A/N: Thanks again to all of you wonderful reviewers out there, hugs to you all!. Hope you like this next chapter:D

Chapter 5

1 Hour earlier

"Caleb!"

He was just reaching for a bucket with which to start cleaning up the blood splattered all over the cabin when Caleb heard John shouting his name urgently. Dropping the wash rag he just found, he hurried for the back door and ran outside, finding John loading his pistol and Dean with his phone up to his ear.

"John, what is it? What's going on?" He asked as soon as he saw the looks on Dean and John's faces. Dean was just closing his phone with a desperately anxious expression when he announced to his father, "No service. I can't reach him."

"We heard gunfire...Sammy..." John explained to Caleb, then worriedly turned his head towards the woods. "He's still out there."

Caleb nodded quickly, knowing that they wouldn't want to waste time talking about or planning their next move. He pulled out a pistol from his coat's inner pocket, checking it to make certain it was loaded before catching up to John and Dean who were already making a break for the forest.

At the pace John and Dean set, it wasn't long before they were all surrounded by trees, deep inside the forest and shouting for the youngest member of their hunting party.

When no response was heard, Caleb could feel the tension building around them, emanating from the father and son as they desperately searched the woods for Sam.

Dean was charging ahead, his desire to find his brother as quickly as possible palpable, but Caleb knew that no matter how fast they moved, they'd never find the kid in the vast wilderness if they didn't keep their cool and focus.

"Dean, hold up." John called out as if he was reading Caleb's mind. "We're sticking together."

Dean came back, his face pinched with unmasked worry and for the first time ever, Caleb heard Dean question his father. "What? Don't you think we should split up? We'll be able to cover more ground that way."

"Dean, your Dad's right." Caleb assured him. "We don't know what those shots could have been about and splitting could be dangerous. What we need to do is keep our heads and find some tracks Sam might have left behind."

Dean grudgingly agreed and all three set off again with a new purpose, scanning the ground and landscape for footsteps, broken branches or anything else that might point them in Sam's direction. Caleb could see that Dean was getting frustrated by the slowness of the progress and continued to call out for his brother, but finally after nearly a half hour of searching, Caleb's trained, tracking eye caught sight of an indentation in the ground.

"There!" He pointed out to John and Dean. "Looks about the right size for Sam's boot."

He trained his flashlight on the footprint left in the soft, wet ground and followed it to another and then another, leading off in a direction that would take them down the mountain.

"That's got to be his." John agreed. Caleb looked up into the older hunter's eyes, seeing a small sign of relief pass across his features before he eyed the tracks with steely and grim determination. There wasn't going to be any stopping John nor Dean from taking off full steam ahead, so all he could do was try to keep up with the brutal pace.

Despite, the ever-strengthening rain storm assailing them at every turn, it was astonishing how quickly they moved through the underbrush, over dead trees and down the hills without losing sight of the tracks until a grim discovery made them all stop dead in their tracks.

At the bottom of a small ravine and in a slight clearing, a light colored mass lay on the ground. Obscured by the dark and still more than a hundred yards away, it was hard to distinguish it's features as the light from their flashlights couldn't reach it, but the fact that it lay still on the ground and was roughly man-sized did nothing to allay anyone's fears.

"No." Dean whispered desperately, plowing forward down the small embankment before Caleb could warn him to be careful. Sliding down the leaves that made the hill slick under his feet, He and John gave chase after the younger man, finding him at the bottom, staring at the body at his feet.

"Holy crap." Caleb sighed, getting his first good view of the corpse and breathing out a puff of relief. It wasn't Sam and there was still no sign of the boy immediately apparent but the sight of the dead animal still gave him chills. He'd never seen one of these things alive in the wilderness before and he was glad he never had. He knew all about their viciousness and though their attacks on humans were rare, they were almost always devastating. And this specimen in particular was far larger than he imagined they could be, a bite from it's jaws could be lethal and one swat with it's claws could rip a person open.

John approached the large animal and crouched beside it, inspecting the body. "It hasn't been dead long." He pointed out as he turned it over. Besides the obvious kill shot to the head that landed between the beast's eyes, there were three more bullet wounds to it's chest, caused no doubt by a large caliber weapon.

