Disclaimer: To be or not to be, that is the question…. Okay, so I figured it would be cooler to quote Shakespeare rather than say no for the umpteenth time.

A/N: So hi! I'm basically posting this one shot to let y'all know I'm still alive! Since the last time I posted, I've moved pretty much to the other side of the country (…and Canada is a big country…), had my computer die, bought a new computer, and started a summer job. Once new computer was bought I wrote out this story; it was fun if not longer than most of my one shots. I will be getting back to my chapter story, but that one was on my old computer, so I have to wait until I visit my parents in a few weeks to get my back-up of it off the external hard drive. Until that point, I will try and pop out a few one shots; I still want to get to 1000 reviews! Well… enjoy people! (oh… and a ps… this story is open at the end, so I can write a second part to it. But it can be taken as a one shot as it is, and if even a second part will be made, it will be able to taken as a single shot too… if any of that makes sense! Haha)

Title: Avalanche
Genre: Suspense
Summary: While hunting for a Wendigo, Sam gets buried in an avalanche, and it's up to big brother to save him.

Avalanche

Dean cursed under his breath as he attempted to bring his jacket up further around his face. This was bull! Dean made a point throughout the year to try and keep himself and Sam bellow the line of freezing weather. This meant that during the summer months, the country was one big open road, however during the cold winter months, they attempted to keep south to avoid exactly what the Winchester's were going through now.

"Snow Sammy… freaking snow," Dean muttered.

Sam grinned, "I like snow."

"That's because you're a freak," Dean shot back.

Sam shrugged. It was the beginning of January, and the two had followed the trail of a wendigo north to the current position in Colorado. The mountain range which loomed in front of them was their best guess as to where the thing was hiding out, which thanks to an incoming blizzard was becoming more and more of a challenge to maneuver through.

"This is stupid Sam," Dean finally said stopping, "We are just going to get lost and die out here."

"Dean this thing has killed five people in a month," Sam paused then repeated with exasperation, "A month."

"I know, but we're going to do no good if we get hypothermia," Dean pointed out.

Sam sighed and looked around. His brother was right; or at least half right. Growing up Sam had loved to be outdoors; whether it was hiking or just walking around town. He had learned how to dress for all weather for any time of year. Dean had never quite acquired that skill, and looking at Dean Sam realized that his brother would succumb to hypothermia far quicker than he would.

"Dean…" Sam paused, contemplating how to word what he wanted to suggest, "Why don't you—"

"No," Dean cut off.

"What?"

"You're going to suggest me going back and you continuing on," Dean guessed, "And the answer is no Sam."

Dean had been right, and Sam frowned, "Dean, I won't go after the thing. We just need to figure out where its lair is. You can head back to town, and I can look around for a couple of more hours. I'll hitch a ride back there when I'm done."

"Sam, it's not safe," Dean shook his head, "There's a freaking blizzard out here, and a wendigo with the munchies."

"I'll be fine," Sam insisted, "Dean, we need to figure this out soon. I promise I will not go after the thing my self, and I'll be back in just a few hours."

Dean sighed and nodded towards Sam's bag slung over his shoulder, "What stuff do you got on you?"

"Fire, some guns, a machete," Sam rattled off, "I'll be fine Dean."

"You got your phone?" Dean asked, bracing himself against a sudden burst of cold wind.

"Yes," Sam assured, "And a GPS. Just go Dean; before you freeze to death."

Dean nodded, "Alright. Get your ass back to town in three hours. And call every hour. If I have to come back out here to look for you Sammy, I'll be pissed."

Sam smiled at his brother's teasing, "Don't worry Dean."

Dean took a step back towards where they had come from and called out, "Don't even think about trying to take this thing out on your own Sam! You find it, gimmie a call!"

Sam waved off his brother and walked on. His down jacket, ski pants and wool hat were keeping him warm, and without Dean's constant complaining, he knew he would make it further alone. The two had done research when they'd hit town, and looked at maps. There was an old mine at the base of one of the mountains that was their first guess of where the wendigo called home. It was four miles away from the entrance to the forest, and with Dean they had made it almost half way. Sam hoped to get there within an hour.

An hour later the snow started to let up finally, and Sam thought he saw the sun peeking through the clouds. The storm had been bad, and put down almost two feet of snow, however with snowshoes Sam had managed to keep steady pace. Taking a drink of his water, Sam pulled his phone out of his jacket pocket, and pressed Dean's name to dial his number.

