I know this is a short chapter, but my girlfriend told me if I didn't spend sometime with her today, I'd be spending the night alone as well. I really don't like spending the night alone, so a short chapter it is. Thanks for reading and for the exxxcellent reviews. Please keep 'em coming. Seth

Chapter Three

On shaky legs, Sam trudged down the mountainside, following the same zig-zag pattern he'd witnessed the other rescuers doing, while prodding at the thick snow with the probe Hank gave him. His vision swam and blurred, black spots playing before his eyes, but he refused to give in to the darkness that beckoned him back into its comforting embrace.

Although he was shivering, teeth chattering loudly, a fine sheen of sweat covered his brow. Sweat beaded on the back of his neck, and slid down his back. Gingerly pressing his fingertips against the wide bandage he had covered his head wound with while in the ranger's station, he felt blood ooze out from beneath it to coat his fingertips. More blood seeped out and dripped down into his eyes to mingle with his unshed tears. He's missing because of me – he could be dead because of me. The memory of the last time he had seen Dean flooded his mind, and his tears began to fall in earnest.

"Dean! Behind you!" Sam shouted, "Duck!"

Dean dropped to the ground, and Sam fired the flare gun at the Wendigo. The hideous creature stumbled forward, gripping hold of its chest, flames licking at its fingers. Within moments it crumpled to the ground in a fiery heap, steamy mist rising from the snow that surrounded the beast.

"Nice shot, Sammy." Dean smiled, getting to his feet. Yanking off his gloves, he stuffed them in his pockets, cupped his hands together and blew on them. "But next time I suggest Florida – we're going to Florida."

"Hey, I bought you snow pants, it's not my fault you chose not to wear them."

"I don't see you wearing snow pants, little brother," Dean countered smoothly, although he had been the one to argue that if they wore them they would never be able to outrun the Wendigo in the snow. "Let's get off this damn mountain, an' go an' – "

Dean's words abruptly died on his lips as the ground beneath their feet began to tremble. Deep rumbling coming from behind them, and the sound of cracking trees had both boys spinning on their heels; their eyes widening in horror seeing a wall of crashing white speeding toward them.

Frozen to his spot, Sam gaped in terrified awe at the fury of the raging snow, virtual rapids swallowing up everything in their path, and spitting out lifeless carcasses of what used to be trees and shrubs. Rocks and boulders churned and tumbled, popping up into the air like salmon swimming against the strong current.

"Sammy!" Dean shouted above the din, forcefully pushing Sam as far away from the center of the onslaught as he possibly could before a ferocious wave of snow crashed down upon him, dragging him under and carrying him away.

Sam lurched forward, the torrent pushing hard against the back of his legs until they collapsed, and he was ripped from his spot and carried down the slope at breakneck speed. Through blurred vision, he spotted Dean, struggling to keep his head above the snow. Then in a blink of an eye, he was gone, washed away, drowned in a vast sea of swirling, endless white.

A scream ripped from Sam's lips as something pierced the side of his chest, momentarily stalling his movement down the mountainside as the dagger sharp object lodged in deep. With a loud snap, he was tumbling down the hill again. His head collided into some immovable object, and the wall of white rapidly faded to the inky blackness of unconsciousness.

Wiping away his tears, Sam picked up his pace, but stopped short after only a few seconds, and drew in a shuddering breath. He squeezed his eyelids shut and hunched over, panting and gasping for air. Sharp pain ripped through his chest, blood leaking from beneath the jagged piece of pine wedged firmly into his side. At the very least he had broken a few ribs, at the most – well, he didn't want to consider the worst at the moment. I can do this. Dean needs me.

With determination fueled solely from years of burying the pain to get the job done, Sam straightened to the best of his ability and stumbled onward. He could feel the weight of Harvey's eyes on him, but refused to look in the older man's direction. It was bad enough that the rescuer already suspected he was badly injured, Sam wasn't about to give him any more reason to think he was unfit to be a part of the search for Dean.

Eyes trained on the daunting task ahead, Sam poked the collapsible probe into the thick snow, then sidestepped to the right to repeat the motion. Each grueling downward step sent jarring pain coursing through his body. Stomach heaving in violent protest, he hastily dropped the probe and cupped hold of his mouth. Gagging, he swallowed back the bile rising in his throat. The distinct metallic taste of blood coated his teeth and tongue, but he did his best to ignore the possibility of what that meant.

"Find Dean, get him to a hospital and then collapse." Those words played over and over again in his mind as he bent to retrieve the probe from the ground. All at once, everything shifted off kilter, his balance leaving him as quickly as the rush of air that burst from his lips as he slipped on the snow and tumbled down the slick slope, careening straight toward a steep ledge.

Within a heartbeat, Hank was at his side, gripping a hold of his jacket, and jerking backward to halt him from falling any further. "I gotcha, just don't move," he uttered in a breathless rush, taking a firmer hold on Sam's coat. They slid several more feet, Hank grinding his boots into the snow to slow their descent, and finally came to a halt within mere inches of the ledge. "Don't move, Sam," he ordered, hearing the ground crack beneath them, "Just stay completely – " His words abruptly turned into a horrific scream as the ledge gave way.

SNSNSNSNSNSNSN

"Dean, on your feet, we've got work to do." Dean heard his father bark out the order, and his eyelids fluttered open.

"D-Dad?" Dean murmured in a hoarse, raspy whisper, trying to locate his father in the darkened abyss. "N-Not feelin' s-so – "

"I told you to watch out for your little brother," his father's tone turned condemning, hardened to the point of being cruel. "It was your job to keep him safe – it was the one job I gave you to do, an' you screwed it up."

"S'mm . . . ." he slurred, momentarily grasping onto the mental image of his little brother before it slipped away and was lost.

"Where is he, Dean?" He ground out each word, clear disappointment evident in every stressed syllable, and Dean was almost thankful he couldn't see his father's face. "What the hell were you thinking to just leave him alone like this? He could be hurt or dead for all you know."

Dean tried to form the words on his lips to say he was sorry, but his mind as deadened and numb as the rest of his body refused to allow him to utter the apology. He no longer shivered. No longer felt the icy sting of air against his skin. His breath came in shallow, staggered pants, chest barely rising with the effort. If his father was still talking to him, or if he was even real, Dean wasn't sure anymore, nor could he bring himself to care.

"S'mmmy . . . ." he silently mouthed, and closing his eyes, he gave himself up to blissful darkness.