Sam hunched into himself his long arms wrapped around huddling him into a ball keeping the warmth within his body. He didn't regret leaving the matches with Dean but it was goddamned cold and the leaves and branches he'd piled up around him seemed to do little to restrict the loss of heat.

He'd kept walking trying to pound out the guilt he felt at leaving Dean. He shouldn't have left his brother and every fibre of his being screamed at him to turn back but he didn't. He'd seen through his sibling's bravado, knew that his brother was really hurting and had reluctantly faced the reality that Dean wouldn't make it much further. His brother's only chance was for Sam to go get help.

He walked a few steps then jogged a few, military style, until it was too gloomy to see the ground in front of him. Even then he considered pushing on but the risk of missing his step in the dark or falling off a cliff made him stop, acutely aware that he was all that there was between his brother and death.

Lying in the hollow Sam listened to his own soft breathing and the small sounds from the forest filtering through the dark. He stared out blindly, alert waiting for something more, for the snuffle and shift of a larger animal. It never came but Sam couldn't relax couldn't believe that the racoon wasn't out there waiting.

Part of him knew that he was being paranoid that the fatigue plaguing his body and mind was causing his apprehension but he couldn't shake the feeling and it was only the tiredness heavy on his eyelids that finally drew him into sleep.

XXxxxxxxxx

The buzzing seriously annoyed him and then there was the slight brush, tickle and the stinging itch as the goddamned things chowed down. Dean's mind wondered randomly what they ate when 'Winchester al fresco' wasn't available. He blinked slowly twitching his face muscles wincing at the tender bruising but hoping that the agitation of the muscles would give him some relief. It had no effect and in any case the movement didn't register on his upper body which was just as exposed as his face.

It wasn't worth the effort of waving the flies away, he'd tried but they returned within seconds to resume their picnic. It was slow torture and Dean had visions of being eaten alive, his blood slowly sucked from his body by thousands of tiny insects and all Sammy would find when he got back was a dried up bag of bones.

His melancholic mood had descended not long after sunrise. He'd managed to keep the fire going through the night by being miserly with the firewood, knowing that he wouldn't be able to gather more but as the sky brightened he suffocated the glowing embers with loose soil and it was like losing a friend. He was alone…except for the flies …he even began to miss the goddamned freaking racoon.

Shivering feeling cold even in the sun's full glare Dean tried to swallow but it hurt and he got half way but his mouth and throat were too dry. His hand tightened momentarily on the bottle lodged in its grip but then remembered it was empty. It was like a huge hammer blow, his throat constricted and tears would have pricked if he'd had any moisture left. He decided then that he hated forests and trees and branches and leaves and rain and f**king deities and backpacks and most of all he hated flies.

XXxxxxxx

Sam hit the main trail late in the morning of the second day after he'd left Dean. He turned downhill on the wide clear path, hurrying, stumbling in his haste to get to the camp below. His main aim now was to find help quickly and get back to his brother as soon as he could.

The path was deserted but as he approached the turn off for the middle falls he heard voices in the distance. He quickened his pace forcing his weary muscles to work harder and soon saw in the distance two figures clad in brightly coloured T-shirts. They were coming towards him slowly trudging their way up the steep slope.

"HEY." He used up precious breath and waved. They hesitated, heads turning talking to each other and Sam realised that he must look a sight, no shirt, hair wild, burnt, scratched and bloodied skin. "Please …I need help." There was more talking and then they continued, faster now, up the path towards him as he descended.

The taller of the two figures called out as they approached.

"Are you all right? What happened?"

Sam stopped gasping for breath, his heart beating rapidly.

"I..t's my brother…injured…need Ranger…hel..p."

Everything spun, black speckles dotted his sight and Sam slumped to the ground knees giving way. He was blacking out, "No," he couldn't pass out now.

The neck of an open bottle was pressed to his lips and he opened up grateful for the cool water rushing into his mouth. He swallowed and coughed, his head clearing slightly.

"Please we've got to get help to my brother. I had to leave him back there…."

The woman was looking at him curiously.

"Are you one of the two young men who went missing last week? Students…Own a black car?"

Sam nodded.

"Y..yeah a 67 Impala."

"Oh I don't know what make it was but they called off the search for you three days ago. Something about not being on your logged route and no tracks 'cause of the rain. I heard that older Ranger saying something to that effect when we were in the office." She turned to her companion. "You remember."

"They called…off…." Sam stopped himself realising that he couldn't blame the Park Rangers especially after what Ranger McFarlane had said to them the day before they'd set out. Still light headed he twisted pulling his backpack from his shoulders and opened up the drawstring and ripped the map from the inside pocket pressing it into the man's hand. "Here I have the approximate map-reference…my brother Dean…Please..."

Sam rose on wobbly legs, he'd been running on empty for so long, kept going by sheer determination but he couldn't rest yet. Every minute counted and he couldn't afford to wait around for the rescue team, they could catch him up. He was going back for Dean now.

"Hey, hey." The man caught his arm, "Where d'you think you're going, you're in no shape…."

