Surviving Is Just Step One

Author: Cheryl W.

Disclaimer: I do not own any characters or any rights to Supernatural, nor am I making any profit from this story.

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Chapter 3: Back to Back

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Rule # 3: Never let your back unguarded when a pack comes looking for a snack.

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The group of four, three men and one woman, that they encounter a few yards along the trail doesn't fit the stereotype of campers or hikers. Are an incongruent mixture of personalities, seem more thrown together like some Survivor show cast rather than them choosing to be together.

The man who introduces himself first, Mac, has the bearing a leader and seems comfortable in his present environment. Dean notes that, though the man's blond hair, which is almost as long as Sam's, and handsome features make him seem younger than he is, it's his eyes that give away his true age, reflect experience. His movements, however, are lithe and he didn't seem to mind that the pack on his back probably tops out at fifty pounds.

Mac presents the rest of his party to Sam and Dean like they were about to form longtime friendships. Vicki, the long haired brunette is beautiful even with her hair simply pulled back in a ponytail and with understated makeup, earns Dean's most charismatic smile. But unlike Mac, she seems uneasy in the woods and her clothing looks brand spanking new…straight from an LL Bean catalog.

The second man, Zeke, is the oldest of the group and also the friendliest with a ready smile and a firm handshake. He has brown hair, strong features that carry his age well and eyes that seem to take measure of Dean and Sam with a glance. Surprisingly, he doesn't seem to hate what he finds. It didn't take much of Sam's imagination to picture the man in an army uniform in his younger days.

The remaining 'camper', had a crew cut, was only an inch shorter than Sam, bore a military tattoo on his forearm and has a rifle slung over his shoulder. He doesn't allow Mac to introduce him, overrides the leader's "And this is…" with a brisk declaration of his name. "Ivan." And he pointedly ignores Sam's outstretched hand, keeps his eyes glued to Dean in some primal alpha male challenge. Which Sam didn't like one bit.

But Dean simply returns Ivan's scrutiny with his fakest smile. "You're the tree hugger in the group, right? Eat bark and worms?"

Sam nearly smirks. Yup, that was his brother for him, always loving to poke the bear.

When Ivan takes a menacing step toward Dean, it is Zeke who puts a hand on his man's chest and holds back his charge. Good naturedly, Zeke admits, "Nope, that would be me. Ivan's more the shoot first, ask questions later, type."

Dean raises his eyebrows, drawls out a mocking, "Really" like he's surprised by that description but the look in his eyes says otherwise. He recognizes a fellow hot head in Ivan.

"Why don't you try me?" Ivan dares but he makes no move to break Zeke's hold on him.

"Maybe later," Dean postponed before he brazenly winks at Ivan.

Not waiting for Ivan to go postal, Sam roughly grabs Dean by the elbow, swings him around to face him and gives Dean his most pointed look of 'stop pissing off this guy'. To which Dean rolls his eyes but yields, sort of. Does it by ignoring Ivan all together and walking up to Mac. "So, we didn't expect to see anyone else out here this time of year."

Coming to stand at Dean's shoulder, Sam tacks on, "Yeah, especially with the recent cases of missing persons and bear attacks," a reproachful edge to his tone because, yeah, he's pissed that the foursome's stupid enough to be out there. That their poor decision meant Dean wouldn't leave the forest, not until either the Wendigo was dead or he got this group out of the forest safely.

Dean shot Sam a surprised look, hadn't heard Sam use that type of tone on anyone for a long while, isn't sure why these strangers suddenly earned his little brother's wrath. But Sam's jaw is tight and his brother purposefully isn't meeting his gaze, is instead searing Mac with a penetrating look that he usually unleashes only in his FBI persona and to convicted murderers.

Mac opens his mouth to make a reply but it is Ivan who steps to Mac's side and jeeringly says, "Oh, so you're booking out of here because you're scared of Yogi the bear?"

"Yogi ain't the worse thing out here," Dean gruffly shoots back.

"Actually we're counting on that," Ivan retorts with condescension, apparently letting something slip that Mac disapproves of because the blond leader is suddenly chatty.

"So, were you two heading back to civilization? We're going to perform some experiments, study some of the indigenous animal life. Figure we'll be camping a week. Were you guys out here for just recreational purposes?"

