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.

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Chapter 12: Cold and Darkness

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Rule # 12: A fire may keep the cold and darkness at bay but what it beckons is far worse.

SNSNSN~ Present ~SNSNSN

A day in the Cage has nothing over the agony of waiting, of staring at his brother's lifeless body and praying to see movement, to detect any minuscule sign that Dean hasn't left him for good this time. Laying desperate hands on his brother's chest, Sam entreats, "Come on, Dean, this isn't you, you don't lie down and die. And I know that you've never left me without a fight, don't start now. Dean!"

Suddenly a sound ricochets off the trees, causes Sam's head to snap up, a sound that travels to him from miles away: gunfire.

Before he can drown in guilt at what it signifies, Dean's moving under his hands, arching off the ground like a live current coursing through him. Instinctively, Sam catches Dean's body before it collapses back onto the ground, pulls his brother into his arms, holds the trembling, but resuscitated form with a jumble of care and possessiveness. He lets out a contorted sound that's half sob and half laugh. "Dean," the name overflowing with relief and love as he feels the rise and fall of Dean's chest as it rests against his, the heavy, reassuring weight of Dean's head resting on his collarbone. Unconsciously tightening his hold on his brother, he admonishes, "Don't do that again," but it's all about heartbreak not wrath.

Dean doesn't have to ask what Sam's forbidding him from doing ever again, understands how close he came to leaving Sam. And he wishes he didn't feel still on the verge of doing it again. No matter what Sam wants or what he wants, his body seems to have the final decision. 'But not yet,' he vows and though he hasn't the strength right then to lift his head from its place on Sam's shoulder, to even move his hands, he manages to murmur one word, a word that sustained him through everything Purgatory threw at him, "Sam…my."

At his name from Dean, Sam's eyes close in contentment and he softly but fervently pledges, "I'm here, Dean. I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere…and neither are you."

It's enough for Sam, Dean being alive again. Enough to counterbalance Sam's guilt for whatever fate Mac and the others are facing right then. Because he could not be at two places at once, couldn't protect the civilian's lives and get Dean closer to medical treatment at the same time. If he was there to save Zeke's life….it meant he wouldn't be where he is now, wouldn't be with his brother, wouldn't be here to forcibly and desperately rip Dean from death's grasp.

Kneeling on the ground, his brother's barely still functioning body in his arms, the flare gun hopeless out of reach should he need it, Sam knows that if the Wendigo came for them, if it wasn't off being sidetracked by easier prey, was instead hunting down the man who had killed its mate, they wouldn't stand a chance. And not just because, him letting go of his brother at that moment to fortify their position, it just isn't happening.

SNSNSNSN ~ Purgatory ~ SNSNSNSNSN

They can't risk a fire in the territory they are presently in, logically Benny knew that. That it would be a beacon, a neon 'come and eat me' sign. And it's cruel irony that this night, out of all the ones that came before, is the one night that they needed the heat of a fire the most.

Well Dean did. The man's repeated dunkings in the lake by the sea serpent had left him soaking wet…and freezing cold.

'Not like he's admitting any of that,' Benny sardonically thought as he watched his shivering friend futilely try to stop the chattering of his teeth. It didn't temper Benny's frustration with Dean's stoicism much to know that Dean's actions weren't just about keeping up appearances with his companions. No, in the quiet of the night, making any sound louder than a whisper was suicidal, was like ringing a dinner bell to the things hoping for a midnight snack.

Believe it or not, Benny had been a Boy Scout once upon a time. So he knew about body heat staffing off hyperthermia. 'Course that's only useful information if you have any heat in your body to share with said freezing person'. Which he didn't. Just another fun byproduct of being a vampire. 'Yeah, which means I can't do a thing to warm up my nearly frozen stiff best friend.' Because offering Dean his jacket, his soaking wet jacket, yeah, not helpful. And Dean taking his clothing off to let them dry, not the best thing when an attack could be imminent, when even the thinnest layer of clothing was at least some protection against the slicing knifes and sharp teeth they usually had to fend off.

