Title: Now I Know My ABC's

Author: Disasteriffic Kaz

Info: A hurt/comfort romp through the alphabet, one letter at a time from A to Z. Each chapter is a stand-alone one shot. There is hurt, comfort, angst, humor, feels and all around fun.

Author's Note: No not THAT Frozen. Calm down. LOL Change of pace and we're going pre-series this time. Sam and Dean are fourteen and eighteen respectively. John of course is in this one with his questionable parenting skills but he loves his boys; it's just the whole single dad/hunter thing is hard. Lol

Beta'd by the always awesome JaniceC678 :D– Friend and Muse's co-conspirator.

**Follow me on Facebook as "Disasteriffic Kaz" for frequent fic updates or just to chat!
~Reviews are Love~

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F is for Frozen -

John Winchester trudged heavily through the snow. He stopped to stamp some of the snow off his legs and checked over his shoulder for his boys. Dean was about ten feet behind him, dragging his feet purposefully and flattening the trail John was breaking, and five feet behind him, Sam brought up the rear. His youngest had his head down and his brother's old scarf wrapped around him like a turban and hiding most of his face except for his eyes. He shook his head and started walking again.

"You boys stay sharp back there!" John called over the bitter wind that blew at them from the left. He wished he could turn and put that wind at their backs, but the thing they were hunting left him little choice.

"Yeah, yeah," Dean grumbled. He stopped, stamping his own feet, and grunted when Sam walked into him from behind. He chuckled and turned, grabbing hold of Sam's shoulder before he could over balance into the snow. "Dude. Eyes up."

"S'cold," Sam argued but he lifted his head and looked up at his brother. He didn't have to look up as far as he had last year, but Dean still had several inches on him.

"Keep movin' and you'll stay warm." Dean grabbed the front of his brother's jacket tugged the zipper. He scowled when it didn't budge from its place half way down Sam's chest. "Aw, what the hell?"

"Zipper's broke." Sam shrugged and moved past his brother.

Dean sighed and looked past his little brother to his father with a grimace. He'd told their dad two days ago that Sam needed a better coat. Hell, they both did, but Sammy came first. "Dammit," Dean groaned and started after his brother. He outpaced Sam's shorter legs easily and took his place in the middle again. He smirked at the angry curse he heard from Sam behind him and stomped down the snow his dad missed.

John stopped his boys an hour later at the top of a low rise overlooking a valley and the abandoned village he'd been expecting below. "Alright, boys." He waited until they both moved up beside him and looked down into the valley below. Some of the roofs of the old buildings were just visible in among the trees, covered with snow and sagging noticeably even from their vantage point. And the sail of an old windmill drifted lazily back and forth near the center of the valley, the sail tattered and flapping forlornly.

"What are we after?" John asked.

"A Fext." Dean sighed, wanting to just go down and find it and kill it already, but he was impatient that way.

Sam elbowed his older brother in the side with a roll of his eyes. "It's a type of undead creature, probably where the whole zombie mythos came from. It's from Slavic mythology, and there are reports of packs of them roaming the battlefields of the thirty-years war in the seventeenth century." He coughed and rubbed a gloved hand over his freezing face. "And the only way to kill them, according to the lore, is with bullets made of glass."

"Glad one of you was paying attention," John said with a hard look at his eldest. Dean only snorted at him and John made a mental note to kick his ass in training tomorrow. "You both have the special rounds I gave you?"

"Locked and loaded," Dean said and pulled his gun from the pocket of his parka. He checked the clip and made sure the safety was still on with a nod while Sam did the same.

"Good. Last intel I had said it was sighted down there in that valley." John waved an arm over the village. "That probably means its got a larder down there, hoarding food."

"Bodies," Sam said softly in a grim voice and looked over the village that no longer looked peaceful and quiet to him. "Human bodies." It looked dangerous.

"Yeah." John dropped a hand onto Sam's shoulder for a moment, a silent gesture of reassurance and encouragement. He knew his youngest boy was still uneasy with the dangers of hunting, but Sam was dealing with it as well as he could, and that was all John could ask for at this point. He felt bad that either of his boys had to be exposed to this crap at all, but better for them to know how to face what was really out there than to remain oblivious and end up dead. But where Dean seemed to take to hunting like a fish to water, loving the danger perhaps a little bit too much, Sam was far more reluctant to embrace the life, and it broke John's heart a bit to have to push him into it. But push he would if it meant keeping Sam alive.

"You boys are going to go in from here. I'm gonna swing around and approach from the north. With any luck, we'll flush it out between us and we can be back in a warm bed before dark." He looked sternly at them both. "No heroics and no splitting up. You two stay together, you hear me?"

"Yes, sir," Dean replied. He had no problem at all with that order. He didn't plan on letting Sam out of his sight until the undead thing was actually dead. "I'll make sure he doesn't faceplant into a snow drift unless I push him in one."

