December 22nd 9.15pm
Dean stood shivering, starkly pale in the harsh light of the moon, hunched over with his sawn-off shotgun tucked under his left arm and blowing vigorously onto his hands, trying vainly to bring some warmth back to them. Deep shadows danced eerily around the edges of the clearing and wildly dancing snowflakes whirled in silent unison, keeping time with the fitful gusting of the wind as it began to pick up speed.
"Well, that's just peachy, Sam. As if it's not cold enough already, looks like another snowstorm's on its way."
He peered into the gloom at the tree line, searching for a sight of his brother, waiting for a reply. With head cocked to one side he listened to the muffled crunch of heavy footsteps working their way through the densely packed fir trees.
"Sam? Listen man, the rucksack can't be that far into the trees, I swear I left it on the ground somewhere over here by a tree. I said by a tree, not buried deep under a tree within the most remote part of the damned wood." His eyebrows rose in unison as understanding suddenly dawned upon him.
"Sam?" He yelled. "Sam. You're not looking for my rucksack, are you! You're trying to find that sonofabitch's grave. Get back out here, Sammy. I don't want you on your own in there with that spooky-assed hiker patrolling the neighbourhood!"
Hefting his shotgun and adjusting his recently acquired, makeshift crutch, Dean pulled up his collar and, leaning heavily on the stout stick, tested the weight on his knee. Grimacing, he turned towards the rustling noises coming from within the trees and then slowly hobbled towards them.
"I'm coming in, Bro. Don't shoot me!"
"Don't worry, Dean. I'm on my way out. There's no sign of your rucksack in there." Sam's disembodied voice floated out from between the gently creaking branches.
"Well, that would be because I didn't drop it in there. I told you, I left it under a tree somewhere over here." He gestured towards the bushes and trees to his left. "So, unless that damned ghost picked it up and took it for a ride, it's still gonna be over by that patch of brambles."
Pausing, his keen eyes picked out the slight indentations of their previous footprints, now almost concealed by the freshly fallen snow. Peering into the darkening shadows, he struggled to retrace his earlier path, eyes swiftly coming to rest on an oval shaped mound, half hidden by the low lying branches of a massive pine.
Behind him the foliage swayed, parting to admit a tousle-haired Sam crashing back into the snow swirled clearing.
"Well, Pocahontas, you find anything in there?" Dean drawled over his shoulder.
"Nothing we're looking for."
Sam replied with forced pleasantness.
"It's a helluva lot warmer in there out of the wind though. Maybe we should just head on back to the car, get you fixed up and come back when we've had more time to find out what the hell happened up here. Nothing's adding up, at the moment it's like we're looking for a needle in a snow-covered haystack."
Dean nodded wearily, "I guess…well, at least I found my backpack." He jutted his chin in the direction of the snow-covered lump. "Come on, let's make a move. If we're quick we could get back before this snow gets much worse. Keep an eye open for that freaky mother on the way back though, it's still lurking out here somewhere."
Sam quickly crossed the clearing and retrieved the bag, shaking it to remove the thick coating of snow. Casually he slung it over his shoulder.
"Hey, Dean, you got any food in here? I'm starving."
"You're always starving, Bigfoot. There's plenty of food in there, along with some salt and kerosene. None of your rabbit food though." Dean's face suddenly clouded over, "Hell, I wish I'd put a flask in, I could kill for a coffee."
"Yeah, I'm with you there, bro. Let's get out of this wind first, though." Sam held his hand out for the shotgun. "Come on, the path's over here, we'll find somewhere sheltered, then sit and grab something to eat. Don't trip over that trap, dude, and watch out for that crazy robin."
"S'okay, Sam, you sprung the trap, remember? And I don't think the robin'll be back." Dean muttered under his breath, teeth starting to chatter as the arctic wind found its way in through the front of his jacket. "Let's get going, m'getting cold just standing here."
Sam went to take a hold of his brother's arm. "You gonna be okay in this snow?"
Dean waved away the offer of assistance.
"Well, as of this minute I'm not seeing any other options here, Sam. Not unless Saint Nick really is gonna come along in his sleigh looking for hitchhikers."
He looked incredulously at the looming form beside him. Seeing the brief look of hurt that flickered across Sam's features he softened his tone, adding.
