Again, sorry for the long break between updates, I'll be shooting for an update every two weeks (sorry) until college apps are done, which they almost are, promise! In case it isn't clear, italics represent a flashback, just a heads up :) And I still don't own SPN (but am eagerly awaiting the season 13 premiere, what do you guys think?)

"Okay. Full moon's two weeks away, there's two of them for sure, no more, and I'd say no less but we could always hope for some random stroke of luck. And they won't get the jump on us because-"

"Because we've been the ones watching them for once," Sam finished, with a slightly good-natured eye roll. "Dude, how many times have we been over this? Four? We know how it's going to go."

Dean stopped, mouth open part way as he tried to formulate a response. "Yeah no, I know, I just wanted to make sure you were clear on everything, no room for error and all that, I am not hauling you through some forest with werewolves on my ass."

Although there was a touch of humor in his voice, there was also a deep ring of truth. It was less than a year since their past werewolf hunt, which had led to both of them being temporarily dead (although Sam didn't know about Dean's…circumstances). "And I'm not hauling you out if all your loud 'reminding' gets us caught with our pants down," Sam countered with a small smile.

"Whatever. Just stick to the plan." With that, they lapsed into silence and continued to the cabin.

It was, in fact, a rare hunt where everything had been planned out. Sam had of course noticed, but had elected to not say anything, which Dean was somewhat grateful for. He never planned things like this, ever, but he didn't want a repeat of last time.

The werewolves weren't supposed to be purebloods, so they hopefully shouldn't be causing too much trouble. They were just a pair of dudes up in a hunting cabin, sometimes going into town a few miles away for some…takeout. Dean had even tried to park the Impala closer, should there be any problems, which, in their line of work, were likely to occur to some degree. Everything they could do they were prepared for.

They were extremely cautious to avoid any fallen branches as they approached the small cabin. Rather than split up or go through the front, they avoided the windows and snaked their way in through the back.

They had in fact watched the two men drive up (from their place covered by the Impala and the trees with a pair of binoculars) and enter the cabin, but neither one of them had left. There was a light on in the sitting room and only one story to the cabin, so signs pointed to them being in that room. All the brothers had to do was go in the back, get behind the sitting room, and end it before anything started. It was simple, yeah, it'd be super simple, as it always was.

Dean sent Sam one more look as they both cocked their guns. Dean tried the handle, which was of course locked, and went about unlocking it. Sure, he could kick it in, but then again, it was all about minimizing risks. The door eventually clicked open, and Dean put the kit away to return to his gun.

With careful hands, he began to push the door open, both of them at the ready…

There was something bright in his eyes. Not bright as in 'heavenly death light bright', that wasn't exactly a thing and Dean had the unfortunate experience to prove it. It wasn't a light, it was just black. So when the darkness around him started getting brighter, he knew he wasn't dead…yet. As the brightness became a bit more annoying, the…memory was it? started to fade away.

With some degree of difficulty, he pried his eyes open, which he was surprised to not find frozen shut. Everything was freezing and just…heavy, as if he were a cold, slowly sinking stone. Cold Stone? No, not like the ice cream, like the metaphor. What was he thinking?

He would've shaken his head to dispel the thoughts, but decided that it would be a better idea to not jostle his head and instead look for the source of the light. He had no idea how long he had been in the water for, after all.

Off to his right a fair distance away, there were voices. While they were muted, there was also light surrounding them. Dean pressed his eyes shut and opened them again, trying to get a clearer picture of what was going on. He waited a few seconds for things to focus, but he was pretty sure he could make out a blocky outline and some lights flashing over the dark surf.

And those lights were bright, obviously search lights scanning the area. Given the blocky shape, the size of the plane that had gone down, and the lights, he was guessing (and hoping) for some sort of rescue ship. How long had he been out there? And how many boats were even available? How the hell would they see him?

That last question seemed to wake him up more from whatever frozen daze he had found himself stuck in. Dean went to raise his arms, which proved to be more of a challenge than it should have been, and send a sluggish flow of blood to his already pounding head. Would anyone even see a lone, small arm waving around?

"H'y," he tried calling. Or, calling was a drastic overstatement. The attempted shout never made it further than his mouth, which was chattering and closed mostly shut. His next attempt resulted in a few staggered coughs, but still no attention or rescue attempt. He shifted his shoulders and gradually his whole body to try and get some blood going, which he assumed would help.

