Disclaimer: No… seriously guys… I stress out WAY too much about thinking if stupid ways to say no for what is it… 109 times now…

A/N: Y'all make me happy. I know simply four reviews for a chapter isn't a lot in the grand scheme of things (especially when I used to get upwards of ten or more!), but when I've been having so much… crap… happening in my life I want you to know that it means a lot when you take the time to read these things and let me know that you're enjoying them. Because right now writing is how I'm helping my stress and escaping, even if for a bit, from my everyday crappy, crappy world. So from the bottom of my heart, thank you guys; even the ones that don't review I can see that y'all read it.

Alright, enough sappy stuff. This story here is one of my few continuation stories on here. Though, as with everything it can be taken as its own one. It's a continuation to the story for 'Avalanche' (story number 94) in which Sam gets buried in an avalanche while looking for a wendigo lair. This story takes place three days later when the brothers go back to finish the job. You don't need to know anything that happened really in Avalanche except maybe that Sam hurt his foot; but that becomes obvious right off the bat in this one. Oh, one last thing to note with this story that was really neat… I rarely ever write hurt!Dean and worried!Sam, but in this story I have it, which was really fun and foreign for me to write! Anyways—enjoy and review!

Title: Wendigo
Genre: Another genuinely supernatural story with a little bit of angst and brother fluff thrown in for good measure.
Summary: Sam and Dean return to the mountain that only recently almost killed Sam to finally get rid of the wendigo. But what hunt ever goes simple when it involves the Winchesters?

Wendigo

Sam looked over to the entrance of the cave. Dean was outside 'taking a leak', which gave Sam a small time frame to check on his foot which he knew was in less than good shape. He had not only hidden the fact that it was hurting more than he dared admit, but as well about halfway through their trek in the all too familiar wooded mountain side Sam had felt a large blood blister pop.

It had been three days since the avalanche had nearly killed the youngest Winchester and though Sam had wanted to immediately go and hunt for the wendigo, Dean had convinced him to wait. Not only to make sure Sam would be okay to make the trek out, but because the mountain side wasn't stable with the added snow that had been piled on. Sam reluctantly agreed, and in doing so set himself up in a string of lies of claiming he was okay despite the fact that his 'not a frostbitten' foot had managed to form a painful blood blister.

"Damn it," Sam hissed now as he pulled off his boot and saw the deep crimson blood that had soaked through his white sock.

He knew he needed to wrap up the foot. He also knew that the first aid kit was in Dean's bag, and that meant that he had to tell him. Sam was just about to call out when Dean walked in.

"Hey Sam, I think—" Dean stopped, his eyes widening slightly, "What the hell?"

Sam sighed, "Do you have the first aid kit?"

Dean quickly swung his bag off and bent down in front of his brother, "Sam what the hell happened?"

"My foot was a little worse than I let on," Sam spoke quietly.

"Are you freaking serious?" Dean had an immediate edge to his voice as he pulled out the first aid kit.

Sam didn't answer.

"Sammy, I'm serious!" Dean barked, "I asked you if you were alright to come out here! You said you were completely fine!"

"I know," Sam began to roll down his sock, "And it wasn't too bad; I thought, you know—I could walk it off."

Sam sucked in a pain filled breath as he pulled down his sock past where the burst blister had been to reveal a completely blood-soaked foot.

"Jesus Sammy!" Dean went completely down to one knee and took Sam's foot into his hand, "Is this from a blister?"

Sam could only nod as he breathed through the sharp pain that radiated through his entire lower leg at the removal of his sock.

Dean shook his head before pointing an accusing finger at Sam, "I'm not done yelling at you. But for right now we'll clean this and pack it up as best as possible then head back to the car."

"No Dean," Sam's voice's was hoarse, but determined, "We gotta get this damn wendigo."

"Forget it Sam," Dean was pouring water over his brother's foot to clear the blood off, "You're sidelined, and I'm not going to leave your ass here on your own while I go off to find the thing."

