The Winchester siblings' first hunt together happened at ages sixteen, nineteen, and twenty-three, approximately ten years too late for Jasmine and at least ten years too early for Dean and Sam. Hell, if they had had their way, it might've never happened. But by the time Jasmine reached sixteen, they couldn't tell her no anymore. Her headstrong streak was fully formed, and going on a hunt was all she had asked for at every birthday since she was eight. She had finally overpowered their defenses and gotten her way, and as much as Dean tried to avoid showing emotions, the idea of this hunt had him scared. Not only did he have to worry about Sammy, but now he had to look after newbie Jazz and swallow all of the worries about his baby sister getting hurt.

The three were after a water spirit, inhabiting a small lake town in the middle of nowhere. By the time they arrived, it had claimed three lives in the icy depths of the lake, and showed no sign of stopping. It was late November in Wisconsin, and the air was frigid that morning as they went about questioning the town's residents. After deciding to check out the scene of the crimes, so to speak, they walked out on the dock towards the lake. As they did so, the air seemed to drop another five degrees. Close to the shore, sheets of ice had started to form on top of the water. Further out, the water remained flowing, eerily dark and placid.

Everything seemed to have been going fine.

And then all of the sudden, Jasmine was gone. They'd been on the dock a solid five minutes, and the spirit had her in its grip. One second, she was standing behind Sam and Dean. The next, they heard a soft splash behind them and their hearts sank in unison. Dean froze. For the first time during a hunt – hell, for the first time in his life – he froze. His breath caught in his throat, and every thought seemed to stop in his head.

And then, after what felt like a year, he heard the second splash.

As he watched Sammy's body dive into the water, he snapped back into action. His muscles tensed, ready to jump in after both of his siblings. At the best, he would save them. At the worst, they would leave this world together. But before he could toss off his jacket and leap into the frigid water, he heard his father's voice in the back of his head.

Stay put, Dean. We don't need three of you in the water. Give Sammy a chance.

The distraction made him pause for just long enough for Sam to pull through – by the time Dean shook John's voice out of his head, Sam had popped back up above water. He was cradling Jasmine's limp head against his shoulder, and even from Dean's vantage point, he could see her blue lips and pale skin. In an instant, Dean was leaning off the dock, reaching out for his sister though she and Sam were still at least ten yards out.

"Is she breathing?" Dean yelled, terrified of the answer. His heart was hammering against his ribcage, the sound of blood pounding strong in his ears. As much as he expected the answer, nothing could have prepared him for it.

"I don't think so," Sam called back, gasping for breath. As soon as he got close, he handed Jasmine up to Dean and hauled himself out of the water. Soaked to the bone, he was exhausted and frigid, but felt nothing.

As both boys knelt over their baby sister, Dean checked for her breath. As soon as he was sure there was none, he launched into chest compressions. Without a word, Sam prepared himself for the respiration.

"Breathe, Jazz, breathe for me," Sam murmured through chattering teeth. His voice was soft, gentle, and broken, in complete contrast to Dean's harsh ranting.

"Don't do this to me, dammit, I need you. Goddammit, I need you, you can't leave us, breathe, dammit," Dean growled as he worked over his sister, cringing at the cracking of her ribs under his compressive force.

The next few minutes – what would be the longest of the boys' lives - passed agonizingly slowly. And then, the sweetest sound either had ever heard; their little sister's hacking cough as she started to choke and gasp for breath.

"Thank god," Sam breathed.

"Thank god, or Poseidon, or Anubis, or whoever the hell's listening," Dean affirmed, allowing a small smile to grace his lips. He turned Jasmine onto her side as she desperately coughed up lake water. Instinctively, he kept one protective hand on her shoulder and rubbed her back gently with the other. The young girl started to shiver as she laid on the dock, wet hair plastered to her face, breath ragged and shallow. Slowly, her eyes fluttered open, glassy and afraid.

"Jazz, it's okay. We're here, we've got you," Sam soothed immediately. "Let's get you somewhere warm and safe."

At that, Dean got to his feet, then took off his jacket and wrapped Sam in it. After all, Sam's shaking hadn't exactly gone unnoticed – and while Jasmine was breathing on her own, neither she nor Sam was out of the woods. Dean handed Sam the keys, then gingerly lifted Jasmine into his arms.

