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.

Summary: By the time Sam figures out that trekking through a forest, looking for a Wendigo, is the last place on God's green earth Dean wants to be, it's too late to turn back. No Slash.

Author's Note: Ok I wanted to warn you that my Purgatory flashbacks might jump around a bit from here on out, so I hope that's ok. I figure memories are fickle things, pop up when we least want them…and aren't even nice enough to stay in chronological order. Oh and some blood and gore loom ahead, but nothing too graphically described and certainly nothing the show hasn't given us in living color.

SNSNSNSN

Chapter 4: What You Kill

SNSNSNSN

Rule #4: Pray you don't have to eat what you kill.

SNSNSNSNSNSN

Lunch break is pretty extravagant, includes Mac cooking over a propane grill and flipping out hamburgers for them all. Dean waves off the offer of a burger but Sam's already passing it to Dean. Sam hasn't forgotten Dean's meager lunch and non-existent dinner the day before.

When Dean doesn't take the paper plate garnished with the burger in hand, Sam pointedly sits the plate on Dean's thigh, making turning it down a non-option. His own burger he readily accepts then scrapes the onions onto Dean's plate. Leaning over to Dean, he quietly says, "Extra onions, just like you like it."

Aware that Sam's intently watching him, is waiting for him to partake of his burger before he'll eat his own, Dean fights down a sigh, wishes, not for the first time, that he wouldn't always buckle under to his little brother's manipulative tactics. Then with more determination than anticipation, he picks up the hamburger and takes a small bite, is pleasantly surprised when the taste is something he recognizes, that he likes. That he's not choking down a gag at the thought of what the "meat" used to be.

SNSNSNSN ~ Purgatory ~ SNSSNSNSNSN

It had become a normal practice, Dean throwing up everything he managed to gag down. But it wasn't like Purgatory offered a lot of menu options. He had tried the zen routine, had chewed on bark and leaves. And he had eadily spit up a black chalky saliva, the soil apparently tainting everything that grew in its less than fertile ground. The "meat" options, he passed on until Benny threatened to force feed him. So they made a pact, if Benny cooked it and swore not to tell him what it was, he would try and get it down.

But his stomach wasn't that tolerant.

Dean had crawled off to throw up behind the nearest tree and Benny grimaced in sympathy. Didn't know how Dean could keep going when he wasn't keeping anything down. But then he realized that an honest to goodness Angel was now in their presence.

Though he had stopped a seemingly concerned Cas from following Dean after the human's abrupt departure after "supper", Benny now turned to the newest member of their traveling troupe and demanded, "Do something to help him."

Cas settled his clueless eyes upon him. "Help him how?"

"Scrounge up something he can eat. Get manna to drop from the heavens or milk and honey to gush from a rock," Benny snapped more than suggested, surprised that he even remembered that much from the Bible stories he heard as a kid.

Cas conversationally disputed Benny's mandates. "God did those miracles, not a mere angel. And the milk will flow from the hills of Jerusalem and the honey didn't come from a rock but …"

"Then what did the angels do?!" Benny cut in with frustration. "Lurk in the shadows, just watch your charges suffer?!" Because he couldn't endure many more days of watching Dean in misery, had hoped, just for a moment there, that the angel had something to bring to their team, cared for Dean enough to whip up a miracle, deserved at least a small percentage of the loyalty Dean had bestowed on him.

He wasn't expecting the angel to react in anger, to slam him against a tree and pin him there, his blue eyes alight with indignation and anguish. "I would do anything to stop Dean's pain."

"Prove it," Benny savagely volleyed back because words, declarations were doing jack for Dean.

And just like that Cas vanished.

Cursing the angel for his ability to bail when things got tough, for using that trick to abandon Dean when they got dumped into Monsterland, Benny let out his breath, shoved down his fury. Unlike Cas, he wouldn't let Dean suffer in misery alone. Going to Dean, who was leaning heavily against a tree, wiping his mouth, Benny settled a hand on his friend's bowed back. "How you holding up, brother?"

"Awesome," Dean deflected Benny's concern, his voice raw.

"They must have changed the meaning of that word since I became fish food," Benny joked but it was forced. There wasn't much humor to be had in light of Dean's wretchedness. "Come on," and he led Dean back to their makeshift camp.