"Knock it off, jerk." Sam shoved away the arm Dean tried to wrap around his neck. "I'm armed."

"Whatever."

"Boys," John said warningly, hoping they would both take such a dangerous situation seriously. "I expect you to both behave and don't screw around down there. This is dangerous. That thing tears people apart. You keep your guns handy, and if you see it, you unload those glass rounds into it. If you can't take it down, you break and run for me. You got it?"

"Yes," Sam replied and resisted the urge to roll his eyes when his dad stared at him. "Yes, sir."

"Alright. Eyes sharp, boys." John patted them both on the shoulder and then took off at a jog along the rim of the valley along the treeline where the snow was at its lowest.

"Ok, Short Round," Dean slapped his little brother on the back and smirked. "Let's go gank this bitch."

"Shuddup." Sam started down the hill, walking sideways to keep from slipping and sliding the whole way down. He didn't need to give Dean ammunition to tease him with.

"Hey. Hold up!" Dean quickly caught up to his brother and moved alongside him. As they neared the base of the hill, he slowed and pulled Sam up as well. He lowered his voice. "Ok, no screwin' around. You stay on me and be quiet. We're lucky, we'll hear it crunchin' through the snow before it finds us."

Sam nodded as nerves overwhelmed him for a moment and just barely stopped himself from leaning up against his big brother for comfort. He knew Dean enjoyed the hunt, but Sam just couldn't find the same joy in it that Dean did. He understood why they did it, and he even agreed because people needed saving; he just wished he wasn't one of the people who had to do it. He moved when Dean moved and kept a bare foot between them as they walked.

Every twenty paces Dean stopped with Sam and just listened, hoping to hear any sound out of place, but so far, all was silent. They reached the first of the low houses, and Dean leaned up for a look through an open window whose glass had long since shattered. It was empty and bare inside but for the shadows. "Come on," he whispered and started around the house, angling for the center of the valley and, hopefully, where their father would be eventually.

Sam's eyes swept the snow-laded trees and buildings around them. Some of the buildings had collapsed partially or completely, leaving lone walls standing amidst the snow or the occasional chimney, tilted as it slowly fell back to the earth over the decades. It was eerily quiet, and that only served to drive his tension higher. He couldn't shake the feeling that they were being watched, that something had already spotted them and was even now stalking them as they moved.

"Easy, Sammy," Dean said softly when he saw the tension on his little brother's cold-reddened face. He slid an arm over Sam's shoulder for a moment and stopped them. "We're good. We're not alone, and this bitch is not gonna get the drop on us."

Sam nodded and looked up at Dean, then down at his chest. It bugged him that he couldn't see the amulet hanging around his brother's neck, and he wished he could be ten years old again and just grab hold of it to feel safe like he'd used to. "I'm ok," he said instead and tried to believe that himself as much as he hoped Dean would be convinced.

Dean wasn't buying it, but he appreciated Sam making the effort. "Yeah, I know you are, buddy. Come on. Let's get moving." He tugged Sam into a walk and they moved out from between two buildings into a small open area surrounded by trees. Dean stepped slightly away from Sam so he had both hands free for his gun and moved out into the open space.

Sam stayed as close to his brother as he could, less than a foot back, so he wouldn't foul his aim if the fext did jump out at them. They moved further out into the open area, and Sam turned, walking backwards to watch the trees behind them with a sense of something wrong. "Dean. I don't like this."

Dean nodded. He felt it too. His instincts were telling him danger was near. He looked up at the windmill on the other side of the screen of trees and back down. "Yeah, I feel it. Like it's watchin' us. But where?" He moved ahead again and checked over his shoulder, reassured that Sam was just behind him. Dean turned back and stopped as the ground beneath them suddenly shifted. "Oh... crap."

Sam gasped and staggered to a stop. He reached back and grabbed a handful of his brother's parka with his free hand. "Dean?"

"Just, uh... uh..." Dean swallowed hard. "Back up slow, ok? Back the way we came. Must be... I don't know, ice or something. Maybe a pond? Move back, Sammy."

"Not without you." Sam took a step back the way they'd come but kept his grip on his brother.

"Dammit, Sammy. You need to..." Dean's voice broke off on a shout as the ground suddenly gave way beneath them. He expected an icy plunge into water and was surprised when they fell through open air into darkness instead. He had only a moment to wonder what they were falling into before hard ground rose up to meet him. The breath slammed out of Dean's lungs when he hit, and just as he managed to protect his head with his arms, something heavy slammed into his legs. Dean felt something snap in his right leg and couldn't stop the scream that broke from his chest before the pain took him away into darkness.