"Stay awake for me, kiddo. Let me see those pretty eyes," Dean instructed as he cradled Jasmine's small body. Her eyes – Mary's eyes – had slipped closed again, causing tendrils of worry to wind themselves through Dean's gut. In seconds, he had Jasmine rushed to the Impala and laid her across the backseat. A pang of fear hit his gut when he realized that his left hand was wet and sticky, and he glanced down to see it covered in Jasmine's blood.

Not pausing to think, Dean gritted his teeth, cranked up the heat, and rushed back to the motel. The entire way back, despite his pleas, Jasmine did not wake. Even Sam had started to grow quiet and lose awareness of his surroundings.

Once they reached their motel – a half decent one, for once - Dean leapt out of the Impala and wrapped Jasmine up in his arms. He rushed around to the passenger side, yanked Sam's door open, and nudged Sam with his foot until he got to his feet. Fumbling to lock the car and retrieve the motel keys, Dean grew dismayed as he watched Sam stumble towards the door. The effects of hypothermia must have begun to set in on him and Jasmine.

The next few minutes were a blur as Dean lowered Jasmine onto one of the beds, guided Sam onto the other side, and moved them close together as if they were dolls. They needed what little body heat they could share. Then, moving like lightning, Dean grabbed the first aid kit and the closest handful of clothes he could grab before throwing himself down on the bed between the hypothermic pair.

"You've gotta wake up for me, sweetheart," Dean said to Jasmine. "And you too, Bigfoot."

By this time, neither would stir.

"Alright, great. Looks like we're doing this the hard way," Dean said to himself. He squeezed his eyes shut as he pulled off Jasmine's shirt and jeans, then slipped her into one of his t-shirts and a pair of his pajama pants. He did the same to Sam, smiling despite himself as he saw how his pajama pants looked like capris on his giant brother.

"Sorry, guys, it was the fastest thing I could grab," he explained quietly as he returned to Jasmine, pulling up the shirt slightly to expose the wound on her abdomen. She had a three inch gash from the spirit (or at least, Dean assumed) that was bleeding quite a bit.

"This is going to hurt, baby girl," he warned, should the pain wake Jasmine. Then, into the cut went the peroxide and into her flesh went the stitches. Luckily, Dean had grown adept at stitching himself and Sam back together over the years. It had grown to be second nature, so much so that he could usually get it done before Sam got a chance to start complaining.

Still, neither sibling stirred, and Dean continued his ongoing dialogue of internal screaming. His mind frazzled with fear, he did the only thing he could think of. Dean changed out of his dampened clothes into a third set of pajamas and nestled in between his sibling-sicles. As he reluctantly snuggled both against him, he made sure to check Sam over for injuries. As best as he could tell, Sam and Jasmine would be okay.

They just had to wake up, dammit.

Sam was first to wake, nearly ten minutes later, stirring and kicking his feet out of the covers. His skin was warm to the touch, and his eyes, once they opened, were clear once more. In a second, he was sitting up and looking down at Dean and Jasmine, his face an expression of terror.

"Jazzy," he gasped. "Is she…?"

Before Dean could say a word, Jasmine raised a weak hand into a thumbs-up. Both boys broke into relieved grins. After another moment, Jasmine brushed the wet hair out of her face and shifted to look at her brothers.

"I was going to make a joke," she started, voice raw. "But it hurts to talk and I just want both of you to know that I love you."

As much as Dean hated feelings, he didn't hesitate this time when he said, "I love you too, kiddo. And even you, Gigantor."

"Me too," Sam reciprocated. "But don't scare me like that again, Jazzy. I can't lose you."

"Seconded," Dean muttered under his breath.

"Trust me, it wasn't exactly fun for me either," Jasmine retorted weakly.

After a moment to breathe, Dean switched back into mother mode, and insisted that his siblings drink some water and get some rest. And, as soon as he was sure each was asleep, Dean continued his secret sleepytime ritual of placing a kiss on each of their foreheads.

Under the fluffy hair, of course.

Their first hunt had been everything out of Dean's worst nightmares, and he hated himself for freezing. But they were all still here. They had survived, and Dean had managed to tend to both of them. For once, he started to have some sense that things would be okay.

And no matter what, their first hunt together sure made a hell of a story.