Author's Note:

Fanfic comes from a prompt from Jenjoremy who wanted to see a trapped/stuck Sam.

Sam heaved an exasperated sigh as Dean made his dislike of what they were doing known. Peering at his sibling from over his shoulder, Sam spoke, "I'm sorry wendigos haven't quite got the idea that they should hunt in the city, Dean."

His older brother scowled and pushed back a tree branch that was in his way, sending it whipping back and forth behind him from the force.

"Let's just find this bastard so we can go back home," Dean griped irritably and Sam nodded.

It wasn't like he particularly enjoyed stomping through the woods either. But they didn't have much of a choice, a wendigo was killing hikers in this forest and they knew the monster wasn't likely to be lured out of the trees.

After their last encounter with the wendigo in Colorado all those years ago, both Sam and Dean were hyper-vigilant, not wanting to be caught unawares again.

Unlike that near-disastrous hunt, the Winchesters had learned their lesson and Dean insisted that they go after the wendigo during the day, where at least they could see the monster if it decided to come after them.

The only thing that seemed to placate Dean a bit was the fact that he'd found a flamethrower in the Bunker and demanded that he should bring it along on the hunt. Sam had been skeptical about the weapon that looked as though it had been used during the First World War. Dean though, after much wheedling and pouting, had finally convinced Sam to let him take the thing along, reassuring his younger brother that it would turn the wendigo into a crispy critter much quicker than a flare gun.

"Yeah," Sam had commented, "And half the forest along with it."

Dean had only smirked and stroked the barrel of the flamethrower lovingly, causing his brother to roll his eyes.

Now, trampling through the dense forest through mud puddles so deep they reached his ankles and poison ivy bushes, Sam froze at the sound of a branch cracking off to his right.

Dean stopped silently behind him, equally on guard.

Five long minutes ticked by before either Winchester relaxed.

"C'mon," Sam muttered and continued on through the underbrush, eyes and ears keen for any threat.

SPN

Dean gratefully took a couple of gulps of warm water from the canteen Sam handed him.

They had been walking for hours now with no sign of the wendigo. The sun shone down fiercely, slanting through the leaves and branches of the trees overhead.

Dean wiped his forearm across his sweaty brow and watched as Sam took his drink from the canteen.

"Maybe it's moved on," Dean suggested.

Sam shook his head, "Not likely."

Dean sighed, knowing his brother was right, the latest victim of the wendigo had been killed only three days ago.

"Why don't we split up for a bit?" Dean asked, "You have the Walkie-Talkies, right?"

"Yeah," Sam replied hesitantly, one hand going to the backpack hanging from one shoulder.

"We're not getting anywhere like this," Dean argued, "Besides, it's the middle of the day. If we split up, we'll cover more ground and kill this bitch faster."

Sam clearly wasn't comfortable with the idea of separating from his sibling but having a way to communicate with Dean- unlike during the hunt in Colorado- seemed to sway him.

Setting the backpack on the ground, Sam dug the two Walkie-Talkies out, handing one to his brother.

"If you see anything," Sam insisted, "Tell me."

Dean nodded, "I will."

"You have the flare guns loaded?" Dean asked and Sam nodded.

Although flare guns were not as potent a weapon as the flamethrower, they could still do damage to a wendigo and were nothing to sniff at.

"Good," Dean said with a smile.

Sam returned the gesture queasily.

"I'll go this way," Dean began, pointing to the right, "You go opposite and we'll meet up here in, say, six hours if we haven't found anything."

Sam nodded in agreement and trudged off to the left.

Dean watched his brother until he couldn't see him any longer, only then did he start on towards the right.

W

Dean was starting to think that maybe he had been correct and that the wendigo had moved on to more plentiful hunting grounds.

Although no stranger to exercise, the young man's legs and feet complained, sore from walking over uneven terrain since early that morning. Sweat beaded on his face, dripped down his back and chest, making his t-shirt stick to his skin. A flock of midges had also found Dean and were contentedly buzzing around his head, landing on his face and hair and the back of his neck, attracted by the sweat that seemed to be pouring out of him.

The hunter jumped when his Walkie-Talkie crackled to life.

"Dean?" Sam's slightly faded voice called and Dean brought the radio to his face, speaking into it.

