Luke and Nate carried on a conversation while following Sam up the trail they'd rushed down just an hour or so ago. Ronnie listened to what they had to say, but didn't offer his opinion. Nate stopped every so often and consulted the map Sam had used to point out the cliffs he was 'allegedly' leading them to. Nate still had trouble trusting the other hunter because he still didn't understand why the Winchesters had insisted on joining his hunt. It was still daylight but with every step they took uphill, the sky darkened with thickening black clouds. There was no 'fierce' storm yet but the wind was brisk and the mist that spit at them was cold. Finally convinced Sam was indeed leading them in the direction he'd insisted they'd find Craig, Nate put the map away and surged past Sam, intent on being the first to find his missing hunter.

"How do we find him?" Ronnie asked, letting Nate and Luke go and falling into step alongside Sam. "Will it be easy, you think?"

"We'll know." Sam glanced up at the sky. "Maybe he'll be conscious and hear us yelling."

"You mean, maybe he's alive." Ronnie corrected. "Right?"

Sam shrugged. "Whatever."

"You think he is?"

"Yup." or he never would have left Dean to come back up here. "Or I wouldn't waste my time."

Ronnie shook his head and gave up, picking up his step to catch up with Nate and Luke. Once at the top of the path, where the map marked the cliffs off to their right, they left the path and moved carefully to the cliff's edge. Luke began calling Craig's name and soon Nate and Ronnie took up the chant. Sam trailed behind, pacing along the edge of the cliff, one eye searching for an odd, undistinguishable shaped cloud hovering in a spot where something or someone had gone over the side, one eye watching Nate and Luke, for Sam didn't trust them at all, and a third eye keeping watch on the increasing violence of the storm.

The cloud-laden sky told Sam which way to go and he continued to head directly towards the gathering clouds. They really shouldn't be yelling, raising such noise, but Sam was willing to throw caution to 'the wind' to save time and hasten his return to his brother. He tensed, his pace slowing as he sensed someone approaching him from behind. Behind? When the hell had that happened?

"That all you gonna do?" Luke demanded, coming up behind Sam and giving him a not-too-gentle shove in the middle of his back. "Strut? You're supposed to be helping us find Craig!"

Sam regained his balance and moved away from the dangerous cliff edge, the ground slick with mud and slippery with loose rocks. He understood the fear and frustration of the other men, but by no means did that understanding mean he was going to tolerate them taking it out on him.

"You stupid or do you have a death wish?" Sam warned. "Don't do that again."

"Or what? What you gonna do? Huh?" Luke taunted. "We've been up here, searching and yelling for what, half an hour now and nothing! Not a damn sign of anything! I think you're full of shit."

"Keep your hands to yourself or risk having your bones broken." Sam replied calmly. He sighed, he was really getting tired of repeating that threat. "Don't keeping pushing me Luke, I'll eventually push back and you won't like it when I do."

"Hey, guys, come on." Ronnie, ever the peacemaker, once again pushed between the two. "Later, okay? Let's find Craig and get outta here. Right? Okay? Luke, back off. Settle this some other time. Remember Nate's nose?" he brought up the prior fistfight to remind Luke Sam wasn't afraid to throw a punch. "Sam, what do we do now?"

"What are you asking him for?" Luke cried. "We just blindly keep trusting him? Look around us! There's nothing – nothing – to prove Craig's even here!"

"He's tracking the storm Luke." Ronnie said calmly, his heart racing. If Luke and Nate decided to break from Sam and go their own way to find Craig, he'd have to choose to either go with them or stay with Sam. "Look around. Can't you see it's worse and the more time we spend searching these cliffs, the worse it gets. We must be close."

"Says him!" Luke kicked dirt at Sam's feet. Sam's hands clenched and fisted. If the preening prick spit at him, he'd have a broken nose, broken jaw, missing teeth and a concussion. "How do we even know that's true? We don't know anything Ronnie! Nothing!"

"Yeah, and that's your fucking problem." Sam spat. Stressed, temper frayed and nerves shot, he no longer cared if he crossed a line. "Coming up here blind. Coming on this hunt in the first place without knowing what you were up against."

"Sam." Ronnie warned. "Not helping here." he turned back to Luke. "Nate does, he knows." Ronnie reasoned. "He wouldn't have come back up here with Sam if he didn't believe Sam knew how to find Craig." he turned to Nate. "Ain't that right?" he waited. "Nate? Right?"

Nate finally nodded. "We'll settle this later Luke." he said, staring Sam down. "Ain't that right?" he mimicked Ronnie.