Both men startled when Cas suddenly reappeared, a wooden bowl in hand. "I have gathered everything edible I could find in the nearest vicinity, combined it together. Its consistency isn't comparable to a hamburger but I think you will find its taste not offensive. As for the bowl, I hewed it from a tree. It's a little rough here…" he stated, his fingers running over the uneven bark by his left thumb.

But Benny stopped the angel's commentary by jerking the bowl from Cas' grip and giving it a smell. To his surprise, it didn't reek of anything undead. Reaching out, he lifted Dean's hand and pressed the bowl into the man's grip, nodded, "Go on. Try it."

Dean gave it a sniff…and raised his eyebrows at Cas in amazement.

"Please try it, Dean," Cas entreated, wanted, needed to do something to help Dean, to make up for all the unanswered prayers Dean had uttered to him since their arrival in Purgatory.

Dean took a tentative sip, and closed his eyes, not in revulsion but delight before guzzling down the rest of the porridge in the bowl. He couldn't remember the last meal he had had before getting dumped in Purgatory but Cas' concoction was the best thing he had had since. Even though it was probably something Sam would have ordered at that new agey restaurants with a "free affirmation with each order." 'If I ever get out of here, I'm so not telling Sam about this.'

SNSNSNSNSN ~ Present ~ SNSNSNSNSN

Shaking his head at the memory, Dean tries to hold back a smirk but apparently doesn't succeed because his brother's giving him a raised eyebrow look of "what". But Dean merely shakes his head in a gesture of 'later' and takes another bite of his burger. But his thoughts go to Cas, of how strange the angel was acting now, about his inexplicable escape from Purgatory.

Sam breaks into his thoughts. "It's good, right?" nodding toward the burger in Dean's hands.

And Dean would have to be blind to miss the worry in his brother's gaze. Worry for him. Taking a huge bite, Dean talks with his mouth open to annoy Sam. "This is awesome for camp food."

Sam winces in disgust but is laughing as he responds, "Ok, that's gross."

Dean gives him a big closed-mouthed smile.

SNSNSNSNSNSNSN

Dean doesn't believe in coincidences and even if he did, he wouldn't buy that fairytale this time. Not when the geek squad decides to make camp practically at ground zero for the wendigo attacks. As soon as the tents are up, he and Sam steal away, wait until they are out of earshot of the others before they turn to each other and simultaneously say: "You know where we're at?"

They fall silence in synch too when they realize that they are on the same page, had been without having to say a word.

"So it isn't a coincidence this is where they set up shop for their experiment," Dean states, putting air quotes around the last word.

"Not likely," Sam agrees grimly, doesn't think it signifies anything good. "I'm guessing that their experiment is to find the cause for the attacks and the disappearances."

"Pretty stupid experiment then," Dean censoriously grumbles.

"Dean…" Sam admonishes, wishes Dean could see the world like he does once in a while.

"What?!" Dean indignantly shoots back. "Sam, they're about to try to study a supernaturally strong cannibal whose only thought is stocking up on campers for a long winter's snack."

"Yeah, but they don't know that," Sam heatedly points out, can't help but feel a little bit of a connection with what Mac and his team were trying to accomplish.

Falling silent at Sam's defensive tone, Dean wonders if Sam's already accepted his readmission for college, is waiting to tell him he's leaving when he is least expecting it, when he finally thinks Sam's there by his side to stay. Burying that dread, Dean eases up the condemnation levels of his tone as he announces, "Well, we better explain it to them before night fall and our wendigo starts furrowing in the forest to satisfy his midnight munchies."

He's about to brainstorm with Sam on tactics when Vicki's scream shatters the quiet of the forest.

Dean's off before it registers with Sam that he's not properly armed for a wendigo hunt, still has his .45 tucked in his waistband but the flare gun's still in his bag. Hoping Dean's better equipped, he follows Dean's lead, is a bit surprised that Dean has so quickly outpaced him. 'Purgatory…running for his life, Sam. That's where he's been while you were enjoying lazy evenings with Amelia, and leisurely fixing air-conditioners and sinks in the motel,' he chastises himself, gut clenching at the thought of things chasing Dean, of Dean having to outrun them to survive, of his brother having nowhere safe to run to.