So all Benny could do was watch as Dean huddled deeper into his wet clothing, trembled against the tree trunk he was leaning against. Worriedly, he noted an alarming flush to Dean's cheeks. 'Like you were expecting good news?' But when Dean's eyes finally fluttered shut, he foolishly clung to a thread of hope that the man had found a slice of peace…until Dean started to lightly thrash in his sleep, called out for someone that wasn't there. "Sam. Sam…my. Sam!"

That was Benny's breaking point. He couldn't just stand by and be a horrified witness to his friend's torment without trying to do something. Quickly rising and crossing over to Dean, he claimed a seat on the ground beside Dean, put his arm over Dean's shoulders and drew the man against his side. It was a testament to how out of it Dean was that he didn't fight Benny's hold on him, didn't flinch at the biting coldness of his vampirian touch, instead sank harder into Benny's chest and called out more emphatically for his brother.

Benny had never had a brother, hadn't known the bond that a connection like that could forge…until he had met Dean, began thinking of the younger man as kin, as a brother to him. A little brother. One that needed his protection. Rubbing his hand up and down Dean's arm, hoping to get the human's circulation going again, he vowed, "I'll get you back to him, Dean. I swear I will."

Unbeknownst to the vampire or Dean, Cas had soundlessly returned to their camp, had come at Dean's first call of Sam's name. But he had drawn up short at the sight of Benny sheltering Dean, not just from the cold…but from the man's nightmares. And when Benny made his vow to Dean, Cas, for once, was in wholehearted agreement with the vampire. Because no matter how much he and Benny snapped at each other, one thing was true of them both: they wanted Dean to survive this, to be safe, to get back to his brother.

SNSNSN ~ Present ~ SNSNSNSN

Coming awake is hard, too hard, tells him he's slept way longer than he should have, that he's let his guard down. The fear of what's close, watching him, waiting to pounce, has his eyes flying open. He registers a few things all at once: that it's night, that nothing's standing over him ready to make a meal of him and there's a fire throwing off light a few feet away.

throwing off light….

A silent shout of "No!" rips through his brain as he dives forwards, knows he has to put the fire out, now. That its light is a beacon, will have every fugly from miles around coming for him. The first second he moves, agony explodes throughout his nervous system, but he pushes through it, has to. Has to put out the fire, has to survive another night here. 'And another and another and another…until I'm back with Sam.' Because failure, it isn't an option.

Frantically he knocks over the teepee of flaming branches, will beat the flames out with his hands, if he has to.

But then arms coil around his waist, yank him backwards, prevent him from completing his task. "No!" he chokes out, surprised at the muted, weak sound of his own voice, at the lack of strength in his body to dislodge the oppressive hold, to free himself.

"Dean, calm down! It's me. It's Sam! You're with me!"

Dean only struggles harder in the arms that hold him now at chest and waist. "You're not… Sam. Sam's not…here!" he breathlessly growls, knows the game too well, how memories and desires seem so real here when he lets down his guard, when he's in that vulnerable place between being asleep and awake, when his body's not at its best. And then he remembers… getting sliced into, having a raging fever. And his fevers always breed Sam dreams.

Weak, fumbling fingers abandon their useless grip on the arm wrapped his waist, travel down to his boot and withdraw his knife. Though Dean has an opening to make a killing stroke, he doesn't, can't. Can never quit kill even the guise of Sam without regret. So instead he slices the sharp blade along the strong arm preventing his escape, watches the blood seep instantly to the surface of the skin.

Giving a startled cry of pain, Sam, however doesn't loosen his hold on Dean. Instead he shots his hand out to grip the wrist of Dean's knife welding hand and hold it away, so Dean can't hurt him…or himself, for that matter. "Dean, it's me! It's Sam. It's really me."

