I would like to thank everyone who reviewed, and for the beautiful messages of sympathy and well-wishes for the shooting here in Connecticut. It means a lot. Also, for those of you who sent me such lovely reviews but DON'T HAVE A FANFICTION ACCOUNT FOR SOME REASON! (Yes, that means you "guests") Haha, don't worry, I'm not mad at you…yet) I would also like to thank you for your reviews, and I will respond to them thus, because I always respond to my reviews!

Carolyn W: Thank you for your review, it was very lovely and made me feel very happy inside, and thank you for your prayers to our communities here in CT.

LH: Thank you for saying my story is awesome. You are awesome as well. And thank you for your thoughts and prayers. 3

Mystery Guest who said "great Story…please update soon": thank you, and yes, as you can see, I have updated. Though whether or not it was soon, I cannot say, because "Soon" is a relative word, meaning in relation to, an adverb that must have a corresponding relationship to a verb, being an adverb. however, in this case, soon should have been followed by a direct object or direct object pronoun, for there to be any relativity at all. (in this case "update"), so to what or whom are you comparing/relating "soon" too? Be it an increment of time, a deadline, etc.? Really you must be more specific.

Anyway, in the words of the great Monty Python: "GET ON WITH IT!"

Sam huddled closer to the tree, clawing desperately at his own skin in a vain effort to pull himself into a tighter, warmer ball.

He was past the point of shivering now, which he knew was a bad sign, but he couldn't care less. Just because he didn't shiver like he was cold, didn't mean he couldn't feel the cold.

Sam had forgotten what it was like to be warm. His brain and his body didn't recall the sensation of hot soup or a warm fire with thick heavy socks. The only thought, repeating over and over in his head, was how much he hated being cold. But despite the young Winchester's loathing towards the winter weather, he knew the frost forming around his crumpled body was the only thing keeping him alive. If the blood pouring down his back and waist hadn't eventually frozen and clotted in the ice, he would have bled out a while ago. Besides, If the blood loss hadn't knocked him out, the pain sure would have.

Sam's hip was on fire, and the puncture wounds around the splintered bone had their own pulse. The throbbing and burning were excruciating, but bearable. Again, he owed his thanks to the bitter cold. It had numbed his wounds, lessening the pain.

Starting to cough, Sam inclined his head, trying to sit up. Mustering his little remaining strength, he started to pull himself up into a full sitting position, but the moment any pressure was placed on his left hip, his eyes watered and his legs gave out. He landed with a solid thud and a gargled scream passed through his clenched lips. His hip was broken, shattered beneath the immense power of the beast's gnashing jaws.

Sam whimpered when he shifted his weight to the side, trying to relieve the stress on his left side. The pain shooting up his body was agonizing, and left him delirious…he shuddered to think about how much it would hurt if his nerves weren't frozen.

He knew that there was no way he would survive the night out here unsheltered and injured. If Sam was going to last until morning, he would need to get up and move, and keep moving. The thought made him cringe, and fresh tears welled up in his eyes. But he knew what he had to do.

He had to get up.

"This is going to hurt like a bitch..."

In one swift movement, Sam gripped the pine branch nearest him and hoisted himself into a full stand, pressure distributed equally onto both legs.

Big mistake.

"FUCK!" Sam screamed and grabbed his side, the pain blinding him. He fell back against the tree, sliding down the rough bark until he was flush with the ground once again. Dots danced around his vision and he felt the warm veil of unconsciousness creep towards him. The pain was ineffable- an electric saw, jackhammer, red-hot poker, all jabbing through his hip and repeatedly stabbing into the bone. The idea of unconsciousness got better every second, and as it approached, the pain started to fade. The wave was comforting him, ebbing him towards sleep. It was so inviting, so refreshing and cozy, Sam wanted nothing more than to throw himself into its warm embrace and stay there…

"No, Sam." He told himself adamantly, and he felt the veil shrink away, like a cringing animal. "You know you can't do that. You know you can't go."

Sam shook his head, the icy, bloody locks whipping his unfeeling cheeks. He tried to clear his head.

"Sam, you have to open your eyes. You have to keep moving. Come on. It'll be easy I promise."

"No…I don't want to …I don't care…I just need the pain to stop…" Sam was exhausted-beyond exhausted. The pain, the cold, everything, just layered on top of the fatigue. He was done.

"Sammy?" This time, the voice was his brother's. It startled Sam so much his eyes shot open, thinking his brother was really there. Tears bit at his eyes when he saw no one. He really was going crazy out here.

"Sammy, c'mon, man. Get up and move your lazy ass." Sam smiled as he drifted off to sleep. If anything, the sound of his brother's voice was more like a lullaby than a motivator at this point.

"Dean…I'm so tired…"

"Sam, I know. But Please, Sam. Please don't leave me…Please…" Sam's eyebrows furrowed.