"Hey," Dean managed to get the whole word out on the third attempt. "Hey!" Now that one was louder, but the boats were still too far away, and most likely pre-occupied with getting others to safety. But still, he could see the ship and its lights. Give a Winchester a destination or an objective, and they could figure out the rest.

"Come on you stubborn sonofabitch," he half muttered, half thought. He was not dying in some freezing water after a plane crash, it just wasn't happening. He had to get back home, he had things he needed to do.

It took some more mental pushing but eventually he started moving his arms and legs. Slowly but surely Dean started to make his way through the undulating waves, trying to ignore the aching and pinpricks throughout his body.

Lebanon, Kansas 7:51pm

When they had first stepped foot into that cabin only a week or so ago, things had been quiet. If they only knew what they had been in for, it would have seemed more like the calm before the storm,

That was how Sam was feeling, his echoing, slightly limping footsteps the only sound in the bunker as he made his way towards the garage, bags slung over his shoulder. He was trying to be quick, but not being able to breathe completely wasn't exactly helping.

When he finally got to the garage, Cas was already standing there, a pair of similar duffles slung over his shoulder, but he was staring at the Impala, as if confused.

"Come on, we need to load it up," Sam instructed as he made his way over and popped the trunk open.

"Why didn't Dean take the car?" the angel asked, but he too eventually came around to the back end of the machine.

"Said he didn't want her being all alone in an airport parking lot," Sam replied. He probably would have smiled, if not for the situation that presented itself that led them to having to drive the Impala anyways.

Cas nodded as he put the bags in and took Sam's final one. "It does sound like something he would be opposed to."

"Yeah," Sam replied absently. He fingered the keys for a moment in his pocked before he brought them out. If he couldn't even walk to the garage without being out of breath, he doubted he could drive for a solid day without problems. Dean hadn't even wanted him driving in the first place, and his injury was the reason why he hadn't been on the plane with Dean…

Sam cut off the train of thought by tossing Cas the keys, which he caught, and again looked at, a bit confused. "I shouldn't drive," Sam admitted weakly. "Dean would kill either of us if we crashed it, so just be careful."

Cas looked from the keys to Sam for another moment before he too, nodded. "I will be careful," he said, as if promising, and closed the trunk. Sam went through his mental checklist again, they had clothes, his meds, ID, and money, and whatever Cas had brought, so they should be fine when they got to New York and got to Dean. Because they'd get to him because he would be alright.

As soon as Cas started up the car, rock music began blaring from the speakers, which Sam hurriedly turned down and shook his head before he switched it to the radio station. It took a few minutes of driving away from the bunker to get a decent signal, and when they did, the news was still repeating what they had already heard on the television.

Eventually the radio got lowered, though both men kept an ear out for anything new. After an hour of driving, the nine o'clock update came on, and Sam turned it up again before he resumed his position of looking out the window.

"This just in, news of flight 523 and its passengers. Coast Guard crews have been sweeping the area for the past half hour and just five minutes ago came into contact with survivors-"

Sam immediately reached over and turned it up.

"-some of whom we have been told are gravely injured and suffering from hypothermia. Over an hour in the frigid water is enough to bring about the possibility of permanent damage, but as of now, survivors have started being picked up. More rescue boats have been dispatched to the area, hoping to bring all four hundred and two people back safely. Stay tuned, we'll have more information on the rescue in half an hour."

The car was silent for a few moments as the report changed to some advertisement and Sam again lowered it.

"It's likely Dean is still alive," Cas reminded a minute or so later, eyes still fixed on the road. "If survivors have been found in those conditions, so could he."

Sam nodded absently. "I know, Cas, I know." It was a quiet admission. He wanted to know that it would be alright, but wanting wasn't the same as having. But all Sam had was that wanting and hoping that Dean was already on the boat, and not one of the gravely injured the report had talked about.

Though, in their line of work, wanting and hoping often didn't lead to the best of outcomes.

Thanks for sticking with this story! Admittedly, these few chapters have been harder to write. I've got everything planned out but this section, but once we get in two or three more chapters, it'll get going, promise. I also forgot to do guest reviews last time (sorry!)

Guest: Hope you liked this installment and thanks as always for reading! Means the world to me :)