Dean's smile is one of his fakest. "Yup. Just love me some nature."

Though Dean's comment isn't meant for him, Sam feels like the deception partly is. Because if he hadn't noticed Dean's squirrely behavior, Dean would have never admitted his unease in the woods, would still be playing tough guy. And the fact that Dean thought he needed to don that façade, with him, it still isn't sitting right with Sam. Leaves him wondering how many other places, things, happenings, set Dean on edge, that his brother will never bother to mention to him. 'Dean, how am I supposed to help you when you never let me know when you need help?!'

"Maybe you want to join our party," the unexpected offer, it doesn't come from Mac. Zeke had sidled up to the foursome, slipped that invitation into the small beat of lull in the conversation. Sam read the flash of anger in Mac's tightened features and Ivan's incredulousness.

If Dean noted either reaction, he didn't care. "Thought you would never ask," he readily agrees.

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With Zeke purposefully stationing himself to bring up the rear of their entourage, Sam finds himself pacing Dean in the second to last position. Shooting a look to his brother, Sam ignores Dean's silent head jerk ordering him to go chat up Mac. Instead he stays resolutely at Dean's side because his brother is his main priority. And he hasn't missed Dean's hyper vigilance, the way his eyes snap from one side of the woods to the other, as if he expects something to come tearing out at them any second.

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Unlike Wendigos, the werewolves travelled in packs and they weren't interested in having left overs for later. Would sometimes howl, just to unnerve their prey but most times, they just burst through the woods with cheetah-like speed, snarling, snapping teeth, red eyes, and insatiably hunger. Then they would tackle their prey to the ground, pin them there with their paws and sink their teeth into the savory tang of blood and bone and flesh.

Such packs made Dean concede to the notion that there was an advantage to traveling with a vampire whose heightened senses gave them an edge.

So when Benny suddenly stopped, reached out and wrapped a hand around Dean's bicep to stop the human, Dean didn't say a word, simply looked to Benny, waited for the vampire to tell him who was coming for dinner.

"Werewolves," Benny lowly supplied, hand tightening on the enchanted knife Dean had given to him, eyes on the woods as he slowly swiveled. "They're circling us." As he assumed the stance Dean had taught him, his fear settled down.

Feeling the reassuring presence of Benny's back against his, Dean knew that they were about to make their stand, together. That they were once again set to take on all comers.

Dean vaguely wondered when he had come to trust a vampire to defend his life. Had no time to dwell on it before the werewolves were on them.

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Dean's lost in his own head space again and Sam would let him to it..if he didn't know in his gut that whatever his brother is thinking about is worse than the here and now. "Dean? Dean?" he tentatively beckons but there's no reaction from Dean, not even a breaking of his unblinking stare out into the woods. Deciding it's time for hands on, Sam jostles Dean's arm..like he used to when he was a kid and was begging Dean to get some candy. But Dean's not snapping out of it, is locked in that thousand yard stare, doesn't even register that his zombie walk has been halted.

Fear slithers down Sam's spine and his hand unconsciously tightens on Dean's arm. For the first time, he can imagine how Dean felt when the roles were reversed, when it was him trapped in Hell memories, having friggin' seizures. Starkly, he knows that if Dean suddenly drops, starts convulsing, he won't handle it well, will probably lose it, right there in front of the four strangers. His desperation that Dean doesn't slip that far away from him has him initiating an intimate contact that, under normal circumstances, Dean would never allow.

Stepping in front of Dean, Sam cups Dean's face in his right hand, his other hand has a possessive grip on Dean's jacket. "Dean, hey," he entreats, not willing to use force to get Dean to face him. "Dean, come on, you're starting to scare me," he tries to cajole Dean back to him, his voice cracking, showing that he's undersold the fear he's feeling. But Dean didn't blink, didn't seem to register he's there with him, that he's not locked yet in Purgatory.

Releasing Dean's jacket, Sam's other hand brackets the other side of Dean's face and Sam shifts so he's filling Dean's line of sight. "Hey, come back to me," he urgently beckons. But when Dean's eyes remain unseeing, Sam, with all traces of strength gone, only desperation remaining, chokes out, "Dean…please."

