Supernatural does not belong to me, although I wish it did. I am simply playing in Kripke's sandbox for a bit. All rights and ownership are the property of Kripke and the CW network. I am not making any money from this; it is for my own personal pleasure.

Synopsis: Set at the start of Season One, Dean had been in a wheelchair since his father disappeared more than a year ago and he finally has to tell Sam… There'd been an accident that night and Dean had paid a very high price….one he still doesn't understand. The story will have some hunts from season one and possibly into season two…the brothers will continue their search for their father…there will be alterations to the hunts to accommodate Dean's new situation. I have every intention of returning Dean to good health before this ends…but getting there is going to be bumpy.

Please keep in mind that I do not have a Beta, so all grammatical errors are my own. Not Slash. Brotherly love and Angst only…

Please Review: So I know there's still interest

Chapter 46

Training Sessions

The crackle of the electricity in the air was making the small fine hairs stand up on the back of Dean's neck. He grunted as he put one hand in front of the other, the mud squishing through his long fingers like fresh play doe. His legs folded over each other as he maneuvered his broken form forward at a pace a snail would laugh at. The wind was starting to whip through the field in an urgent way that was making him cringe internally. His jaw was singing in pain and his shoulders were burning with the effort of hauling his useless legs over the uneven ground. Dried thistle kept sticking in his palms every few feet he gained. He ignored the sting as he slowly closed the distance between him and Sam. Because nothing else mattered until he knew Sam was safe…nothing.

A jolt had him crashing to the ground as the lightning struck the long metal rod and it disbursed out like a grounding wire on a telephone pole. His teeth clenched involuntarily, his arms spasmed painfully and he tried to turn his head to avoid sending his agonizingly relocated jaw crashing into the dirt. His breathing hitched in his chest and his heart picked up its pace. The smell of the muddy soil and the weeds that had dried due to the advancing seasons infiltrated his nostrils and he coughed as he tried to breathe around the pain. Or maybe it was the mud that actually seeped into his nose and mouth that gave it that smell….or taste…he wasn't sure which at this point.

Dean rolled onto his back and stared into the crackling sky. The multi-colored greys were weaving in and out of the dying light as the increasing cracks of lightning lit the sky up in a brilliant display of god's power. The mud was pressing against his shoulders and the dirty water was starting to slide down the nape of his neck the longer he laid there. He wondered if he just gave up right now…what would happen? Would the next lightning strike kill him? Would that yellow haired bitch torture and kill Sam? That last thought had him groaning in physical pain. This life sucked out loud.

He reached up to massage his scalp, it was a totally pointless exercise, and the pain in his head was still there. Dean forced himself to sit up, though his stomach rebelled at the idea. His fingers of his other hand gripped at the mud as the world spun uncontrollably.

Another crack of thunder made him jump and he cast his eyes in the direction of the deafening sound. The light was almost completely gone now and he pulled his eyebrows together in disgust. He'd done this. He'd made Sam come out here, thinking that there might be a clue to this whole mess. And now? It looked like he'd delivered his little brother into the hands of the monster.

Dean was thrust into a memory that had been buried so deep he'd almost forgotten it, as the lightning continued to spider across the skyline.

He'd been seventeen and Sam had been thirteen. They'd been sent out on a training hunt. One that wasn't supposed to involve any monsters, just the normal survival crap. He'd been so tired; their father had kept him up for more than thirty-six hours 'before' he told Dean about his assignment. And this time…he'd be taking Sammy with him. That had caused Dean to argue vehemently against the whole plan. He could barely keep his own eyes open, how could he be expected to keep Sam safe in the dense wooded mountains of northern Washington. John had shrugged and told Dean to "figure it the fuck out, he wouldn't get a choice where and when he had to save someone".

Then their father had driven them, blindfolded, into an area that neither Dean nor Sam was familiar with and dumped them in the middle of the night. They had the bare essentials for survival, a couple of knives, some heavier clothing, because it got fricken cold at this altitude, and two MRE's. Dean had already given his food to Sam before their father had even cleared the ridgeline as he'd driven away. He'd given his eldest the coordinates for where he'd meet them and a map for navigation, on the other side of the mountain range…in Idaho. Then he'd told Dean that he had three days to get them both over forty-five miles to the pick-up point. Through incredibly dense and steep terrain with no compass, very little food, and one seriously irritated little brother.