"I'll be fine once we get going, Sam. My knee's just stiffened up while I've been standing around waiting for you to get your bird-pecked head in gear!"
Together, they headed slowly out from the snow covered clearing towards the slippery path on the other side that would eventually lead them back down the eight or so miles, to the safety of the waiting Impala.
Sam kept a wary eye out for both the violent spirit that had earlier attacked his brother, and for any incoming robins showing signs of extreme aggression. Dean, on the other hand, concentrated on simply placing one foot in front of the other and remaining upright.
Overhead, the stark, bright light reflecting from the moon was left behind as they exited the clearing and began their steep descent. Ancient pines lined the path on both sides and the increasing roar of the wind was muted as they were enfolded between the grasping, feathered boughs. The deep, velvety blackness of silent shadows surrounded them as they negotiated the perilous pathway.
wWw
The ghost of the Christmas Hiker silently watched the brothers' slow progression from the shade of the evergreen boughs, as his tiny, red-breasted familiar looked on with its beady, black eyes. Something akin to contentment etched his drawn skin with pallid shadows and the dense foliage absorbed his soft sigh of contentment. They would soon be his.
wWw
"Damn, but it's good to be outta that wind. " Dean rasped, steadfastly ignoring the varied selection of festive aches and pains that assailed him. "Now all I need is for my ass to thaw out and the world will be a much happier place.
"How's your knee, Dean? You wanna have a rest, find someplace to sit down, have something to eat?" Sam ventured, peering into the gloom ahead, his head cocked to one side, listening.
"Not here. Let's get down off this path first." Dean panted, glancing behind at his brother. "My knee's kinda numb now; if I stop, I'm not sure it'll be keen to get goin' again."
"Okay, just let me know if you need to stop, though. Look, let me get up there in front of you, just in case."
"Dude! Will you just stop with the fussin'. 'M'fine."
Dean continued his slow progress down the treacherous slope, leaning heavily on the stout stick, testing the ground before committing his weight. Sweating with the effort, he struggled to bite back the gasps of pain. Underfoot, the newly fallen snow concealed the uneven footing and jutting stones.
"Hey, Dean. I think it's just round the next bend that the path runs right alongside that waterfall. Listen. Can you hear it?"
Dean dutifully turned to listen. "Wonderful! I was just starting to warm up, too. Mind you, at least that means we're nearly halfway down." He added almost cheerfully.
"Just be careful along there, dude, cause it was really slippery on the way up here. There's a sheer drop of about 30ft, and no holly trees to save you if you go over again."
"'Kay, Sammy." Dean nodded affably. "I'll be careful and watch my step."
"Dean? Dean, wait. You okay?" Sam called, alarmed by the sudden, easygoing acceptance of his normally petulant sibling.
"'m fine, Sammy. Just a little cold 'n' tired. Ma knee hurts, head hurts too. Did I say I'm tired? Getting real sleepy." He mumbled into the wind, yawning widely, shaking his head to clear the black spots that had taken to dancing before his eyes.
Sam watched the darker outline of his brother wavering increasingly slowly in and out of the deep shadows, and lines of worry marred his face. He knew from his brother's uncharacteristic gait, that regardless of Dean's assertions that he was fine, they would have to stop and give his knee a rest if they were going to get back to the safety of the Impala, in one piece.
'Well, if I have to tell him that I can't make it any further to make him stop, then that's what I'll have to do.'
Ahead and to the left of the path the tree line thinned, allowing moonlit shafts to pierce through the wavering branches, spotlighting the gossamer fall of snow that continued to drift between the overhanging boughs. Cold, blue light illuminated the billowing clouds of foam spray emanating from the churning waters. The rush of wind beyond the shelter of the trees whipped the fine spray away to join in icy union with the thickly falling snow.
The path edge tapered away to a narrow strip of ice slick rock and ragged scrub that barely managed to cling to the poorer soil of the exposed pathway, running above the steeply sided walls of the waterfall.
Dean paused in his quiet rendition of Aerosmith's Walk This Way, peering through bleary eyes as his labouring breath clouded around the snowflakes crowning his head. Lines of pain creased the pale forehead as fiery tendrils radiated from his swollen knee, the continued pressure of the hike down the uneven path aggravating the already tender joint. His head pulsed in time with the beating of his heart and the rough bark of the stick rubbed blisters into the raw flesh of his hand.