".45...just like Sam's" John muttered, a slight tremble in his voice that might have been missed by most people, but which struck a nerve with Caleb. However frightening the prospect of Sam killing this animal was, it wasn't nearly as worrisome as the bright-red blood that coated the fur around it's muzzle and stained the huge fangs inside it's open mouth. Adding to that, there was the separate puddle of blood that saturated the leaves apart from the body and gave all indications that a wild struggle and fight had occurred in this spot. His heart sinking, he was certain that even though Sam must have survived the attack initially, he certainly didn't walk away unscathed and with him still missing, he could be either severely injured or dead by now.

Dean was already wildly scanning the surrounding area with his flashlight. "Sam? Sammy!"

John too was up again, but he seemed to draw on some kind of internal reservoir of calm and instead of shouting for his youngest son as Dean was doing, he was searching the ground. Caleb followed John's flashlight as it lit up a drop of blood on the ground and next to it the impression of a left boot.

"It's a good sign at least, John." He reassured John , but when he saw the muscles in his jaw clench and his dark eyes reach his as he glared up, He quickly backed up his assessment. "He's at least moving and he couldn't have gone too far. We'll find him."

John didn't say anything, but Caleb didn't need to hear him say 'I'm worried we're already too late' to know that he was thinking it.

Dean was quick to join them when his flashlight scan of the area revealed nothing and they started following the ominous blood trail. Thankfully, it didn't look like a lot of blood, but that still didn't exclude any serious injuries. He joined in with John and Dean, calling out for Sam and listening intensely for any response. It wasn't until Dean stopped and suddenly lifted a fist in the air to get them all to halt and listen that he finally heard something.

Seeing John and Dean's jaws drop somewhat, Caleb couldn't be certain if his didn't as well. It was unmistakably Sam's voice, but he didn't think he'd ever heard such language come from the usually straight-laced boy before. It was clear he was screaming, swearing a string of curses far dirtier than any sailor's when caught in a hurricane.

Now

Just as suddenly as his anger had flared into a fire and he had gone through cursing God, the hill, the rain, his leg, and most of all that goddamned beast that had nearly ripped him to shreds, the wind went out of his sails and he fell backwards in exhaustion.

Sam was instantly betrayed by his body after that. His adrenaline spent, every inch of him rebelled against any further movement and even the mere act of sitting up on his elbows sent wracking shivers of agony coursing through him as an overwhelming floating sensation took hold and threatened to render him senseless.

Fighting the spots that danced across his vision, he took a good look at his leg, sickened to see dirt, leaves and all kinds of forest matter sticking to the re-opened and jagged wound. Bleeding profusely once again where the bandage he had made from his shirt had been torn down, His skin hung loosely by the flap. Re-doing his make-shift first aid was not something he looked forward to doing and he wasn't even convinced it would help what with all of the debris coating his exposed muscle. Deciding to let the rain wash out the wound seemed best even if every drop of water that fell on it sent electric shock-like impulses along his nerves. Once it was a little cleaner he could try fixing it, but for now, he would wait and tough it out.

The only thing was, he wasn't sure there would be any point in doing that either.

Above him, the hill had become a mountain that promised only pain and anguish should he try to go up against it again. Gone was his walking stick, making another attempt to scale it a possibility that he no longer had and the realization that he was even more utterly screwed than ever before sank in, leaving the bitter taste of defeat and hopelessness in his mouth.

Falling to his back, the sobs began in earnest as he was too weary to fight them nor did he even try. He ground the heels of his hands into his eyes, releasing the floodgates and giving in to his misery and the unfairness of it all. Here he was: an eighteen year old virgin and he was going to die. Why? All because of some stupid fight with his father and a hungry animal.

What had he done to piss off the universe like this?

Was it because he stood up to his father?

Was it because he wanted to do something with his life other than kill things every day?

Or maybe he was just cursed...his whole family was... and no matter how hard he to tried to escape or run-away, it would always follow.