Sam sneered. "Sure." little did Nate and Luke know 'later' meant after the danger to Dean was over. Let them try and 'settle' anything once Dean was back on his feet, he snickered. "This way."

He set off, not looking to see if anyone followed. Ronnie fell in behind him without hesitation, decision made. He was sticking with Sam no matter what the other two fellow hunters decided to do. They continued to climb steadily uphill, sticking close to the edge of the cliff and the storm closed around them fast and furiously, the wind brutal, the mist now a steady, icy rain but the ground didn't shake or heave, no rocks rolled at them, no tree limbs fell over their heads; nothing threatened them with harm until they were suddenly surrounded by fog so thick, it was black. Visibility was reduced to non-existent and if Ronnie hadn't reached out and grabbed the back of Sam's jacket right when he did, he wouldn't have been able to locate him.

"SAM!" Nate yelled. "HEY!"

"WHAT THE HELL'S GOING ON?" Luke shouted. "NATE! I can't SEE! Where are YOU?"

"We're here, aren't we?" Ronnie shouted in Sam's ear, still holding on. "We found Craig?"

"No one MOVE!" Sam yelled. "Tie off to a tree or if you can't, LIE FLAT on the ground and don't move! Ron, keep one hand on me, to your left is a tree…feel for it…."

"Yeah, yeah, got it."

"Tie off to it." Sam ordered. "Let go of me and use both hands. I'll hold onto you. Please tell me you can tie a decent knot?"

"Yeah, yeah, gimme a minute." Ronnie muttered. "Okay, I'm good, now what?"

"You secure?" Sam asked. Ronnie could feel/sense Sam moving about but had no idea what the other man might be doing. "Don't move yet."

"Yup. You tying off to me?" Ronnie groped blindly in the dark, feeling Sam do the same. "Anything you can do to beat back how dark it is?" standing shoulder to shoulder with Sam, tied together by a short rope anchored safely to a tree, they pulled their flashlights and attempted to cut the darkness with their bright beams.

"Shit." Sam muttered. The beams bounced back, revealing no visual at all. "Damn." once tied off to Ronnie, Sam had followed the rope back to the tree and assured himself it was well tied off and in no danger of coming loose. "This is just great!"

"Yeah, I didn't mean a light." Ronnie shouted. Nate and Luke were lost to them and if he weren't standing in direct contact with Sam, he wouldn't have been able to communicate with him either. Still, he didn't know if Sam heard or understood him. It was so dark, he couldn't make out trees or the man standing next to him, but he felt and understood the tug on the rope and he dropped to all fours in tandem with Sam. Tied to the tree, they began a careful exploratory crawl to find Nate and Luke, whom, much to Ronnie's surprise, had obeyed Sam and were found lying flat on their stomachs in the last place they'd been seen.

Once the four were together and safely secured, a plan was quickly devised by Sam, argued and lost by Luke, reluctantly agreed to by Nate and due to Ronnie's insistence, finally implemented. There was no way in hell Sam was allowing himself to be roped into a makeshift harness and lowered over the side of cliff and begin a search for Craig. He'd expected it to be suggested – and it was, by Luke – and he vehemently, flat-out refused. He didn't care what anyone thought of him and there was no way anyone could make him do it - not even if Nate held a gun to his head.

And Sam stared him down, daring him to try.

In the end, Luke went over and after three failed attempts in the wrong location, was finally successful in locating Craig and thirty-minutes after he'd been found, an alive but unconscious Craig suffering from was undoubtedly a severe case of Hypothermia was on safe ground, being tended by Nate. Sam neither knew nor cared about Craig's exact condition. He'd fulfilled his promise to rescue the missing hunter from the cliff-side nest and he was done. It was up to Nate and the others to see to his survival now.

"Wait…where are you going?" Luke demanded as Sam coiled his length of rope, and shouldered his backpack. "Hey, you...yeah, you Winchester! I'm talking to you."

Yeah, I hear you, Sam thought silently, and I don't fucking care. I'm tired and my shoulders ache and my back hurts from holding your ass off the side of a cliff and dragging you back up it four times, the last time with a limp body. "Back to the cabin." he'd been gone far longer then he'd wanted to be and while it was still dark with thick fog, visibility would return and increase the further away from Craig he got.

"You can't…..you aren't going to just leave us here?" Luke spluttered. "What the fuck Winchester?!"

"I told you I'd help you find him, I did." Sam shrugged his backpack across his back. "I'm done."