So he's a few seconds behind Dean, arrives on the scene to see that Vicki is on the ground, a wendigo is shrieking in outrage at his dinner plans being interrupted, Dean's lining up his shot at the wendigo with the flare gun and Mac's picking up a fallen branch off the ground. But before Dean's squeezed off his shot, Mac's swinging the branch….at Dean's head.

Sam ends up firing first.

But his bullet's not intended for the wendigo. Instead it grazes Mac's arm, causing the man to lose his grip on the limb he was wielding like a club against his brother.

Dean startles at the gun shot and Mac's consequent cry of pain just behind him. And it's distraction enough for the wendigo to melt back into the woods.

"What the …" Dean begins to demand but Ivan runs into the clearing before he can get all the words out, has a gun of his own, which he points toward Sam. Immediately, Dean gets in Ivan's face, presses the muzzle of the flare gun into Ivan's neck. "Drop your gun!" he lethally commands but Ivan ups the game by jamming his gun barrel into Dean's neck, setting up the perfect Mexican standoff.

Eyes boring into Ivan's as their respective guns hold each other hostage, Dean contemptuously threatens, "I pull this trigger, your head's a Fourth of July show."

But Ivan's not backing down, coolly taunts back, "And you'll be dead before you get the guts to think about ending me."

Having shifted his gun sights from Mac to Ivan the second the ex-solider became a threat to Dean, Sam snarls, "Lower your gun, Ivan, or I swear, I'll kill you before Dean has a chance to." And his finger's on the trigger and he has no intentions of hesitating to kill Ivan, of taking a human life, if the other man's threat to Dean becomes anything less than showboating.

Dean bestows a cocky smile on Ivan even as he pushes the flare gun's barrel harder against Ivan's neck. "Seems parts of you will be in Yogi's next picnic basket, either by my hand or by Sam's. Less you wanna call it a draw."

Before Ivan can make a retort, Zeke enters the fray, calmly stalks right up to the two men entangled in the standoff and deftly removes the barrel from Ivan's gun, making the other man's weapon a paperweight. Cursing, Ivan shoves Dean backwards and turns on Zeke. "Old man, you're soon gonna cross a line with me and you won't like how that ends."

Vicki takes that moment of lowered tension to climb to her feet and fly promptly into Mac's arms. Mac hugs her back, his tone soothing but his words anything but. "Hey, we knew it was going to be in a regressive state, that there was going to be some possible danger."

Vicki nods against his chest, her words coming out muffled. "I know and I shouldn't have reacted like I did. I just…" Then she pulls back to look up at the professor. "It's real, Mac," wonder and fear in her declaration.

Mac unleashes a beaming smile and hugs her hard, spins her around in his arms with a small whoop of joy before setting her back on the ground. Holding her face in his hands, he excitedly says, "We're going to blow the world away with this discovery!"

Having lost the wise fear of her close encounter with something hungry, Vicki starts to match Mac's enthusiasm. "No more worries about grants."

"Or my lost pension," Mac adds, then he's barking orders to Ivan and Zeke about setting up the trap, of getting the tranquillizer gun and the tracking system online. And the two men obediently head back to the established camp.

And Sam and Dean stand back in speechless incredulity. Can't quite accept what's happening. The absurdity of it is too hard to swallow.

As Mac goes to slip by, Dean snags his arm, stops his headlong pace. "I don't know what you think you're trying to do but that thing you just saw, it's not some wild animal you can domesticate. It kills to eat, kills and eats people."

"I know exactly what it is and what it was," Mac scoffs with malice. "I've been studying the lore of wendigoes my whole career. And no one ever believed that they were real but soon I'll have the proof that I've been right all these years." Yanking his arm from Dean's grip, he meets Dean's gaze head on. "And I think its time you left us to do our work."

"Your work?!" Dean disdainfully repeats, voice rising as he continues, "It'll be your funeral if you stay here."

"Unlike you, we mean it no harm and now it knows that," Vicki states, coming to stand by her man. "It deserves the chance to tell its narrative."