Sam crashed down and heard his brother's voice raised in a shout of pain before Dean went silent. The impact knocked the breath from his chest, and Sam spent a panicked minute on his back staring up at the sky above them while he fought to take a breath. Finally, the pressure in his chest gave way and Sam heaved in a frantic, wheezing breath. He rolled to his side and thumped down onto a hard floor. It was at that moment he realized it was Dean he had landed on.

"De... Dean," Sam gasped and pushed himself up. He yelped when his left arm gave under his weight and sent him back to the floor. Pain flared hot and bright along his forearm, and Sam cradled it to his chest while tears filled his eyes and poured over. He could almost feel them freezing on his cheeks it was so cold. "Dean," he panted and got up using his right arm alone. He crawled to his big brother and looked at Dean in the light filtering down from the hole above.

Dean was pale and his face lax. "Dean. Wake up," Sam pleaded and put his good hand to his brother's neck. He could see Dean's chest rising and falling, so at least he knew he was alive. "Dean." Sam ran his hand over his face, dislodging frost and looked around. They had fallen into some large, deep room, and, as Sam's eyes adjusted to the meager light, he saw rows of blocks along one side of the space. He squinted and looked down at Dean. "Be... be right back." He patted Dean's shoulder and got shakily to his feet.

Sam staggered across to the blocks and out of the light. He tugged his glove off with his teeth and put his bare hand to one of them. His fingers slipped and skidded along a smooth, freezing surface and Sam's mouth fell open as he stared. "Oh, no. It's an ice house. We're... we fell into an old ice house. This is bad."

Sam went quickly back to his brother and looked up at the hole they'd come through. "DAD!" he screamed it up as loud as he could. The effort made his arm ache worse, and his voice, rather than echo, seemed to be muffled by the space they were in. "Dammit." He sank to his knees beside his brother again and patted Dean's shoulder.

"Dean, wake up. Please wake up." Sam sniffed back a wave of tears and shook Dean a little harder. "Really need you right now. Dean, please." Sam froze as Dean frowned and he leaned forward. "Dean?"

Dean heard his little brother's voice. He heard pain and fear, and it forced him to wake up. He groaned softly and, as Sam said his name again, he felt himself shaken and slowly opened his eyes. "S'mmy?"

"Oh, my God. Dean." Sam leaned forward and rested his forehead on his brother's chest in sheer relief, the pain in his arm momentarily forgotten.

"Hey," Dean said in a hoarse voice. He brought an arm up and patted Sam's head. The moment he tried to move, pain seared through his right leg and left him gasping and hanging on to the back of Sam's jacket in a death grip. "Crap!"

"Dean?" Sam reared back and looked at his brother. "What's wrong? Are you hurt? Where? How bad is it?"

"Wait. Wait." Dean heaved for breath, trying to calm himself and squinted his eyes open again after a few minutes. "Uh... right... right leg. Don't think I'm walkin' outta here. Holy shit."

"Ok. Ok. Let me look." Sam moved carefully down in a crawl until he was beside his brother's legs and tried to figure out how he was going to check Dean over with only one good arm.

"Sammy? S'wrong with your arm?" Dean narrowed his eyes, seeing the way Sam had his left arm held against his chest protectively.

Sam shook his head and instead took a careful grip on the bottom of his brother's jeans. He pulled the stiff fabric up as cautiously as he could, flinching with every muffled gasp of pain from his brother and finally managed to get a look. The line of Dean's calf under his jeans looked... wrong somehow, and Sam could see trickles of congealing, freezing blood dripping out of the leg of his jeans and onto the ground.

"Uh, it's uh... yeah, your leg's broken." Sam pulled the denim back down and moved back up beside Dean's chest. "So's my arm, I think."

"Shit, Sam. Gimme." Dean reached out, but Sam wouldn't extend his arm. "Sammy, come on."

Sam shook his head, training that had been drilled into him for years taking over. "Gotta find a way out of here. Yelling for dad, it's, uh... doesn't work. This place just eats the sound."

Dean frowned but nodded. "Ok. Where are we?"

"It's an old ice house." Sam shivered as he said it. "Dean, it's even colder down here than it was up there. We have to get out of here. I... I've gotta get you out. Just... stay there." He got shakily to his feet again. "I'm gonna find the door."

"Sam!" Dean wanted to follow him, but he made one short effort to move his leg and ended up panting up at the hole in the roof again instead. "Dammit!"

"It's ok, Dean." Sam moved away from him and toward the blocks of ice. "I can do this," he said more for himself than Dean at that point.

"Gun! Where's your gun?" Dean yelled after him. "What if that fext thing comes down after us?"

"Shit." Sam shook his head at himself and went back to Dean. He spotted his gun and Dean's a few feet away and picked them both up. He handed Dean's down to him. "Ok, I'm good."