"I'm here, Sam," the older brother replied, trying to conceal how tired he was.

"I think I found something," Sam's voice told Dean and the elder Winchester immediately brightened up.

"Yeah? What?" he asked eagerly.

"Some of these trees have scratches on them," Sam informed him.

"All right!" Dean cheered, pumping the air with his fist; gouges in trees could be a sure sign of the presence of a wendigo.

"And…" Sam hesitated and Dean frowned.

"And?" Dean prompted, bringing the radio even closer to his face, "What Sam?"

His brother didn't reply for a moment and Dean frowned. In the silence he could hear a strange sound in the background, almost like, water.

"I think there's a dead animal nearby," Sam finally answered, "I can see blood."

"Okay," Dean said, "Listen, wait for me and I'll come to you. Are you near running water?"

"Yeah," Sam replied, his tone distracted, "There's a river, you can't miss it."

"Stay where you are," Dean told his brother, "The wendigo might be close by."

"Sure, Dean," Sam answered, his tone suggesting he wasn't really paying attention to him.

"I mean it, Sam!" Dean warned and startled when his brother broke connection with his Walkie-Talkie, not even static sounding now.

"Damn it," the older Winchester grumbled as he veered sharply to the left, hoping he found his brother before the wendigo did.

SPN

Sam had been walking for hours, hot and sweaty and tired as Dean was, when he stumbled upon the riverbank. At first he could hear the water, a constant rushing sound that grew louder and louder as he approached.

Frowning, Sam hadn't recalled seeing any river on the large map posted on a sign at the entrance to the forest.

He must be far off the trail, Sam realized.

The sound of the rushing water drew Sam to investigate. He had finished the last of the water in the canteen a couple of hours ago and he was starting to feel particularly parched.

Sam stomped past trees, finding no sign of a river beside the sound it made, like that of a giant cat purring, finding himself moving faster and faster until he was almost running.

"Whoa! Shit!" the hunter staggered to a halt, the toes of his boots hanging in thin air as he stood on the edge of what had once been a wide and deep riverbank, long eroded by the elements, the drop four feet down.

Sam swiped his damp bangs away from his face and peered at the river, squinting in the sunlight reflected off its glassy surface.

The bank was made of sunbaked mud, cracked and concrete-grey by the heat, the river itself about eight feet across, coursing over large black rocks. The sides of the eroded edges- where the water had used to reach, Sam guessed- were as low as four feet in some places and as tall as twelve feet in others, made up of large river rock and packed earth.

Glancing up, to track the river's course, Sam's gaze caught sight of something much closer. The tree he was standing beside- an oak whose roots poked through the wall of the riverbank that used to hold what might have been a surging tributary- bore five jagged gashes horizontally along its trunk. Sam frowned and leaned closer to the scratches, running his hand along the cuts, his fingers coming away sticky with sap.

Raising the Walkie-Talkie he carried, Sam turned the device on and tuned it to the correct frequency.

"Dean?" Sam asked and left unusually relieved when his brother answered.

As Sam spoke to his sibling he gazed along the river once before turning to peer to either side, frowning, the younger man caught sight of a dark red splash of colour on some low-lying leaves a few feet away from him.

Stepping closer, still engaged in conversation with his brother, Sam crouched and touched one of the leaves, wiping the sticky liquid onto his fingers as he did so.

"I think there's a dead animal nearby," Sam told his brother, "I can see blood."

Straightening up, Sam's gaze sought out more blood, drops and spatters leading away from the patch of foliage he was standing in front of, meandering towards the edge of the river.

Dean told Sam to stay put and the younger man nodded, telling his sibling he would, even as his concentration was now focused on finding the source of the blood- and possibly their monster as well.

Carefully, slowly, Sam approached the edge of the old riverbank, eyes easily catching spots of red on rock and dried earth leading towards the water.

Cautiously, Sam began to scale the bank, one hand outstretched to help keep balance. The four-foot high wall was no trouble for the hunter and he landed on his feet on solid ground. Glancing around, the younger Winchester frowned, trying to see where the trail of blood led.

There! Sam caught sight of tiny red dots creating a trail just along the water's edge, moving upstream. Hitching his backpack higher, the hunter began to follow.

