I have an apology to make.
Apparently somewhere along the line I must have hit the wrong button and Chapter 2 was a repeat of Chapter 1. I am sorry and I have now corrected this so if you want to go back and read please do so. If you don't you will miss Dean's reaction to sleeping in a Yurt.
Thank you to hotshow for pointing this out brownie points to you.
Okay so here is Chapter 4. Fingers crossed.
Chapter 4
Sunlight warmed Sam's face as the last remnants of sleep fell away. Gradually he became aware that it was light around him and that his back was complaining from lying on the hard ground. Rolling slightly to ease the stiffness he brought his arm up and squinted his eyes to check his watch, nine forty. Sh*t it was late why hadn't Dean woken him? "Dean?"
He pushed himself up staring around looking for signs of the older hunter. "Dean?" He stood and swung his gaze round the clearing, puzzled but not yet unduly worried. Dean's backpack was to his right, his own he'd used as a pillow, "DEAN," the loud harshness of his voice disturbed the air pressure around him and the sensation made him feel weird, wrong, like he was intruding in some private place, like something unseen wanted him gone. He turned quickly scanning the mass of leaves and branches, spooked more by his creepy feelings than Dean's disappearance.
Waiting, concern building, he strained trying to hear his brother's voice but the only sounds were the background rustlings of the forest. Sam gave a shudder and rubbed at the prickly feeling on the back of his neck, telling himself to get a grip but despite his conscious attempts to quash his sense of alarm he couldn't lower his guard and he instinctively held his body tense and alert, combat ready.
Dean was probably taking a leak or gathering firewood or…. Sam had been going through possibilities, scenarios but the minutes passed and Dean didn't reappear.
Worry streaked through Sam now. His brother would not have wandered off, not without telling him or leaving a message, not on a hunt.
Dad had taught, no drilled it into them that when in the field together neither should make a move without advising the other. Sam had been angry at first thinking that it was their Dad's way of getting Dean to keep tabs on him but he had soon realised the importance of such a strategy after he'd gone off on his own and gotten himself into trouble with a black dog; it had only been Dean's unerring ability to anticipate Sam that had saved his hide.
Huffing he told himself that there was probably a perfectly reasonable explanation and there was no use getting panicky but he still found himself at the edge of the clearing checking for signs of Dean, a twig or broken branch. What he didn't do was try shouting again much as he wanted to; if his brother had heard and been able to reply he would have done so. More shouting would only alert whatever was out there.
It frightened Sam how easily hunting came back to him, how all those years of training kicked in without him even having to think about it. His lips twitched into a smile at the irony. He'd tried so hard to get away from the life yet here he was, alone, miles from anywhere trying to track some unmentionable monster which had most likely snatched his brother during the night. He sighed, "Sam Winchester your life sucks."
"Keep telling you bro you need to loosen up."
"DEAN! What the f…" Sam practically did a double take, he'd not heard his brother approach.
"What's for breakfast? I'm starved." Dean squatted and started rifling through his backpack spilling the contents onto the ground at his feet. "Did you bring any of those 'Healthy Bars you like so much'? He dug further and produced four. "Ah!"
"Where the hell were you?" Sam couldn't believe that Dean was so totally oblivious.
Puzzled, Dean turned his green eyes on Sam pausing mid bite. "What?"
"I woke up and you were gone…" God he sounded really lame, like he'd panicked over nothing, which he supposed he had but he was sure as hell was not gonna goddamned apologise for caring a twitch.
"Dude, you should know by now how totally awesome I am, I let you sleep in."
"You should have woken me." Sam cringed inside, now he sounded like a petulant younger brother which, again, he was. Damn Dean.
"What did you want Sleeping Beauty, a Kiss?"
Sam didn't reply but his silence seemed to fill the glade with accusation and Dean suddenly turned.
"I took a wash, okay." Dean opened his arms in question. "I got standards you know Sammy a duty to keep this body beautiful." It was then the tall hunter noticed that his brother's hair was wet. He felt even more stupid and was about to come back with "But you didn't tell me," when his brain caught up with his mouth and shut it. Instead, in his frustration, he stood, facing Dean fists clenched, watching him stuff the cereal bar into his mouth.
