Author's Note: I'm super pleased to present this latest chapter to everyone! Tonight's prompt comes from sammynanci, who asked for "a forest, a hunt goes wrong, Bobby, Dean and Sam and of course the boy caught in a trap that a hunter left idiot out there (to hurt innocent animals and our innocent Sammy,) Consequences, blood, sweat and tears, fevers, storms or whatever you want to add to complicate things." This prompt challenged me quite a bit as I had already fulfilled a chapter about Sam being caught in a hunter's trap. Still, after some thinking, my muse spoke to me and this is the end result. I hope you enjoy! I had lots of fun writing it! This is set in season 2. Please enjoy!

"Oh the weather outside is frightful,

But the fire is so delightful."

—Michael Buble, "Let it Snow, Let it Snow, Let it Snow"

It had started out simple, as most complicated situations do.

Bobby had come to them with the hunt—a weakened Wendigo that was wreaking a bit of havoc about 30 miles North of them—and the three of them had embarked on the job, Sam and Dean in the Impala with Bobby following behind them. The gruff hunter had explained that he wanted to get out of his house for a bit, but Sam wondered if he was more of keeping an eye on them. After all, it wasn't much of a secret that Dean wasn't exactly dealing with their father's death well. His outburst with what Sam had assumed was a crowbar that had damaged the Impala had pretty much made it crystal clear to the youngest Winchester that Dean wasn't doing so well. So in a way, Sam was grateful Bobby was tagging along. Having another set of eyes never hurt and with his older brother's head not focused on the hunt, it was probably a good thing that Bobby was here.

It hasn't taken long to pick up the Wendigo's tracks. The thing had to be sick or something, the way it was leaving so much physical evidence behind. Trees are damaged, blood forms a trail on the ground—it's pretty much a walk in the park. This hunt would be over before they knew it, which was a good thing for Sam as he has seen how the clouds had gotten progressively darker as their trek into the forest drags on. It looks like one hell of a storm is coming and he's relieved that he won't be caught on it.

Behind him, Dean hoists his flare gun a bit higher and let his careful eyes scan the environment. Bobby does the same, though every so often he steals glances at Dean, as if he expects the younger hunter to snap or break down. Sam smiles sadly, knowing that his older brother would never do such a thing. While Sam was open with his emotions—a "chick-flick" guy—Dean preferred the unhealthy way of bottling his feelings up until they flared up in anger or drunkenness. It made the youngest Winchester sad to see his older brother like this, but he had tried his best to get Dean to open up and all he had gotten was a sharp rebuke followed by frosty silence.

Looking back on it now, maybe that's why he didn't see the way that there was an overabundance of leaves in that one certain area and why all the small animals stayed away from that spot. Still, Sam had been too focused on Dean to realize. Without another thought, he steps onto the ground—

And promptly falls down into the deep pit.

"Shit, Sam!" Dean shouts, though his voice sounds far away. Dust and dirt have flown up on Sam's descent and the youngest Winchester coughs as his lungs try to purge the material from his system. "Sammy, you okay?" Dean peers down at him and Sam swiftly takes in his surroundings. He has fallen into a deep pit of sorts with walls that are at least 8 feet high. His body aches, but he can't find anything broken and he's relieved that he has come out unscathed.

"I'm okay!" He replies as he makes eye contact with his brother.

"Balls," Bobby curses as he too now glances down the hole. "Must be an old hunting trap."

"Hunting trap?" Dean echoes.

"Yeah," The gruff hunter replies. "Hunters used to use these to trap large game. Then, they'd come by later, shoot the thing and take it home." Sam grimaces.

"Can you climb out?" The eldest Winchester asks and Sam shakes his head. The walls are slippery and he can't get a stable footing on them.

"No."

"Dammit." Dean swears softly before muttering something to Bobby, who then nods and walks away from the edge of the pit. "Hang in there, Sam. Bobby's got some rope back in his truck."

The truck is a good half-an-hour walk though and that means that Sam will be down here for at least an hour. He's trapped and helpless in a pit meant to kill animals.

Great.

And that's when the rain began to fall.

So, a bit of water never hurt anyone, right?

Try being trapped in a pit with dirt walls that could cave in on you at any moment if the dirt turned to mud, while simultaneously being soaked as the water filled the bottom of the pit. Not to mention that there was a Wendigo somewhere in this forest and Sam was now an easy target.

Things were going just great.

"You hanging in there, Sammy?" That had become Dean's new favorite question and not even five minutes would pass before he asked it once again. Sam shivers slightly as he nods his head. The rain is cold and it seemingly seeps into his bones. Still, he could handle this until Bobby returned. Yes, he was beginning to feel claustrophobic but panicking would do nothing but worsen things.

"I'm okay." Dean shoots him a sympathetic smile—the first that Sam has seen in weeks. It warms him a bit and lifts his spirits. Maybe some good things can come out of this.

His older brother proceeds to prattle on about something to do with the Impala's engine and Sam tunes out, just letting his brother's voice ground him.

Sam is going to get out of this.

When Bobby returns 45 minutes later, the water has reached shoulder level and Sam is shivering too much to form a full sentence.

"Hang on there," Bobby tells him. "We're going to get you out." He turns to Dean and begins to discuss something, but Sam can't hear what exactly. He feels numb and he's tired from standing for so long. He wants to go back to Bobby's, take a shower and then sleep for a millennium. He waits for the rope to be tossed down and prays that he'll be able to grasp it. He pulls his hands out of the freezing water and flexes them. They sting and are appearing slightly blue, but Sam is confident that he'll be able to grasp the rope.