"Take the safety off," Dean ordered him. "You don't wanna have to fumble around one-handed if it comes at you."

Sam nodded with the good advice and awkwardly flicked the safety off before he moved away again. It was a little unnerving as he moved away from the only source of light and into the darkness. His eyes slowly adjusted, and he could make out the rows of ice blocks five or six feet high.

Dean watched Sam moving away into the darkness and twitched with the need to be beside him. "How's all this ice not melted before now?" he asked. He needed Sam to speak so he could hear him and know where he was, and to keep his mind off the agony that was his right leg.

"It's because it's enclosed, I think." Sam moved slowly down the row of blocks toward the far end of the ice house. He saw a darker depression in the darkness and aimed for that. "Down here in the dark and, uh, completely enclosed, it'd just stay frozen, you know? Like permafrost."

"Right." Dean squeezed his eyes closed through a fresh wave of pain. "You... you see anything?"

"Maybe," Sam called back. He smiled when his eyes made out the long, narrow shape in the earthen wall. "I found the door!" He put his gun in his pocket, careful since the safety was off, and felt around the old, frigid wood until he felt a handle. Sam pulled on it but it didn't budge. He wrapped his fingers more firmly around it, planted one foot against the wall beside it and heaved all his weight into it. The door opened abruptly and sent Sam careening backward to land on the floor. The impact jarred his broken arm and he cried out, curling around it for a moment as fresh tears filled his eyes.

"Sammy?" Dean called frantically. He pushed himself up onto his elbows, but he could barely make out his brother's shape at the other end of the long room. He saw enough to know that Sam was on the floor. "Sam! What happened? You alright? Talk to me!"

"M'ok!" Sam gasped out and slowly uncurled until he was sitting up. He bit back a whimper. "I'm... I'm ok. I, uh... I fell. Door opened. I'm alright. Just gimme a sec."

"Jesus." Dean dropped back to the floor. It was killing him not being able to help his injured brother. "Just breathe, kiddo. Breathe through it. You can handle this."

Sam nodded but felt more tears fall down his cheeks. He didn't want to handle it. He wanted so badly for them to be normal kids with normal safe lives that didn't involve hikes through the forest in the dead of winter and undead creatures stalking them or broken bones in dark places underground.

"Sam, hey!" Dean leaned back up on his elbows. He could hear his brother's hitching breaths and knew Sam was upset. "We're gonna be alright. Just stay calm, ok? Sammy?"

Sam swallowed the tears back, feeling like a child and sniffed. "Yeah. Sorry. I got it." He made himself get back on his feet and choked down what he saw as his childish fears. He went to the door and took his gun back out before he moved cautiously around it. Where he had hoped to find stairs up to the surface, there was only hard-packed earth collapsed with just two stairs remaining free at the bottom. Sam leaned against the side of the door and fought the need to cry tears of frustration.

"Sam?"

"Yeah." Sam pushed himself away from the door and went back to his brother. He dropped carefully to his knees beside Dean but still managed to jostle his broken arm. He slammed his eyes closed and hunched over, protecting the damaged limb against his chest. Sam startled when he felt a hand tug his hood off and then settled when Dean's fingers slid into his hair in a gesture of comfort.

"It's ok, Sammy. We're gonna get out of here. Dad'll find us." Dean shuddered hard on a wave of cold- and probably shock setting in- and felt Sam shivering as well. "We just gotta wait. Come on. Come're." He pulled gently until Sam slowly curled down and slid so he was lying against him. Dean tugged the zipper on his parka down and turned as much as he was able to hold him. "Put your arm on my chest, Sam. The gimp one, come on."

Sam nodded and oh-so-carefully eased his broken left arm out so it lay on Dean's chest inside his coat. He curled more tightly up to his brother, seeking his warmth and tried to slow his frantic, pained breathing.

"Ok; you're ok." Dean soothed and kept carding the fingers of his other hand through his brother's hair while he held his broken arm steady. "He'll be here soon. When he doesn't see us, he'll know something happened and he'll find our tracks and find us. Don't worry."

"You're hurt," Sam said softly, afraid even speaking too loud would make his arm throb more. "Your leg."

"Yeah; it ain't no picnic." Dean rested his head back on the ground and looked up at the opening above them. His leg was a misery of hot pain and cold chills, and he was pretty sure he couldn't even feel his right foot just then. "But I'm ok. I got you," he said firmly.

Sam nodded his head under his brother's chin. He knew he was being childish, clinging to Dean like he was, but he just couldn't stop himself. It was too ingrained him to seek his big brother for comfort, especially when he was hurt and scared. And it made his heart clench that Dean would still give that to him even though Sam had been slowly trying to pull away and grow up over the last year. He sniffed, feeling tears in his eyes yet again. "Don't wanna do this, Dean."