Sam's not sure if it was the 'please' or the signs that his little brother was about to go all to pieces, but something breaks through to Dean, has his brother finally blinking, allowing the scales to fall from his eyes and the warmth returns as they settle on Sam, see Sam for the first time in minutes. When that warmth slips away, Sam hopes it's because Dean puts it away, that Dean didn't like being that open, not with Sam and certainly not in the presence of strangers.

Without a word, Dean pulls Sam's hands down from his face. Then, releasing his grip on his brother's wrists, he steps back, rebuilds his mental walls that he didn't even remember lowering.

Sam's not sure if he wants to throw a punch or simply throw up, wonders if either reaction would tell Dean how all this was effecting him, seeing Dean so…vulnerable, lost. Wonders if Dean cares that its tearing him up, if showing Dean proof of that would do something to negate his earlier seemingly cold indifference to his brother's return to the land of the undead, his selfish remark when his brother boldly declared that he was happiest with him by his side. He doubts it. His own words were too brutal to be undone by a few worried gestures.

Dean seems to demonstrate that by walking away, seeking the company of strangers rather than his own brother's. And Sam lets him go. Hates that there's been an audience, not for his show of worry for Dean but for Dean's lapse. But as he turns to that audience of one, Zeke isn't snorting at the crazy antics of the travelers he foolishly invited on their trip, instead is offering up a look of pained sympathy.

Zeke flanks him as they resume their progress, speaks quietly so his voice won't travel to the other members of their band. "I've been where he is. After three tours in Vietnam, I was the poster child for PTS. Zoned out, lost track of time, couldn't eat or sleep…wouldn't talk to anybody about it because…." Here Zeke shook his head, ruefully says, "Come on, I lived through hell. What did I have to complain about back in the States, right? The days were too sunny, the grocery story had too many food choices, people weren't trying to kill me? It was Disneyland compared to what I'd been through."

"How did you ….adjust?" Sam earnestly asks, his voice moderated like Zeke's has been.

"You mean after I nearly blew my own head off?" Zeke sardonically quips, before he realizes it isn't the smartest comment to make to the brother of someone going through what he had.

Sam feels the blood drain from his face. He can't imagine the strong, put-together man before him contemplating suicide. Makes it too easy to think Dean could be thinking along the same lines.

"My advice…don't let it get that bad for him," Zeke states, wishes he had better advice, like how Sam could to head things off at the pass for his brother. "It's a long hard road to climb back from that type of fall. And that's if you know something worthwhile is waiting for you. Best thing you can do, don't let him go through it alone." And he squeezes Sam's shoulder and nods his head to Dean's solitary figure, wading his own way through the forest to the right of the line of campers.

Sam doesn't need any more prompting to break away and once again gain his brother's side.

Giving Sam a glance, Dean can practically read his brother's mind, knows Sam thinks he's about to start howling at the moon or mumbling crazy phrases over and over again. 'Yeah, because you've given him no reason to think you're off your rocker.' And he's pissed at himself for being that weak, for having almost gone running from the forest …for almost letting four innocents venture into monsterland to become a Wendigo snack.

When Sam's shoulder 'mistakenly' bumps into his own because Sam thinks he needs to be glued to his side, Dean grouses, "Dude, I'm about to issue a restraining order against you. Go chat up Mac, find out what they're really doing out here."

"What happened to 'when it's you and me it's all good.' That you're at your best when you're hunting and I'm beside you?" Sam replies, hopes Dean's own words boomeranged back at him can close in the gap between them.

But Dean's eyes are dark as they dart to him. "Like you said, I do fine on my own, hacking and killing with not explanations needed."

Finding it nearly impossible to fight against Dean's comeback, Sam growls, "When are you going to stop throwing my own words back at me?"

"When they stop hurting me!" Dean shouts back but immediately he regrets his honesty, not only because it makes him sound pathetic but because of the sudden hurt in Sam's eyes.

But Sam's hurt soon morphs into anger, because he wasn't the only one who said wounding things. "Right..like you trying to replace me as your brother with a friggin' vampire didn't hurt me?!"

Dean's gaze turns glarier instead of repentant. "You have no right to be jealous when you clearly don't want the position anymore."

"What?! Are you crazy, Dean?!"

"According to your new buddy Zeke, that's not really up for debate, is it?"

Sam pales, had thought no one could overhear that conversation. "Dean…he's…been through stuff, like you have." He's not expecting Dean to stop, to level his most daunting look on him.

