A/N: So here we are, getting close to the end, close, perilously close to the edge... I would like to thank TraSan, InfiniteShadow and Tree for the pokes on this chapter.

Edge

Chapter Thirty-Seven

When Wolverines Fly

There was a moment when his mind was lagging behind what had happened and Dean stared up at the ceiling, still dazed from the explosion. I told Sam he was insane to try. His brain caught up with him. Sam! His brother wasn't in the cave. He said something about going for help, but from where? Dean lay there for another second, listening to the sounds around him, he could hear the water gurgling on the hillside and something else, a soft whump, whump in the distance.

He tried to push himself, to go after Sam, but couldn't get enough leverage to sit up, so he rolled over instead and got up on all fours, crawling for the mouth of the cave. After moving a few feet, his arms collapsed out from under him, he waited a moment and eased himself forward. He was halfway there—and who would have though this cave was seven miles long?--when something filled the door. Dean froze, waiting for Arf to attack, when he realized it wasn't the wolverine. "Sam?"

"Easy," the man said. "I need a stretcher up here!"

"Sammy?" Dean mumbled, the world greying at the edges.

"What's your name?"

"Dean. Sam?"

"Deansam? That's your name?" the man asked. He was doing something, Dean wasn't sure what, but pain shot through his body, he closed his eyes, breathing slowly and when his eyes finally opened again, he was staring at the ceiling of the cave.

"Where's Sam?"

"Hey, Deansam? Can you hear me? You'll feel a little pinch okay?" The next moment something dug into his arm.

"Shit!"

"It's okay, Deansam. Got his vitals?" the guy said to someone else. "Okay."

"I'm Dean. Where's Sam?" Panic was flaring in his chest. Where was his brother? He tried to struggle up, strong hands held him still. "Where's Sammy?"

"Dean? Okay, hang on, we need you to hold still." Something heavy was wrapped around him, enveloping his lower body, a moment later there was a pumping sound and the wrap tightened around him. The pressure was light, but still it was like being encased in mud. His stomach sank, even though he felt a little clearer. The sense of almost being buried was very much there. His breathing sped up. Calm, these guys aren't going to kill you. Unless... What if they aren't guys? What if they are...? "You still with us, Dean?"

"Where's Sam?" He tried to get up again—and could hardly move at all. Oh god. His life-long fear of being restrained was there, suddenly, blossoming in his chest with a frantic staccato beat. He was being moved, dragged onto something hard, even more unyielding than the cave floor had been. Something rigid went around his neck. And the fun goes on. "Where's Sam?"

"Okay, we're taking you to the chopper, Dean." His whole body was lifted and he was eased out of the cave.

"Chopper?" Dean asked hazily. "Chop...? Helicopter? Oh no, oh hell no! No, no! Leave me come back in a truck." No flying. No FLYING! He tried to escape from the moving stretcher, only to find he was really strapped down. Really, really, really. Let me up! He was held immobile, it felt a little like he was suffocating. When did that happen​ "Sam?"

"I'm Keith, that's Doug at your feet. Hold still."

"Where's Sam?" Dean said, his voice muffled. And it just gets better.

"What?" Keith asked, bending over him.

"Sam?"

"Sam?"

"Brother."

"Oh! Tall guy? Dark hair? We got him."

The whump whump was getting closer. Dean could see the sweep of the blades over his head a moment later. His heart rate sped up. He tried taking a calming breath, only to have the fact that there was an oxygen mask on his face slammed home, which made him claustrophobic, which increased his heart rate, which made him want to move, which made him realize he was strapped down, which increased his heart rate, which made him realize he was about to be loaded into a helicopter, which increased his heart rate. Oh god. Ohgod. Ohgodohgodohgodohgodohgod.

"Calm down!" Keith said.

"Truck, I'll wait for a truck," he said, still trying to get away. He couldn't move at all. "Where's Sammy? Get me out of here!" The helicopter was in view now. "NO!" Dean shouted. "Sam!" His heart was pretty much exploding in his chest as he desperately fought to get away.

