sparing a quick glance over his shoulder, Benny knew what Cas had in mind and whole heartedly agreed. Putting his hand on Dean's chest, he commanded, "Move back from the shoreline," then he joined Cas in the water, barely ducked in time to avoid a tentacle to the face.

From his vantage point on the shore, Dean watched the vampire and angel battle the sea serpent. And for all the farfetched things that he had seen in his life, what he was seeing now, felt surreal, like some CG scene out of a high budget Hercules movie. A scene he belonged in, especially since the fight was over him.

Pushing to his feet, he retrieved his knife from the ground where he had lost it and waded back into the water. But he never got a chance to land even one good blow, instead, two tentacles plowed into him. Flying through the air, he hit the water a few feet away like it was cement. Stunned, he sank under the water a ways before he managed to stop his descent and began to swim for the surface.

But like some B-creature-feature movie, a thick tentacle slithered around his torso and began to pull him down, further away from the meager light Purgatory called daylight. Not defenseless this time, he stabbed the tentacle with his knife. That earned him a boa-constrictor response from the sea serpent.

As the tentacles mercilessly tightened around his torso, seemed intent on crushing his rib bones…one by one, Dean fought back a cry of agony, knew that to open his mouth was to drown. All the while, the water grew darker, the light fading away, along with his chances of making it out of this one alive. When his back collided with something unmoving, he starkly knew just how deep the body of water was… because he was pinned to the bottom of it. It was a poor time to think of how a crocodile would take its victim to the bottom to give it a death roll.

It gave him the incentive to stab the tentacle again and again but the monster's hold didn't weaken, only tightened more. Morbidly, he accepted that it wasn't likely that he would see dry land again. Or Sam. 'Sorry, Sammy, I screwed up. Guess I'm not getting back to you this time.'

And the void was closing in on him, seemingly for good, when the tentacle loosened. Not looking a gift horse in the mouth, he weakly shucked out of their grip and swam sluggishly for the surface, fought back the black edges in his vision, clung stubbornly to consciousness as he forced his arms and legs to move, to propel him up, toward the light. His head broke the surface right before he was sure his lungs would burst. He couldn't even put up a fight when something grabbed him. Could only thank God that the hand on his arm, it was human, belonged to Benny.

Towing Dean to the nearest embankment, Benny roughly hauled his friend out of the water. "I've had hounds that listen better than you do!" Benny shouted, clearly livid. He showed his displeasure by dropping Dean, none too gently, onto the embankment to land on his back. Then, towering over the drenched, nearly drown man, he berated, "Cas and I had it under control!"

Dean couldn't reply, couldn't defend his actions, was too busy hacking up water, wheezing in air, holding his badly bruised ribcage.

Leaving a dead sea serpent in his wake, Cas, his trench coat water-logged, climbed free of the pond and stalked over to his human charge. Reaching down, he jerked the still coughing Dean off the ground and shoved him against the nearest tree. "You think I attacked that thing for any other reason than to keep you safe?!"

Anger helping to abate his burning lung's protests, Dean defiantly choked out even as he tried to disengage Cas' manacle grip on his jacket, "Who asked you to?! I coulda taken the thing."

"Ever since I pulled you from Hell, I've done the most….illogical, suicidal, blasphemous things…." Cas raggedly recounted.

But Dean interjected the angel's condemnation. "And that's my fault?! You made your own choices, Cas. Choices I told you NOT to make, practically begged you not to make."

"Yes, I made the choice to try and get your brother out of the cage and back to you. And I chose to not rip you away from your life with Lisa and Ben to fight in heaven's war alongside me. And I choose to let Crowley use your grandfather, Samuel, instead of you to hunt down the Alphas. And I let Crowley manipulate me…just so you would be safe, so Raphael couldn't free Michael and start the apocalypse all over again. So don't you dare say that what I did was for anybody but you." With one last shove against Dean's chest, Cas walked away, knew he had to distance himself from his friend, had to quell his fear of a moment ago, that Dean had truly died this time. He had to think clearly..not emotionally.

Coming to Dean's side, Benny quirked an eyebrow at Dean. "Guess some of us do get our own personal guardian angels."

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Dean's rasped, "Sam" breaks into Sam's thoughts.

No matter how weak, how pained his brother's voice is, it still sends a wash of relief flowing over Sam. Because Dean's uncharacteristic silence the last hour, which had only been broken by an occasional moan of pain when Sam made a misstep, had been unnerving at best, wracked on his nerves worse than anticipating screams renting the air. Though he can't see Dean's face, he reassures himself with the comfortable weight of his brother's head against his back. "Hey, how are you doing? We got another half an hour of light left before we stop," his tone falsely cheerful, like this is some expedition they took on for fun.

Dean swallows hard, tries to form the words, any words. After all, it has taken him a good while to even get out his brother's name. But what he wants to say next….even if his body wasn't wracked with agony, if any small movement, even swallowing, let alone talking wasn't a major accomplishment, the words wouldn't come easy. Never would. It doesn't mean they don't need to be said, have to be said before it is too late, before his chance is gone. Forever. "Not …your fault."

Sam's jaw clenches painfully. He should have known Dean would waste his energy on trying to make him feel better. "Dean, I'm the one that dragged you on this hunt…."

"No…Purgatory. Couldn't …have known."

Unconsciously, Sam's grip on his brother's leg and arm tightens, as if the mere mention of the place threatens to steal Dean away from him again. "I didn't know because I didn't try to find you. Dean …I…"

"Sss ok," Dean slurs, needs Sam to know this, wishes he could say more, tell him all of it. But there isn't time…'And even if there was…' he jeeringly questions himself, knows his proclivity to remain stoic, to cut himself off, even from Sam, it is hardwired in him, makes it nearly impossible for him to be honest with Sam…with even himself. "Forgive..you."