"Nice try…but Sam's….not….here," Dean heaves out, fighting to gain his knife hand free reign again even as he bucks in the arms that hold him.

Grimly, Sam knows he can't let Dean continue to struggle in his arms, is already envisioning his brother's wound freely bleeding again. It can't go on. He can't let it go on. So he mercilessly yanks Dean back against his chest and coils his arms tighter around his brother with cruel strength. It destroys the fight in Dean but the victory tastes like ash in his mouth as Dean moans in pain and sags in his grip. Frantically, Sam shifts his leverage as he finds his hold isn't about subduing Dean any longer but about keeping his brother from pitching forward to the ground.

Cursing, Sam bows his own head above Dean's limp, bowed head. "Sorry, sorry but you have to stop struggling, Dean. I'm here to help you." And it's so wrong that he has to tell his own brother his intentions, that Dean doesn't even recognize him, can't accept that he wants to help him. 'Yeah, because you've done such a bang up job of helping him lately..get out of Purgatory, keep the bad memories at bay,' he bitterly condemns, coming to see why Dean's trust of him is in such short supply.

For Dean, unconsciousness is right there, a breath away, but he refuses to go into that good night without a fight, without knowing who is watching over him. Because, his captor isn't using his weakness against him to the extent that he could, hasn't killed him yet, has instead apologized to him for hurting him. "Who…are …you?" he grits out, knows it's not good, how painful it is to breathe, how much effort it takes to mutter a few words. "Not…Sam," he stipulates, will not bear another utterance of that lie, not when he's at such a low point, when seeing Sam….it's all he wants, maybe because Sam's the last sight he wants to see if he's going to die.

For a moment, Sam doesn't speak, can't, not around the lump in his throat because Dean's wholly lost in Purgatory memories, memories he has no part of. Swallowing down the guilt, the disappointment that he's not the one his brother will accept right then, he tries for a light tone, but even as he utters a tremulous, "Right, ok, you got me. I'm not Sam," he knows a with-it Dean would read the desolation in the tone. But Dean doesn't shoot down his declaration, heartbreakingly remains unmoving in his grip, waiting for the rest of his lies to tumble out.

And it's painful, to think who Dean would welcome in the headspace he's currently trapped in. 'Not me,' resounds in Sam's head, in his heart. "It's…I'm Cas," Sam proclaims, immediately cringes like the angel will come strike him dead for impersonating him.

Marshaling the strength to raise his head, Dean tries to pry away the arms trapping him. "Nice try but Cas….he bailed …on me. I'm not sure… if I'm looking for him… to kill him…or hug him."

Ok, so Cas not being with Dean all the time in Purgatory, Sam knew about that but Cas bailing on Dean, that is news to him. News that stokes his anger at the angel to a nearly blinding level. But he can't dwell on that now, not when he can feel something soaking his shirt, sickly knows its blood, Dean's blood.

Who Sam claims to be next, it's a testament to how desperate he is, how much he loves Dean. "Right, right. Not your angel either. Just….the vampire you decided to not kill."

"Benny?" And it guts Sam, the relief, the need, the affection in his brother's tone as he says the name of the vampire, of someone his brother deems a better brother to him.

It's like swallowing acid but he'll be anybody, any-friggin'-body to Dean if it allows him to reach Dean, to stop Dean from fighting him, to find a way to make sure Dean doesn't leave him.

"Yeah…it's Benny," he hoarsely continues the charade and when Dean doesn't refute his claim, he smothers his hurt, continues. "Can you stop shoving the knife in my face now?" He doesn't think he needs to adopt a southern twang but he'll do that to, curses Dean for meaning so much to him.

Finally accepting that he's in good company, Dean lets the knife fall from his shaking hand and drops his head back against Benny's chest, has come to trust the vampire to not use his weakness against him.