"Sammy, I told you. Dad's gonna come."

"No," Sam shook his head slightly and opened his eyes to look down at his busted arm and Dean's broken leg. "Hunting. I don't... this isn't me."

"Sam," Dean groaned, but it wasn't out of anger. He knew Sam wasn't happy hunting the way Dean was. He knew Sam found happiness in other things - reading, research. Sam liked helping people, but Dean knew chasing monsters was probably never going to be something he was happy about. "We're Winchesters, Sam. This is who we are."

"Doesn't have to be," Sam whispered. "We could, you know, do something else."

Dean snorted. "Like what?" He grimaced as he shifted his right leg without thinking and worked to keep the gasp of pain to himself. "S'all... this is what we're good at. S'what I'm good at."

"School, college maybe." Sam had been thinking about that a lot lately, ever since he'd seen recruiters in his last school for Cal Tech and Stanford.

Dean tensed. It wasn't exactly a shock that his little brother was thinking about college – the kid was freaky smart and loved learning - but he'd always nursed this hope that Sam would stay with him; that they'd be partners. He took a deep breath and kept his fear to himself. "You'd... you'd kick ass at college, Sammy. But you know, we save lives this way. What we do... it's important."

"I know." Sam did know that. He just wished it didn't make him so damn miserable living with the constant fear that someday his dad or his brother or both were never going to come home. "Forget about it. I'm just... I hurt, Dean."

"I know, buddy. I know." Dean tightened his arm around Sam's back. "Me too." He closed his eyes and tried to focus on pushing away the pain. "Come on, Dad," he said softly.

Dean wasn't sure how long they laid there before he opened his eyes again and realized he'd been sleeping... or unconscious. He couldn't be sure. He blinked gritty eyes open and felt a whimper of pain crawl out of his throat. His whole body was shivering and cold while snowflakes drifted down from above and landed on his cheeks.

"C-c-crap. Sammy?" Dean swallowed and raised his head to look down at his brother. "Sam." He gave Sam's shoulder a shake and could feel the tremors passing through Sam's lithe body against him. "Wake... wake up. Sam!" Dean shook him harder and got no response. "S-sleeping's b-bad. Sam."

Dean groaned and leaned up on one elbow, an effort made difficult with the weight of his little brother over his chest. He moaned as fresh pain stabbed through his right leg and fought against the blackness at the edge of his vision before it could claim him again. He was pretty sure that if he passed out again, there was a good chance neither of them would be waking up. He reached down and shifted his brother's broken arm just a little, just enough. The pain did what he couldn't, and Sam startled awake with a gasp. "Easy! Easy. Sammy."

"Dean." Sam shook hard enough to rattle his teeth and tried to curl even more into his brother but there wasn't much warmth to be had. "C-cold. S-so c-cold."

"I know. I know" Dean murmured and leaned back again with Sam against him and pulled his brother's hood back up a little to try and keep him warmer. "N-no... no sleeping." His teeth chattered in his mouth painfully and he clenched them together to try and stop it.

"Wh-where's da... dad?" Sam ducked his head and pressed his face into his brother's shoulder, trying to warm the burn of cold on his cheeks and forehead.

"Don' know." Dean let go of Sam's bad arm gently. He honestly had no idea how much time had passed while he had been out, but it was long enough for a thin layer of snow to have accumulated, and the fact that John had not found them yet was really starting to worry him. If something had happened to him, too...Dean pushed that thought aside.

"S'comin'. He's coming. He's j-just..." Dean heard the sound of crunching snow from directly above them. He tightened his arm around Sam's back and picked his gun back up from the ground. He made sure the safety was off and raised his arm up. Dean opened his mouth to shout for their dad, and then instinct kicked in. If it wasn't

their father, he'd just be letting the fext know they were there and they were too damn injured to put up much of a fight. "Dammit," he whispered and kept his eyes on the hole.

"Dean?" Sam's voice was muffled by his brother's shoulder.

"Stay still, Sammy. D-don't m-move." Dean was sure anything above them could hear their teeth chattering, and every moment their father's head didn't appear or call their names, he got a worse feeling. The sound of crunching snow continued and then stopped. A moment later, a small pile of snow was dislodged from the edge of the hole and fell down into the ice house to thump softly onto the ground near Dean's knees.

"Go away," Dean said softly and fiercely, willing what he knew had to be the creature to leave them alone. "Come on."

Sam felt tension singing through his brother's body, and it wasn't just the cold. His own head was muddled with cold, exhaustion, and pain, but he was clear enough to know that they were in even more danger. He forced himself to move and slowly inched up just enough to get his right arm down to his pocket. He pulled out the gun and rolled more to his side. He bit his own lip bloody to keep in the cry of pain as his left arm shifted, and at last had his own weapon clear.