"Hey Sam," Dean's voice crackled through after four rings.

"Dean," Sam smiled, "Make it out yet?"

"I just back to the car," Dean confirmed, "Where are you?"

"Close," Sam looked around; he could see where the tall slabs of boulders indicated the base of the mountain, "I'm going to look around a bit more, and head back. I think this may be area."

"Are you okay?" Dean's voice hung with worry, "I can head back over there if you need me to."

"I'm fine Dean," Sam rolled his eyes, "The snow has stopped, and I don't see any fresh tracks."

"Alright. Be careful Sammy. I'm going to head into town and see if I can find any other disappearances from further back."

"Alright Dean," Sam nodded his head despite talking on a phone, "I'll call you later."

Sam hung up and looked ahead. There was a small field that was simply a vast expanse of white snow. His polarized sunglasses did little to block out the harshness of it, and with the thought of a nice hot meal in town, Sam trudged forwards. The sun shone bright, however the temperature continued to steadily lower, causing Sam's exposed cheeks to sting painfully. Halfway across the field, Sam got the feeling of being watched, and so stopped for a minute to take out both his gun, and a small flame thrower. Shoving a gasoline molotov into his coat pocket, he continued with more caution.

At first Sam thought the sound he heard was the wendigo. It was a low grumble unlike he had heard the previous one they hunted sound like, but that was the only guess he had. When the ground slowly began to shake under his snow shoes, Sam briefy and absurdly thought it was a train coming.

"No…" Sam whispered as he realized with a sinking feeling what it was.

His head turned towards the mountain range, and he saw it. What looked like a large, thick white cloud barrelling down towards him. The sound grew with intensity like a large plane starting up, and before Sam could even react, a large wall of snow was smashing painfully into him.

An avalanche had hit.

Dean looked down at his watch as he flipped though some old newspaper headlines. It had been an hour and thirty-nine minutes since Sam had last called, and every time Dean tried there was no answer. It wasn't like Sam to not call when he was supposed to, or to ignore calls and so Dean had a feeling of dread that was slowly filling him up. He was just about to make a plan on driving back and finding Sam when the door to the library opened, and two state troopers walked in.

"Hey!" one of them called out loudly, "Can I get everyone's attention please?"

The library was a small one, and the loud voice reached all corners. Dean looked over as about half a dozen other people came out from the stacks.

"There's been an avalanche," the second trooper spoke up, "Up at Shaw's Mountain. Now we don't think that the town is at risk, but we are putting out an alert, and a warning just to be safe. I encourage everyone to head back to their houses and to take the appropriate cautions. If you turn on your radios, we'll keep you posted on the emergency beacon. If you have any questions about things, you can ask myself or Officer Cliff."

Dean was sure that his heart had stopped beating as the man had spoken. He had thought he felt the ground shaking about half an hour earlier though had chalked it up to either his imagination or a coming train. His mind flashed to where Sam was. Was he at the mountain where the avalanche was, or a different one? Why the hell couldn't he remember!?

"Sir…" a voice broke into Dean's thoughts, "Sir… are you alright?"

Dean blinked hard, and noticed that it was Officer Cliff speaking to him, "Huh?"

"Are you okay?" he repeated, "Do you have somewhere you can go? We're putting into place a shelter for those who are vacationing or just passing through."

"No," Dean shook his head, "I'm—uh… I c-came with my brother."

"Where is he?" Officer Cliff questioned.

"Hiking," Dean whispered.

"Where?" suddenly the officer looked urgent.

"The mountain," Dean forced his brain to calm down; he had to figure out if Sam was in the path of the avalanche, "The one off of highway twelve. Near Buckhorn Trail."

Officer Cliff right away spoke at a fast clip into the radio, "This is unit six. I have a report of a hiker in the path of the avalanche." He looked at Dean, "Was your brother alone? What's his name, and what's he look like?"

Dean's whole body shook as his fears were confirmed, "He was alone. His name is Sam, and he's six-four with dark hair."

Dean didn't stick around to hear any more questions as he bolted out the door; the officers calling from behind. With no plan in mind other than finding Sam, Dean got into the Impala and sped out of the parking lot. The drive wasn't a long one to Buckhorn Trail, and the entire time Dean forced himself to stay calm; maybe Sam was waiting for him there, or had already started walking back to town. His phone could have died, or maybe he'd lost it, and that was why he wasn't answering. When the car finally skidded to a stop at the trail head, Dean felt tears prickle at his eyes; there was no sign of Sam.