John didn't believe in giving the boys anything that they might not have in a 'real life and death' situation. He had allowed each of them to carry their .45's and an extra magazine, but that was it. No matches, no sleeping bags, no tent…nothing. Basically, get through this on your own wits…or Sam's since "he's the smarter of you two". That was a conversation that had stung a bit more than he would admit, but Dean had shoved his hurt feelings and humiliation down and slammed the vault door on them.

Sam turned wide worried eyes in his brother's direction. Dean could barely make out the concern on Sam's face in the low light of the New Moon. Of course, their father had planned on the cycle of the moon, very little light to navigate by. This was the first time that Sam been included in this type of training scenario and he was shocked at the brutality of it. He swallowed thickly and waited for Dean to take point.

"Which way?" He asked when Dean remained quiet.

His brother shook his head and looked around the pitch-black forest. It would be suicide for them to start walking tonight. Dean had no clue where they were and he was so tired that he could barely keep his eyes open. His muscles were sore from getting tossed around by the pissed off ghost of a librarian and he hadn't eaten since this morning. Sam's face was literally swimming in front of him. His father had made sure that he finished the complicated ghost hunt the night before and then he'd insisted that Dean go to school before picking them up and driving them here. Apparently bruised ribs weren't a good reason to miss Political Science.

"Dean?" Sam asked. His voice was high and it was clear he was scared. He'd thought that it would be cool being included in his brother's training sessions…now he wished he was sitting on the motel bed with a copy of Moby Dick…he had a report due on Monday.

"Uh…sorry Sam…what?" Dean was having a hard time focusing. His thoughts kept wandering and he was almost nauseous, he was so tired.

"What now?" He asked. He shifted and kicked at a small rock with his toe, his eyes staring at his brother in expectation. Dean always knew what to do.

Dean shook his head and blinked a couple of times trying to clear the blurry vision. "Uh…hang on, I think I have my lighter." He hadn't even cleaned his pockets out after he'd gotten home. He sighed slightly when he felt the familiar weight of the lighter that Sam had given him for his twelfth birthday. The small fire flared into life and he looked around them for anything that might work as a torch. "Can you pull some of that moss off the tree over there?" He asked he point at a large sycamore with moss covering the north side.

Sam nodded and turned to move in that direction. He stumbled to a halt when he saw what looked like two eyes glinting in the light of Dean's lighter. He blinked and rubbed his eyes, when he looked back at the spot he blew out a frustrated breath…the eyes were gone. There was nothing but darkness staring at him. He shoved his fingers into the moss and pulled off several chunks.

Dean looked around for a decent branch that would make a good base for his torch. He spotted one about four feet away and shot a look over his shoulder at Sam before he moved to retrieve it. Sam crossed to meet him a few moments later with a handful of moss, which he wrapped around the green branch and then lit on fire. The slow burn allowed for a more steady form of light and he sighed when they were no longer enveloped in darkness.

"Okay, first things first. We gotta figure out where we are." Dean said tiredly.

Sam nodded. " I was keeping track of how many turns we made in the car and based on the length of the drive, I'd say we're about sixty miles in. The road changed to dirt about fifteen miles back and we made at least two turns to the left before dad dropped us off."

Dean stared at his little brother like he'd grown a second head. 'Maybe I am the stupid one.' He thought silently.

"What?" Sam asked, surprised, when he noticed Dean's stoic silence.

"Uh…just wow…Sammy. That's pretty damn good." Sam just shrugged and inhaled deeply as he stretched his shoulders.

"Dad taught me that a few years ago. I think you were with Bobby or something…" Sam's voice trailed off as Dean remembered 'why' he was with Bobby a couple of years ago... They'd been on a hunt in Missouri, some kind of shape shifter. Their father had sent him into one part of an abandoned factory and he'd headed into another to clear that part of the structure. Dean had been caught off guard when John had shown up and proceeded to beat the shit out of him. He'd shown up at Bobby's with a busted jaw, a cracked occipital lobe, and two broken ribs. It hadn't been until his real father had shown up and thrust a silver blade into the creature's heart that Dean had learned that it wasn't John Winchester.