"What? Dean glanced at him, chewing, half his attention on re-packing his bag but also aware that his brother hadn't moved.
Sam knew from experience that Dean would never admit that he'd been in the wrong and why give his sibling any more ammunition to ridicule him with. Dean already thought his little brother was more girlified than he ought to be so Sam shook his head, "Nothing."
"You know," Dean shook the half eaten bar at Sam. "These aren't half bad." He pushed in the rest of the stick filling his cheeks so full he could hardly chew and ripped the wrapper from another.
"You do know that the bars aren't healthy if you eat them four at a time, don't you."
"Need…" Licking his lips and sucking on a sticky finger Dean tried to talk. "…the energy Sammy." Only what came out was a couple of muffled words without vowels in a series of thick grunts of appreciation.
Suddenly the tension fell away from Sam and he laughed out loud astonishing his hamster cheeked brother who failed totally to see the joke.
XXxxxxxxxx
Water drizzled from above in a relentless beaded curtain. Falling from the clouds, the leaves, the branches in a merciless wetness which pattered onto Dean's waterproof then ran in ever gathering rivulets to drip off the bottom edge onto his legs thoroughly soaking him from the knees down.
Dean was miserable. The day had started well and they'd made good progress climbing steadily up the side of the mountain catching only occasional glimpses of a brooding sky. He had been in good spirits despite the lack of sleep the night before and had actually begun to enjoy himself keeping up an easy rhythm as he followed Sam through the forest.
The rain had started as they'd rested after a particularly steep section of trail. Sitting shoulder to shoulder with Sam on an outcrop of rock, legs dangling over edge they'd both gazed out into the foliage in a companionable silence that Dean had not felt in a long time. It seemed to him that all the hassle and angst had been left behind in that Yurt thing. Here there was nothing but him and Sam and the hunt. No bigger purpose, no wider issues, no grey morality.
At the first splat of drops Sam had unzipped an outer pocket on his backpack and donned a dark blue waterproof. Dean's first reaction had been to snort with laughter as his brother looked such a dork all zipped up and swishing with every movement.
He'd declined to wear his own version of the offending apparel until his shoulders were thoroughly soaked and he'd had to admit that the rain in Wallace Falls State Park seemed to be a little wetter than rain elsewhere. Pulling out the cagoule, he'd struggled; the waterproof material refusing to slide over the wetness of his clothes and he'd ended up in a confused knot getting wetter and wetter in the process. Sam had finally come to his rescue but by the time he'd got the thing sorted he was as wet on the inside as it was on the outside.
From there it had gone from bad to worse. The hollows in the uneven ground had filled rapidly to overflowing with the resultant streams washing down the slope making it hard for their feet to grip. Several times Dean had slipped, his foot sliding from under him, putting him off balance and he'd barely managed to save himself from crashing to the ground by clutching at nearby branches.
Up ahead Sam was having just as hard a time, now and again curses rose above the clamour of the rain as his feet slued, scrabbling for purchase and once he'd come to a halt so abruptly that Dean had collided with him nearly bringing them both down.
Bedraggled Dean was beyond miserable now, more pathetically woebegone. "Tell me again why we're doing this?"
"We're saving lives and making the world a better and safer place to live in."
"And what will be our reward?"
"In your case a double cheeseburger, large fries and a beer in a warm dry bar." There wasn't a hint of sarcasm in Sam's reply.
"Sounds good to me." Dean stepped forward only to have his boot completely disappear into a mud filled puddle. "Sonofabitch." There was a disgusting squelching sound and a lot more swearing from Dean as he clutched on to Sam before he was able to drag his foot free. The water was freezing and while his boots were somewhat waterproof the eyeholes for the laces were not and he could feel the trickling moisture tracing ice cold fingers over his skin and down in between his toes.
"It'll warm up soon."
"Thanks a lot Mr cup half full." Dean was not impressed. How could Sam remain so disgustingly upbeat? It never failed to amaze him how his brother could see the good in everything. How despite all the things they'd seen and done all the blackness and evil that was around them Sammy could remain so genuinely agreeable and balanced.
