I know things are looking bad for Sam and Dean, how could they not, but I swear this is not a deathfic. Thanks for reading. Seth
Chapter Four
Harvey's breath lodged in his throat as he watched Hank and Sam disappear from his sights, the ledge giving way beneath them. Thor now sensing new victims, darted through the snow, yelping wildly, his original goal forgotten as he raced to get to the fallen men. Harvey could hardly blame the younger dog for his enthusiasm. Unlike normal tracking dogs who sniffed an article of clothing belonging to the victim, Thor and Hunter searched for human scent rising to the surface of the snow. In instances of multiple victims this usually worked to their advantage, but with time quickly running out for Dean the ledge collapsing on the two rescuers more than likely was the final nail in his frozen coffin.
"Keep looking!" he shouted to his men as he bolted toward Hank and Sam, heavy snow crunching beneath his feet. "Search Hunter," he commanded, noticing the older of the two canines bounding after Thor. "Find Dean." The tan and black Shepard immediately pulled back, sniffed the air, and disobeying Harvey for the first time ever, he once again charged through the snow toward the other Shepard.
"Sonuva – "Harvey cursed at his own stupidity for allowingSam to stay, jeopardizing the entire search and the safety of his own men. I should've gone with my instincts. I damn well knew he was injured. Now Hank's down an' probably hurt, an' we're still no closer to finding Dean.
Prepared for the worst, he rounded the bluff. Snow drifted and swirled over the fifteen foot sheer drop, mingling with the light flurries to blanket the two men. Sam lay on the ground, his left leg bent at an awkward angle. Eyes pinched closed, the injured man writhed in the snow, panting for breath. Hank was at his side with his pack open, administering first aide. If his fellow rescuer was injured, he never let on as he worked to control the younger man's bleeding.
"Slow, deep breaths, Sam," Hank instructed as he worked to stabilize and splint Sam's leg. "Compound Tib/Fib fracture," he called back over his shoulder, the slight tremor in his tone the only indication that he was in pain himself. "Penetrating puncture wound to the upper right quadrant of his chest."
Harvey hastily closed the distance between them, shuffled through Hank's pack, and yanked out his walkie-talkie. "Gloria, patch me through to Pete ASAP."
"He's already on his way up there with the Argo, Chief," Gloria responded after a moment, "George and Steve are comin' up with him."
After taking a moment to allow the information to sink in, he pressed the call button again. "They're bringing up both vehicles?"
"That's affirmative."
Harvey breathed a sigh of relief, hearing that the three paramedics were on their way. Although all the rescuers were skilled in basic life support, only a select handful had gone on to become fully trained paramedics. "ETA?"
"You should be seeing them at any moment."
True to her word, within a few moments, he heard the roar of the all-terrain rescue vehicles, equipped with a custom built stretcher carriers for transport, skirting the edge of the avalanche area. The heavy tracks on the vehicles churned through the snow, eating up the distance, and closing the gape between them within minutes.
"Pete," Harvey shouted above the whine of the engine, and gestured to both Hank and Sam. "Load 'em both up an' get them off this mountain. Then I want you back here."
"Alright, Chief," Pete said, backing up his vehicle and turning around, before he got out and went for the stretcher.
"Both of us?" Harvey whipped around to stare at Harvey, anger flashing in his bright blue eyes. "No fuckin' way. I'm not going anywhere until I find his brother."
"I-I'm not leavin' w-without my brother," Sam slurred, pushing Hank's arm away from him as he tried to sit up.
"You don't have a choice in the matter," Harvey said in a short, clipped manner. "You're putting your brother's life at more risk being here. We can't do our jobs," he jabbed his finger toward the dogs who were busy sniffing around the area a few yards away from Sam and Hank, "An' the dogs can't do their job either if they're too busy tracking you instead of Dean. So whether it's against your will or not, you are getting on the Argo."
"S'my fault – h-have ta say I'm s-sorry." Tears brimmed in his eyes and fell unabashedly down his cheeks. "Have to be h-here for 'im."
