A/N Today's my birthday and all I want is a little bit of Dean whump and the sweet, caring Sam that I (as do many of us) miss dearly. This is what happened. It's totaly impromptu and written in under two hours, faster than I tend to write since I tend to overthink too much. So forgive me if this is rushed, filled with typos and makes no sense. Set in early season one.

Disclaimer: Not mine. I politely asked if I could have creative control of "Supernatural" or at least Dean and Sammy for my birthday but I guess Sera Gamble would rather be greedy and not share. Hmph!

Without further ado, enjoy!

Consciousness doesn't come to him slowly but it's rather a rude, abrupt awakening as he gasps, gulping greedily for air that doesn't seem willing to fill his lungs the way it's supposed to.

His head swims in confusion and terror as a chill seeps and creeps through his jacket, his skin, to reside so deep his bones and he's not sure if he'll ever know warmth again. A heavy weight presses on his chest and he opens his eyes, hissing away at the bright spots that dance in his vision despite the darkness surrounding him, stabbing at his eyes like sharp needles plunging into his skull.

A cry reverberates through his ears and it takes a second longer than it should for him to realize the cry is his own and he blinks, moisture spilling from his eyes to make a frozen path down his cheeks, weak breath puffing through his nose as sharp, agonizing pain ripples through him.

He attempts movement, attempts to lift the suffocating weight off his chest but his right arm is buried underneath him, totally numb and attempting to move his left ignites a frozen fire that pulses from his fingertips to shoulder and back again. A howling sound escapes his throat, triggering a response in his belly that sends his food to follow and he coughs and gags as he tilts his head to the side, the only movement he seems to be capable of at the moment, to keep from choking on his own vomit as his brain seems to rattle in his skull.

For a while he focuses on nothing but breathing despite the heavy obstacle and the crippling pain shooting through his body. After a few moments numbness begins to take hold and he's not sure if that's a good thing or not, but it gives him a chance to think and get his bearings.

Scanning his surroundings in the faint starry light he sees that he's surrounded by trees and snow and he has no idea how he got there, what he was doing, hunting, tracking... what led him to be injured and pinned under what looks like a fallen tree trunk. His memory is a sea of fog with a visibility of zero and panic washes over him in a sudden tidal wave.

"Dad?" he calls out, "Dad! Help me! I…Dad!"

The night sounds of the forest answers him mockingly, silently, the faint rustling of the trees in the wind whispering in his ears telling him that he's alone. Dad had left him without a word to fight their battles alone, without his help and Sam's miles away at Stanford living the normal life he's always dreamed of.

Help isn't coming.

The waves of panic crash into him mercilessly and he calls out into the night for help as breath comes in short, quick gasps. He's trembling, shivering violently as coldness and pain slices through nerves, ripping through his body and he can't breathe.

He can't breathe, he can't move, and help isn't coming.

He's screwed. He's screwed because Dad's left him, Sammy's left and help isn't coming.

Help isn't coming.

The darkness comes instead.


Consciousness returns slowly this time as the faint light of early dawn casts shadows across the wintry forest landscape. The air is thin and he coughs as he tries to drink it in, but a heavy weight on his chest makes it difficult and the deep ache settling into his bones turns sharp as he tries to move and he gasps a shuddering moan.

"Dad?" he calls, unable to remember where he is, or how he got there or what they were hunting. He can't remember much of anything but the sharp throb in his skull, blurred vision and rolling nausea in his belly tells him he's got a doozy of a concussion and that would be enough to fuck with anyone's memory.

"Dad?" he tries again but his voice is hoarse and he lacks the strength to put much volume into it. He looks around at his surroundings, the dull blue-grey light revealing snow covered trees and tilting his head back he sees a steep hill behind him and a tell-tale snowy track that gives him the biggest clue as to what landed him in this situation that's got him injured and well and truly stuck.

Drawing as deep of a breath as he can in his position he calls for his father again, "Dad!" and breaks into a coughing fit that jars his body, awakening the fiery pain of his injuries, spiking throughout his body and he can't help but holler again this time in pain. He coughs again and settles into the ground, spent.

Sharp shooting pain throbs throughout his body and he can't tell where one ache ends and another begins, so he doesn't even know what's injured and what's not. It's getting hard to focus, it's getting harder and harder to breathe and his body is trembling from shock and cold and if Dad doesn't get there soon, he's screwed because he knows that in his condition he won't be able to get himself free, and even if he could, he knows he won't be able to get very far.

He forces himself to relax, to think. Dad will be able to find him. Dad's the best hunter and tracker he knows.

Tiredly he closes his eyes and sinks into his spot on the ground. He feels the sweet pull of unconsciousness, oblivion's whispered promises of a painless sleep tempt him to let himself go under and he almost complies, trusting that his Dad will find him.

Dad will find him, he'll get him out of this mess.

Help's not coming.

The thought harshly pulls him back into awareness and a distant memory plays in his foggy mind of Dad leaving him to continue his lifelong quest without him. He moans in agony, feeling tears pool in his eyes and he lets them loose with a whimper. Waves of pain ripple through him, dulling into a frozen numbness once again and he tries to move his arms but neither one is responding to his brains commands.