"Dean? I would never leave you. You know that…not on purpose, anyway."

Dean's voice in his head suddenly grew angry. "Well, then Sam, what the hell do you call this? I gave you everything, everything you ever wanted. I would die for you, you know that, and I know that you would die for me. But how about, just this once, you try and LIVE for me Sammy? Why don't you live?!"

Sam's eyes fluttered open as his brother's voice echoed in his frozen skull.

Live.

If he stopped, he would sleep, and if he slept, he would die. Easy as that. No ifs, ands, or buts about it.

He blinked hard once, then again. He needed to stay awake. Sam pulled himself up, not bothering to hold back the screams and tears at this point. He was trying to survive. It didn't matter if he cried. He managed to get himself into a hunched over standing position before long. Sam still had one iron grip on his spear, and he used it partly as a walking stick. The crippled hunter set out from underneath his pine tree, gasping at the bitter winds that drove hard through his clothing. He would walk about ten feet in the snow drifts, then stop, sweating and trying to catch his breath. Sam felt warmer now, for sure, but he wasn't out of the woods just yet…literally.

So for now, he kept walking.

Sam almost cried in relief when he saw a clearing up ahead. No more jagged rock outcroppings to maneuver around-no more fallen logs to trip over. Sam stepped into the clearing, emerging from the cold shroud of trees. He limped carefully down the graded bank and hopped to the flat surface. All of his weight was on his right leg now, which was starting to fatigue and cramp up. After all, while it wasn't severely damaged, his right side was still bloody and bruised.

Sam was halfway across the flat field when he stopped, mouth going dry and heart rate picking up to dangerous levels.

What was that sound?

At first, he feared it was the monster coming back for him. But he listened closer this time, closing his eyes in desperation, pleading to God that he wasn't just imagining things.

There it was again.

It was real.

The hum of an engine grew louder and louder in the distance, closing in on Sam's location. He limped and stumbled, blind to the cold and the pain, in what he guessed to be the direction of the road. But Sam, though driven by his will to survive, was still very slow. He was halfway across the snow packed stretch of land when headlights came into view.

"W-Wait!" he choked out as the lights grew brighter. His heart fluttered, and tears flooded from his eyes. Pleading and panic overtook him.

"I have to be saved. He has to see me. I have to get out. Please get me the hell out! Please don't leave me here!"

"WAIT! PLEASE, OH GOD, PLEASE!" Sam dropped to his knees, ignoring the white hot pain shooting through his left side. He wailed, and moaned, begging for the driver to see him. The headlights grew closer, the lights illuminating the snow packed road not one hundred yards from Sam's defeated body. All he could do was yell and hoist his hands above his head. That's all he could try-all he had left.

The actual car came into view, too dark to see in the pitch black of the night. Sam's throat constricted and he let out one final scream- a scream of desperation and rage and pain so loud, that it echoed off the trees and bounced through the mountainside.

The car swayed on the road and skidded to a stop next to the guardrail.

And the driver's door swung open.

The back roads were dangerous at this time of year, never mind at this time of night! Dean was hunched forward in the driver's seat of his baby, concentrating with fervor at the road in front of him. The snow was blinding, and the headlights only illuminated about 20 feet in front of him. But despite the frigid outside temperatures, the incessant clicking of the Legos in the vents and the awful visibility, Dean kept driving, as he had been for six hours straight.

Dean had driven past every house in every neighborhood, in almost every county within a twenty mile radius. He had knocked on doors and gone to the police station, flashing his FBI identification and his brother's photo. But still, to no avail.

It had been hours ago that the familiar knot of dread had settled in his stomach. The chances of finding Sam were slim, and decreasing by the hour. Dean's last hopes rested here-here in these cold, dark, godforsaken woods.

Dean drove slowly past the frost covered sign on the side of the road, struggling to make out the white letters against the ice. Dean sighed and ran a hand through his hair. He didn't want to leave the heated interior of the Impala, but he needed to at least know where the hell he was.

Dean zipped up his coat and took a deep breath of the warm air in the car. He opened the door quickly and swung out, boots planting in the snow. The wind and chill of the night assaulted his senses, making his eyes water and his face prick. He quickly slammed the driver's side door shut, careful not to let the heat escape. He wanted it there when he got back, dammit.

Christmases in Minnesota weren't exactly warm, don't ya know.

"Sonnofabitch, its cold." He stuttered, burying his chin further into his collar. The knot of dread only grew tighter at the thought of his poor Sammy outside, alone and frozen, in the snow. He had to find him, and soon.

With a gloved hand, Dean stretched on his toes to bang the snow and ice from the road sign. He had to jump to reach the top. He couldn't help but wish Sam were here to do it for him.

