I'm not 100% sure about this chapter. Frankly, I'm downright nervous about it. But I've completely obsessed over it enough--time to get it out there. Oh, and something weird is going on with my review responses. So if you somehow received two from me on the first chapter or you didn't receive one at all, I apologize. I even seem to be missing some reviews. I dunno. Weird.

Ness

They were no more than a dozen minutes into their journey when Dean stumbled for the first time. He corrected himself with a impatient and pained grunt, ignoring the throbbing in his leg and the furtive 'Are You Okay?' look Sam shot in his direction. He managed another dozen steps before coming to a stop, a frown creasing his forehead. Dean spun in a slow circle, eyeing the frozen, white-cloaked landscape.

"Dean, what are you doing?" asked Sam, who'd stopped a few feet ahead.

"Don't you hear them?"

"Hear who?"

"Them. The w-winter h-hags.

"We killed the winter hags, bro."

"N-No, no. They're still around. I-I hear them l-laughing!" Dean completed another wobbly 360 degree turn, squinting against the wind to get a glimpse of one of the hags. "Don't you hear them?"

Sam walked back to his brother and dropped a hand on his shoulder, his own expression marred by a frown—a worried one. "No, dude, I don't hear anything. C'mon, we need to keep moving." He nudged Dean forward with his shoulder.

Dean wanted to dig his heels in and make Sam listen more closely, but he was too tired, and too cold, to argue. Instead he fell into step beside then behind his taller sibling as his limp hampered his gait.

In unpredictable intervals, the wind picked up whipping snow into their faces, stinging their eyes and coating their eyelashes. It became hard to breathe properly as each inhale sucked snow crystals into the brothers' mouths. Sam tucked his chin to his chest and pulled his hoodie up around his mouth to block the wind-driven snow. Dean, however, had no such option and coughed as the icy crystals irritated the back of his throat. He eventually stumbled to a stop, swaying as the wind buffeted his battered body.

A minute or so later, Sam slowed and looked over his shoulder at Dean, frowning when he saw him tug off his gloves and begin to unzip his jacket. He stopped and turned, hurrying back to his brother's side. "Dean, what are you doing?" He reached out to stop Dean's frantic actions.

"'m hot," he mumbled.

"Dude, you need to leave that stuff on."

Ignoring Sam completely, Dean dropped his gloves as he fought against the uncooperative zipper with uncoordinated fingers. He finally let out a triumphant grunt as the zipper came free, and he began to shrug out of the jacket.

Before Sam could react and make a move to retrieve them, the wind carried away the gloves. Swearing, he stepped closer to Dean and grabbed the coat, pulling it back in place. "No, Dean, you need to leave it on."

"Uh uh. H-Hot…" The older Winchester rocked backward, struggling to loosen Sam's hold. Breathing hard, Dean coughed as the frigid air and fine particles of snow crystals assaulted his lungs.

"Dean, stop!" Sam tugged his brother back toward him. "Listen," placing a hand on each side of Dean's face, Sam held him still and forced his older sibling to meet his gaze. "You have to keep your coat on, man. We're in the middle of a snow storm here."

"B-But…"

Logic and persuasion wasn't working so Sam resorted to making it an order in his best deep-throated, John Winchester voice. As his brother stilled and quieted, Sam zipped up his coat. "Your gloves are gone."

Dean's face puckered in vague confusion.

Sam tucked Dean's hands in his jacket pockets. "Your gloves are gone so I want you to keep your hands in your pockets, okay?"

Dean slowly nodded. "Okay."

"We should reach the tree line soon, and it'll get better," Sam promised. "The cabin shouldn't be too far after that."

They continued on, but his injuries and blood loss were working against Dean as the cold and harsh conditions sapped his strength more rapidly. Keeping his balance in the slippery snow and pervasive wind with his hands in his pockets proved to be next to impossible. The older Winchester lost track of time as he trudged through the deepening snow, his boots crunching as he worked to concentrate on putting one foot in front of the other. Sam's longer stride kept him a few steps ahead, and Dean kept his gaze locked on his little brother's back. Lethargy stole over him as the wind continued to slam into him.

Despite his concentration, Dean wasn't prepared when his left foot slid sideways as he stepped and the ground suddenly shifted beneath his feet. He stumbled then went down hard, landing awkwardly on his hands and knees. Dean cried out as the wound on his leg screamed in protest. His fingers clutched at the bloodied bandage.

Sam was at Dean's side in an instant. "Dean?"

"S'mmy, I-I c-can't," Dean panted, his fingers spasming on his thigh. "C-Can't go a-any…"

"Yes you can, Dean! I'm not letting you give up." Sam wrapped his hand around Dean's elbow and pulled upward, helping him gain his feet. Dean swayed into him, and Sam could feel the tremors wracking his brother's frame. He wrapped an arm around Dean's waist. "C'mon, big brother, don't give up on me now…" He moved them forward, grip tightening when Dean's knees buckled. "We can do this."

They lurched and lunged forward, progress slow and lumbering but ultimately productive. The duo reached the tree line and entered the copse, the surrounding trees immediately cutting the force of the wind. Sam sighed gratefully and blinked away the snow clinging to his eyelashes.

"Almost there, bro." he muttered more to himself than to Dean, his own strength beginning to leach away. Sam felt a moment of panic when disorientation set in as the trees quickly thickened around them. He despaired ever making the decision to leave the Impala, and for a split second, he was certain he and his brother were going to end up another ignoble statistic when, or maybe if, their frozen bodies were found. Yet some instinct kept him on an invisible path, with groggy older brother in tow.

He wanted to shout in delight when, about ten minutes later, the dark shadow of the cabin loomed in the near distance. A spark of new energy spurred him on. Yet as happy as he was to see shelter within his grasp, Sam knew to approach with caution. Leaning Dean gently against a tree, he instructed, "Stay here. I'm just going to do a quick recon." Dean mumbled something Sam couldn't hear before he hurried away.

After assuring that everything was safe, Sam returned to find Dean now slumped at the base of the tree with his eyes closed. Alarmed, he crouched in front of his brother and gently tapped his waxen cheeks. "C'mon, Dean, open those big green eyes of yours. No sleeping—not yet."

A slightly harder tap finally brought Dean around, and he pried his eyes open. "Wha?"

Sam grinned upon seeing that green-eyed, albeit bleary and unfocused, gaze. "That's it, bro. Let's go. We're here." Sam once again helped Dean to his feet.

"H-Here w-where?"

"The cabin, remember?"

"Oooh, y-yeah—th'cabin." Dean nodded sagely. His tongue darted out as he licked his dry, chapped lips.

Resuming his hold around Dean's waist, Sam helped him navigate across the small clearing, up the stairs, and across the small porch. After quick work on the lock, the Winchesters wobbled and wavered across the threshold and into welcome shelter.

TBC…