Dad left him behind to hunt the thing that killed mom alone. He's not coming.

He tries to will his right arm to move, but it's pinned under him and completely numb so he moves his right shoulder in an attempt to pull it free without success. His attempt at moving his left arm brings bile to his throat as the agony has his nerves screaming.

White spots flash across his vision and he lets his head fall back and it feels like his brain is bouncing painfully against his skull and he tilts to the side as he spits out more vomit. He releases a shaky cry.

He doesn't remember what brought him to this forest, what he's hunting, how he ended up falling down the steep incline to be lodged under a fallen tree, but he realizes he's alone. Utterly alone. Dad left him without a word and Sam's gone to Stanford to live the life he's always wanted.

He needs help, but help isn't coming.

He cries himself into unconsciousness.


He blinks slowly awake. His body's frozen and numb and his breathing is shallow. The sky is a blinding grey and snowflakes gently make their way down to him.

He releases a groan and attempts to move. How he got there is a mystery to him as his memory is foggy and vague.

"Sam?" he whispers.

He squeezes his eyes shut as a sharp pain in his skull informs him that moving is a bad idea. Still, he tries again and he's met with resistance. A heavy weight on his chest makes it difficult to draw in a deep breath but it seems he lacks the strength to try. He shivers, the cold settling deep in his bones to wrap around dull throbbing aches and pains.

"Sam?" he tries again, but his voice is hoarse and barely there. He coughs weakly and he wonders why he called Sam's name. Sam had left them years ago for Stanford to live the normal life he's always wanted.

He remembers nothing about the what, where, why and hows of this situation, but the who had to be Dad, right? "Dad?" he tries and he shudders when the word sounds wrong on his lips.


Help isn't coming.

He gasps, sharp pain jabs at his body and he remembers that Dad left him too.

Dad left him, Sam left him and he was alone.


He cries out weakly at the realization, knowing that he should be pulling himself together because he's alone and if he doesn't get himself out of this mess he's screwed. Now's not the time to cry like a girl but maybe it's the concussion he undoubtedly has and the hopelessness of the situation making him more emotional than usual. Maybe it's the realization that his family has left him alone in this frozen forest to die.

No, that's not right, they left him alone, but not alone to die.

He sobs painfully because his family's left him alone and now here he is, alone in this frozen forest and he can't move, he can hardly breathe and he can't remember jack shit about anything that led him here and if he doesn't find a way out of this mess soon he could die and his family would never know.

No, no, he can't lose it, he has to keep it together because help isn't coming and there's no way he's going to let himself freeze to death alone in the middle of no where. Determinedly, impulsively he tries to push himself up but sharp, agonizing fiery pain tears mercilessly through his body and he lets out a scream before his vision turns white and then abruptly black.

Dad's left him.

Sam's left him.

Help isn't coming.


A low growl brings him back to consciousness and he opens his eyes to see a large black dog sniffing him. He groans and the dog jumps and growls at him, baring its teeth. It's wounded and feral and he panics because he has no idea where he is or what's going on. His body is frozen and numb and he's not sure how long he's been lying there but he tries to reach for a weapon to fight back the threat but screams as movement awakens an onslaught of torturous pain and he realizes something heavy is pinning him down, making breathing difficult and getting away next to impossible.

The scream startles the dog and it begins to circle him threateningly, blood dripping from a wound on its backside. It bares its teeth, growling and snaps at him and utterly defenceless in his position and with nothing else he can do to protect himself he hollers at the dog in an attempt to scare it off.

It seems to work as the dog suddenly scampers away on three legs, disappearing through the trees. He breaks into a coughing fit and blinks back a wave of dizziness as spots flash in his eyes and he groans, settling into the snow, lacking the strength to do much else.

His breathing is inadequately shallow, and he feels panic creeping in because he doesn't remember anything about how he ended up here in this position. He just knows he's stuck, he's injured and completely helpless. The helpless feeling is something he's not used to, something that seems to go against his very design but he can't move. Something is pinning him down, his body is frozen, trembling in shock and his injuries are too extensive to even attempt more movement, his head is throbbing and nausea threatens to purge his already empty stomach.

He needs help.

Help isn't coming.

He gasps, blinking back the distant memories of Sam and Dad leaving him behind. Dad to continue his quest alone, Sam to pursue the life he's always wanted.

He's all alone.

Help isn't coming.

He's screwed.

A cough erupts deep in his chest, jarring his many injuries, sending spikes of pain to shoot through him. He coughs again, but he's unable to draw in much air and the coughs rattling his chest steals away all the oxygen and his vision darkens, his thoughts drag him back to the reality that his family left him, alone.

Dad's gone, he's not coming.

Sam's gone, he's not coming.

And he's in no position to save himself.


The distant shout startles him but he closes his eyes because it's not real. He's delusional.

A growl meets his ears and he can hear that the dog is back, circling him, growling, chomping its teeth threateningly.

Help isn't coming.


The voice is louder, it sounds like Sam but how could it be?