"Oh…" He said. Dean didn't know what else to say to that. He hadn't ever told Sam about that warehouse and he certainly wasn't breaking that streak now. The light from the torch was creating a soft red haze that they could at least try and use to make some sort of make shift camp for a couple of hours. He glanced around, searching for a place to bed down for the night. The illumination on his watch told him it was after 1 am. They had about five hours before the sun came up and they'd need to get moving.

Within fifteen minutes he'd located a bare patch of forest floor, with a few large trees that they could at least get their backs up against. The temperature was dropping, like it did before the sun comes up in the mountains. Dean was reminded of an old sane, 'It's always darkest before the dawn...and apparently it was always coldest too, Sam was starting to shiver. The clattering of his little brother's teeth spurred Dean on as he gathered some wood and made a small fire.

Sam smiled at him as he sank down into a seated position and crossed his long legs as he reached his trembling fingers forward in an attempt to warm back up. "So…does dad do this to you a lot?" He looked like the whole idea was horrifying as he waited for an answer. The light breeze was picking at his long hair and he blew out a puff of air to move it out of his eyes.

"You need to get that cut." Dean said in a vain attempt to change the subject. He'd taken the tree on the opposite side and was staring into the forest behind Sam. Nothing was going to sneak up on his brother while he was watching.

"Don't try and change the subject, Dean." Sam said in irritation. He knew exactly what his brother was doing.

Dean huffed and shook his head slowly, he really didn't want to answer that question. Because honestly? Their dad had been sending him into these types of situation for a couple of years. Never this far out, with so little in the way of supplies…but yeah…this wasn't exactly new for him. "Sometimes." He conceded.

Sam drew his eyebrows together in rising anger. "That's bullshit, Dean. What the hell is he trying to teach us here?" He picked up a stick and poked at the small flames in the Dean's makeshift fire pit. "How to be bear bait?" He mumbled the last part.

"Sam, stop it." Dean said as he leaned back and ran his fingers over his eyes. They hurt at this point. He was so tired that they were actually pulsing behind his closed eyelids. When he felt his awareness slipping he shoved them open and stared at his little brother as he played in the fire. "He's just making sure we're ready for anything. That's all."

"Sure he is." Sam replied grudgingly. He hated that Dean felt it necessary to defend their father all the time. The man treated his eldest son like a soldier, to be trained and bossed around but never listened to. And with Sam? He wasn't much better. "Don't you think we could accomplish this starting at daybreak? Why throw us out here in the middle goddamned night?" His voice was rising in teenage indignation, as he got angrier.

"Don't swear. Just lean back and get a couple of hours of shuteye Sam. We start moving at dawn. I'll keep watch." Dean said.

Sam shook his head and pulled his jacket tighter around his thin shoulders. He was growing like a fricking weed right now. Dean was having a hard time keeping the kid in clothes that actually fit his lanky body. Sam slumped down and pulled his knees into his chest in an effort to conserve body heat as the fire did little to take the chill out of the air.

Dean swallowed and leaned forward gently tossing a couple small pieces of wood into the fire. The embers at the center were glowing a bright red and the tiny yellow and orange flames licked up the new fuel hungrily. He found himself fascinated by the ability of nature to change a solid object, like wood, to another compound like ashes. The changes that had to occur for that on a molecular level had always fascinated him. But he'd never been in his sciences classes long enough to learn about the process. He knew that it had to do with the fire triangle…heat, fuel, and oxygen...but he'd never studied what the process entailed.

He had been watching the tiny flames intently and the next thing he knew he was being thrown awake as he was catapulted through the air. Dean hadn't even managed to get his eyelids completely open before he collided with large bolder. He grunted in pain and remembered that he wasn't alone. Sam…He thought in a panic.

He cast his blurry eyes around searching frantically for his little brother. There was no sign of Sam. The fire had gone completely cold and there was nothing but an indentation where his little brother had fallen asleep the night before. Dean shoved himself to his feet ignoring the complaints of his body as he spun around for any sign of Sam. "Sam?!" He called. When nothing answered his cry he repeated his call at the top of his lungs. "SAMMY!"

Nothing.