"Damn it Sammy," Dean swallowed, "You are not dead…"

His whole body trembling, Dean closed his eyes and took a deep breath. His brother needed him now; this was no time to freeze up. With renewed determination, Dean got out of the car, pulled back on all of his gear, and took out his GPS.

"I'll find you Sammy."

Slowly Sam opened up his eyes and saw nothing but darkness. His body was twisted painfully, and he struggled to remember what had happened. He remembered he was in the field at the base of the mountain, and then feeling the earth move beneath his feet. Then…

'No!' panic set in as Sam remembered the wall of snow the covered him.

As he tried to move any part of his body, it felt as if he was encased in a solid block of concrete. His heart began to hammer in his chest, and his breath came in gasps.

'No,' Sam closed his eyes, 'I need to stay calm. There's only so much air here.'

The way Sam's body had finally come to a rest, gave him a lifesaving pocket of air around his face and right arm. His whole body began to shake from the cold, and immense pain radiated up from his right foot; wiggling it, he found he no longer had his boot on.

'Dean will find me!' Sam assured himself, 'He always finds me.'

Forcing himself to relax, Sam could only pray that was true.

About a half hour into his trek, Dean ran into a group of search and rescuers. It took some sly speaking to convince them he would be an asset rather than a liability in the rescue mission.

"How many avalanches did you say you've worked?" one of them men asked as they headed towards a snowmobile.

"Oh… a dozen at least," Dean didn't have time to think up a conceivable story at this point; his only worry for that of his missing brother.

"Uh huh," the guy looked skeptically at him, but didn't argue.

Using the snowmobile got the group of four to the area of the avalanche a lot sooner than Dean would have ever made it on snowshoes, and he was thankful for this. Once on the snow packed ground, one of the rescuers gave Dean a beacon device that could pick up GPS signals.

"Thanks," Dean nodded in gratitude.

"It's weird that you wouldn't have one with you," the man observed, "Seeing as how you've done this so many times before. I'm assuming you know how to use it."

"Oh yeah, yeah for sure," Dean vigorously nodded, "Of course."

He wasn't completely lying. With all the electronics the two hunters had used, Dean was sure he could figure out how to use a simple beacon. He was right, and within five minutes he was joining the others in walking slowly and carefully around the ground, waiting for the beacon to read out that a signal was nearby.

"C'mon Sammy…" Dean whispered out, tears stinging curiously at his eyes, "Please…"

At last after just over an hour, Dean looked down at the receiver in his hand, and saw the small beacon blinking right where he was.

"Hey!" he shouted to the rescue workers behind him, "I think I found him! The GPS says he's right around here!"

Three men came running over as Dean went down to his knees and began to shovel out the snow.

"Don't get your hopes up," one guy spoke as he dug a few feet to Dean's left, "Just because the GPS is here, doesn't mean he is. And he's been down there a long time."

"Sam's not dead," Dean swung his head viciously to the man who'd been talking, "But if you keep talking like that, you will be soon."

For several silent, tense minutes Dean dug away at the compacted snow. He worried with each thrust in of the shovel what he would find under there. Was Sam dead? Was he even in this area? Would he ever get to see his brother again?

"Sam!" Dean shouted out as he made his way further down, "Sammy!"

Something then caught Dean's eye out at the corner of his dug out hole. If he hadn't been staring so intently at the snow, he would have missed it. He held his breath and waited, and once again he saw it; a small area of snow was moving.

"Sam!" Dean's voice cracked with intensity.

Frantically Dean clawed at the snow, and it only took a few moments before he saw a black gloved hand sticking through the pristine white.

"Oh God, Sam…" Dean gasped, then looked back, "He's here! I found him!"

Dean then grasped Sam's gloved hand in his, "It's okay Sammy! I got you."

Sam's hand held back, and Dean was forced to blink the tears out of his eyes. There was soon three people helping Dean dig away the snow. The process was painstakingly slow as they had to now be careful not to hit Sam with their shovels or cause more snow to collapse into his air bubble. Finally, though, Dean broke through a thin shell of ice, and was able to see Sam's face.

"Dean!" Sam gasped in the fresh air.

"Sammy," Dean reached down a hand and placed it on his brother's face, "Hey. It's okay. I'm here… we're gonna get you out."

Sam simply nodded his head.