"So what, you gonna invite it over tonight to play cards and tell stories around the campfire?!" Dean incredulously sputters. "It was human…it's not anymore. It's all about feeding. And the only thing it deserves is a good hot, long cremation."

"No, it can be human again," Vicki interjects and Dean turns mocking eyes on her.

"It tell you that when it was eyeing you up for its dinner tonight?"

Vicki has the good grace to blush in shame at her contradictive behavior.

Taking Dean's attack on Vicki personally, Mac gets into Dean's face. "I've seen your type before. You pretend the kill is about protecting others but it's just about the violence. You like ending the life of a living being. Your primal alpha gets let loose…just for a little sunlight. But it's starting to not be enough, is it? You want to be free to solve all your issues with violence, to devalue life…the lives of animals. How long will it be before you think nothing of taking human lives?!"

Dean pales at Mac's perception of him, knows the professor's not off the mark by much, not after Hell, especially not after his time in Purgatory. Doesn't raise a defense for himself, can't. Finds himself looking to Sam, wondering if he'll see Sam nodding his head in agreement, comparing notes with Mac.

It's the shamed acceptance in Dean's eyes that shatters Sam's control, makes his anger boil to the surface. When he steps forward, he feels sick to his stomach when Dean nearly flinches, thinks his anger, the pending violence will be directed at him. And that makes Sam all the angrier.

Bypassing Dean, Sam grabs Mac by the throat and steam rolls him backwards until the other man impacts with a tree. His hand tightens on the man's larynx as he venomously vows, "You don't shut up right now, I'll feed you to the wendigo myself."

But Mac's too jazzed with his discovery to back down, to recognize that the savageness he thought he saw in Dean, it's blazing in Sam's eyes. "Can't big brother even find the words to defend himself? Wonder why that is? Why you have to do it for him?" Then his eyes slid away from Sam and find Dean again. "Too close to the truth, huh?"

Without a word, Dean stalks away.

Sensing Dean's departure rather than witnessing it, Sam is torn between beating the tar out of Mac and going to his brother's side. As usual, brotherly loyalty wins out and he releases his chocking grip on Mac. Pointing a menacing finger at Mac, Sam darkly warns, "Stay away from him."

Hand rubbing his abused neck, Mac jeers, "That for my safety or are you afraid he might admit I'm right and you couldn't stand that."

"You're not right," Sam hisses, fists itching to land a blow.

"Keep telling yourself that," Mac retorts and then he slips out from the tree's barricade and heads back to their camp.

SNSNSNSN

Sam is disappointed but not surprised that Dean's not back at the camp. But there were signs that his brother had been there and gone, namely the fact that their two bags were missing. Sam shoots a look across their camp to Ivan and Zeke who are rummaging through their own bags, intent on the mission Mac sent them on. 'They really think they can hide behind some blinds and snap National Geographic pics of this wendigo. Tag it and study its migration pattern. Or more ludicrous, sit down and talk to the thing, experiment on it, hoping to turn it back to its human form.' But Sam had stared into the eyes of the Wendigo that had grabbed Dean seven years ago, and there was intelligence there, absolutely, but there was need more, and savagery most of all.

Zeke, sensing his eye contact, looks up, almost appears on the verge of coming over to him, doesn't but shoots him a look of apology. The man's loyalty is well entrenched with Mac and his group. And Sam fears that loyalty will get the man killed, bloody.

Just like he fears that Dean's loyalty to Benny will get his brother killed.

And Sam can't bear that, losing Dean again. Didn't know how he was expected to endure that loss over and over again and not come out on the other side a raving lunatic, something more savage and hate-filled than any monster they ever hunted. Because no one could continually get their heart and soul ripped out and then have them returned in pristine shape, it was impossible. Well, was impossible for him.

And he wishes he could tell Dean that, explain that, every time he left him, by dying or going to hell or disappearing into the darks of purgatory, the Sam he came back to had been changed by his absence, destroyed and rebuilt…with pieces missing. Pieces that Dean had taken with him when he went. Pieces that only Dean could give back to him…but only if Dean could understand the hold he has on his brother. That Sam might go and get a dog and a girl…could win a friggin' ten million lottery but it wasn't going to ever fix what was broken in him…that was his big brother's job.