"Yeah, and what have I been through, Sam? Break it down for me, point out what caused my train to not go to all the stations anymore?"

Sam cinches his mouth closed, knows it's a trap, that Dean wants him to admit that he doesn't know what Dean's been through. Has asked, repeatedly, but hasn't been granted that trust from Dean.

Staring at Sam's terse features, Dean gives a bitter snort and nods his head. "Eloquent theory, Sammy."

And it just infuriates Sam, that Dean shuts down whenever he asks about Purgatory and is angry when he tries to let him keep things close to his chest. He couldn't win, no matter the path he chose. Couldn't help…and that is so much worse. "You wanna know why I've been so adamant to get out of the hunting life?!"
Not sparing a look to Sam, Dean's reply is instantaneous, like he's already planned the answer out in his head before Sam ever had the guts to ask it. "'Cause you hate being stuck with me, 'cause you still think normal is something you deserve, that saving other people's lives is a waste of your talents. You enjoyed simply reading the paper, seeing the weird crap that was going on and just carelessly cataloguing what it was. Then you put it out of your mind, crawled into bed that night and slept the sleep of the just."

"Why can't you just see things from my prospective for a change!" Sam spat turning to face Dean, couldn't believe Dean actually thought that about him.

"Truth hurts, huh, Sammy?" Dean goads, waits for Sam to stalk off…but he doesn't. Sam remains stubbornly at his side, is pissed off, yeah, but isn't going anywhere, isn't taking the walking papers Dean gave to him on a silver platter. He decides to try and brush Sam's focus off him with other tactics. "Why don't you try your luck with Vicki," he suggests, his tone strategically light. "She might be charmed into trying out tall, dark and handsome. Though I think she's got a thing for the Professor. Does that make her Ginger or Maryann?"

But Dean observes that Sam's jaw isn't unclenching and his little brother's still fuming, is shaking his head, probably in disbelief at the jerk he got saddled with for a brother. But Sam stays where he is, at that same brother's side. Stays because he probably can sense what Dean wishes he didn't: That he's off his game out here, skittish and paranoid….and afraid. Afraid that, like Benny once proposed, he's been living in a dream, that he never left Purgatory, that Sam…he isn't real. That any second, something will come out of the trees and rip his throat out, end him once and for all.

And Dean's not ready to give up the dream, not ready to concede and accept that Sam's not real, that none of this is, that Sam's really off somewhere with a girl and a dog and a house payment…and doesn't miss him at all. Is secretly glad he's free to be normal, to have normal. That where ever Dean's at, Sam doesn't wish him back again.

Though he's pissed, Sam's not blind, senses the change in Dean, the sudden tension ebbing off his brother, the harsher intake and outtake of his brother's breaths. And his anger at Dean, it doesn't mean his heart's not clenching in worry, in sympathy, in pain at the signs of his brother's emotional distress. And he only hesitates a moment before he thinks, 'I'm already in the dog house with Dean, what's it matter if he doesn't like what I do next.'

Then, before he chickens out, Sam throws his free arm over Dean's shoulder. He pretends not to notice when Dean jolts at the contact and his brother's startled eyes snap up to his. Not backing down, he pulls Dean against him in an affectionate, easy hug and warmly jeers, "I don't hate being stuck with you, Idjit. I wouldn't keep saving your butt all the time if I did." Because saying, 'I was more lost when you're weren't around than you are right now' and 'Sometimes, when you lose someone who's more important to you than your own life, it's worse than having the most serious case of PTS, makes being dead more appealing than being alive,' might not be something Dean is ready to accept from him yet.

"Dude, you do not have to save my butt 'all the time'" Dean protests, retaliates by elbowing Sam in the gut and drawing back. And when Sam starts to pull his arm off his shoulders, he doesn't flinch when his brother's fingers give an affectionate squeeze to the back of his neck before sliding free, unknowingly mooring his belief that Sam is real, that the woods around him aren't Purgatory and that he can stop reaching for the knife in his belt, expecting something hungry to come knocking every time the wind rustles through trees. That sometimes he gets what he wants even when he doesn't deserve it, like Sam there to have his back.

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TBC

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Thanks for reading and I'm loving every single review!

Have a great day!

Cheryl W.