W

Sam barely noticed that the walls of the riverbank were growing higher, towering over his head. He felt better now that he was out of the sun, the shade cast by the walls of the ancient riverbank cool against his hot skin.

The blood trail he'd been following was not more than just a series of spots; splatters and lines of it drew onward, telling the hunter he was nearly there.

Sam looked up and spied a dark shape laying half in and half out of the river, black fur matted to a rotund body.

Creeping closer, Sam gasped; it was a bear. And it was clearly dead. It's throat had been laid open, flies and water insects buzzed curiously around the open wound, attracted by the scent of blood.

Sam frowned and swatted a few fat blue bottle flies that tried to land on his face and then froze at the inhuman growling sound that came from behind.

With his heart in his throat, Sam peered over his shoulder and saw the grey, skeletal form of a wendigo standing only meters away, its sharp-toothed mouth red with blood.

Sam silently cursed himself for not paying attention and letting the monster get the jump on him. Not that it could be helped now. Slowly, Sam lifted one foot and set it down him, trying to move away, towards its kill.

The wendigo's beady black eyes followed the movement and it growled again.

Sam resisted the urge to close his eyes. He was such an idiot!

Without time to grab a flare gun from his backpack, Sam did the only thing he could think of:

Run.

The hunter suddenly jerked to the side, rushing into the river as fast as he could, racing right past the monster as it stood stunned- surprised perhaps by the human's sudden movement- before it came sprinting after him.

Icy water splashed Sam in the face, nearly blinding him, as his shoes slipped and skidded on the river rocks beneath his feet. He jumped when the wendigo screeched from behind him and he willed his legs to move faster.

Sam cried out as his feet flew out from underneath him and he fell, his head going beneath the river for a moment before sharp claws grabbed at him, dragging him back to the surface. Sam thrashed, trying to beat the wendigo away but it held on tight; it might have looked sickly and spindly but it had enough strength to chase down and kill a fully grown black bear.

Sam cried out as the monster pulled him up onto the edge of the river, one clawed hand hooked into the fabric of the backpack, the other gripping his long hair.

Blindly, Sam struck out, one hand grabbing the thin wrist of the wendigo and bending it backwards as far as it would go.

The monster screamed as Sam heard its wrist snap like a twig and it released him. Bloody and sopping wet, Sam staggered clumsily to his feet, running towards the high wall of the old bank, scrambling to climb up the twelve-foot high wall.

Sam scrabbled at the crumbly packed earth, praying for purchase when he was suddenly jerked backwards, the wendigo grabbing onto the backpack.

Grinding out a wordless cry, Sam threw himself forward against the wall, smashing his face into the hard-packed dirt as the straps on the knapsack broke, sending the monster stumbling away.

"C'mon," Sam panted as he tried desperately to climb the riverbank, "C'mon."

The wendigo screamed from somewhere above Sam and the hunter looked up to see the monster peering down at him from the edge of the bank- it had jumped the twelve feet to the top- and froze, knowing it meant to leap onto him and pin him.

The creature crouched, ready to do as the hunter feared when a gunshot rang out and the monster screeched, scrabbling at the crumbling dirt as it did so.

"SAM!" Dean shouted, running towards him along the top of the riverbank.

"Dean!" Sam cried out, relief rushing through him.

A scream that sounded like a woman in agony sounded above Sam, forcing him to clap his hands to his ears and the wendigo slipped from its perch, talons scrabbling at the edge as it fell.

Sam's moment of relief dried up instantly when he heard a grinding sound and the wall the wendigo had been sitting atop rushed down to meet him.

SPN

"SAMMY!" Dean cried his brother's name as the ancient edge of the riverbank, made unsteady by years of erosion and heat from the sun, came down on top of his sibling.

He barely noticed the wendigo loping away from the landslide, whimpering like a small child.

"Sam!" Dean repeated his brother's name as he approached the site of the accident, raising one arm to shield his eyes and mouth from the spreading dust.

The older Winchester's hazel eyes widened in shock at the sight before him: Sam lay on his back, his eyes closed and covered by his hair, the lower half of his body and his left arm pinned beneath earth and stone.

"S-Sam," Dean choked out and ran to his brother's side, dropping to his knees beside him.