Dean's arm shook so hard from the cold eating into his bones, he knew he couldn't count on his aim unless the creature was right in front of them. " You s-stay down, Sam."

Sam nodded, not trusting himself to speak. He held more tightly to his gun and watched above them. Another small lump of snow fell in, and then another. Suddenly a small avalanche of snow poured over the edge in a cloud of white. It fell in on them, blinding them and covering Sam and his brother. The cold was even worse, and Sam felt his grip loosening around his gun. He felt Dean's body give a violent shake and then there was a loud thump beside them.

Dean shoved himself up, ignoring the agony in his leg and the cold biting into his exposed skin. He shook his head, trying to clear the snow from his face and saw a dark shape not two feet away from them. It was hunched over and twitching, standing in a strange posture as though its spine were broken. Dean blinked furiously to clear his vision and brought his gun back up as the fext took a step closer. Its skin was like dried leather. It was a pale brown, and its eyes seemed to almost glow with an alien blue light as it leaned closer to Dean's legs.

"Shit." Dean tried to steady his shaking hand as the fext sniffed above his right leg. It gave an odd sort of sneeze and looked back up at him, showing its teeth. It knew he was wounded prey. Dean startled suddenly as Sam's gun fired right beside him.

Sam wasn't going to watch anymore, not with the creature sniffing his big brother like he was dinner. He fired and though he hit it, he knew he'd missed the heart with his shaky aim. "Dammit!"

"Stay down!" Dean wrapped his left arm firmly around his brother's shoulders as he forced his stiff body to move and sit up enough to shoot at the fext. It howled and backed away several steps as the glass round from Sam's gun had wounded it in the abdomen. Dean let off his own shot and cursed as it went wide with the trembling of his hand. He shot again when the fext darted toward him and hit it in the shoulder. It spun around and away into the dark of the ice house.

Dean felt the strength leaving his body between the pain,the fear, the cold, and the exhaustion. He felt Sam leaning more heavily into him. The fext lurked just outside the fading pool of sunlight, and Dean knew it was waiting. It would stay back there where they couldn't get a clear shot and simply wait for them to pass out and then they were dead. "S-sorry... Sammy."

Sam sniffed and let his shaking arm drop to the ground, unable to keep the gun raised anymore. "'least... not d-dying a... alone." His voice trembled a bit, but there was a quiet acceptance that broke Dean's heart.

"Not alone. I got you." Dean pulled him closer, swallowing hard and fighting back the burning he felt behind his eyes, as the fext hissed from the darkness. "S'ok."

A fresh fall of snow slid into the hole, covering Dean's head and Sam's body. Silently, Dean pulled Sam into him and shielded him from whatever was coming as best he could. Expecting a second fext to drop on their heads, Dean was shocked when their father's heavy boots slammed into the ground next to them. He looked up in awe as his father straightened from the crouch he'd landed in. "D-dad?"

"Where is it?" John said angrily and shook snow off his gun. He watched Dean's shaking hand raise and point into the darkness. He narrowed his eyes and saw the dark shape moving among the shadows. "Gotcha." He took careful aim and stepped out of the shaft of light so his eyes would adjust. John blinked and fired three successive rounds into the fext's chest as it suddenly charged at him. Its roar filled the ice house with muffled sound and then it collapsed in a heap. It seemed to crumble in on itself with old, age-whitened bones tumbling out from its skin onto the hard-packed floor.

"Dad," Dean breathed and collapsed to his back, taking Sam with him. He could feel his brother shaking and crying as Sam curled into him weakly.

John went to the fext and kicked the remains, satisfied that it was dead before he put his gun up. He went to his boys and dropped next to them. "Jesus, Dean. What the hell happened?" He put a hand on Dean's shoulder and the other on the back of Sam's head in his hair and startled to feel how cold they both were. "How long have you been down here? We gotta get you out of here. Come on."

"D-dad. Wait." Dean caught his father's hand and held on to him. "B-broke my leg... in the fall." He swallowed at the shock on his father's face. "And Sammy's arm. S'bad."

"Shit," John said with feeling. "Ok." He ran a hand over his face and then shrugged out of his backpack, setting the heavy pack on the ground beside him. "Ok. It's alright. I'm gonna have a look. "Sammy?"

Sam raised his head just enough to see his father and make eye contact, although John could see the glazed-over look of shock in those eyes as well as Dean's. "Dean... D-Dean's hurt bad."

"Yeah, buddy." John wiped snow from Sam's cold-whitened cheeks and smiled. "I know, but we're gonna take care of him. Let me look at this leg, Dean." He tapped Sam's cheek. "No fallin' asleep, you hear me, Tiger?"

Sam nodded and rested his head back on Dean's shoulder. "Yes'sir."