He'd fallen asleep…how the hell had that happened? Dean was instantly looking for clues…any sign of his brother. A series of broken branches had him scrambling up the hillside like a maniac.

It had taken Dean the better part of two days to track the thing that had taken his brother…it turned out to be his father. He never did find out what had thrown him that first morning. There was something living in those woods... John had snuck back to observe the boys training session, when Dean had fallen asleep on sentry duty, he'd taken Sam out of the game to teach his eldest a lesson. At the end of those two days Dean was a distracted mess. He'd fallen so many times on the uneven terrain that his ankle was a bulbous black and blue color. And the bruised look under his eyes made him look more like one of the things the hunted than a human. He hadn't slept again after those few hours the first night...he'd been afraid he'd miss something.

But it wasn't the injuries that had been the lesson here, and the broken depths of Dean's eyes had had John smiling at the end of it. Dean would never make that mistake again. He'd never let something get the jump on him again…not at the expense of Sam.

Dean didn't know how much time had passed as he sat there trying to collect his random thoughts. Apparently he hadn't learned as much as his father had thought. Finally, his gaze was pulled down to the watch hanging loosely from his thin wrist and he swore. It was almost 10 pm. He'd been sitting in this field since almost 8 o'clock. The storm had let up and he'd managed not to get electrocuted by another strike of lightning. He rolled himself over and started pulling again. The pain in his chest was excruciating as he stretched torn muscles. But the memory of losing Sam for those two days was too fresh in his mind to quit. So he pulled…

XXXX

Sam sat in the dark. His arm pulled protectively against his chest. He was biting back the flaring pain. The black-eyed bitch had taken off at some point and had yet to return. The kid's ghost hadn't been back either and Sam found that sitting with his thoughts in the pitch-black was torture. He was worried about Dean. Where was he? Why hadn't he come back for Sam? A small nasty little part of him was flashing scenes of all the things the demon might have done to his brother. A particularly nasty image, thanks to Dean's obsession with horror movies, was from Silent Hill…the scene where the fucked up triangle head guy had ripped the woman's skin from her bones…in one piece.

He cringed internally at the vivid image and tried to change the morbid direction of his thoughts. Dean was fine…he was going to show up and he and Sam were going to get the hell outta this house.

"Ya know…that's not a bad idea." Ruby's voice cut through the haze of pain and Sam grunted as he tried to find where she was at in the darkness.

"What the hell are you talking about?" He asked. The anger, seeping into his tone when he clenched his teeth when he couldn't see her outline or anything.

"Your idea just now…peeling the skin from your brother's bones? That's pretty damn good, I'm gonna use that." Sam growled. "Don't worry, I'll totally give you credit for coming up with the idea." She said as her voice moved and Sam's head swung in the new direction.

"Leave my brother out of this." He seethed. But internally he was cringing...she can hear my thoughts?

She sighed. "Fine…probably wouldn't have worked on his charcoaled skin anyways. Too crispy."

That had Sam swinging his head up in panic. "W…what?"

She chuckled. "Oh that's right, I didn't tell you did I…" He heard her booted heels strike the ground as she approached him. "Dean's dead…terrible thing to die by lightning strike. First the heart races, and the muscles all contract so hard that the bones break. Then the body loses control of its faculties…the bladder and bowels go right first." She must have leaned in closer to him, because her voice got softer, but he could still hear her perfectly.

"And finally the epidermis, that's the outer layer of skin…" She was explaining it like it was some sort of school experiment and Sam was a student. "It catches on fire when the electricity finds an outlet. A place where it can re-ground itself. Usually its through the bottoms of the feet, but since Dean can't walk…I assume it grounded through whatever body part was touching the ground." She laughed and the sound was hollow and evil. "Which was all of him after I took his chair."

Sam was reeling. This bitch had to be lying, right?

TBC…

Author's Note: The next chapter will be Sam's POV on the escape. He's gonna have to choose whether or not to believe her and he's gotta get out of there before the fuglies find him and have their 'talk' with him. Dean is still trying to save his brother…but he's about to get help from a very unlikely source. Thanks to everyone that read and reviewed the last chapter. I appreciate it greatly.

PLEASE REVIEW: It only takes moment; I'm so close to 300 reviews on this one…so please. :)