Chapter Four

Dean grabbed Sam around the chest and started pulling him backwards. Sam's soaked boots scrabbled across the rock, trying to help. Dean went back as far as he could until the diver's bag on his back scraped across the cave wall. Lowering Sam back to the rock floor, Dean pulled the bag around and pulled out a grenade.

He stepped out in front of Sam and the creature lowered beneath the surface. "Next time you show yourself, bitch, you're mine." He went quickly to the edge and retrieved the knife. He stood there for a while, hoping one of them would emerge again. He itched to kill these things and be done with it.

When he got back to Sam, the young man was curled over himself, shivering wickedly. "Hey, hey, let's get you out of these wet clothes."

"W-why?" Sam's teeth chattered. "G-got a blanket up y-your s-sleeve?"

"No." Dean started unlacing Sam's ruined boots. "But your skin will dry faster than these wet clothes." He tossed the boots aside and then slipped off the socks. Sam's feet felt like wrinkled ice cubes. Next he went to work on the jeans, unfastening the belt before wrestling the sopping levi's down. He left the boxers, hoping the light cotton would dry quickly.

Pulling Sam's rubbery arms out of his button down shirt felt like something out of a Three Stooges comedy, which turned out to be entirely not funny once Dean hauled the T-shirt over Sam's head and saw the nasty bite and claw marks. Sam hissed in a breath, twisting away when Dean touched the bite.

"Hurt bad?"

"M-mostly when you p-poke at it, so stop."

"All right. Not touching. Stay here."

Sam barked out a grunt.

Setting the bag of grenades down, Dean stripped down to his shorts-cut briefs. Moving carefully on his bare feet—damn the stone was cold—he used the knife to cut away all the moss and sea vetch within reach. There wasn't much, just an armful, but he brought that over to his sibling.

"Sammy, wake up." Sam had slipped down to lie on his side. His eyes were closed, arms curled around himself in a sorry attempt to calm the tremors coursing through him.

Dean pushed the vegetation against Sam's back, spreading it out. "Hey, sasquatch, roll toward me and get on this. Gotta get some insulation between you and the rock. It's seeping all the heat out of you."

"Is n-no . . . heat . . . to s-seep out."

Dean sat down beside him. "C'mere. Body heat." Not that Dean was any warmer.

Sam rolled toward him. "Wanna cud-cuddle?" The little bitch grinned.

Dean wrapped his arms around him, rubbing the long arms for circulation. "Well we've already done mouth to mouth, what's a little spooning?"

Sam froze, which was saying something with how badly he'd been shaking. "I wa-wasn't b-breathing?"

Dammit. "No."

"How lo-long?"

Far too long. You almost died. "Long enough."

Sam remained silent for awhile. The shudders began again. Dean thought perhaps he'd fallen asleep until he heard a quiet, "thank you."

In answer, Dean simply pulled Sam closer and nodded against his hair.

They stayed like that for awhile, listening to the quiet lapping of the water against rock and tiny plops of the dripping condensation that gathered along the ceiling. Dean continued to rub various parts of Sam's body, circulating warmth. Sam's head slipped lower down along Dean's chest.

"Hey, hey. Sam, don't go to sleep." Dean pulled the kid up by his shoulders, rousing him. "Stay with me, okay."

Sam's eyes blinked open. "S'cold."

"I know. That's why you got to stay awake." Sam looked so miserable, his face scrunched so tight like he was about to cry. "Talk to me. Tell me something I don't know."

Sam snorted. "You know everything about me." Dean grinned, realizing Sam's teeth were no longer chattering.

"Come on, there's got to be something."

"Um, okay." Sam's hand burrowed between Dean's side and the cut vegetation. The long fingers were freezing, but Dean let them stay on his bare skin anyway. "Remember D-dad's favorite ten-inch? H-had the handle—"

"With the moose carving. Dad loved the balance of that knife."

"Re-remember how it wa-went missing and we all searched . . . searched for hours . . ."

"Sam, you didn't."

"I just b-borrowed it for throwing practice, except a squirrel j-jumped right into its path."

"You knifed a squirrel?"

"Didn't mean to."

"You still could've retrieved the blade."

"I t-tried, but when I went to pull it out, I swear the squirrel r-r-reared up and took off, the hilt of Dad's blade bouncing in its side. Scared the cr-crap outta me."

Dean started laughing. "You're making this up."

"I swear I'm not. I chased that d-damn squirrel for hours." Sam started laughing too.

"So why didn't you just come clean?"

"You're kidding, right? W-would you go to Dad with a story about a demon squirrel taking off with his best blade?"

"Nope. Not a chance."

"Dean?"

"Yeah."

"It's still really cold. H-how much longer you think we gotta wait?" There was a pause. "I'm a little warmer now. Do you think it's safe to sleep?" Which was he, cold or warm?

"No, Sammy. Stay awake."

"What if I moved down by the water?"

"What good would that—no, Sam."

"I could be bait, lure them out. You could kill them, then, then we could go. Please, Dean. I don't want to be here anymore. I'm so cold."

"I know, buddy, just . . . don't worry about the monsters. They're going to show sooner or later and I'm gonna get them, and come morning when the water in that tunnel lowers, we're gone. All right?" Dean waited for Sam's response. "Sam?"

He shook him. The younger hunter's head rolled farther down. "Sam?" Dean lifted the lax head, craning around to get a look at the kid's face. His brother's eyes were closed. "No sleeping, come on, Sammy. Up and at 'em, cupcake. Sam!" Dean felt his own heart rate tear out of the gate. His brother wasn't responding. He flattened his palm over the cold chest, feeling for the intake of air. There it was and Dean let out an exhalation with him.

"Sam, come on." Dean tapped Sam's cheek again. "Sam."

Finally there was movement beneath the closed eyelids. Shifting Sam's head off of him, Dean lowered Sam's head and shoulders to the body-warmed vegetation, and moved in front of him. Dean rubbed his palms together for heat friction and then cupped them around Sam's face. "Come on, kiddo."

Sam's eyes slid open. They tracked absently around the cave before settling on Dean. "What happened?" His brows angled down in confusion. "Why are you naked?"