Reaching out, the older Winchester brother, brushed Sam's hair away from his face and cringed at his bloodied, broken nose and blackened eyes, a gash across his right eyebrow oozed blood down the side of his brother's forehead.

"Oh God," Dean murmured and pressed two fingers to his brother's throat, searching for a pulse.

Sagging with relief when he found one, the older brother looked up, his heart squeezing with fear at the sight of everything below Sam's waist hidden beneath crumbled earth and large river rocks.

He had to get Sam out. Standing shakily, Dean moved closer to his brother's side and began shifting the rubble away from his sibling's trapped left arm.

"D-D'n."

A quiet voice made Dean pause and he looked over his shoulder to see Sam squinting his eyes, frowning, brow furrowed in pain.

"Sammy," Dean murmured and rushed to his brother's side.

"D'n," Sam whimpered and gave a sharp cry.

"C-Can't f-feel-" the younger brother gasped but Dean shushed him.

"It's okay, Sammy," Dean assured him though his voice threatened to crack, "Just stay still."

Sam nodded his head minutely and closed his eyes again. Dean remained where he was for a moment before returning to the task at hand.

Shoving large chunks of almost fossilized dirt and rocks away from his brother's left arm, Dean couldn't help the gasp that escaped his lips when he revealed the appendage.

Sam's arm lay at an unnatural angle- most certainly broken- while blood had coated the sleeve of his plaid button-up shirt, his hand swollen and almost black with bruises.

Dean reached out but stopped just shy of touching his brother's hand, certain that it would only cause Sam unnecessary pain.

Sitting back on his haunches, the older Winchester wiped a dusty hand across his face. Just judging by the size of some of those river rocks there was no way he'd be able to lift them off his brother on his own. He needed help and he needed it soon. The sun was well past its apex and it would be dark soon. The wendigo, although maybe injured, was not dead and Dean was certain that it would return to the river and try to pick off his brother as easy prey.

Raking a hand though his short hair, Dean knew the best thing- the only thing he could do- was to call for help.

Digging in the pocket of his jeans, Dean felt tears well up in his eyes as he grabbed his phone and opened it.

"No!" He cried when he saw that he had no signal- unsurprising- but so disheartening.

Dean stood and held his arm out, searching for a signal- a bar; just one- that would allow him to call for help.

Reluctantly, he stepped away from his sibling, closer to the river, holding his phone over his head, praying for a bar.

Dean searched and prayed for a signal for ten long minutes, unwilling to move too far from his injured sibling until he caught sight of the crumbling edge of the old riverbank. He could climb up now, get at least twelve feet higher than he was now and maybe, just maybe he'd be able to get a signal.

Lowering his phone, Dean went to his brother's side.

"Sam?" he whispered, "Sammy?"

His brother was unconscious. Sam would not notice if he left for a moment or two- crucial minutes- to call for help.

Taking a deep breath, Dean tore his gaze away from his brother's battered face before approaching the area where a portion of the ancient riverbank had fallen in, most of it landing on top of his sibling. Stuffing the cell phone back into his pocket, Dean reached out, grabbing onto scraggly roots that were sticking through the rubble and pulled himself up, careful not to send anymore tumbling down onto his brother.

The hunter was panting by the time he had scaled the ruined wall, adrenaline now starting to wane. Carefully he moved a few feet away from the crumpled part of the bank, keeping his brother in sight, however, and stood a foot from the edge, taking his phone out again.

Opening his phone, Dean bit his lip as the cell searched for a satellite.

"C'mon, c'mon," he muttered, gaze flitting back to his brother every ten seconds or so, as he waited.

Dean almost fell to his knees as one bar and than a second bar appeared on his phone and he hastily dialed for help.

"Hello? Hello, can you hear me?" Dean asked loudly, the 9-1-1 Operator's voice that greeted him sounding fuzzy and distant.

"My brother needs help!" Dean told her, "There was a landslide in Ogilvie Park! We're by the river!"

The 9-1-1 Operator said something but a wave of static made it impossible for Dean to hear her and his phone beeped irritably, both bars vanishing, the signal lost.

The hunter stared at his phone, hoping and praying he'd gotten through and that help was on the way.

Eyes traveling back to his brother's prone form, Dean carefully made his way back down to the riverbank, grimacing as his movement dislodged small stones that rolled down to bounce off his sibling's exposed chest and face.