John took out a small knife and sliced up through the leg of Dean's jeans to the knee. He somehow managed to hold in the groan of dismay at the sight. Dean's leg was several colors it should never be, and the broken skin and blood told him that at least part of the bone had shifted and he'd probably see it if he looked a little closer. "Damn," he whispered instead.

"Dad?" Dean asked and saw a moment of fear on his father's face before it was smoothed away and John smiled at him.

"Nothing to worry about, Ace." John dug through his pack and took out a roll of bandage. He wrapped it around his son's leg as gently as he could, and still Dean was panting for breath with a white-knuckled grip on his brother's jacket by the time he was done. "Ok. Ok. Breathe, Dean. Sammy? Show me that arm."

Sam shook his head, no longer having the strength to move. Watching their dad drop in at the last second to save them and destroy the fext... the relief had overwhelmed him. "S'broke."

John frowned in concern and moved up beside Dean's chest. He brushed more snow off his sons and followed the line of Sam's shoulder and left arm into Dean's coat. He pulled it open and tried to decide the best thing to do; cut the sleeve open and risk Sam losing even more body heat or risk hurting him worse to take the jacket off of him.

"Hell." John pulled Dean's jacket back over his brother's arm and leaned back.

"Dad." Dean looked up at the hole and back to his father worriedly. "How we g-gonna get out now?"

"Got it covered." John rifled through his pack again and came out with an old, military issue radio. He switched it on and tuned it to the emergency channel. "Mayday. Mayday. Mayday."

Dean listened to his father reading off their coordinates in a daze. He gave a small smile of surprise and relief when a voice answered and he knew they were going to be rescued. "Gon'be ok, Sammy," he said tiredly and pulled his little brother closer again, too far gone himself to realize there was no response from him at all.

John set the radio aside and pulled a thermal blanket from the pack. He unfolded it and tucked it around his sons as best he could, then laid down along Dean's right side to try and add a little more warmth to them. He propped Dean's head up on his forearm and tucked the neck of Sam's coat more closely around his face. "Won't be long now, boys. Maybe an hour and then a chopper ride."

Dean groaned theatrically. "Don' wanna f-fly."

"Tough," John informed him. He looked over at the remains of the fext and shuddered for a moment before looking away. "Damn thing led me right to you, boys, you know? If it weren't for that thing, it could have been hours before I found you."

"Dad," Dean turned his head, leaning it against the top of Sam's and closed his eyes feeling the darkness overtaking him despite his attempt to fight it. "T-tired."

"I know." John reached behind him and grabbed the radio again as both his sons succumbed to the cold and their injuries, passing into dangerous sleep. "Rescue, you need to hurry the hell up." He swallowed hard. "I'm losing them."

"Half an hour," the response crackled through the radio. "Found a chopper twenty minutes from you. They just have to fuel up. Thirty minutes. Just hold on that long."

John allowed that promise to comfort him at least a little and set the radio aside again, wrapping his free arm back over his sons. "Thirty minutes, boys. You can hold on. I know you can. You're Winchesters. You don't know how to quit." If his voice broke a bit on that last sentence, there was no one there to hear it.

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John Winchester strode slowly down the hospital corridor with a fresh cup of coffee steaming deliciously under his nose. He smirked and sent a wink at the nurse behind the duty desk up the hall in thanks for telling him which staff lounge to find the good stuff in. He normally hated hospitals; hated being in them and hated needing them. Each time he had to drag himself or one of his boys to one, he felt like he'd failed somehow to keep them safe. This time was no different...no, actually, it was worse. He'd come so close to losing them both in that damn hole in the ground. He wasn't sure he would ever forget how icy white their skin had become, how their breathing had slowed as their shivering had stopped, and how he'd been thirty seconds from digging a way out of that ice house with his bare hands before he heard the first rhythmic thumping of the helicopter's rotor as it neared. One thing had become crystal clear to him in those terrifying moments when he had been sure they weren't going to make it – as hard as it has been losing Mary, he now knew with certainty that if he lost his boys, he wouldn't survive; not this time.

"Crap," John breathed and leaned against the wall outside his son's room. He was still shaken.

"Mr. Winchester?"

John looked up from his shoes and smiled at the doctor who had helped his boys. "Yeah."

The doctor returned the smile and patted John's shoulder once. "They're going to be just fine, you know? Dean's leg will heal in no time with the pins we put in, and Sam's arm, well, as long as you keep him from anything too strenuous for a while, he'll be right as rain too."

John nodded and straightened from the wall. "Thanks, doc."

"Speaking of strenuous..." The doctor waved a hand toward the door and chuckled. "I believe I can hear Dean harassing his little brother again."

John snorted a laugh and shook his head. "Yeah. Roughly every thirty minutes. You can set your watch by him. Thanks." He watched the doctor leave and went to the door. Inside, he could hear raised voices. Well, he could hear Sam's raised voice and Dean's laughter.