The voice faded as Sam's world suddenly telescoped down to a pin-prick, sluing sideways he collapsed eyes rolling back as he went down.

XXxxxxxxx

There was a humming in his head "hmmmm mmm mm hmmmm" It went on and on the same tune. "hmmmm mmm mm hmmmm" Air passing down through his nose the sounds vibrating in his throat. It was the only sensation that was real.

The hard ground on his hip and shoulder, the cold air, the pain none of it was real it was happening to someone else. Dean wasn't lying in a forest, he wasn't shivering, he wasn't thirsty or hungry, he wasn't…he didn't know what else, there was just the humming.

He hardly woke up now, spent his time lying underneath the surface of consciousness. Almost aware but not able to respond or directly interact. Like being in that state before you wake, partly in dream but hearing the world outside. It was better that way, here he didn't hurt as much. Out there it was all pain, deep and unrelenting and he didn't want that but when he did wake, he hurt and waited and hummed.

He'd forgotten what he was waiting for, only knew that he had to, that whatever or whoever was coming and he had to wait.

"hmmmm mmm mm hmmmm"

"Hey son...how you doing?"

There were hands on his skin, hurting him. He pulled away moaning at their harsh touch on his body. Thrashing weakly he tried to get away, tried to dislodge their insistent probing.

"Noooo." Dean pushed feebly at the strong arms.

"Hey buddy we're trying to help you."

"Hold 'im down, I gotta check him over."

The hands pushed down harder pinning him to the floor while others prodded making Dean cry out as bones and bruises fought back with a wearing, ravaging pain.

"Geese Kyle he's in a bad way."

The voices made no sense and there were more sounds and talking, distant and they weren't right, they weren't what he was waiting for. He struggled to surface, to clear the fuzzy confusion in his head he had to tell them he was waiting. He had to wait.

Panic ripped through him as the hands moved him fastening a hard restrictive thing around his neck.

"Nooo…pl…p..wa…t"

"We gotta get you to hospital buddy. You just lie back and enjoy the ride."

A stinging pain pierced his arm.

"No…" Dean tried to roll away.

"Goddamn it Kyle hold him steady while I get this line in."

Dean was being lifted, his ribs grated and he was shaking, trembling, vulnerable nothing solid around him. Confused he lashed out again moaning and writhing in the strong grip that held him.

The contact at his back was hard, stiff as he was laid upon it and then he was bound, tight bands around his chest, his legs but sensation was receding. A deadness affected him, he could no longer feel his limbs and like a rising tide the numbness washed around his body.

Fear travelled with it and his helplessness to stop what was happening tore at his heart. He need to wait, had to wait, Sam was coming back. Sam, he remembered Sam. Dean renewed his efforts to get free but he was too weak and his body refused to obey.

"Sam." He whispered and he held onto the name this time as slowly he succumbed to the anaesthetising medication.

Xxxxxxxx

The wheelchair was over by the door. He could make that but first he had to move. Sam stared at the chair as if the staring would bring it closer or by some miracle get him out of bed and into it.

He was alone now; the nurse had left the room having made him promise to stay in bed. Yeah right, like that was going to happen when his brother was lying in ICU two floors above him.

Sam had no recollection of being airlifted from the forest campsite or getting to the hospital or being examined. He had nothing until he'd woken in crisp clean sheets, the sunlight streaming in from behind closed blinds and a pretty brunette smiling sympathetically down at him.

"D'n." His throat was raw, felt like it had been sand-papered extra rough and he swallowed trying to find enough moisture to speak again.

"Don't try to talk, I'll give you a drink, just gotta finish checking your vitals."

He tried again a trepidation stirring in his belly.

"D'n ….my…br'th'r."

She ignored him, wrapping the blood pressure cuff around his arm. Sam tried to push her off but he was weak and she brushed his hand away lightly.

"Now be a good boy, we've been very worried about you."

"Dean." He managed to get the whole word out.

Inflating the cuff she was quiet, concentrating on the rapidly changing figures on the machine.

"Pl…se." His fear increased. What weren't they telling him?

"Good. That's better..."

Sam'd had enough he needed to find Dean and he wasn't going to do that stuck in a hospital bed. Flinging the thin blanket back he ignored the nurse's surprised gasp and gripped the cannula that attached the clear flexible tube to the back of his hand.

"Stop, no, you're gonna …"

He didn't stop. Yanking on the needle he pulled it roughly from his flesh and heedless of the blood welling from the wound swung his legs over the side of the bed. The room swayed or he swayed, whichever, it made him feel sick the bile rising and burning his throat but he swallowed it down and pushed off the bed.

The moment his feet touched the floor pain seared icy-hot and fierce, flaming up his legs in a surge an unstoppable tidal wave flashing up his body. Strong arms caught him and eased him back.

"Easy there lets not try to walk until we're feeling a teensy bit better. Now lie back for me."

Placing her hand firmly on his chest the nurse applied pressure. Sam still feeling like someone had lit the blue touch paper and left him to burn resisted but he was no match for this ninety-eight pound woman and she pushed him back onto the bed as if he was no more than a child.

"Dean." He whispered as the pain sank him back into the pillows his eyes closing.