"Sammy," Dean whispered, kneeling at his brother's side.

His sibling's eyes remain firmly closed and although he appeared to be sleeping, Dean knew it was a far more insidious form of unconsciousness.

Glancing around, Dean spied Sam's backpack lying forgotten amongst the rocks at the edge of the river. It was torn up pretty good and the straps are frayed from being broken but Dean grabbed the pack and brought it over to his brother.

Unzipping the knapsack, Dean dug around inside until he pulled out the canteen, shook it and frowned when he found out it was empty. Peering over his shoulder at the rushing river behind him, Dean sighed.

At least we don't have to worry about water, Dean thought tiredly and climbed to his feet, crossing the small, smooth stones and crouching at the river's edge to fill the canteen.

Returning to his brother, Dean rummaged in the backpack half-heartedly again before pulling out a couple of energy bars- Sam's- and a pack of Twizzlers- his- and sat them aside.

"Sammy," Dean murmured and reached out, smoothing his brother's brow gently, "Help's coming."

W

The older Winchester looked up when he heard a splashing in the river behind him.

He didn't know how long he'd been sitting on the hard, cold ground beside his brother, staring into Sam's face but the sky had darkened, the high ancient walls of the old riverbank creating an early evening even though the hunter could see orange and pink light slanting through the trees atop the riverbank to the west.

Dean's eyes narrowed, trying to catch sight of movement in the gloom, but all he could see was the whitecaps curling and swirling as the river flowed on by, indifferent to the Winchesters' plight.

Turning his gaze back to his sibling, Dean startled a little when he saw a flash of glassy green. Sam was awake.

"D-De," Sam rasped, his expression bewildered and frightened.

"I'm right here," Dean leaned over and placed a hand on his sibling's cheek, "Don't worry, Sammy."

Sam's eyes slip closed again but Dean could see his rest wass anything but peaceful, his brother's face tight and pale with pain.

"Help's coming, Sammy," Dean murmured, praying that he was right.

W

Dean snapped out of his doze as though he'd been electrocuted, a loud screech from close by sending a chill up his spine and causing the hairs on the back of his neck to stand at attention.

The wendigo, it was back.

Dean stood and narrowed his eyes, peering into the darkness that had gathered in the bottom of the riverbed; the sky above a deep violet, foretelling the fast-approaching night.

With one hand, Dean gripped the flamethrower's strap over his shoulder tightly; ready to barbeque the bastard if it dared to come any closer. Slipping the weapon from his back as a precaution, Dean held the flamethrower out like a shotgun, squinting into the darkness, his heart hammering in his chest.

"Come on, you son of a bitch," Dean growled quietly, "Come on."

The hunter caught sight of movement from the corner of his eye, to his right and saw a flash of the wendigo's pale skin as it darted forward.

Dean pressed the trigger on the flamethrower and angry orange flames shot out of the nozzle, illuminating the riverbank. The hunter startled at just how close the monster had managed to get to him, before it leaped back with a blood-curdling shriek, clawing at the air with its taloned hands.

Dean lunged forward but the monster was quicker and it jumped backwards, beady eyes oily as they reflected the flames.

The creature screamed once again before turning tail and running. Dean didn't release the trigger until he could no longer see the wendigo in the light cast by the flamethrower.

Sighing, he sank to his knees, exhausted and terrified for his brother.

W

Dean stretched his legs, walking towards the edge of the water and kneeling down, dipping his hands into the cool rushing liquid and splashing it onto his face.

"Ahh," he voiced, raking both hands through his short-cropped hair, feeling a little more awake.

Sam remained asleep, however, and Dean had taken to checking his pulse every minute or so. It was still there, thank God, but was growing steadily weaker.

Dean opened his eyes and bit his lip; maybe he should start trying to move some of that rubble away from his brother.

A piercing scream made the hunter nearly jump out of his skin and he whipped around, spying a flash of pale grey as the wendigo approached again.

Hurrying forward, Dean fumbled with the flamethrower he had kept at his side, finally pressing the trigger down, his mouth opening in horror as the blast of fire illuminated the monster, standing with one clawed foot atop his brother's chest.

"SAM!" Dean shouted, a mixture of anger and fear and sprinted forward, wanting to- no, needing to get the monster away from his sibling.