But none of that mattered anymore anyway. He could feel himself slipping, his vision was losing focus and there wasn't much left in him to stay awake much longer. He was as good as dead and there wasn't anything he could do about it anymore.

You're such a drama queen, Sammy...or should I say, Samantha? Sam groaned, hearing his brother's voice float unwelcome in his head. First dad, now Dean? He wasn't in the mood for any more internal pep-talks. He just wanted to be able to sleep for a while as his body craved it more than anything else.

Get out of my head, Dean.

What are you gonna do? Cry about it? Oh wait...you already are.

Shut up.

Make me, crybaby.

Please...leave me alone.

No.

Why can't you just let me die in peace?

Because, if you die, who will I have left to tease? Dad? Don't think that would go over very well.

It's not like I want to die, Dean...I just can't help it, but you'll live... You'll be okay.

Think so? 'Cuz I don't. Dean's voice lost all of it's jocularity and Sam felt a wave of guilt crash over him.

His brother had been the only constant in Sam's life with his father gone so often on hunting trips and leaving Dean to look after him, but he had never thought about how he might be the only thing in Dean's life that he had as well.

I'm sorry...Sam's eyelids drooped, heavy laden. He was just so, so tired. Tired of fighting the voices in his head, tired of feeling guilty, tired of the pain and the cold.

Sammy!

Not now...wanna sleep.

Sam! Wake up, you selfish bitch. Don't you dare go to sleep!

G'way.

"SAMMY!" The imaginary voice of his brother sounded strangely distant now as his eyes closed and he defied Dean's order to stay awake. He wasn't real anyway...didn't matter if he blew him off. The real Dean would okay...he had to believe that.

"SAM!" Weird how Dean's voice now sounded like Dad's. "SAM!" and overlapped Dean's. "SAM!" and sounded like Caleb as well.

Sam's eyes flew open with a sudden realization. He wasn't hearing voices in his head at all and if he listened hard enough, he could hear them coming closer and closer.

"SAM! C'MON, MAN...ANSWER ME!"

"D-D-Dean!" He tried to yell past his chattering teeth, but he knew his voice wasn't any louder than the rain falling around him and he couldn't find the strength to muster another shout.

They'd never hear him.

He suddenly remembered a scene from that stupid Titanic movie Mrs. Kinney, his history teacher, made them watch and he realized he was just like Kate Winslet, adrift on a piece of wood, unable to call out loud enough to be heard by the people rowing the lifeboats and he didn't even have a whistle to blow to get their attention.

Or did he?

Fumbling, his quaking hand reached into his coat pocket and fell on the cell phone he had stashed in there when he discovered it had no signal. This time at least he wouldn't need any service for it to help him. He flipped it open, the screen lighting up and he was never so happy to see that the thing was still fully charged and working properly despite the attack and the tumble down the hill. Just the fact that it hadn't been lost in the latter was miracle enough.

Sam fought his cold, numb and shaking fingers and forced them to punch up the volume up to it's max then got to re-setting the alarm. It took much more effort than he would have hoped, but when those first few, loud and usually annoying tones went off and echoed off the hill, he rejoiced in the sound. Normally, he hated that noise it made when the thing went off to wake him for school early in the morning, especially after a long night of studying, but now he didn't think he had ever heard anything so sweet.

That is until he heard the sound of his named being called only a few yards away and the running of feet crunching haphazardly across broken twigs and leaves, coming straight for him. That was much better, agreed with himself just as his thoughts passed into the realm of oblivion.

Now

Dean didn't care now if they all stuck together, he could hear Sam and that was enough for him to take off at a sprint, leaving his father and Caleb in his wake. Crashing through the forest, he paid no heed to neither the branches snapping in his face nor the jutting tree roots that attempted to trip him. His focus was narrowed on only one thing: reaching Sam's voice.

After a few moments, Dean came to the realization that Sam was not calling out any more. He stopped and strained his hearing, hoping to hear him again, but there was nothing.

"SAMMY!" He yelled at the top of his lungs until his voice nearly gave out and he ran out of air in his lungs. His father wasn't far behind, neither was Caleb and soon they too were shouting for Sam.