"Sam, the Chief's right." Placing a hand on Sam's shoulder, he gave a firm nod. "You're in no shape to be lookin' for anyone." He looked the younger man square in the eyes, determination to find Dean evident in every line and contour of his rugged face. "I swear to you, I'm not comin' down from here without him with me, but you gotta go."
Steve and George moved in, regarding Sam cautiously as they set to work stabilizing him onto the stretcher, while Pete took his vitals. At first he fought against their efforts to administer first aide, swatting away the oxygen mask they placed over his mouth and nose, until Hank and Harvey stepped in and held his arms down so they could secure the belts around him.
Sam gave up his struggle, too weak to break free from the binds trapping him to the stretcher, and gripped hold of Hank's hand as if it was the last link connecting him to his brother. Drawing in a staggering breath, he focused glassy eyes on the rescuer. "H-he would die to s-save you – y-you do the same for h-him. Please do the same for him."
"He's not gonna die on my watch," Hank vowed, casting a sideways glance in Harvey's direction. They stared at each other for a long moment, both fully understanding the lie was necessary to save at least Sam's life, but it still didn't make it any easier to swallow.
"His pressure's bottoming out," Pete cut in, the urgency in his tone ending any thought except for the need to save Sam's life. "We're losing him, we've gotta scoop an' run." The four men hefted the stretcher into the air, and as one they carried it to the all-terrain vehicle, while Harvey returned his attention to the search for Dean.
SNSNSNSNSNSN
"I-I'm not leavin' w-without my brother." The sound of Sam's voice cut through the frozen tundra of Dean's mind, offering him the solace of a warm oasis to take shelter in.
"S-Smmmy," he mumbled, the solitary word nothing more than a breathless whisper on his cracked, swollen lips. His eyelids sluggishly fluttered open and drifted closed again. I'm here, Sammy – I'm right here.
He could hear other faint voices and strange scratching noises nearby, but pushed the sounds of them aside to focus on Sam, silently willing his baby brother to search just a little bit further. Digging down deep, past the numbness, he tried to scratch at the snow above his head, but his fingers refused to budge.
"S'mmm," he gritted out, but with jaw locked and teeth tightly clenched the garble word was barely audible even to Dean's own ears.
"S'my fault – h-have ta say I'm s-sorry." Dean heard Sam utter, the desolation in his tone speaking volumes. He was giving up. He was Dean's only chance to break free of the icy prison he was trapped in, and he was giving up on him.
His eyes stung, but no tears would come. No, Sammy, don't you dare give up on me. Damn it, I need you to find me – I don't wanna die down here. Please . . . don't let me die like this.
"Have to be h-here for 'im."
That's it, Sammy, you stay here an' fight for me. I'm not going anywhere, lil' brother, so don't you leave me here.
"R-right here, S-Sammy," he called out again, pure determination to stay alive for his brother giving more strength and volume to his words, but feared it was still not loud enough to break through the solid wall of snow. Throat raw, his lungs burned with the effort it took him to breathe, much less speak, but he wasn't about to give up with his brother so close. "H-help . . . S'Smmm."
"H-he would die to s-save you – y-you do the same for h-him. Please do the same for him."
No, Sammy, you save me – you find me.
"His pressure's bottoming out," someone called out, and for the first time it dawned on Dean how weak Sam's voice sounded. "We're losing him, we've gotta scoop an' run."
"S-Sammy," he rasped, trying desperately to wriggle free from his confines to get to his brother. God, please, I've got to get to him. Gasping for air, he struggled to catch his breath, and fight off the wave of inky darkness that beckoned to him. Yet the more he fought the need to succumb to unconsciousness, the quicker his body and mind shut down on him.
What the hell were you thinking to just leave him alone like this? He could be hurt or dead for all you know.
M'sorry, Sammy . . . . With his father's dire warning echoing in his mind, his eyelids fluttered closed.