The wendigo stared at Dean and the orange flames for a moment before leaping to the side, stumbling as it did so over Sam's prostrate form and falling to its hands and knees, keening when its injured arm struck the rocks covering the ground.

Dean didn't stop, he ran forward, a snarl rising in his throat, towards the monster, the wendigo once again on its feet and backing away from him.

Dean darted forward and the flames spouting from the nozzle of the flamethrower first licked at, and then curled around the retreating wendigo.

The monster screamed like a woman and tripped as it fought to retreat, orange and yellow flames racing across its grey skin.

Dean watched as the fire spread, as though nourished by the monster's own leathery hide, quickly consuming it. The wendigo let out one last pathetic cry before falling to the ground, lifeless.

The hunter watched as the fire burned itself out, all that was left of the wendigo were blackened bones. Dean kicked at them and they scattered across the river stones, leaving only the faintest scent of scorched flesh in the air.

Prying his hand away from the trigger of the flamethrower, Dean sagged with relief; at least Sam was safe from that monster.

Sam…

Dean turned around, terrified that the wendigo had had a chance to hurt his brother and ran to his sibling's side.

Fumbling in his jeans' pocket, Dean finds his cell phone and pulls it out, opening it and turning on its flashlight app.

Harsh white light illuminates Sam's pale face, the bruises and blood standing out in stark contrast against his milky skin. Moving the light downwards, Dean cringed at the sight of his sibling's torn shirt, red lines of blood visible through the fabric where the wendigo clawed his chest and side.

"S-Sammy," Dean choked, raising one hand and pressed trembling fingers to his brother's neck.

The older Winchester waited for one minute…. Two minutes… Three minutes… but couldn't feel a pulse.

Lifting his hand, Dean laid his palm against Sam's brow, feeling it cool and clammy beneath his hand.

No, no, this couldn't be happening. Sam couldn't die, not now; Dean felt hot tears well up in his eyes.

"Please," Dean moaned, "Please, Sammy, please come back."

The hunter bowed his head, feeling no warm breath on his face and let his tears fall.

He'd failed; he couldn't protect his brother. After everything that had happened, after everything they had been through together… it had all amounted to nothing.

"Hey! Hello!"

Dean reached out and wiped his brother's face clean, his chin still trembling as tears continued to threaten to fall. He didn't even hear the sound of distant voices shouting at him.

Faintly, so quiet Dean almost missed it, Sam groaned.

"Sammy?" he gasped and leaned forward, "Sam? Can you hear me?"

A second groan accompanied the first and Dean swiftly pressed his fingers against his brother's neck… there it was… Sam's pulse, so faint he had missed it completely, thought it hadn't been there at all.

Fresh tears welled in Dean's eyes, tears of relief and happiness and he wiped his arm over his face, chuckling a little.

Sam was a fighter, always had been and always would be. It would take a hell of a lot more than a landslide and a hungry wendigo to take him out.

"Hey! Can anybody hear me?"

Dean looked up sharply. He could have sworn he heard voices.

Ears keen for the telltale call of a human voice, Dean waited.

And heard nothing.

He was mistaken.

Exhausted and worried as he was it was easy to miss things, or hear things.

"Hello! Is anybody out there?"

Dean's eyes widened. No, it was definitely voices. Human voices.

Help had come at last.

Sitting back, Dean cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted back.

"HEY! WE'RE HERE!"

He listened for a reply but none came.

He was almost certain he had heard voices.

Frowning, Dean raised his hands a second time, pausing as he did so.

Maybe they didn't know where they were, he realized, maybe they couldn't find the river in the dark.

Dean needed the help to find them; Sam would not last much longer if they didn't.

But how could Dean attract their attention, point them in the right direction?

The hunter's gaze fell on his brother's backpack and he suddenly remembered the flare guns.

Grabbing the pack, Dean pulled one of the bright orange guns from the bag and stood, pointing his arm straight up while holding the signaling device.

Please let this work, he prayed and fired a single shot, watching as a smoky red trail rose into the night sky before bursting into a dazzle of neon red that hung suspended, showing their rescuers their location.

Author's Note:

This was going to be a one-shot but it ended up as a really long first chapter so I decided to break it up into a few chapters.

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