He'd had his dark moments, teenage Sammy Winchester had certainly not been pleasant company looking for something, anything to disagree with and pushing Dean and their father to the limits of their patience but they had come through that. In fact before Sam had dropped the bombshell on their Dad about Stanford he thought they'd all been getting on more than reasonably.
Although Sam hadn't discussed his application to college with his brother, Dean had not been surprised and was secretly pleased, like he was the proud father. Sam'd had the brains and the purpose to make something of his life not like Dean who'd been pulled out of school so often to help his dad on a hunt that he'd barely scrapped graduating grades.
Dean huddled into his jacket trying to ignore his wet foot, his wet legs, his wet back where the water had leaked in between his coat and his skin, and his wet front where the rain ran down his face and dripped off his chin.
"Can't you find us a nice dry cave or something. I don't mind sharing."
Huffing in amusement Sam turned back, "You might not mind cuddling up to a Mountain Lion but I'm pretty sure he would object to your snoring."
"I don't snore." Dean lifted his chin in challenge but his brother only gave that infuriatingly knowing smile and pressed on upward.
An hour later, Dean was beginning to think that he'd humiliated himself for nothing putting on the waterproof and he was sure as heck gonna sue the manufacturer for false claims. He was thoroughly soaked, his clothes cloying, plastered to his body with an uncomfortable clamminess and he was sure the denim of his jeans was chaffing in places he'd rather not think about.
Head down he trudged on even as the sky darkened further and the rain became torrential taking visibility to virtually zero. He was about to call for Sam to wait up when again his foot slipped.
Flailing wildly Dean's hands grasping at branches as he fell, slipping and sliding on the saturated ground; he could hear Sam shouting his name, feel the whip of leaves as everything sped up around him. His body tumbled ripping his pack from him and Dean yelling tried to curl and protect himself but his back slammed into a tree halting him momentarily then he slued to the right feeling the rough bark scrape at his skin as he continued to accelerate downhill. His hip slammed painfully into another tree but his momentum kept him moving and he plunged headlong through the undergrowth, rolling, grabbing, and clawing with his hands desperate to stop his descent.
Suddenly the ground fell away beneath him and he was airborne, branches still clutching at him as he plummeted past. He fell, it seemed to Dean, in slow-motion and all the time with a sickening realisation that he was going to hit the ground; there was no way round it, no other possible outcome and it was going to hurt like hell.
His body crunched onto the forest floor, the carpet of needles and debris failing miserably to cushion any part of him. Only the angle of the slope helped to moderate the impact but it also meant that he continued to careen downhill until a large boulder brutally stopped his progress.
Dean's breath expelled from his lungs in a rushing moan as he slammed into the unyielding surface. Pain exploded, searing through him until the side of his head contacted the rock, bounced and smacked again into the cold hard vertical mass.
XXXxxxxxxxx
Sam felt rather than saw his brother fall, "DEAN!" heart pounding he slithered, skidding back down the path trying to follow the trail of broken branches. "DEAN." He dug his heels into the mud trying to control his slide but the ground was unstable and gave under his weight.
Twisting Sam grabbed wildly at an overhanging branch closing his fingers around its width but his hands slipped on the wet bark and it broke ripping through his palms as his mass dragged him downwards. He desperately grabbed again and managed to catch a slim offshoot. Gritting his teeth against the pain he clenched his fists tight, this time it held him and he hung on.
Gathering all his energy he shouted, "DEAN" and waited but heard nothing but the hiss and splat of the rain. "DEAN." Sam tried again, "DEAN." Fear rose and constricted his throat, his brother was probably lying somewhere below him injured or even worse.
Forcing back tears he admonished himself he couldn't let his imagination get the better of him. 'Deal in facts' he could almost hear his father lecturing him. Squirming, keeping his foot firmly against the base of the trunk he sat up.
What did he know? He knew he could track Dean's fall the flattened foliage, broken bushes and branches wouldn't be hard to follow, beyond that he didn't need to think. His first priority was to find Dean then he could take his bearings and make the next decision based on what he found.