Sam fights tears at Dean's capitulation, doesn't know if it's about being relieved at Dean's surrender or painfully jealousy at the trust Benny earned from his brother. 'Dean needs your help now, yours. So stop emoting and start making it better for him!' he rails at himself before he announces, "I need to stop the bleeding again."

"Why…you getting….thirsty?" Dean hoarsely teases his vampire companion.

And Sam's muscles freeze as he realizes all over again the dangerous, suicidal choice Dean made when he accepted Benny as a traveling companion, as someone he trusted to be thisclose…even when he's bleeding out.

Dean speaks when Sam doesn't, when Sam can't. "Yeah… I know.… You prefer not to get… alcohol poisoning …from a lush… like me…. Gotcha."

And it's startling to be a part of the banter that must have been normal between Benny and Dean. Banter…not bickering. Not someone saying 'why didn't you look for me' and someone replying that it was fine they didn't look because 'you were ok."

For a moment, Sam increases his hold on Dean, can't let go, won't let go and then he makes himself move, do what's best for Dean. Untying Ivan's coat from around Dean's waist, he warns, "I'm going to lay you down," before he puts action to words, gently eases Dean from his arms to lie on his stomach on the forest floor. Though he knew what to expect, it still hits him hard, the blood soaked bandages and shirt around Dean's wound, the feel of the warm red liquid drenching the coat and layers of bandages as he pulls them free.

He doesn't spend time inspecting the wound, doesn't try to douse it with antiseptic, knows that infection isn't what's killing his brother. Severe trauma to his body and blood loss is. Two things he can't treat, not where he is, not without even the most rudimentary medical supplies, not alone. Pulling fresh bandages from the med-kit he presses them against the wound, hard. When Dean emits a frail cry of pain and weakly struggles under his painful ministrations, Sam chokes back a sob.

His hoarse, cracking voice is a travesty of his normal baritone as he pleads, "Don't die on me, Dean."

"I've been to the…9 circles… of Hell. Wonder where …you go…. after you've been …gutted in… Purgatory?" Dean asks the question neither of them knows.

"You're not going to find out," Sam gruffly swears, ignoring the stark proof of how wrong he might be…the blood coating his hand as he adds another bandage to Dean's back.

"You being…optimistic?!" Dean infuses sarcasm into his tone, does it solely for Benny's benefit because the vampire's getting that worried note in his tone. "I must be…bad off."

Sam's about to deny it but Dean speaks before he can.

"Benny, we had a good…run. But I'm…I'm calling it. You gotta go ..this time…leave me."

"Dean, no!" Sam huskily protests.

"Please, go…don't get wasted… being loyal to a …dead man," and Dean's instilling as much strength as he can, as he has in his command, needs Benny to not be another person who dies trying to save him. He's not worth that, never has been worth any of the lives lost so he could live. "You risked enough…for me…you don't owe me…your life. Just sorry…I didn't keep my end…of the deal…didn't save you… like you saved me… all those times."

Sam feels something twist inside him at the words not meant for him. At the glimpse into an unfaltering loyalty, like he and Dean once had. At the steadfast devotion between his brother…and Benny, a devotion that Dean doesn't doubt is there, will be there even in his greatest weakness, when he can offer nothing back in return except his loyalty.

"No….protests…this time. Just…go, Benny. Please," Dean implores because he's losing the battle, knows he won't be awake long, that he'll be an albatross for Benny, one that will only end badly for the vampire.

Dean's plea, the real fear and need in Dean's voice, it shafts a hole through Sam. Dean, honest to God, cares about the vampire, like Dean does anyone who accomplishes the impossible and proves themselves worthy of getting a glimpse of his soul, a soul Dean believes is dark and unredeemable.

Shame flows over Sam as he remembers how heartlessly he's reacted to Dean's friendship with Benny.

"I just might be that hunter that runs into Benny one day and ices him." And in that moment, he had actually relished the idea of killing Benny, of taking him away from Dean, of backing Dean into a corner, of leaving Dean with only him to rely on.