"Nate! Do something!" Luke yelled. "I don't like this, something ain't right here and he's just going to leave us out here?"

"Here now, Sam." Nate rose to his feet to confront him. The storm had abated to a driving, cold rain, the winds strong, but no longer gale force. How odd. "We aren't out of danger yet and you know it."

"And?" Sam taunted. "What Nate? Huh, and what?"

"Where are you off to in such a hurry anyway?" Luke shouldered his way next to Nate. "Running back to your pansy-ass brother? Dean some kind of wimp who needs his hand held 'cause he has a fucking boo-boo?"

"I'm not leaving my brother alone any longer than I have to." Sam adopted a defensive stance, backpack balanced so that he had free range of motion with both arms. "If I trusted Billy to do what needs to be done, I could have given Dean meds to knock him out, or to help him with the pain but I don't. I don't trust him at all. I expect Billy to do nothing but mope, leaving Dean to keep the fire going so the amulet remains powered in order to protect the cabin and to do that, he has to be awake."

With a howl of rage, Luke launched himself at Sam, barreling into him with a force Sam hadn't expected and knocking him to the ground. Sam landed hard on his back with a whoosh and an oomph, the air momentarily knocked right out of his chest. Luke was a scrappy fighter, managing two solid swings against Sam's jaw before Sam rallied and used a knee to shove him off. But he was neither a talented nor a smart fighter and despite the heavy backpack, Sam quickly gained his feet and easily met Luke's renewed attack, soon taking and keeping the advantage.

"You happy now?" Ronnie asked Nate, hands perched on his hips. "You have a busted nose, lost a tooth, Billy has a concussion, Craig's condition is unknown, probably serious, maybe critical and Luke is getting the shit beat outta him. Tell me, was it worth it Nate? Huh? Tell me!"

"Shut the fuck up." Nate growled. He was torn between attending Craig further or saving Luke from broken bones and weeks of physical therapy. Sam was not holding back this time, he was furious and taking his anger and frustration out on Luke, who was too stupid to stop fighting back. "DAMMIT! Grab whoever you get ahold of first."

Finally able to separate the two by breaking Sam's hold on Luke's coat, and dragging Luke away, Ronnie talked Sam down while Nate checked Luke over.

"Think he broke my arm." Luke whined. "Least some fingers."

"What do we do now?" Ronnie demanded. Sam really didn't owe them anything and he'd done more for them then Ronnie had thought he would, but still, Sam's knowledge and guidance was still needed; whether Nate and Luke wanted to admit it or not. "Sam, you don't owe us anything, I know, but please, I'm begging you here..." Sam was done checking himself over for injury, made sure nothing had fallen from his pockets or out of his backpack and started to walk away but Ronnie dogged his heels.

"If he's breathing, get him to the cabin and wait out the 18 hours then get him to a hospital." Sam snarled, Ronnie kept circling him, blocking his progress towards the path. "If he's not, bury him."

"You really are a fucking prick." Nate spat hotly. "Go, go on, asshole. Get out of here. And don't ever let me lay eyes on you or your piss-head brother again."

"Nate, what Sam's saying is we aren't going to get him off this mountain. Not now. Not with everyone alive." Ronnie said. "Come on, he hasn't done wrong by us yet." he turned to Sam. "If we get him to the cabin, will he be protected?"

"You get him there alive, yes."

"Can you say the same spell that allowed you to get Dean to the cabin by holding the storm back?" Ronnie asked.

"I can't say it, I won't be with you." Sam said. "But you can. Can you read Latin?"

"Not well." Ronnie confessed. "Is it...?"

"I can." Nate growled. Oh, there would come a day when he would see Mr. Sam Winchester again.

"You say it, and you've got an hour, maybe two, to reach the cabin. Saying it a second time won't do any good." Sam dug into a pocket and handed Nate a piece of paper. "I wrote it down for you before we left the cabin. You'll know if it wears out before you get to the cabin because you'll hear but probably not see, phantom spirits that will give chase; one, probably a bird." Craig had been in no condition to speak, let alone repeat what, if any kind of animal he'd seen. "Good luck."

"How do we get into the cabin once we're there?" Ronnie asked. "Won't we break the protective sigils?"

"Use the same spell I used to get us out." Sam repeated it, as it was only a sentence rather than a complete chant. "Got it?" he had every intention of barring the door against entry, so he'd well know when they arrived at the cabin and it would be his choice whether or not they gained entrance into Sam's carefully chosen and protected sanctuary. "Now get out of my way Ronnie, I'm done with threats. Move or I will move you."

