Hope you're enjoying the story! If you are interested - I posted another (somewhat similar) story titled Meet Natalia. If you're liking this you will likely enjoy it too!

The McPhee overlook hike was brutal. Especially in the rain. It was cold and wet and while Ji-a had to admit it was pretty, she still could not get her head around what white Americans found enjoyable about deliberately trudging through mud.

They were half a mile from the end of the trail when Sam caught a glimpse of reflective eyes and heard a whispering voice that matched neither of his companions.

"Over there," he said.

Dean brought his shotgun around and followed Sam's gaze.

"Um…guys…" Ji-a tugged at Dean's sleeve, "There's more than one of them."

"Shit," Dean snapped. He grabbed his pistol and passed the shotgun to Ji-a.

"You know how to use this?" He asked.

"Vaguely?" She replied.

"Point the dangerous end at the monster and everything will be fine," he instructed, "Now come on, back to back, we'll let them come to us."

More whispers came from the woods around them, but the rain made it hard even to catch the reflections in the crocotta eyes.

Ji-a gripped the shotgun Dean had given her, pointing it at the forest and praying she didn't lose her footing on the muddy ground.

Then, it happened.

A large tan shape detached itself from the shadows, blood red gemstones glinting in its eye sockets. And Ji-a fired at it. The shot caught it on the haunches, drawing blood but not slowing it down. The whispers turned to screams as it skirted around, trying to get an angle on one of their backs.

Dean squared up to the injured crocotta and put three rounds between its eyes. Seconds later Ji-a heard Sam's gun go off four times in quick succession and when she turned around she saw a second canid body with those iconic non-separated teeth bleeding and twitching on the side of the trail.

"Well done," Dean said, "You hit it."

He pulled Ji-a against his side.

Gosh he was warm.

Or was she cold?

She was tired. Mostly tired.

"Congratulations," Sam added as they started back down the trail, "First time shooting a gun?"

Ji-a nodded absently, trying to grip Dean's hand tighter. She felt unsteady for some reason. Altitude? Probably. She wrote it off.

They were still two hours from the trailhead when Dean noticed Ji-a wasn't responding when he talked to her.

She hadn't let go of his hand, but she just seemed…off.

"Hold on a sec," he told Sam, stopping and bringing her to a halt beside him.

He ducked his head to get closer to her eye level.

"You okay?" He asked, cupping her face in his hands. She was freezing.

Her eyes wouldn't focus on him.

"Shit," Dean said, then called over his shoulder, "Sam! You have a thermometer on you?"

"What? No. Why?" Sam asked as he came back up the trail.

"I think she's hypothermic," Dean said.

Ji-a nodded, shivering.

"Okay, you still with us?" Dean asked, he watched her struggle to form words, "Just squeeze my hand for yes."

And, shakily, she did.

"There's a ranger station about a mile down the trail," Sam said, "Won't be more than twenty minutes to walk. Car's almost two hours and then we're ninety minutes from the hotel…"

"Ranger station it is," Dean said, looping Ji-a's arm through his own to steady her.

She almost made it all the way there. Dean was actually pretty impressed. They were only about a twenty yards from the side trail when he felt Ji-a's knees go limp and saw her eyes roll back. He caught her before her head hit the rocks, though not before the craggy trail beat up her knees.

"She okay?" Sam called back.

"Hopefully," Dean responded, gathering her unconscious body into his arms, "We'll check inside."

The ranger station was spartan, to say the least. The door was locked, but with a little effort Sam managed to kick it off the hinges and get them inside. There was no electric, but they were sheltered from the wind and rain at least. And there were a few lanterns available, plus a wood stove in the corner. There were two desks along one wall with a counter along another. On the counter, alongside stacks of trail maps and brochures, sat a battery-operated coffee maker like they used on job sites, a few big ten gallon drums of water and a bright red first aid kit.

Sam watched Dean pace with Ji-a's limp, dripping body in his arms.

"We've got to make a fire," Sam prompted.

Dean sat down on the hearth, but made no move to do anything else.

"Dude," Sam said, "You good?"
"This is my fault Sam…" Dean trailed off.

"Hey!" Sam snapped, "None of that. Feel guilty later. Get her safe first."

Dean lay Ji-a on the rug and dug through the cabinets until he found a pile of thick cotton picnic blankets. Sam had a few of the lanterns lit and hanging from hooks on the ceiling, he'd propped the door back in its place. After digging through the first aid kit, Dean found a thermometer. He sat beside Ji-a on the rug and started pulling off her sodden clothes.

"Where the hell is her raincoat?" He muttered as he stripped the fleece she'd gotten in Moab. It was wet through.

"She left it at the bar in Cedar Rapids," Sam said as he piled kindling in the wood stove.

"Right," Dean said as he pulled off the cotton t-shirt she was wearing beneath her fleece and then the sports bra she had on under that.

"Averting my gaze," Sam said as he stared at his work.

Once Dean had her wet clothes off and a blanket tucked around her, he stuck a thermometer under Ji-a's tongue.

"She's not shivering anymore," Dean noted as he tucked the blanket closer and willed his brother to get the fire going faster.

"Get her temperature," Sam instructed.

"88.7" Dean said, starting to pull off his own wet clothes. His jacket was soaked and so was the collar of his shirt, but the waxed canvas meant he was mostly dry. And his jeans, while damp, weren't wet through like her leggings.

"Get her skin to skin," Sam's voice had an edge now.

"That bad?" Dean asked, discarding his t shirt and jeans and pulling Ji-a up against his chest.

"Bad enough," Sam replied, "Fire should be putting off some good heat now. Get up close to it with her."

"Thanks Sammy," Dean said, rearranging the blanket so her freezing skin was up against his and the thick cotton would trap any heat.

Dean leaned his head back against the rough wooden wall and tried to be patient.

"This is all my fault," he muttered.

Sam looked up from toweling off his hair.

"How is this your fault?" He asked.

"I brought her along," Dean replied, "I took responsibility for her. And now look."

He shrugged under the blankets.

"She's gonna be fine, man," Sam said.

"Hope so," Dean murmured, kissing Ji-a's freezing forehead.

"You really like her, don't you?" Sam asked.

"Yeah," Dean replied, "You could say that."

"I think you love her," Sam continued.

"I might," Dean agreed.

"She's good for you," Sam said.

"What makes you say that?" Dean asked.

"You've stopped drinking," Sam replied.

"I had three beers our last night in Moab," Dean said.

"And you haven't refilled your flask in a week and a half," Sam put in.

"She is good for me," Dean said quietly, "I just have this bad feeling that I'm not good for her."