"Sam?" He called back breathlessly over his shoulder. "Next time I suggest we go hunting in the woods… any woods… anytime… ever… Just shoot me, okay?"
Sam's quiet chuckle was stolen away by the approaching roar of the waterfall.
"Yeah okay, Dean. Just make sure you remind me. You know, all it'll take is the scent of some hairy-assed werewolf and you'll be off like a shot."
"Exactly my point, Sam. Just shoot me before we go, and it'll save a lot of suffering in the long run!"
"Come on, let me help you down this next bit. It's gonna be freezing along there and slippery as hell. Then we'll stop and see just what dietary wonders you have stashed in your backpack once we get back into the trees."
Sam picked up his pace, moving as swiftly as the frozen ground would allow.
Dean stood with eyes closed, chewing at his lower lip, calling upon hidden reserves of strength to simply remain on his feet. Sam brushed past, taking point; he placed an encouraging hand briefly upon his weary brother's arm. Dean raised his eyes and gave a tired smirk, indicating his readiness to continue.
'Dammit, how in Hell's name did this happen? We should'a been celebratin' Christmas, warm and safe in the best friggin' room in the best friggin' hotel this town's got to offer.'
Dean dropped his eyes ground ward, knowing his defences were temporarily lowered and desperate not to let Sam see the hurt in his glazed, green eyes.
' But no! Seems I can't even complete a simple sonofabitchin' on-line booking form right. So, yet again, Sam gets the Christmas from Hell, it's no wonder he's the 'Boy who hates Christmas'. Just once, it'd be nice to get a break.'
With a heavy sigh, Dean adjusted the walking stick, making sure he had a firm grip and wincing as it contacted the open blisters on his palm.
'Oh god, Sammy. I gotta stop soon, please let us stop soon.'
"You ready, Dean?"
Sam's voice came from up close, where he stood with arm outstretched, in position to help his brother down the potentially lethal, ice encrusted slope.
"Born ready, Sammy."
Dean flashed his trademark grin, teeth shimmering in the flickering moonlight. Shame was, standing so close, Sam could see that it never reached the older man's dark-rimmed eyes.
Sam took a hold of Dean's left elbow, steadying him as he shifted his weight forwards, supporting him as the gasp of pain hissed through his parted lips. He dug in the deep tread of his sturdy walking boots, determined to maintain a good grip as he felt Dean's weight lean heavily into him.
"Come on, Dean. This is the worst bit, get this over with and it'll be plain sailing all the way down. Come on, I gotcha."
Sam encouraged, as he felt Dean's hand digging hard into the muscles of his forearm beneath his jacket. He heard the stifled groan that escaped him, as once again he brought his protesting left leg back into motion.
"Ah, Jeez…"
Dean bit back any further comment as he lurched unsteadily down the steepest part of the slope, his breath hitching in huge gasps of the frigid air.
"There you go, that's it. Whoa, whoa, steady there. It's okay, we're getting there."
Sam kept up a steady litany as he sidestepped down the rougher part of the path, trying to leave Dean the clearer central section.
"Sam."
Dean grit through teeth clenched tight against his desire to scream.
"Sam. I'm not a goddamned dog. Quit talking to me like I'm a freakin' idiot."
He snarled, anger rising to mask his pain.
Sam bit back the angry comment of his own. Rolling his eyes, he risked a glance further down the track to where the path petered away to less than four feet wide. The only thing between them and the edge of the mist drenched chasm at that point was a picture postcard perfect pine log, obviously placed there as a natural bench, for anyone brave enough to attempt the arduous climb to admire the spectacular views across the landmark waterfall.
It sat peacefully, glistening in the moonlight, under a thick layer of driven snow. Sprigs of pinecones jutted picturesquely from several small branches and a gentle lacing of Ivy, visible even through its snowy overcoat, clung to the rough bark. The normally comforting image of a roaring fire with the Yuletide log as its centrepiece made Sam's blood run cold in his veins.
"Nah, now I'm getting paranoid." He breathed to himself.
Turning back to the task in hand, he shuffled further down the slope, the log all but forgotten.
"'M sorry, Sammy. I didn't mean to snap at ya."