"Hell, that moose could do this sitting down!" Dean grumbled, then stopped. He felt the beginning of tears burn his eyes. He might never get to tease his brother again.

"Dammit, Dean. This is not a good moment to be on your period. Shut up and man up. Sam is fine."

"He is fine, and you will find him, because that is your job." Dean muttered the last bit under his breath. He shook his shoulders and clenched his jaw, the tough guy façade a shield, even when he was alone.

But that was how he dealt, and if that got him through this, then okay. If it ain't broke, don't fix it.

Dean took a step back from his handiwork and read the sign:

Deciduous Forest Lake

2 Miles

Dean nodded and headed back to the car. He thrust the door open and jumped in, slamming it shut again behind him. He relished in the heat, and stuck his face in front of the vent. He gave a violent shake, and straightened, nose dripping from even that short span of time outside. The temperature was dropping by the hour, and Sam needed to be found now. Sunrise was in less than three hours, and temperatures would hit their low right before dawn. If Sam was out there, Dean was his only hope, and he was on a tight schedule.

Dean put the Chevy in gear and rolled out of the snowdrift, back onto the deserted road. He cursed silently at the ever growing layer of snow dusting the ground. Dean hadn't put on snow tires yet, and he doubted the plows would be out here at this time of night. He saw another green sign a ways up ahead, no doubt signaling the one mile marker for the lake entrance. Maybe there would be a clearing Dean could unload his gear in and hide the car. He planned to hike through the woods all night if that's what it took.

Dean's headlights shone brightly on roadside rock walls, illuminating every snowflake that passed between the bulb and the bushes. Visibility was improving, and Dean thought he could even see the lookout on the lakeside, an open area for several cars to park. Still, the night was dark, and the snow was relentless, so Dean remained leaned forward, his back aching from the hours of focused, cramped driving.

And that's when he heard it.

It was faint, granted, but a sound nonetheless. It startled Dean, and nearly sent him spinning into the bushes. For several minutes, he waited. He listened intently for it to come again, but heard no repetition. Anxiously shrugging it off as his mind playing tricks, he sped up. Dean didn't like the forest-it gave him the creeps. He felt as if he were being watched. It was almost as if something were waiting for him, or maybe even-

"Aaaaahhhhhh! Eeeaaannnn!"

Dean's ears perked up, and he slowed the car. It sounded like a wounded animal howling, no words were distinguishable, only basic vowel sounds. Dean listened again, his heartbeat speeding up and raw determination setting into his brain. He couldn't get his hopes up, he knew. Most likely, it was some animal, like a wolf. But still, a small voice nagged at his brain.

Check, Dean. You need to be sure.

Dean nodded in agreement and rolled the Impala forward into the clearing, giving himself a full line of sight onto the frozen lake. He peered hard into the darkness, and the surrounding bank. He saw nothing.

Hopes dashed, despite his best efforts, Dean was about to turn the car around, when the scream came again.

Loud.

Painful.

Distinct.

Familiar.

"WAIT! PLEASE, OH GOD, PLEASE!"

Dean hit the brakes harder than he ever had in his life. He nearly crashed into the guardrail, Chevy spinning on the ice. Dean threw himself out of the car, nearly stumbling over the edge and sliding down the incline.

"Sammy? SAMMY?" Dean shouted into the snowfall, not sure where to run, where to go, where to look-all he knew is that his brother was here, maybe even right in front of him, and he needed his help.

"SAMMY? SAM! TALK TO ME, BUDDY. WHERE ARE YOU?" Dean shouted, nearly in tears, from the edge of the frozen waters. The ice wasn't too thin around the shore, but he wasn't about to go testing it. He hoped to God that Sam wasn't on the lake somewhere.

Dean desperately sprinted across the bank, shouting. His cries received no response, and his heart started to drop, hope going dimmer with every passing second, until finally…

"DEAN!" followed by a guttural groan and cry so loud, Dean figured Sam must be dying. Forgetting his fear of the ice, Dean landed heavily on the lake, slipping and sliding onto the frozen waters. He looked frantically, eyes hurting from the strain.

There.

A crumpled, heaving, Sam-Sized lump was on the ice. Dean's heart jumped into his throat. Sam was moaning and whimpering, his face sickeningly blue and bloody.

"OH MY GOD, SAM!" Dean sprinted faster than he knew he could. "Sam? Sam, can you hear me, buddy? Sammy?!" Dean's voice was panicked, his chest heaving and his hands shaking. He was so close, closing in on his brother. Soon they would be in the Impala, most likely on the way to the hospital despite Sam's imminent protests. Dean was forty, thirty, twenty feet away, Sam was actually smiling, and tears of joy and relief were leaking down his frozen face.