"Dean!" Keith tapped his chest to get his attention. "Sam said he will wait for the truck with you, if you want to us to leave you. I don't think that's a good idea, he's in bad shape."

"Sammy?" Dean stopped struggling, even though his heart was slamming so hard against his ribs it hurt. He tried to take a calming breath. "Okay." He closed his eyes as he was lifted on board.

"Arf ur ruff ruff," the wolverine suddenly said, the growl loud even over the sound of the helicopter.

"Wolverine." Dean tried to get Keith's attention.

"Arf, grrr, uff ruff," it chuckled.

"What the hell is that?" Keith said.

A scream pierced the air.

"DOUG! Oh my god, it's got Doug!"

Shots rang out.

"What's happening?" Dean asked, no one heard him. "Sam? Is he okay?"

"GO! GO, GO, GO!" Keith dove in beside Dean and the door slammed closed. The sound of the spinning turbine picked up, whining up a tone. "Doug's dead!" Keith shouted over the noise.

"Arf must have got him," Dean said to no one in particular.

The helicopter started to move.

Oh god. No, please no flying... Would rather stay with Arf, no flying, oh god, no, are we moving? Is Sammy okay? They said bad shape. Oh god, flying. No, put me back, oh shit, oh god, oh no, oh please, oh god. The words spun around in his head, each one increasing with volume as the chopper lifted off the ground. "SAM!" he shouted.

"I'm here!"

He tried to calm himself. Sam's here, he's hurt, needs a doctor. Okay, I can do this. Oh god. What was that? No flying, no flying, let me out, please. He couldn't hear anything but the whump of the blades and the beating of his heart. The helicopter lurched as it lifted off, buffeted by the winds from the fire. Oh god, no flying! Oh please, let me up! He fought against the straps holding him down, fought to get the mask off his face.

Occasionally words filtered in "agitated" and "panic" and "agitated" again, then "risk it." Shortly after that, calm started oozing through his body. His muscles relaxed their fight against the bonds holding him motionless and woo hoo, flying replaced the frantic refrain in his head. Sam? He opened his eyes as far as they would go and tried to see the other side of the helicopter. He could make out an IV bag and the line going down. He tried to move his head to see, but it wouldn't budge, so he rolled his eyes as far as they could go and just made out the other stretcher and Sam's dark hair. He's here, okay, getting him to safety. Good plan, got Sam onto a helicopter. Oh god, I'm on one too, but hey kinda cool. Oh, I bet they gave me something. He closed his eyes again.

The sounds of the helicopter were gone when his eyes were willing to open again. He blinked and stared at a tiled ceiling. Voices began to drift into his hazy awareness. The artificially calm tones of the medical profession. Hospital. Is Sam okay? Sam! His heart sped up again.

"How is my brother? Why won't you tell me?" a voice growled from his left. Sam. Dean took a deep breath.

"Calm down," a clipped female voice said.

"Sam?" Dean said, his voice still muffled by an oxygen mask.

"Dean! Hey, man."

"You okay?"

"Yeah."

"We flew."

"I know," Sam said with a chuckle. "You didn't like it much."

"Not funny."

"It's a little funny." There was a pause, Dean heard the rumble of another voice. "How is he?" Sam asked, his voice calm, without emotion. Oh, that's so bad.

"We're waiting on a surgeon," the other person said.

"How long?"

"Not too long," the doctor said.

"How's Sam?" Dean said, trying to forestall an explosion from his brother.

"He's fine," the doctor said, stepping over so Dean could see him. "I'm Dr Ford."

"Hey. How's Sam?" Dean repeated. Because last time I saw him, so not fine.

"He's going to be fine, how's that?" Dr. Ford said with a smile. "If he rests." He turned to frown at the other bed. "How's your pain?"

"Awesome."

"On a scale of one to ten?"

"Five? Maybe six?"

"Right, son," Dr. Ford laughed. "Mary? Let's get him something for pain."

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a blond walk past the bed and out the door on his right.

He sighed, maybe, just maybe they'd made it.

"Arf ur ruff ruff," something said from the doorway.

To Be Continued

A/N II: Scopulus made me do it! He did!!