The quiet voice surprised him with its close proximity, Dean was hunched towards him, his head almost touching Sam's as he huddled over his younger brother's supportive arm. Sweat darkened hair was plastered to the pale, bruised forehead and Sam reached out automatically to gently push it back from the wound.
"No problem, du…"
The rest of the statement was lost as the poorly stabilised shale beneath Sam's boot tread chose that moment to work free and begin a tumbling descent down the slippery slope. Sam staggered, throwing his left arm wide and going down heavily on his right hip, feet scrabbling desperately for purchase on the snow covered ground.
The sudden change in pitch threw Dean totally off balance, his knee contacted the iron hard ground and he screamed, his body jack-knifing to curl protectively round the injured limb. His anchor gone, Dean pitched sideways, feet gone from under him he slid, gaining momentum as gravity took an interest, straight down the track heading for the edge.
Frantically he cried out, arms flailing as he wildly attempted to arrest his slide.
"Saaaamm!"
Sam lunged manically, missing Dean's jacket by mere inches.
"Dean, no!"
He hollered, watching in horror as Dean slammed up against a small boulder. Whilst the impact had diverted Dean from the precipitous edge of the path, the resounding crack of his head, against the conveniently placed log was less than reassuring.
Sam lay, momentarily frozen to the spot, heart racing as he took in the scene before him.
"Dean, oh god, no. Dean?" The whispered words escaped his disbelieving lips.
"Dean?" Louder this time, he slithered quickly down the remainder of the slope, glancing nervously towards where the path ended and the drop began. Unable to stop himself, he crunched into the unconcerned Yule log, reaching out with shaking hands to the silent body of his big brother where he lay, unmoving, in the churned up snow.
Gently he turned Dean's unresisting body, rolled it away from the log to carefully pull it across his lap, keeping him out of the worst of the snow.
"Oh, no. Oh, Jesus, please no!" Sam's panicked words tumbled from his suddenly dry lips.
"Please, Dean, be okay. Please! You gotta be okay."
Gently he wiped the fresh smattering of snow, grit and blood from his brother's face, supporting his chin whilst he leant close, listening for signs of breathing.
"Oh, thank god." He felt the gentle puff of warm air against his cheek.
"Dean, come on, bro. Just talk to me. Please? Come on, you're okay. I gotcha."
Unconsciously, he rocked the still form, wincing as he registered the rising lump on the side of Dean's already bruised forehead. By the light of the moon he could see the blood splattered snow where the precious liquid dripped a steady trail from a deep gash above his left eye.
"Dean, please wake up?"
He searched his pockets, returning triumphant with an almost clean handkerchief, which he pressed tightly against the open wound.
"Uunnrrggghhh." A long, slow groan and slight flicker of the eyelids met his gesture.
"Ah, I'm sorry, Dean. I know it must hurt. Please just wake up for me, dude!"
Another painful moan cut through the night air, a stirring of the head accompanied by fluttering of the long dark lashes, indicating a return to consciousness.
"Sam? Sammy?" The words ghosted from bleeding lips, as confused emerald green rose, searching for his brother's face.
"Hey, Dean. Uh, man you gave me a scare there. Dean, look at me. You okay?"
"Wha… happened, Smmy? Why 'm I on your lap?"
"Uh, I don't know how to tell you this, Dean, but I guess you just got saved from taking a nosedive over the waterfall by this uh, log!"
Dean squinted in confusion, wincing as he moved his head.
"Holy crap that hurts, Sammy. Everything hurts!"
"I know, I know. Just lay still for a little while, and then we'll find somewhere to stop and get you patched up. There's trees up ahead, we'll stop, clean you up a little and have something to eat. But just give it a minute, okay? Get your breath back!"
"'Kay, Sammy! Hey, Sam… kinda looks like a Yule log, huh?" Dean nodded sleepily, more than willing to stay exactly where he was, uncertain whether he'd be able to get up when the time did come to move.
"Yeah, just like a freakin' big Yule log."
'What in hell's name is going on here with all this festive symbolism, rescue crap?'
Sam thought, getting more alarmed with every 'save'.
"Hey, at least we're at the bottom of the damned slope now, dude." Sam tried cheerfully.
Dean simply rolled his eyes once and leant in towards the warmth of his baby brother.
Ends