"Dammit, Dean! Give it back!"

"No can do, Sammy. Might make ya' pudgy."

"Jerk!"

John shoved the door open and rolled his eyes. Dean was balanced on one leg, steadying himself on the side of Sam's bed so he didn't bump the cast on his right leg and holding a cup of hospital pudding up high above his head while Sam glared at him from the bed. "Dean, give your brother back his pudding."

Dean grinned and let the little sealed cup drop so it bounced off of Sam's head and into his lap. "Don't like the butterscotch anyway."

Sam swatted Dean's hand away from his hair and set about trying to open the pudding awkwardly, as most of his left hand was embraced by the cast on his arm, immobilizing it. "Dad, can't you strap Dean into his bed or something?"

"I'm considering it," John said as seriously as he could manage and aimed a dark look at his eldest who had the grace to look surprised and then worried.

"Uh... I was just helping, Sammy." Dean shrugged and hopped back to his own bed.

"Uh huh." John gave in to the smile while Dean pulled himself and his broken leg up onto his bed. "You're not supposed to be up and around without help and without crutches, Dean. If you fall, you could re-injure that leg. Stay on the damn bed."

"Yes, sir," Dean said easily and leaned back, crossing his arms behind his head.

John sighed. The unrepentant look on Dean's face made it clear he had no intention of staying in the bed if he could help it.

"Hey, Dad?" Sam looked up from his pointless battle with the pudding cup and tossed it beside him. "How long are we staying here?"

John nodded and leaned forward. He plucked the cup from Sam's bed and peeled the lid back slowly. "Another day or two, kiddo."

"Wow, really?" Dean asked in surprise. "I figured you'd be busting us outta here prison style by tonight."

John gave a soft chuckle and shook his head. "I thought about it, but, uh, the doc wants to keep an eye on you two for signs of infection or pneumonia." He shrugged. "We can wait a day until he gives the all clear and then I figured we'd head to Sioux Falls. I'm sure Bobby can handle two stubborn invalids for a while."

"Are..." Sam stopped and cleared his throat, watching his dad carefully roll the foil back on the top of his pudding. "Are you gonna stay with us?"

John looked up and shook his head. "Probably for a few days. Got a job to do, Sam. You know that. The monsters don't stop just 'cause we need a time out."

Dean frowned, catching the sad look on Sam's face even as his brother tried to hide it. "Yeah, well. You and Bobby in the same house for more than an hour or two's a recipe for disaster anyway."

John snorted and nodded. "Yeah, it is. You boys rest up. I'm gonna head back to the motel and get some sleep." He stood and handed the open pudding cup back to Sam. "And Dean, stop annoying your brother."

"He'd have to stop breathin' first," Sam grumbled in annoyance. He yelped when a pillow thudded into the side of his head and glared over at his brother. "Knock it off!"

"Boys," John warned and nodded when they both settled. "Behave. I'll see you in the morning."

Dean waited for him to leave and looked over at his little brother. Sam's face was turned down, hair hiding his eyes as he stared at the pudding cup like it held the answers to the universe or something. Dean sighed. Thinking about those final moments before Dad had shown up, when he truly believed that the only thing left that he could do for Sammy was hold him and make sure he didn't die alone, still made something seize in his chest. He wasn't sure Sam remembered everything from down in that ice house, but Dean did. He remembered Sam's sadness and how much his little brother wanted normal. He wished he could give it to him. He wished their dad could give it to him, but it just wasn't in the cards; not for them. Not for Winchesters. He blew out a breath and eased his broken leg back over the side of his bed and got carefully to his feet.

"Dean, what are you doing?" Sam asked tiredly and looked over to watch his brother hop-step to the side of his bed again.

"Getting my pillow." Dean smirked. He snatched his pillow, tossed it back over to his bed and then reached down to pluck the open cup of pudding out of his brother's hand.

"Dude, come on!" Sam groaned. He sat up, made a grab for it and fell half over the side of his bed when he wasn't able to catch himself with his left arm. "Dammit."

Dean chuckled. "Easy, tiger." He put a hand under Sam's shoulder and pushed until his brother was sitting up again. "Fine. Here." Dean gave him back the pudding cup with a chuckle and went back to his own bed, satisfied that he had, at least temporarily, taken his brother's mind off their dad.

Sam settled back against his pillows while Dean climbed back into his own bed. "You're a real jerk, you know that, Dean?"

Dean nodded happily. He looked at Sam as his brother stabbed his little plastic spoon into the pudding like he was killing it and chuckled. "Hey, Sammy?"

"What?" Sam asked angrily and refused to look over at Dean.

"Dude. Let it go."

"Bite me, Dean."

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The End.

Next Chapter: G is for Guillotine