Sorry I kept you guys waiting so long. Thanks for the reviews. Someone mentioned it was very uncharacteristic that Dean did not notice Sam's injury. I reread it and I do agree that I was stretching the characters a bit, but I thought if I blamed it on exhaustion, then maybe I could get by. ;-)

I'm glad you liked that paragraph, kaewi, that took me awhile. Sorry about the cliché.

Well I just wanted to wish you all happy holidays and happy new year! Consider this my gift from me to you.

An exhausted sigh of relieve escaped Dean as he stepped into the little house. It had no heat, but it kept the bone-chilling wind out. Another thing that had helped to form the comforted sigh was the sight of several cushioned chairs. All Dean wanted to do was walk over and plop into to one of them.

And he started to, but then he saw a small TV. With a small chuckle, Dean turned around saying, "Hey, Sammy, looks like they got cable. Time for some Oprea."

A sudden chill slithered down Dean's spine as he realized something was wrong. He had only counted 4 other figures in the dim light. "Sammy?" Dean said spinning around.

Fear and panic spread though Dean like a wild fire as he realized his baby brother was not inside the shelter. "Sammy!"

"Where is Sammy! Sam, Sam is gone, Sam is missing! When was the last time anyone saw him?" Dean said turning to each of the climbers. As each one shuck their heads no, Dean became more and more anxious. His exhaustion gone, Dean sprinted out the front down, sheer terror driving him, pumping through his blood.

"SAMMY! SAM! WHERE ARE YOU!" he screamed into the wind. "TELL ME WHERE YOU ARE!" he begged.

Dean squinted his eyes, searching the area like a hawk. Finally, he realized their foot/leg prints and followed them. Straining his eyes, Dean saw a figure in the distance. His heart almost broke through his chest as he saw that the figure was laying face down in the snow and not moving. He ran as best he could though the waist high snow, hearing the others following behind him.

Finally he reached the side of the lifeless form, took off his glove, and felt for a pulse. He held his breath the vain did not beat under his frozen fingers immediately, but let out a small sigh when it did.

Dean was about to roll his baby brother on to his back when he noticed a large dark spot on the navy blue jacket. Sure enough, when he touched the mysterious spot, it left a red residue on his fingers.

Dean let out a strangled cry as he realize how much blood was on the jacket. But his small cry turned into a sob when he saw yet another red splotch on the back of his brother hat.

Grayson and Josh reached his side and took in the situation. "Shit," Grayson mumbled as he saw what bad condition Sam was in.

"Dean," he said, putting a hand on the man's shoulder. "We have to get your brother into the shelter. We can help him there," Grayson added, sounding like he was talking to an injured animal. "Can you help us carry him?"

Dean just nodded, his eyes wide with horror and despair. He turned Sam over and grabbed him under the armpits. Josh and Grayson each took a leg.

The journey back to the shelter was excruciatingly long and exhausting. If it hadn't been his little brother who was hurt, Dean would have never made it. Finally they reached the small wooden door and brought the unconscious boy inside. They laid him on the chair closest to the fire Hilary had started.

Dean took off the funny looking hat that his brother was wearing and smiled with melancholy at the memory of Sam saying, "So… I really have to wear this?"

Tears came to his eyes as he looked at it now, covered in blood. He looked at the gash on the back of his little brothers head and winched as he saw how blood caked the brown hair was.

The brown hair that he used to ruffle when they were younger. The brown hair on top of the forehead he used to lay a damp towel against when his brother was sick with a fever. The little brother he used to hold when he had a nightmare.

Now that little brother was laying here with a gash in his head and a hole in his side, and Dean hadn't even seen it coming.

"Take off his jacket and let me see the damage," Hilary said, looking solemn, "I'm a doctor."

Dean did as he was told with a numbness surrounding him. What if he lost Sammy, his Sammy, that had always been there? He wouldn't be able to survive without him.

Who would he joke around with and pick on? Who would always be there, even if he was being a jerk? Whose ass would he have to save all the time? And who would save his? Who would he watch while they slept, just to make sure they weren't having a nightmare?

A silent tear ran down Dean's cheek, to depressed and exhausted to wipe it away.

He looked down at his hands and nearly gagged as he saw that there was a slice of skin missing from Sammy's side and that the wound was still bleeding. Then his eyes traveled to Sam's limp face.

His skin was pallid and sagging. His slightly parted lips had a sick tint of blue. Lines of dried blood stood out against the pale skin where the red liquid had trickled down his face. The face that Dean's eyes were on now was barely a shadow of the smiling face his brother had worn so well.

Finally Dean lost it. "SAMMY! Sammy! Please wake up, please!" he cried shaking the motionless form roughly. "Please, Sammy, please." The tears streamed down his face, dropping softly on to Sam's. "I can't do this with out you! Please, I am begging you, Sammy, please!"

Dean rested his head on his baby brothers rising and falling chest, sobs wrenching his body. He felt strong hand on his shoulder. "Dean, you're exhausted, you need to rest. Let us help Sam."

Dean tried to fight the hands that were pushing him into another chair, but he was too tired. His eyes closed themselves against his will and sleep overtook him.