Sam shook his head, "I'll be okay. Just… pack it up really good, and I'll be able to walk. We're here at its lair. This is where I tracked it before, and we've come too far—I don't want to come back here again."

"Sam you're hurt!"

"It's fine," Sam grabbed the first aid kid and pulled out some gauze, "Dean you know as well as I do that this thing is going to keep killing people. A burst blister on my foot isn't a reason to go back when we're this close."

Sam watched the internal struggle his brother was having and it took nearly a full ten seconds before Dean finally yanked the gauze out of Sam's hand and spoke, "Alright Sam, but I am taking the lead on this, and at the first breath of anything going sideways you're waiting back here at the entrance. Got it? The last thing I need to be worried about while we're right in there is your gimpy ass falling head over heels and becoming this things next meal."

"Fine, deal," Sam quickly agreed, "Now hurry up with your Florence Nightingale work and we can get rid of this thing once and for all."

Dean shook his head, but continued on his work of carefully wrapping Sam's foot. The anger that bubbled up in the hunter was pushed down; he knew that there was a job that needed to be done despite Sam being a stubborn idiot.

"Alright Sammy, see how that feels," Dean stood up and helped his brother to his feet.

Sam made a point of keep a straight face as he took a tentative step. It hurt as he felt the rawness of the injury rub, however it wasn't nearly as bad as it had been when they first entered the cave. He took a half dozen steps before turning around to Dean.

"It's fine. Let's go."

Dean breathed deep, "Okay, c'mon."

Sam grabbed his bag and took out the flamethrower he had. With a last lingering look his brother, Dean did the same thing, taking out a smaller flare gun. The older hunter struggled internally with wanting to take the lead as they went further into the wendigo's lair, and yet also wanted to stay behind Sam to make sure he'd be okay. After a few moments he settled on keeping stride beside him and the two walked in silence for nearly five minutes.

"Smell that?" Sam spoke up wrinkling his nose.

"Yeah I think we're getting near," Dean could smell the rotting flesh, "Sam, stay close."

Sam was going to retort back with a comment about not being an infant but bit it back. Both boys had on head lamps and as their beams of light bounced across the wet stone walls, their heartrates slowly increased.

"It's close," Sam shook his head, "Why the hell isn't it making a move?"

"I don't know," Dean admitted, "I mean don't these things usually see people as meals on wheels? Why is—"

With no warning Dean was suddenly catapulted through the air and Sam heard the solid thud of him smashing into a wall.

"Dean!"

The loud, ferocious yell of the wendigo suddenly dominated any other sound as it echoed through the chamber and Sam looked around frantically for the whereabouts of his brother. His light finally spotted the prone form of him crumpled on the ground ten feet away.

"Dean!" Sam cried out again painfully leaping over, unsure where the wendigo had gone to.

Carefully Sam took hold of the back of his brother's head and turned Dean's face to look at his. Sam sucked in a breath at the blood that came down Dean's forehead.

"Dean… hey Dean open your eyes," Sam looked around frantically, praying the wendigo wouldn't suddenly show up, "Please man, I can't carry you out," he laughed desperately, "Not with this gimpy foot. Dean!"

Gently Sam tapped Dean's face to try to wake him and after a panic filled five seconds the elder brother began to stir.

"Thank God," Sam whispered, "Dean can you hear me?"

"Sammy?" Dean mumbled squinting into the light.

"Yeah it's me," Sam confirmed, "Nap time's over though Dean. We gotta move before it comes back. C'mon."

Sam stood to his feet and helped Dean to his. For a moment Dean wobbled unsteadily and clutched onto Sam's arm.

"Are you okay?" Sam frowned, worried he'd have to lower Dean back to the ground.

"Yep… yep I'm good," Dean nodded, and swallowed the sudden nauseous feeling, "Where is it?"