'Nice. Be selfish, Sam. Dean's the one who was in Purgatory, not you. He needs your help to deal, not the other way around,' Sam rails at himself as he leaves Zeke, Ivan and the camp behind in search of said brother. But part of him knows that, yes, Dean was in one Purgatory…but he had been in another when Dean had vanished. And apparently them both stepping back out of those zones wasn't going to make everything all right again. That, like usual, it would be a struggle, would require time…and something Dean thought he no longer bore for him. What had Dean said? That they always saved each other when they swore that they won't try because "of our deep abiding love for each other…"

'Well, get ready to suck it up Dean, 'cause you challenged me to prove my 'deep abiding love' for you and I'm going to…even if I get a black eye in the process,' Sam vows as his instincts and that inexplicable brotherly connection to Dean leads him unerringly to his brother's location in the forest.

Though Dean's crouched down, his back to him, his brother speaks like he knows it's him coming up behind him without having to look. Sam gives a small smile at the reassuring proof that their connection still runs both ways.

"Scratches on the tree here," Dean says as he points to the three gashes in tree bark. "The last wendigo herded us into position with this type of bread crumb trail," his tone indicating his distaste for his past failure and his resolve to not be snookered like that again.

"Yeah and you left your own M&Ms trail," Sam proudly reminds, his brother's genius utterly remarkable in normal circumstances but its presence when Dean had been slung mostly unconscious over a wendigo's shoulders, that was awe-inspiring.

Detecting a note of pride in Sam's voice…pride in him, Dean ventures a glance over his shoulder at Sam, trying to see if this is simply meant as an ego boost to counter Mac's accusations. But Sammy hasn't got his obligatorily sincere face on, seems amused instead.

Sliding Sam's bag off his shoulder, he tosses it in front of Sam before he shrugs, feels a smile make its way across his lips. "I have my moments."

'Yeah, lots of them,' Sam wants to say but can't find the courage, simply picks up his bag and watches in silence as Dean stands up, eyes going overhead. Looking for bodies tangled in the trees like Roy had been? He almost follows Dean's line of sight…doesn't though. Has his eyes locked on Dean, on the tension his brother is trying so hard to hide from him. And something far worse…hurt…shame.

And tension in Dean, Sam can endure to witness, the other two things…not so much.

"Dean, Mac thinks he can tame a wendigo?! He hasn't got a clue what it takes to do what we do," Sam derisively objects the professor's unfounded and callous assessment of Dean.

But Dean doesn't react, doesn't look at him, starts venturing further south and Sam follows on his heels.

"We'll need to take this thing down before night fall," Dean strategizes, gives a glance to his watch and scowls harder. There isn't a lot of time before dusk. "We need to scout out caves…mines…abandoned hunting shacks…" He nearly runs into Sam when his brother is suddenly in his path, braces himself, not for a physical collision but an emotional one when he sees the troubled yet determined look in his little brother's eyes.

"Just talk to me for a minute, Dean," Sam implores, puts his arms out to his sides when Dean moves to sidestep him. He doesn't miss the jump in Dean's jaw but it's a small victory that Dean stops and meets his gaze, though his eyes are stormy and warn Sam that Dean's not in the mood to be analyzed. Not again.

"Talk about what? That we had our chance to kill the thing five minutes ago and we blew it?!" Dean disgruntledly baits before his face scrunches up in censure. "And what was up with your smart idea to shoot Mac?!"

"I grazed him, Dean," Sam firmly amends before he zealously justifies, "and he was swinging a branch at your head!"

Standing toe to toe with Sam, Dean acidly parries, "You didn't seem to mind when Martin clocked me on the head."

Sam's defense is immediate, so quick, in fact, that it seems rehearsed. "He hit you before I could stop him."

A defense that Dean isn't buying. "Yeah, right. And I bet you duked it out with scrawny Martin and lost about handcuffing me to a radiator, bleeding and concussioned?!" accusation and betrayal ringing in Dean's words.

But Sam's jaw clench is an answer in and of itself.

"Thanks Sammy," Dean darkly snorts as he shoves Sam out of his way and stomps through the woods.