It must have been some time before he woke again, hot almost feverish with the sweat sticking the starched sheets to his skin. Raising his hand he brushed the wet hair from his forehead.

"How you feeling Sweetie?"

The face had changed, still female, still sympathetic but with a blonde frame of curls.

Sweetie? Sam prickled but the nurse either ignored him or failed to notice. He plumped for the latter because she continued without a perceptible break in her commentary. Telling him that they'd been very worried about him that he was severely dehydrated, suffering from minor partial thickness burns, cuts – non-serious – and bruising.

Well tell him something he didn't know. Like where his brother was. He needed to know was if they'd found Dean, was he okay and where the hell he was now.

Sam struggled to sit up

"My b'th'r."

"Brother Sweetie?"

Was she acting innocent, did she know something? Sam eyed her carefully but she appeared to be genuine.

"He w…as in…ju..r'd"

"Here." Smiling 'Brenda', Sam read the badge, handed him a hospital bottle of water, one of those with a lid and a straw sticking up. Sucking gratefully the young hunter let the cool liquid soothe the dry roughness in his throat before asking again.

"My brother, Dean, he was injured up the mountain, did they find him? Is he all right? Please I have to know."

The woman patted his thigh.

"Don't you fret Sweetie your brother's upstairs…"

Relief hit Sam; they'd found Dean…

"…In ICU."

"ICU?" Heat and colour drained from his body like a bucket of freezing water had been thrown over him. He'd known Dean was bad but it wasn't, hadn't been life threatening. Had the deity come back? Had it hurt Dean more? Berating himself for leaving his brother unprotected Sam threw back the covers only to come face to face with a scowling Brenda.

"Where d'you think you're going Sweetie."

"I need to see Dean he…"

She pushed him back "You ain't going nowhere with those feet."

Sam was puzzled, feet? A ghost of the pain that had shot up his legs earlier, made his muscles twitch and he grimaced with the remembrance.

The nurse continued talking telling him that his feet were the worst that he was lucky not to have gangrene. Pulling back the comforter from the end of the bed she revealed something which had failed to register with Sam before, two bandaged feet.

Working deftly she unwound the white gauze on the one nearest to her revealing the deep angry gash running the length of his instep and numerous other cuts criss-crossing the pale flesh. Most of them were red and raised, weeping yellow puss along their length. Sam gasped as the woman's cool fingers touched his skin lightly.

"Still sore, Sweetie?"

That was an understatement. Craning his neck Sam peering down but was pressed back firmly again and told to lie still while she cleaned them and applied more anti-biotic cream.

Fire leapt up his legs as she worked and it took all Sam had not to pull his feet away every time she touched him, several times he'd had to suck in his breath quickly to prevent a cry leaving his lips, it hurt like crazy. He knew that he'd cut his feet climbing down the cliff and that it had hurt to walk for a while. Like new shoes rubbing but this was deep infection. How had he not felt this?

He shuddered his whole body feeling sensitive and delicate, her touch making it worse making his skin crawl, it reminded Sam of the time he'd not told Dad he'd been sliced by the horn of a Botis. The creature was haunting a small cemetery, lurking amongst the overgrown tombstones when it had decided to attack. Sam had barely turned around when it was on him but his Dad had brought it down with a well-aimed silver knife. Assuring his father that he was fine Sam hadn't mentioned the score all down his left arm where the Botis's horn had broken the skin.

During the night he'd got up, hot and thirsty, collapsed on his way to the bathroom for a drink and spent the next four days with a high fever. He felt like that now, slightly spaced out, clammy and shivery like his body wasn't his own but he wasn't going to let that stop him getting to Dean.

"I'm going to see my brother." He wasn't going to ask because 'No' wasn't an option.

"Maybe tomorrow, Sweetie."

"Now, I have to see him NOW…" Sam sat up trying to use his height to intimidate even though he was on a bed and the room was swooping in and out of focus alarmingly.

Brenda drew herself up offended by his insistence and angered by his aggression.

"You will remain in your bed until the Doctor has seen you and he won't do his rounds until tomorrow morning."

She ripped the sterile wrapper from a new bandage and began to wind the strip carefully around his left foot being a little rough.

"IF he says you can go up and see your brother and I say if then you can. I will push you myself but until then you will remain in bed…" regarding him severely she continued, "…we can and will restrain you." Carefully, having finished replacing the dressings, she folded down the comforter. "It's your choice, Sweetie."

This last 'Sweetie' sounded more like a threat than an endearment.

"Okay." Sam laid back feeling giddily sick, muscles twitching with small trembles but it was a false surrender. He'd spotted the wheelchair by the door.

"You promise you're not gonna leave this bed." She was holding the buckle of a restraint.

Blinking his eyes open Sam mustered his best puppy dog innocence. "I promise." He held her gaze for a moment and saw her soften before he closed his eyes feigning sleep.

He waited, listening to the sounds of Brenda tidying, felt her straighten the sheets around him and all the time willing her to leave so that he could implement his escape plan. Finally he heard the click as the door closed.

Now all he had to do was reach the wheelchair.