Ronnie nodded and instantly moved aside. Nate stood his ground, holding Sam's gaze before stepping aside and throwing a hand wide to show Sam the way down the mountain. "Go then. Go, get out of my sight, but know this Winchester, there will be another day, another time. See how big and bad a bully you are then."

Sam held his gaze, rain obscuring his vision then turned and jogged out of sight into the rain and darkness.

***000***

Lulled to a state of semi-sleep – okay, unconsciousness – by unrelenting pain that steadily increased, Dean didn't pay much attention to Billy or how much time passed or the temperature of the cabin. It was the lack of snapping and popping from the fire that finally roused him from his pain-induced stupor and got him to his feet. That, Sam's annoying voice in his head and a steady, throbbing pain in his shoulder that made tears prick his eyes and threatened to spill.

Damn.

He sighed shakily and after a fight with the sofa that did not want to give him up, gained his feet and shuffled slowly about the room. Hand-walking his way along furniture and the wall, he eventually - and it took him far longer than he was happy with - made it over to the sink where he rewet the towel with cold water and settled it on his shoulder. His shirt was still wet from before, telling him not much time had actually passed, leaving him chilly and uncomfortable from damp clothes. Aah well, whatever.

Billy was standing at the window, staring out it blankly. He didn't move or speak, totally enthralled with whatever he and he alone, was or wasn't seeing. Dean walked behind him and smacked him upside the head, startling him so badly, he jumped away from the window with a yelp.

"Fire." Dean reminded him. "Keep it hot, remember?" and the thermometer was where again? He'd had it...he was sure he'd held it in his hand.

"What? Oh." he didn't move. "Yeah, sure."

Maybe, Dean thought as he grabbed the fire poker, the kid was so spacey because he had a concussion. Or maybe Dean was the one with the concussion; his head sure as hell hurt enough to have suffered one. He stoked the fire, added several logs and sat down on a chair near the hearth.

Now, what all had Sam said? Think Dean, think dammit. Uh…..stay in the cabin – done; keep the fire going – done; towels soaked in cold water would make his shoulder feel better – bullshit; beware of birds – yeah, okay, sure, whatever; somewhere there was an amulet that did something – what, he had no fucking idea; alarms, sachets, antidote, boil, roil…trouble and toil…yadda, yadda, yadda, Sam sure did talk a lot. Sam, Sam, Sam. His brother was annoying and bossy and abrupt and impatient, so why did Dean miss him and wish he were there? Uh, no, he thought hastily, best push thoughts like those to the back of your mind. Banish them.

He blinked, flexing his fingers into and out of a fist. They, his fingers on his left hand, were numb. Sam hadn't said anything about that. Had he? Maybe he had. No, no, he hadn't. Dean sighed, trying different positions with his arm to ease the ache in his shoulder. It wasn't broken, didn't feel like pain from a dislocated shoulder, didn't feel like a joint that needed to be cracked, it just hurt. Yeah, okay, so no...not one god-damn, fucking comfortable position. He sighed, chin to chest, bit his lip and dangled his hand to the floor in a desperate attempt to find some relief.

He found none.

Zip ties and a roll of duct tape sitting on a nearby table caught his eye, taunted him, urged him to remember something, but what? Well, couldn't be anything too important. Right? Hell, he didn't know. He was tired and cold and he hurt and he ached and he didn't understand why or know what to do about it. And what the hell was that damn beeping?

Billy jumped when a thud, then a thump and finally a crash came from inside the cabin. He tore his gaze away from the window and searched the room with his eyes; afraid something had finally gained entrance to the cabin, he was too frozen with fear to do anything more. But no, nothing had entered the cabin. The source of the noise had indeed come from within the cabin - Dean lay sprawled on the floor, near the fire, tangled up in an over-turned chair.

"Dean?" he crept across the room, one eye on the door, expecting something to come crashing through. "Dean, hey…." he carefully removed the chair and set it on its feet then nudged Dean with his foot; gently at first, then harder when he failed to garner any response. "Dean, come on."

Dean swung out at the offending intrusion into his hip, rolling to his knees in preparation of fight. Billy held both hands up and backed away.

"Easy dude, mean you no harm." he stood out of reach of physical contact as Dean sat up with a moan, holding his head in both hands. "Um…..sorry, but, you're…well, you're beeping."