He can hear the dog scampers away again, growling and snarling, not liking the arrival of the voice. Suddenly a shot rings out and the dog yelps in pain before falling silent.

He feels something slide in beside him, "Dean? Hey, come on, stay with me…Dean! Stay with me, don't leave me!"

He tries to open his eyes, because delusion or not, it feels so real but he can't breathe and the darkness is so inviting.

He answers the call of darkness because he doesn't want to open his eyes and see it's all a dream because…


Blinking wearily he can't help it but look and he sees a shadow in his line of sight. A shaggy mop of brown hair leaning over him, holding his head, stroking his brow.

"Dean, hey…"

"Sss…" Sammy?

"Hey, I'm here… stay with me. Help is on the way, you hear me? Don't leave me… come on, stay with me, I'm here now, don't leave me."

Smiling weakly his eyes slide closed and releasing a sigh he slips away knowing that everything will be OK now.

Help came.


He wakes up in stages. A steady beeping noise reaches his ears, pulling him from the darkness and his eyes flutter but don't open.

It smells and sounds like a hospital but how he ended up in a hospital is beyond him.

He doesn't remember much. He remembers the cold, the pain, the helplessness, the realization that he was alone and that Dad and Sam were both gone, having left him to do their own thing. He was alone…

No, that's not right because Sam came…or was that an illusion?


He feels something resting on his arm, squeezing gently.

OK, not an illusion or if it is, an extremely vivid one.

"Hey, open your eyes," the voice gently prods.


He can hear a sigh of relief and slowly he opens his eyes to be met with his brother's relieved gaze.

"It's me, I'm here…"

He blinks again, and as he does so he shifts and pain steals his breath and he whimpers.

"Take it easy," Sam soothes, his hand moving to his shoulder. "You shouldn't be moving too much yet."

"What happened?" his throat feels like he swallowed glass, and he tilts his head, feeling the pull of an oxygen cannula in his nose and he sniffs as Sam reaches to adjust it to sit more comfortably on his face.

"What do you remember?"

"Not much," he whispers exhaustedly.

"We were hunting a skinwalker, do you remember that?" Sam asks, holding up a pink plastic cup with a straw to his lips and he takes a tentative sip, the cool water soothing his throat.

He shakes his head but the motion rattles his concussed brain and he winces.

"Easy," Sam murmurs. "It took you. It dragged you far but…from what I could gather you wounded it and got away, but you somehow wandered far off the main path and you fell down into the ravine. It took me all night and most of the day to find you."

"Is it…gone?"

"Yeah, it's dead."

He glances around the hospital room and then down at his body. His left arm is in a sling and his right leg is suspended on a sling of its own. He glances back at Sam, hardly believing his eyes because when he was alone in the woods he was so certain that Sam wasn't going to come, that he was in Stanford. But when Dad left he had gone to Stanford to get Sam so he could help him find him. Dad left, but Sam came back. How could he have forgotten that? He smiles, resting his eyes on his brother and not willing to look away, a part of him is afraid that he's still in the forest alone, that Sam's just a dream.

"How bad?"

"Bad," Sam admits, his eyes glistening with unshed tears, "You've been out for a few days."

"Damn," he frowns.

"When you fell you managed to wedge yourself under a fallen tree, one of the branches it uh… impaled your side, you lost a lot of blood…its amazing it missed your vital organs…"

"Shit," he closes his eyes.

"You broke some ribs, dislocated your left shoulder. They had to do surgery to put it back in place because it had swollen so much during the night. They're still going to have to operate on your knee to fix torn ligaments, they treated you for mild frostbite and hypothermia and blood loss, you've got a bad concussion and… honestly when I found you, I thought… I thought…you almost died Dean, when I got there you... you stopped breathing. As it is you're still fighting off an infection the branch caused."

"Wow," he opens his eye and Sam looks like he hasn't slept in days. He's a mess.

"Wow? That's all you can say?" Sam huffs irritated, but he quickly amends it. "Sorry. I just…don't ever do that again. You scared the shit out of me man, you almost died! If I didn't find you when I did… if help didn't arrive when it did…"

He can see that Sam's nearly in tears, "Hey…it's…gonna be OK. I'm here now, you came…you…" he hisses in pain, and Sam leans forward, hazel eyes gazing worriedly at him, "it's OK…just, hurts like a bitch…but I'm gonna be OK. You came. You got me out…you came. That's all that matters."

"Just don't…don't ever leave me, OK?" Sam asks pathetically.

"I won't."

Sam takes his hand, mindful of the IV's and leans forward, resting his head against his arm and he can tell that Sam's exhausted and emotional. Normally he wouldn't allow the chick-flick moment, but the truth is he's so relieved that Sam came that he doesn't care.

As Sam dozes off with his head resting against his arm he feels himself drift back into a healing sleep and he smiles, in pain but also content. Relieved.

Sam had left for Stanford, but he came back.

He's not alone anymore.

A/N A far cry from being my best work but nonetheless I hope you enjoyed. Thanks for reading! Now please, good or bad let me know what you think, I'd love to hear from you! After all, what more can a girl ask for her birthday other than Sam and Dean giftwrapped at her doorstep? LOL.