Had bitterly scoffed at Dean's "Benny has never let me down," with a "Well, good on you, Dean. Must be great to finally find someone you can trust after all these years." Fear had taken residence in his gut at Dean's words, at the real possibility that, like Martin had said, Dean had made his choice…and it was not him.

But he couldn't let it go, even though Dean had taken his "Move on or I will" ultimatum and called his bluff, sent him to figgin' Texas, to Amelia, like a neon sign of 'go and good riddance.' But instead of meekness when Dean surprisingly came to him, for him, he had thrown down another gauntlet, made Dean choose, him or Benny. And Dean had walked out the door, left him behind. And that had hurt worse than his father's 'if you're going, stay gone.'

How many ways had Dean tried to make him understand that Benny meant something to him. 'And that should have mattered to me. Dean had lost so many people that he cared about, of course he couldn't stand to lose another, even if that someone came with fangs and a thirst for blood. And what do I do? I threatened to kill Benny, to take away someone Dean considers a friend.'

Sam felt sick at how he had handled things, that he had let his jealousy get the better of him, especially in light of how Dean was talking about Benny, supposedly to Benny in his delirium. It made it nearly impossible for Sam to deny that the vampire deserved at leastsome of Dean's trust. 'Yeah, and shows why I lost Dean's trust by leaps and bounds since he's been back.'

"Benny…go…" Dean weakly orders.

But Sam's knows now that Benny wouldn't obey that order, would stick by Dean…no matter what. 'Just like I will, whether Dean believes that anymore or not.' Aloud he speaks for Benny and himself when he firmly declares, "Not happening, Dean. You're stuck with me. We're a team, remember. We'll see things through together."

Dean exhales in defeat, feels himself sink harder into the underbrush as he realizes he's going to lose this round, that Benny's a lot like Sam, too stubborn for his own good. "Pep speech…really, dude? Next thing I know…you'll tell me…we're actually gonna …get outta here…that I'll see…. Sam again."

At his name unexpectedly making an appearance in Dean's comeback, Sam's breath catches and his heart swells. Even there, in Purgatory, with Benny's steadfast loyalty, Dean's thoughts were of him, his brother was still determined to get back to him. And it's just like Dean to make seeing his little brother a goal he'll literally walk through Purgatory to achieve. "You'll see him again, I promise, Dean, you will," Sam vows to Dean and takes an oath of his own, to be the brother Dean expected to find when he stepped out of Purgatory. The little brother who takes the risk to let Dean back into his heart, to not hold him at arm's length, terrified of losing him all over again. 'Cause that really stopped nothing, didn't it. You're right where you didn't want to be, afraid Dean's going to slip away. And it isn't any less decimating this time than it was when he disappeared and you thought he was lost to you forever.' "You'll see him again," he repeats with more conviction.

"I hope so…" And then Dean's falls silent, stops wincing against the agony Benny's inflicting on him with his cruel pressure on the wound.

"Dean!" Sam shouts anxiously, his fingers frantically checking for a pulse…and finding one. But the relief Sam's feeling is tempered by the bitter knowledge that it might not last, won't, can't. That even with Dean's extraordinary strength, Dean's ridiculous tolerance for pain, his big brother's body still has its limitations, is just a corporeal shell, vulnerable, obedient to the whims of science. So this victory, it's fleeting.

And Dean doesn't even recognize that it's his little brother kneeling at his side, pressing blood soaked bandages against his back, surrounded by miles of desolate forest and breaking apart, because, Winchester or not, there's only so much Sam can take. And losing his big brother has never ever been on the list.

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TBC

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Ok this chapter was supposed to get farther along in the plot than it did but I just couldn't bear to leave you all with the image of Dean dead stuck in your head while my muse and I duked it out over the other things I wanted to put in this chapter.

Many thanks for reading and for all my wonderful reviewers who didn't hog tie me for killing Dean last chapter.

Have a great day!

Cheryl W.