"Dammit." John panted when they were no longer certain which direction Sam's voice had come from. Desperately, Dean raised his hand to his mouth and cupped it, pulling in a deep breath and shouting louder than he ever had before. "SAM! C'MON, MAN!...ANSWER ME!"

Again, there was nothing and Dean was starting to get frantic. They had to be close to him, but without any response from Sam, pinpointing his exact spot would take up valuable time, time they might not have if his little brother was seriously hurt. He kept moving forward anyhow with his ears open for any sound and his eyes sharp for any movement, any sign that Sam was nearby.

He was just about to charge up his voice again for another shout when Dean heard a familiar beeping sound that made him stop in his tracks and snap his head towards the direction it was coming from.

God, he couldn't recall how many times he heard that sound at 6am only to fling a pillow at Sam to get him to shut it off, but now it seemed almost surreal to hear it out in the middle of the forest. His heart leapt in his chest, the once cursed noise now a blessing.

Sprinting, Dean's feet couldn't turn over fast enough as he pointed them towards the sound, charging, crashing through bushes and dodging trees until his eyes caught the image of two large legs laying flat and outstretched ahead of him.

Dean's stomach clenched, his throat tightened in fear that he was already too late, but he didn't stop and didn't falter until he was finally at Sam's side, crashing to his knees. Panicking at the sight of so much blood covering his little brother, he had no idea where to start first and his only initial reaction was to turn his head away and call for help.

"DAD!...OVER HERE! HURRY!"

After that, he wasn't aware of much of anything, but Sam's face. His eyes were closed and face deathly pale, the only color in his skin the red and slightly swollen bruise where he's taken the punch earlier.

Swallowing hard, Dean put both hands on either side of Sam's face. He was cold to the touch.

"Sammy?" He choked. Dead God...he was too late, he thought. Tears gathered in Dean's eyes and one rogue drop fell and landed on Sam's face. "Don't do this..."

More tears would have fallen if Sam's eyelashes hadn't taken that moment to flutter. Dean almost laughed in relief at the sight, but wanted and needed more of a response, resorting to tapping his brother on the cheeks, hoping to rouse him.

"Hey...hey...Sam...it's me...wake up, buddy. C'mon...I'm here. You're gonna be okay."

Unaware that Caleb and his father had caught up and were now beside the two of them, talking quickly to each other as they assessed Sam's injuries, Dean couldn't tear his sight away from his little brother's face and blocked out most of what they were saying, he knew it wasn't good. All he wanted and prayed for was that Sam would just open those stubborn eyes.

And when he finally did, prying them open to narrow slits and peering straight up at him, Dean did laugh, his relief pouring out in his grin.

"D-D-D'n? Y-ya r-real?" Sam stuttered, his whole body shaking with shivers. Dean grabbed his hand and rubbed frozen fingers, trying to pass on some of his warmth on to his brother. "Yeah...I'm real. I'm not going anywhere. We're gonna get you outta here, okay? Just hang on."

"K-kay." Dean saw Sam's eyes starting to close again, but he didn't want him passing out on him again if he could help it.

"By the way, saw what you did to Mr. Bigglesworth back there" Dean poked him back awake. "He was a pretty impressive kitty. Way to go."

"N-not a k-kitty, j-jerk...m-mountain l-l-lion." Sam came back with a little bit of fight and the hint of a smirk that left Dean feeling satisfied and had him grinning.

"Yeah, yeah...don't get a big head now just because you killed a big 'ol pussy cat, bitch." It was Sam's turn to grin briefly, but it didn't last long when Dean saw his eyes slide to the side and catch sight of their father.

"D-d-dad?" Dean took notice of his father then, his eyes heavy with worry, but hearing his son ask for him, he grabbed Sam's other hand and clasped it tight.

"I'm right here, Sammy." Sam's gaze fixed on his father, tears spilling out and rolling from the corners to the ground.

"M-m-S-s-sorry..."

If Dean hadn't seen it with his own eyes, then he wouldn't believe what was to happen next. His father bowed his head and pulled Sam's hand towards his chest, a single drop of moisture escaping his right eye.

"Me too...I'm sorry too."

To Be Continued...