Rubbing a hand down his face, Sam's not certain what he can say in his defense. He had been scared, alright?! Scared that Dean would go to Benny. And he wanted to believe it was about Benny being a possible threat to Dean. But he isn't so sure that that had been his true motive now, was starting to admit that it probably had more to do with him stopping Dean from choosing Benny…over him. 'Yeah, that doesn't make me an insecure jerk of a brother.'

But it did prove that he hadn't sided with Martin against Dean.

Taking up pursuit of Dean, Sam reasons, "I wasn't happy with what he did. Dean, he nearly cracked your skull open?! Didn't you think I got over him being dead by Benny's hand pretty quickly?!"

"You run hot and cold these days, hard to judge when something's not normal with you." Then Dean did throwing a look over his shoulder at Sam. "And by the way, in your run for the border back to Amelia, did you ever give a thought to the fact that, of yeah, I have my brother handcuffed to a radiator in a motel room now half way across the country?!"

"Yeah, I did! I called Martin, ordered him to let you go…" Sam defends, but even he knows it's weak, especially considering Martin's the one that sidelined Dean in the hunt in the first place.

Dean snorts, shakes his head and begins walking again. "Right. Like he was going to let me go. More like he would have used me for bait to get Benny to come out of hiding rather than Benny's granddaughter. Lucky for me, I was gone before he got back to the room."

And Sam doesn't have any true justification against Dean's claim, not after how things had turned out with Martin. Didn't think it would do any good to tell Dean that he nearly took Martin's head off when the other hunter had hit Dean, that he had ached to wipe away the blood slipping down Dean's face, to patch up his brother's wound ..but didn't, couldn't, not with Martin there, watching, and not when Sam knew in his gut that Dean would be even more pissed if he woke up bearing signs that Sam had been concerned, had cleaned away the blood and treated the wound. No, his concern in the face of his perceived betrayal would have only dug the trench between them deeper.

'Yeah, because it's not deep now, is it?' Sam scathingly taunts to himself, afraid that the longer he and Dean talk things out, the worst things might get. But he's not giving up, can't give up, not on them, never on Dean. So he falls silent but maintains only a few pace distance behind Dean, shakes his head when he realizes he's more honed in on his brother than the forest, than the signs of a wendigo, a wendigo that could come at them any moment.

But he's prepared now, has the flare gun in his bag. Thinking that, he bends down and starts rummaging through the bag…with no success. "The flare gun…it's missing."

"I gave it to Zeke," Dean announces, prepares for the Sammy fallout. 'One…two….'

"What!? Dean they're the only weapons we have against this thing?!"

"I still have mine," Dean tightly reminds Sam before his brother breaks into a full-out fit.

"You know better than to limit our defenses?!" Sam scolds, can't understand what Dean was thinking, making them more vulnerable than they already were!?

Infuriated by Sam's condemning tone, by his brother's belief that he's an idiot and that Sam knows best, Dean swings around to face Sam, jeers, "You're more the pacifist anyway, right Sam? Hunting's not really your thing any more."

"When have I not had your back!? I'm here, I'm with you. I was even the one who picked this friggin' hunt, Dean!" Sam shouts, can't believe he has to defend himself every moment of every day. To Dean. To the person who knows him better than anyone else. That he thought knew him best. But maybe he had been wrong..about a lot of things.

Dean's smile is humorless and cold. "Yeah, and I'm loving the locale. Like home sweet home…" Goes to turn away, isn't prepared to have Sam's fist connect with his jaw. The blow stumbles him but doesn't take him down, has his wide shocked eyes flying up to meet Sam's.

Pointing an accusing finger at Dean, Sam sharply declares, "I would have never brought you here had I known it would trigger Purgatory memories for you! And if you don't know that …." Sam stops there, his throat and eyes suddenly burning with unshed tears. Because if Dean didn't know that, didn't know that he wouldn't put him through the rehashing of Purgatory, didn't know that he was trying to do everything in his power to help Dean deal with his year in that place…then what was left to their bond, their brotherhood.