A few moment later, they had cleared the snow away from Sam's torso, and Sam pulled his arms out.

"Grab his arms," one rescuer spoke, "Pull him out."

Through the combined effort of all three men, they managed to pull Sam out of his prison of snow, and lay him on the ground.

"Sammy," Dean kneeled down beside Sam and pulled him close, "Damn… I thought I'd never see you again man."

Sam nodded his head against Dean's jacket, "Likewise."

Dean turned Sam's head towards him, cradling his face, "Are you okay? Are you hurt?"

"I'm cold," Sam began to shake.

Before Dean could say any more, someone had thrown a blanket over Sam, "We need to get him to the hospital. Move him to the sled."

Dean numbly nodded and stood to feet. He'd noticed when they had pulled Sam out, that he only had one boot on, and so pulled Sam's arm over his shoulder to help him to the waiting snowmobile. Another man took Sam's other side and together they hoisted Sam up; Dean wincing at Sam's pain filled groans.

"C'mom Sasckwatch, you'll be alright," Dean tried to force more of Sam's weight onto his shoulders.

Once at the sled, the rescue team worked quickly, laying Sam down onto the sled they had attached to the back of the snowmobile, and wrapping him completely in an insulated blanket. Dean shoved his gear on his back, and sat down behind the driver of the snowmobile, and soon they were taking off in the vast white snow. By the time they got back to the trail head, Dean had a kink in his neck from constantly looking back at this brother to make sure he was there and alright. An ambulance waited for them, and with practiced efficiency, they had moved Sam to the ambulance and Dean ran over to one of the paramedics.

"Which hospital?" Dean barked out, not wanting to leave his car, and knowing he could beat the ambulance to where they were going.

"Only one hospital in town buddy. West Ridge," the driver hooked his thumb behind them, "Off of main."

Dean nodded and jumped into his car, his tyres skidding across the ice-caked ground. With breaking more than one traffic law, Dean managed to get to the hospital just a few minutes after the ambulance did. Shrugging off his warm outer layers into the backseat, Dean walked into the hospital.

"Sam Winchester," Dean bluntly stated to the nurse at the front desk, "Where the hell is he?"

Frowning the nurse looked down at a piece of paper, "He was just brought in five minutes ago. He's in the ER right now, but—"

Without listening to the rest of the sentence, Dean walked through the double doors which read 'ER- Authorized Personal Only'—the nurse calling to him the whole while. Looking around quickly once through the doors, Dean saw his brother in one of the beds with an oxygen tube up his nose, and an IV tube in his arm.

"Sammy," Dean breathed as he walked over, then turned to the doctor nearby, "Is he okay?"

The doctor nodded with a smile, "He was very lucky. His temperature is already almost back to normal, and there doesn't appear to be any frost bite. I'd like to keep him here for a couple of hours just for observation, but then he can go back home."

Dean nodded.

"Dean," Sam spoke up, "You look like crap."

Dean gave a half smirk, "You're not going to be winning any beauty contests there yourself pal."

Sam smiled, "Yeah."

Dean felt his heart rate slowly work its way back to normal now that he saw his brother conscious and joking, "Are you alright Sammy? I mean… dude, you were full on in an avalanche."

"I'll be fine Dean, don't worry," Sam assured.

'Easier said than done,' Dean thought to himself.

"Sam…" Dean smirked and shook his head, "You're my brother. I love you, and would die for you. But I swear to God if you do anything like this again, I'm going to save the avalanche the trouble and just kill you myself."

Sam's laugh echoed through the quiet hospital ward.

Sam stuck his foot up on the dash of the Impala as Dean pulled out of the hospital parking lot. His foot was still sore from being in the cold so long without his boot, and so decided if they were going to be driving for a while he mind as well get comfortable.

"Any other time Sammy, and I would beat your ass for putting your grubby foot on my baby's dash," Dean's voice rung out.

Sam grinned

"So what do you want to do now?" Dean then questioned, shooting a sideways glance at his brother, "I personally think we should take about a week long breather. Maybe in Vegas…"

Sam sighed, "You're ridiculous Dean."

"What?"

"You know what we need to do," Sam looked over at Dean.

"Sam, no," Dean shook his head as he maneuvered along the slick streets, "Dude… you're nowhere near up to a hundred percent right now. And I just got you back; I don't feel like losing you again."

"I'm fine Dean," Sam insisted, "And besides… we have to get that Wendigo."

The End.