A/N Thank you to everyone who reviewed, followed, favorited, and PM'ed! You are all the greatest! Thanks to people who just read, too. You are only slightly less awesome. Please send feedback! Alrighty then, enough of my prattling! On with the story!

Dean popped a couple of painkillers, chasing them down with a shot of whiskey from Bobby's hip flask.

"Thanks, Bobby. Now, we gotta start looking for Sammy," Dean said as he started getting up, only to fall back down on the bed with a groan.

Bobby looked sharply at Dean. "I think that might be a sign that you're not ready to be out on the field just yet, boy. Stay here, get some shut eye, and I'll go out to look for Sammy, maybe ask around to see what's been going on."

Dean started to protest, but as Bobby shifted him to a more comfortable position, he felt his consciousness slipping away and surrendered himself to sleep. Bobby quietly let himself out to start his search.

((((((Line Break))))))

In the Iowa wilderness

Sam knew that something was wrong, even before he regained full consciousness. He couldn't feel any hard surface. His arms and wrists hurt, along with his left ankle, but it was his shoulders and head that had agony screaming through his entire body. In his confused state, he was unable to figure out why things hurt, he just knew that they did and that he wanted it to stop. So he did what he always did when he was hurt and confused.

"Dean!" he shouted, or at least, he tried to shout. It came out as more of a whimper or moan. He started to panic as he realized he couldn't draw in a full breath. He tried calling for his brother again, but with the same results. He started to thrash, but his legs refused to move much and it just made his arms and shoulders hurt worse. The added agony and subsequent adrenaline helped wake him from his stupor even further. He stopped thrashing, but his momentum made him keep swaying, further aggravating his shoulders. His concussion-addled brain took a few seconds to realize why. He was suspended by a thin rope around his wrists, tied to a rusty metal bar sticking out of the wall near the ceiling. His ankles were also tied up with rope, rendering them useless.

As he became more aware, he realized that he wasn't alone. There were others trussed up just like he was, and none of them seemed conscious. Once his eyesight stopped doubling, Sam was able to make out about ten other still forms hanging by their wrists. As he continued to look around himself, he realized that he wasn't in a room. The craggy rocks all around and the damp air revealed that he was in a cave.

Sam's thoughts started to come through clearer as he hung there. The air, which was moist and cold, was waking him up like a cold shower. He realized that he should try to escape and help the other victims of the wendigo, not to mention make sure Dean made it out alright. He started swinging back and forth, rubbing his bonds against the rusted pipe, hoping to create enough friction to cut through the rope. The motion didn't help the pain in his head or shoulders, but he just gritted his teeth and continued on despite it. After a few minutes of this, he was tiring quickly, the tightness in his chest due to his entire body weight hanging from his arms making it difficult to get enough oxygen in his lungs. Just then, he felt a slight slackening on his wrists and redoubled his efforts to get free before the wendigo came back. Another minute of swinging and pain passed, and the rope snapped. Sam fell to the floor in a jumble, ankle flaring up in pain, his long limbs tangling and aggravating his various agonies.

A/N I don't know if you can create enough friction to cut a rope just with the rusty pipe, but bear in mind that all of Sam's considerable weight is pulling on it. Also, this is a story and it has no need for pesky facts or physics. Anywho, review! Please! Or PM me, that's fine too. I love all the feedback I have been getting! Hopefully it's making me into a better writer... So, review, follow, fave, PM!