Dean felt like the biggest fool. Sam hadn't known about the forest thing, hadn't known because he hadn't told him. Didn't want to tell him. Had been hurt by Sam's seeming disinterest in where he had blipped off to after killing Dick, yeah, but he also didn't want Sam to see what he had become in Purgatory…that Mac's words…they were right on the money. Devaluing life? Ending the life of a living being? That had been his go-to motto. Came easily to him. Like Alistair's lessons on torture had. Were natural to him. To who he was, what he was.

And none of that was Sam's fault, was Sam's to fix. 'No, it's my guilt to bear.'

"Sammy…I'm sorry," Dean hoarsely stutters, even as he knows the words are meaningless in comparison to all the accusations he's heaped on his brother's head since his return. "I…you didn't know. Couldn't know and I…This isn't your fault…where we are, that I can't…" Dean derogative scoffs, "Can't keep my crap together. But I can hunt this thing, that I can do," he swears, needs Sam to know he's not a total headcase, that he's worth something here, in this environment. That he might be crap in the brotherhood department but he's a grade A hunter. He still has that. Can still kill with the worst of them.

Sam nearly chokes out a sob because it's so wrong that Dean thinks he gives a crap about the wendigo, about the hunt, even about the four innocents set to be cured and canned by a monster. And it can't go on, he can't let things go unsaid. "I don't care about the hunt, Dean. I care about you," and there's no recriminations in his tone, instead there is only devotion and fear and unvarnished honesty. All the things Dean doesn't deal well with, hides from, deflects because he doesn't think he's worthy of any of them.

Now's not any different, Sam can see that, knows a denial is coming, a crass rejoinder because Dean's wearing that stunned, uncomfortable, vulnerable look and is starting to shuffle on his feet, is unconsciously moving away from him and Sam can't have that.

Reaching out, he snags Dean's forearm, forestalls Dean's escape. Restates what he wants, needs Dean to come away with. "I care about you, Dean."

His voice raw, Dean protests his brother's declaration, the intelligence of it. "Sammy…"

But Sam guts him with a closed mouth, sad but determined smile as he vows, "I care about you more than I'm ever going to care about anyone else….or some dog I hit and nurtured back to health," he jokingly tacks on, sees Dean's pale attempt at a smile that doesn't begin to reach his brother's eyes. "Colossally more than I'll ever care about some bunch of idiot scientists looking for a National Inquirer story on Wendigos." And though not finishing the hunt would be fine with him, he knows Dean would never condone it. "So I say I go get the flare gun back from Zeke and we finish this hunt, together, and then get out of here."

And when Dean says nothing, simply stares at him, Sam fears that his words haven't been enough, that Dean's still in some denial of how he feels about him. When Dean moves, Sam tightens the grip he's still maintaining on Dean's arm, not willing to let Dean go, not before they understand one another. But Dean's not trying to get away from him…is instead pulling out Ruby's knife…and offering it to him.

"It worked on every monster in Purgatory. I figure wendigos won't be the exception," Dean reasons, hopes Sam will accept his small, probably ineffectual peace offering.

But Sam's as gracious as he's always been, takes the knife in hand and gives Dean a look of affection and contentment. And if Dean wasn't such a softy himself, he would be chastising Sam for being such an emotional pushover. After all, it was a knife he was offering, not a BFF bracelet.

Then Sam's bypassing him, is taking lead. "According to the maps, there are some old trapper cabins few miles south of here." But when Sam didn't hear the crunch of Dean's footstep behind him, he stops and turns around, sees Dean hasn't moved. "You coming with me or you going to try and take your shot with Vicki, who, by the way, is more Maryann than Ginger. Which means more analytical and less trampy. Ssooo not your type."

Dean snorts at his brother's statement, because it's kinda true. And it's heartening that Sam can know so much about him…and is still choosing to stick around . "I like analytical," he counters but laughs out loud at Sam's over the top disbelieving look. And it's a sound he never made in Purgatory and he can't help but wonder if that's only because Sam wasn't there with him.

SNSNSNSNSNSNSN

TBC

SNSNSNSNSNSNSN

Thanks for reading and for the support of my lovely reviewers!

And kudos for all of you who knew there was something fishy with the four 'campers'! Seriously, wanting to befriend a Wendigo…they make Martin seem sane.

Have a great day!

Cheryl W.