Sam watched his brother run towards him."D-n..." Sam's voice was small and frail, and barely audible from such a distance. Sam smiled to himself. He must sound and look like crap. But Sam didn't care; his brother was here to save him, just like he'd known he would. Sam opened his eyes to see Dean closing in on him.

Dean couldn't have been more than twenty feet away when the shadow appeared behind him.

Adrenaline and fear coursed through Sam's icy veins. "DEAN!"

Dean stopped dead in his tracks and spun around, catching the look of absolute horror in his brother's frozen, bloody face before looking behind him. "Sam? What's the-"

Dean was silenced by a massive paw smacking him hard across the face. Dean spun down onto the ice, dazed and bloody, cheek ripped from the powerful claws. He spit blood and watched the droplets of red stain the ground around him. Instinct took over and he crawled to his feet, gun drawn. The beast was a massive hulking clump of fur and claws, smelling of rancid flesh. Blood stained its silver muzzle-no doubt his brother's. That thought sent white hot rage spiking through Dean's fingers, and before he could stop himself, Dean fired a round straight at the monster's head. The beast swerved quickly to the side, but not quick enough to outrun a bullet. The round pierced its shoulder, sending it stalking backwards with a clumsy thud as its own blood dirtied the ice. The monster gave a great shriek and bristled, stalking closer to Sam.

"Oh No you don't." Dean fired another bullet towards the creature, determination obvious in his jaw. He didn't know how to kill it, but emptying his gun into its face was a good place to start.

The wolf-like beast moved like a shadow, creeping and dodging, surprisingly light on its massive, razor-claw feet. However, the ice did not think the monster to be light on its feet at all. A fact that did not go unnoticed to Dean Winchester.

A light bulb went off in Dean's head. He had to get the beast away from his comatose brother as soon as possible, He could never make an escape fireman-carrying Sam. He couldn't outrun this thing, never mind with that moose on his shoulders.

"Hey you big ugly son of a bitch!" The monster shot him cold, steely eyes and snarled, but continued to creep towards Sam. This thing wanted to finish what it had started. Dean's eyes danced back and forth between the monster and his brother squirming helplessly on the cold ground.

"I said, HEY YOU BIG UGLY FUCKING SHE-WOLF!" Dean announced. The beast snapped at him, but chose to ignore any further remarks.

But don't worry, Dean had a Plan B.

BANG! One round straight into the monsters hip.

"ROOOOOAAAAARRRRRRRR!" the beast twirled around, screaming as the blood spattered out of the wound. It moved too fast for Dean to be able to land another direct hit in between the eyes.

The monster glared at him and began to advance towards Dean this time. Dean smiled. Success.

"Sorry about that, beautiful, but a man likes to be listened to when he's talking!" It snapped, growling and clenching its powerful muscles. Dean's throat went dry, but Sam was safe…for now.

"Anyway as I was saying," Dean smirked, only agitating the beast further, "You are one ugly S.O.B., did anyone ever tell you that?" It growled, a low menacing tone that made Dean's skin crawl, but he stayed in character, backing ever closer to the grey slush of ice in the center of the lake.

"I bet nobody asked you to prom, am I right? Really you need to learn to let these things go! High school does not define who you are for the rest of your life…well, unless you're awesome like me." Dean smiled wryly as the creature gave a low rumble and snarled; teeth bared as its fury become apparent on its face. Dean raised his shotgun in one swift motion and landed a burning salt round underneath its collarbone. It squealed, jumping and whining, then settled back down. It was bleeding out of several wounds now, and let's just say our wee beastie was not a happy camper.

"Hey, I warned you not to talk when I'm talking. Don't say I'm not fair." Dean's smirking tone dropped to a bone chilling level, and he stared the creature down. "But I'll tell you what's not fair. What you did to my brother." Dean's eyes flashed quickly to the ice beneath the beast's feet.

Perfect.

Dean shouldered his shotgun once more, and the beast cringed, thinking Dean meant to shoot it again.

BANG!

When the shot emptied into the ice, the monster twitched its muscle, pulling back its bloody lips to reveal its tusks-like fangs. It was smirking at him. He had fired his last shot, and he had missed.

Dean's face was stoic. "Think again, bitch."

A crack louder than snapping wood, louder than a gunshot, resonated through the air, bounding and flying off of every surface, echoing back into their eardrums at a volume so high, Dean cringed. The ice beneath them both gave way, snapping and splitting, and the last thing Dean saw before the black waters engulfed him was Sam, one weak hand stretching towards his older brother.

And then Dean sank.

PLEASE REVIEW! I would like to thank everyone who reviewed last chapter and sent their condolences for the residents of Newtown. Thank you all! And thank you to everyone who reviewed! You made me smile, and to everyone who favorite and followed. It means a lot, and I was surprised with the great feedback I'm getting. Hope you liked the second chapter!