The trees whispered small gentle sounds like singing. Dean didn't stir even though he was awake. He was perfectly happy lying on the ground, with the solid rock at his side, not moving. He didn't want lift his head, didn't want to reposition his arms or legs and he knew he definitely didn't want to sit up. I'll just lie here he told himself as he closed his eyes and listened to the song.
It was full sunlight when he woke again and he watched as a sunbeam crept across the forest floor towards him snailing its way over the leaves and twigs until it touched his hand. He twitched as its warmth infused the life back into his body and along with it the pain.
It was this pain that he'd been trying to avoid. Remembering the fall he knew as soon as he'd woken that first time that he must be injured but lying so quietly so still the pain had been an absent enemy. Now it returned burning white hot down his side, into his hip and hammered at his head.
Reaching out blindly Dean splayed his hand over the rough surface of the boulder, grazing his fingertips over the pitted expanse until they caught held by a thin uneven ledge. Bending his finger ends he gripped and pulled. A moan escaped his lips as the muscle flex turned the heat of the pain into a raging fire but Dean refused to give in and gradually inch by painful inch he hauled his upper body into a sitting position.
Leaning heavily on his right shoulder trying to ease the pressure on his injuries he manoeuvred his legs round in front of him his breath hitching at every drag and strain. Eventually sweat streaming he was sat back against the rock, his rock, his nemesis and his saviour.
It felt like he'd broken several ribs. He prayed that they were only cracked because if broken, what he was about to do was going to be extremely dangerous. One jar, one stumble could force a jagged end of bone into his lung and then there was no hope, not even if Sammy found him, not out here.
Keeping his movements even and small and humming Metallica under his breath Dean pulled his knees up planting the soles of his feet firmly on the ground in front of him. He figured that if he pushed, using his thigh muscles, he could slide his back up the rock then adjust his feet and slide again until he was standing. That was the plan anyway but he hadn't reckoned on his damaged hip. At the first push the pain was so sharp and so intense that he stilled knowing that to move up or back down would be so excruciating that there was a danger he would pass out again.
It was during this impasse that he noted with a soft laugh that it had stopped raining.
XXXxxxxxxx
Sam was on his knees, head down choking back tears. He'd frantically worked his way along the trail finding where Dean's fall had taken him straight on instead of following the path's downward curve. Drawing his knife he'd continued chopping away at the undergrowth, ripping through as fast as he could, anxiously following the line of debris desperate to believe that Dean could be, would be a few yards ahead. Now that belief was gone and despair had descended, robbing him momentarily of intelligible thought.
In front of him was the edge of a cliff and all the indications were that Dean had gone over the rim but it wasn't until he'd lain on his stomach, wriggled forward and peered over the lip that the reality had slammed home. The vertical face fell away at least forty feet possibly even further because he couldn't see the bottom for the dense foliage. How the hell was his brother supposed to survive a fall like that?
Hiccuping breath, Sam sat back on his heels wiping at his damp face, the rain drops on his jacket smearing with the tears. The first rush of raw emotion had abated and now he felt empty, drained of all feeling, numb but he'd made a decision, there was no other way to find his brother than to climb down the cliff face.
Dropping his pack to the ground he pulled it open and searched. He was looking for something brightly coloured, anything that could be seen. He needed an object, a piece of cloth, anything that he could drop down that would show up to indicate at the bottom the exact position where Dean had gone over. Once Sam started his descent there was no telling how far he would have to traverse the cliff face and he needed to know that he could find his way back to start his search for Dean.
Rejecting several items Sam realised that the brightest thing he had in his pack was a blue plastic carrier. Pulling it free he cast about for a large stone, found one about the size of his hand and dropped it into the bag tying off the top. Securing himself he leaned out stretching his arm as far as he could and dropped the bag watching as it fell and disappeared from sight. Then he stood listening to it crashing through the canopy.
Securing his pack once more on his back Sam knelt unlaced and took off his boots. The thick soles while sturdy were useless for rock climbing, preventing him feeling and gripping the surface with his toes. After a moments hesitation he stripped off his socks as well sucked in a breath and lowered himself over the rim feet searching for his first foothold.