Dean bared his teeth. Yeah, hear it loud and clear, you douche, no need to point out the obvious. He lowered the arm with the wrist on which his watch was strapped. Right. Sammy had set his alarm. He was supposed to do something. What was it again? Maybe Sam should have written everything down. Dean raised his head and squinted at his hand. Even if Sam had, it wouldn't have done him any good because at best, his vision was blurry.

"How long?" Dean got his feet under his ass, pushed to his knees and tried to use the hearth to support his weight while he pushed up with his hands but his left wrist refused to cooperate and his hand slipped off the stone that was too slick to grip. He fell hard to his chest, ass-to-ceiling, staring at his streaked-red traitorous, four-fingered left hand. He frowned, he was bleeding and he'd lost a finger? Oh, that couldn't be good.

"What?" Billy asked stupidly. "Say, dude, I think...yeah, you are. You're bleeding. Your shoulder I bet. Though, with your shirt wet and all, it's a guess at best."

"H'long they b'gone?" his shoulder protested any and all movement and while he'd previously ignored it, he couldn't do so now. He finally made it to his feet, a wobbly, hunched-over standing position, left arm held tight against his side but he was standing. "The...oth...Sam." he huffed impatiently. It wasn't a hard question, for Christ Sake.

"I dunno." Billy shrugged. "Couple hours maybe."

"Or four." Dean used his teeth to finally turn his watch alarm off, staggered over to the kitchen, pumped water into the sink, filled a pan and set it to boil on the stove then looked around for his towel. He was struggling, really struggling, not to moan and whine or whimper and if he didn't get something cold on his shoulder right then, he was going to cry. "Fuck." he wanted Sam. Not some snot-nosed wanna be hunter who didn't know his ass from a hole in the ground.

"Guess." Billy agreed. "Maybe."

Dean didn't know why he was boiling water but something told him he was supposed to, so he did. Teeth gritted, he retrieved his towel from the floor by the fireplace and returned with water-filled eyes and running nose to soak it in cold water. Almost, he coaxed himself silently, hang in there, almost there, don't cry, don't cry, don't be a baby, bite your tongue, clench your jaw, don't whine, don't moan, don't whimper like a wimp…..you can do it…..you can do it, you can, you can, you can do it.

His knees gave out.

"Whoa!" Billy exclaimed, watching as Dean crumbled to his knees, hands instinctively flailing out to prevent an undignified face-plant. "Dude, you gotta stop doing that!"

His palms hit the floor, briefly braced his weight, then his left arm buckled when his shoulder voiced its displeasure and he dropped to his left side with a bar-jarring thud, arms crossed over his stomach. And there he stayed, with Billy watching him roll and rock and curl up then straighten out; he sat up, doubled over, flopped onto his side, squirmed on his back, shifted from hip to hip. A time or two, he got on-top of it, gained control and sat on his ass, the wet towel Billy had handed him on his shoulder, dripping onto the floor, before doubling over yet again, forehead to floor and passing out.

Billy tried to make him comfortable, leaving him on the floor of the kitchen but with a blanket, hoping, wishing and praying that Dean would eventually be alright and get up on his own. He didn't know what to do; he had no idea whether it was safe to offer Dean whiskey or pain meds. Didn't know whether to change the dressing on his shoulder or leave it alone. He left it alone, doubting Dean would tolerate Billy touching him.

Having no idea what to do, out of his comfort zone and scared beyond belief, he stood at the stove and stared at the pot of water, praying to any and all saints and some that he invented that it would miraculously boil upon command. It didn't.

The violent sounds of the door being under attack jolted Billy right out of his stupor. The fire blazed hot, the flames eagerly feeding on the recently added logs and was in no immediate danger of burning out. Taking a breath and finding his courage, Billy stood with Dean on the floor between his feet, knife in one hand, revolver in the other, ready, if-not-so-willing to take on any threat that burst through the door. And come through it would, for the knob was turning and then the door flung open with such force, it bounced off the wall, flung back shut and was kicked open a second time.

Billy swallowed nervously, the looming dark shadow illuminated in the open doorway was both threatening and intimidating. How and with what, was he supposed to fight it? Would Dean pull it together and help him? Would he know what they were facing?

"DEAN!"

Oh, Billy's knees went weak with relief. Apparently, they were only facing an anxious, worried 'little' brother. He swallowed hard, mentally revising his former memo to self: He could see it on Sam's 1st grade report card, marked with a red sharpie; Sam Winchester does not play with others. Maybe his chances would be better if he were to fight a phantom spirit from yesteryear.