As badly as he had wanted Dean to forgive him, as angry as he was that Dean held his stay in Purgatory against him while claiming Benny his new bestest brother, it doesn't seem right, getting Dean's forgiveness now. "Dean," he chokes out.

"Sorry…Sam…my," Dean apologizes, knows his body is shutting down. That though he doesn't want to leave Sam, especially out in the middle of the woods with a Wendigo, fate doesn't care, has never cared what he's wanted.

Sam frowns, replies back in confusion, "Sorry for what?" But Dean doesn't answer him. "Dean, you're sorry for what?" Still Dean's reply is silence. And it's not just about the words Dean's not saying…is about the breath Dean's not taking. "Dean! Hey!" Sam shouts, jarring Dean at knee and elbow but Dean's body is suddenly deadweight in his grip.

"Dean!" the panicked shout echoes in the woods as Sam crashes to his knees, uses his grip on Dean's arm and leg to slip Dean off his shoulder to land unceremoniously onto the forest floor. But Dean makes no protest at the rough handling, his eyes don't open and flash with a familiar but well-loved glare, he doesn't grouse at the leaf daring to cling to his hair, doesn't shift his arms and legs from their awkward angles, lies there pale, motionless, lifeless.

For a beat, Sam can't move, can only look down at his brother and remember…New Harmony, Dean splattered in his own blood: dead. When his trembling fingers can't find a pulse in his brother's neck, when the ear he presses to Dean's chest detects only a resounding quiet, when he understands, with despairing clarity, that Dean's apology, it is for this, for dying on him, he doesn't act the part of the seasoned hunter, or the well-versed researcher, or the level-headed one from their family.

Instead he comes apart.

Violently grabbing his brother's face, he rolls the limp head until he can fully see the face he knows better than his own and shamelessly begs, "Dean! Dean?! No! No! No! Breathe!" But he finds no reassurances in the beloved features, not in the closed eyes, in the nearly translucent skin, in the heaviness of the head cradled in his hands. "No, you don't get to do this to me!" he growls out, fisting one hand in Dean's shirt and giving it a shake, giving Dean a shake even as his other hand clasps onto the back of his brother's neck in a hold too tight to be gentle.

"You don't quit! That's not who you are!" he angrily yells down at the forlorn figure of his bigger-than-life brother. "Dean!" he nearly roars as Dean defies him, doesn't come back to him, is set to stay gone.

But Dean leaving him, that's not acceptable, will never be acceptable. "Screw you! I'm not letting you go!" Then Sam's hands find purpose, begin chest compressions. "If you won't fight, I'll fight for the both of us," and it's as much a promise as a goad. Neither gets a rise out of Dean.

"Where ever you think you're going…I'll drag you back, you know I will," Sam hoarsely vows, knows he sounds unhinged…and he is. He can't do this again, can't lose Dean again and start over, doesn't have the pieces left to put himself back together, not another time. "Don't go, Dean! You wanna punish me…find another way. Not this. Not this Dean!" His compressions becoming more desperate, losing their rhythm…a rhythm Dean's refusing to join.

And Sam doesn't even know he's crying, not until something breaks free in his throat and his next breath comes out a sob. It's like a flood gate release, because he can't shut it down, can't hold it back, can barely keep up the compressions when he's being torn apart from the inside out, when his world is dying under his hands.

"No, please!" he cries out, as his hands falter until they still, latch onto Dean's shirt and his head bows to rest onto Dean's chest. A chest that is horrifying still. "Please, Dean. Please. I know everyone dies….but don't leave me. I need you, I'm always going to need you."

But there is no miraculous resuscitation, is no rumble of Dean's voice saying 'no chick flick moments' is just the abyssal hole in his world which only Dean can fill. "No, no," Sam sobs, eyes clamping shut, tears dripping onto Dean's shirt. And it can't end like this, for Dean, for them. On some crappy Wendigo hunt, stuck in a lousy forest, all to protect some people who didn't even think Dean's life was worth saving.

Cursing, Sam raises his head, looks to Dean's face, and reaches out a tender hand to cup his brother's cheek. Right before he delivers a resounding slap that snaps Dean's head right. "You're not leaving me. So suck it up, Dean." Another slap leaving a stinging red mark on Dean's pale face but Sam turns a blind eye to it, tells himself it doesn't matter, only one thing does: Dean breathing, Dean not dying. "You really think I would have left you stay in Purgatory for even a friggin' day if I knew where you were?! Could have gotten you out?! You're not that stupid Dean!" adding insults to his repertoire as he fingers again make contact with his brother's cheek. Then he drags his bag closer, begins routing though it until he finds the med kit he had stolen from Zeke, rips it open and dumps the contents on the forest floor.

His trembling hands push through the supplies only to suddenly still when an EpiPen is uncovered. Mind racing, Sam vaguely recalls that, though the purpose of the needled prescription was to treat allergic reactions, it is basically a strong, fast acting shot of adrenaline. Grimly aware that he can't make matters worse, Sam jabs the needle into Dean's neck, hopefully sending the adrenaline flowing through Dean's blood stream to his heart.

And then he does the only two things he can do. He waits. And he prays that Dean does what he has always managed to do before: Comes back to him.

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TBC

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Thanks for reading and for the array of interesting comments on last chapter! They helped me get cracking on this chapter and get it done faster than I expected.

And about this cliffie…what? Me? Cruel…nah, nope…ok, totally.

Have a great day!

Cheryl W.