"Okay, Sam," Dean calls. "We're going to pull you out." The rope is tossed down and Sam clings to it and using all of his strength hoists himself up, while Dean and Bobby pull him out. A minute later, he's out of the pit and on the solid, muddy ground with his brother. Instantly, a jacket is swept around his shoulders and Sam can tell from a quick cursory glance that it's Dean's. His brother—now clad in a short sleeve shirt—scans him with a critical eye.

"M'ok-k-kay." Sam stutters, still frozen down to the bone. Dean just sighs and help him up.

"Let's head back," Bobby tells the two brothers. "Hunting in this storm isn't a—". Sam sees it before anyone else and a few seconds after noticing the ruffling bushes, the cry of the Wendigo fills the forest.

"Shit!" Dean exclaims as he readies his flare gun, stepping directly in front of Sam. He shares a look with Bobby who simply nods and then swings to protect Sam from the other side. The Wendigo staggers into the clearing—eyes wild with hunger and pain. It's favoring its left leg and Sam can see the black traces of infection. It's probably dying and is so desperate that it will go after anything. Now, normally, to take care of a Wendigo, you'd use flares but the rain is pretty much crushing any chance of that happening.

Which means they're screwed.

Again.

The Wendigo seems to sense this as its lips turn upwards in a deformed version of a smile. It growls once more before charging. Dean's pulling out his gun, but Sam knows he won't be fast enough. Even with the Wendigo walking wounded, it's damn fast—faster than Dean. Without thinking, Sam forces all of his strength into his arms as he pushes Dean out of the line of fire. The Wendigo's jaws crush onto Sam's arm and he cries out as blinding pain fills him.

He hears gunfire and frantic shouts.

But the last thing he remembers before passing out are Dean's tear-rimmed eyes.

He floats in a fiery darkness.

It feels like someone has set Sam aflame. Sometimes, whoever is controlling the fire decides to turn off the flame for a few seconds to soak him in the coldest ice possible so that he freezes, before setting him on fire once more.

Just some cold washcloths, Sam. Gotta keep you from boiling up, right?

He feels like he's dying and he wonders if he'll ever make it out of this darkness again. The flames lick at his chest and he feels his heart pounding a mile a minute as his blood boils. He can't breathe and it feels as if the world around him is caving in.

Sammy, you stay with me, okay? Hang on for me, please—

Dean's voice is a constant in the dark. His older brother alternates from desperate pleas, to random stories and even to singing Metallica softly. He's trying to ground Sam—to give him a reason to stay with him—and Sam wonders if even Dean can stop the fire from destroying him.

The fever, Dean, it's too damn high—

How'd that Robert Frost poem go? "Some say the Earth shall end in fire, some say in ice . . ." Jessica had always loved that poem. Funny, she died by the fire as well. Maybe this was Sam's fate? Maybe he was supposed to have died all those years ago in his nursery.

—can't take him to a hospital, Bobby. They wouldn't know how to treat him.

So, Sam floats, sometimes being burned and other times being frozen.

But always listening to Dean.

When he comes too, the fire has been extinguished.

Dean is at his bedside, sporting the beginnings of a new beard and eyes red-rimmed. Sam grimly realizes that he's been crying. His brother doesn't speak for the longest time—just stares at Sam, as if he's sure that he's no more than an illusion.

"D'n?" His voice is raw, as if he's been screaming for a long time. Maybe he was when the flames had engulfed him. Before he can say anymore, his brother pulls him into a fierce hug. Sam's mouth falls open in shock, but he lets Dean hold him for as long as he needs to. Finally, after an eternity, Dean releases him. "What—?"

"The Wendigo bit you," His older brother's voice is soft, as if speaking louder will somehow break Sam. "And it infected you with something. You got a nasty fever there for a couple of days."

"How bad?" Dean's expression as he glances down says it all. The eldest Winchester has never been one with words, but honestly, Sam can read him like an open book. "That bad, huh?"

"Why the hell did you push me out of the way?" Dean's gaze is suddenly murderous, his tone furious and Sam is taken aback.

"It was going to get you—"

"That doesn't matter—!" Sam arches an eyebrow.

"So, what? Watching each other's backs doesn't go both ways?" Dean cards a hand through his hair and lets out a frustrated sigh.

"I saw what was coming and I had to stop it."

"It almost killed you!" His older brother shouts, voice breaking as sheer grief fills those emerald orbs. "Jesus, Sam, for a bit there you stopped breathing and Bobby and I . . . we almost couldn't bring you back."

"But you did." Sam murmurs softly.

"But what if we—?"

"You saved me, Dean." He interjects quickly. "See? Fever's gone."

"That was too close—"

"We'll be more careful next time." Sam assures him. Suddenly exhausted, Sam leans back on the bed and lets his eyes fall shut. He can feel Dean's gaze still on him, waiting for him to suddenly get sick again. A small smile tugging on his lips, Sam adds, "And Dean?"

"Yeah?"

"Go get cleaned up," He orders gently. "You look like crap."

Sam holds his breath and waits.

Dean rewards him with a burst of laughter—pure, happy laughter.

"Dude, even like this, I'm still better looking than you!" Sam beams.

Everything is going to be okay, after all.

Author's Note: There you go! I tried to fit in as much as I could and I hope you guys enjoyed it! As always, please review and request!