"I don't know, and at this second I don't care. We gotta get you out of here," Sam grabbed hold of Dean's arm and wrapped it around his shoulder.

With only one light now between the two of them Sam knew it would be a slow walk back to the entrance and had the sickening feeling that they were now the ones being hunted. That feeling was only exasperated as he heard the sounds of footsteps following them as the two walked. It didn't take even five minutes before another guttural sound erupted through the cave and a flicker of a shadow caused the brothers to stop in their tracks.

"Crap," Sam whispered as he clutched the flamethrower in his free hand.

No sooner did the utterance come out his mouth than the wendigo's lanky form appeared in front of them blocking the path. Sam knew there was no way they could outrun it, and didn't want to try and fight it with Dean hurt right beside him, so quickly made a plan.

"Don't move," Sam's voice shook slightly as he lowered Dean to the ground, all the while keeping eye contact with the wendigo.

"Sam… Sam, no!" Dean tried to protest the movement, however dizziness caused him to crash clumsily against the cool earth.

Sam stepped forward towards the supernatural being. The cave opened wider, and the wendigo stood about thirty feet away from where he stood with just enough room, Sam knew, that he could run beside it to get the thing away from Dean.

"Barbeque time, bitch!" Sam yelled as he lit the flamethrower while simultaneously sidestepping the wendigo to the right.

His ultimate goal of getting it away from his brother was successful as it took off after Sam, having only been minimally singed by the hunter's first attempt at burning it. Instantly Sam felt his foot scream out in pain and he nearly fell to the ground, however caught himself and kept going with the thought that if he was killed then Dean wouldn't have a chance. The injury on his foot, however, slowed the youngest Winchester down just enough for the wendigo to get the slight upper hand as before Sam was able to turn around and get another shot out he felt sharpened fingernails slice into his upper shoulder spinning him around and to the ground.

"Damn it!" Sam cried, the wind knocked out of him.

Thankful that his light hadn't fallen, Sam pushed himself with his feet to where the flamethrower lay less than five feet away, all the while the wendigo advancing on him. Unsure if he'd make it on time, Sam found himself closing his eyes as he lit the flamethrower up and pointed it at the beast. The merciless screech of pain and bright light as it was engulfed in flames let Sam know that he'd caught it in time.

Sam continued to sit haphazardly on the cave floor staring at the smoldering remains of the wendigo when a shout brought him back from his trance.

"Sam!"

Turning his head towards the far end of the tunnel, Sam saw the darkened form of Dean moving quickly towards him, "Dean!"

Dean made it over, his eyes wide, "Sammy are you alright?"

"I'm good," Sam stood up, refusing Dean's assistance, "Let's go."

Sam made sure to keep once again a supportive arm on his brother as they walked towards the exit of the now dead wendigo lair, however couldn't hide his own limping as he walked.

"Dude, stop," Dean finally said as they made it to the entrance and had enough light to see properly.

"What?" Sam frowned.

"You're hurting," Dean stated.

"And you're bleeding from the head," Sam retorted, "If we're going to list off each other's injuries this is going to be a long walk back to the car."

Dean put a hand up to his head and winced in pain, "No more wendigos for a while."

Sam laughed lightly as he gently pulled back Dean's hair and hat, "You think you'll be okay enough to make it back?"

"If you can keep that completely fine foot of yours from falling off I think we'll live," Dean jabbed.

"Okay, okay I deserved that," Sam handed his brother a folded up piece of gauze.

Dean stuck the gauze under his hat, using the pressure to help stop the bleeding, "You deserve a lot more than that, but I'll give you a break seeing as how you just ganked a wendigo."

"Not to mention saved your ass."

The two continued their playful banter well into afternoon as they made their way back across the snow-covered mountain to the Impala. Battered and hurt, it was a longer trek, but their spirits were up as once again the bad guys lost and the good guys won. And really, what more could you ask for on a hunt with the Winchesters?

The End.