A/N: I wanted to do a story that revolved around the boys encountering trouble from NON-supernatural foes/situations and, well, the result was this story. I always try to go for a high degree of medical accuracy but I will say that I reserve the right to fudge stuff if it means I can add to the story in other ways, such as angst. Heck, Hollywood's allowed to do it, so why not me?

First chapter or so will be from a standard, third-person perspective. Later chapters will be from a first-person (DeanPOV or SamPOV) perspective. It'll make sense when we get there.

I WILL BE POSTING CHAPTERS ON A WEEKLY BASIS, EITHER SUNDAY OR MONDAY

Summary: Sam pays the price when a chink in Dean's armor results in childish behavior and a silly argument. Can the boys make it out of the woods in time, or does Mother Nature have other ideas? Limp!Sam, Angsty!Guilty!Dean

Disclaimer: Sam and Dean are, sadly, the property of Eric Kripke and the CW Network. I make no profit from this story other than the perverted joy I get from 'Pimping the Limp'. All standard disclaimers apply.

Dedication: This story is dedicated to Faye Dartmouth, SFTCOL(AR)S member and co-founder, whose sick desire for a particular, ultimately-limp Sam is the basis of this story. Love ya, girl, and I hope my abuse of Sam lives up to your twisted fantasies. LOL!

Crotalus

Chapter 1: Miles to Go Before I Sleep

This particular hunt had been unusual in several respects. Not only had the boys ended up going further afield than either had ever expected, but their prey was something not normally found in this region of the country and it had left them with a nagging feeling that the spread of evil was beginning to get the upper hand. Even still, the successful eradication of the Wendigo that had been plaguing this mountainous area of Southern California for months had left the boys with a sense of exhausted satisfaction that spoke loudly of a job well done. Best of all, was the knowledge each of them carried that neither boy had suffered more than a few insignificantly superficial scratches during the course of the hunt.

Now, all that stood in front of them was the long trek back to civilization, to something Dean was looking forward to more than just about anything...the bed that was waiting for him back at the ratty, two-bit excuse for a motel they'd managed to find a few miles south of the trailhead. Yeah, so OK, most people wouldn't be looking forward to returning to some lumpy, musty-smelling bed in a motel that time seemed to have ravaged more relentlessly than most, but as far as Dean was concerned it sure as hell beat more camping, by any stretch of the imagination.

Although Sam had previously agreed with Dean's hatred of camping, this job had been different. Once the Wendigo had been neutralized and the danger had passed, Sam found himself drinking in their surroundings and marveling at the stark beauty that abounded in all directions. It had been some time since he'd been back to California and just being here flooded him with pleasant memories of his time at Stanford...and of Jess.

Jess had loved the varied and rugged terrain of the high country. She, Sam and numerous friends had spent many weekends and school breaks exploring the campsites and trails that twisted their way from stands of towering redwoods through barren, jutting rock faces and finally on to lush, rolling fields that exploded with the vivid, gaudy color of native wildflowers. Sam subconsciously grinned to himself, allowing more and more unbidden and half-forgotten memories of his long-ago 'normal' life at Stanford to cascade freely over him as he strode alongside his older brother.

"You want to let me in on whatever pornographic thoughts got you grinning like a fool, there, Poindexter?" Sam startled slightly at the sudden sound of his brother's voice slicing through the silent serenity of his memories. Dean chuckled lightly, taking his brother's surprised reaction as a wordless admission that Dean had caught him out in exactly what he was accusing Sam of.

"It wasn't porn, Dean," the younger boy protested. "That would be your thoughts, not mine."

Dean allowed a self-satisfied smirk to cross his face, knowing full well that he was getting to Sam and snickered once again. "Yeah, whatever."

"I'm serious, Dean," Sam continued to assert and added quietly, "I was thinking about Jess."

"Yeah. Ok, Sam," Dean replied sarcastically, intentionally provoking his kid brother even further. After all, after his primary job of protecting Sam, wasn't it a first-born, older brother's God-given duty to torment younger siblings? "Thoughts of Jess...not pornographic. Whatever you say."

"Forget it. You wouldn't get it anyway," Sam huffed and they continued hiking in silence.

Minutes later, the rough, neglected and little-used trail that Sam and Dean had been hiking for several hours suddenly fanned out. More a bulge in the trail then an actual clearing, the smooth rock ledges offered the welcome prospect of a spot to sit and rest their aching feet. Dean tossed down his pack and arched his back, aching muscles registering their annoyance as they reached the apex of his stretch.

Sam tossed his pack next to Dean's and plopped heavily onto the nearest rock, a tired sigh sliding out as Sam extended his long legs in front of him and rubbed at the tops of his thighs.

"Dude! What the shit were you thinking," Dean questioned irritably as he bent, snatching up Sam's pack and flinging it angrily across the trail where it violently landed against the jagged rock outcropping with an abrupt 'thwack'. "I don't want that stink all over my stuff."

Sam snorted indignantly. "Quit being such a child. My stuff wouldn't smell like that if you hadn't freaked at seeing that skunk cross our trail and thrown my pack at it like some girl!"

"I did not freak. That skunk was obviously evil...or possessed or something," Dean asserted lamely. "The only reason it didn't attack is because I scared it off by throwing your pack at it."

"Evil skunks?" Sam questioned snidely. "It would have ambled harmlessly right on by if you hadn't flipped out but, no, you grab my pack and goad the thing into spraying all over it by lobbing it at the poor thing."

Dean huffed indignantly. "You're just pissed because I saved your ass...again."

Dean, Sam decided, was a study in incongruous contrasts. He could easily stand unflinching in the face of pure evil, facing down demons, angry spirits and unspeakable monsters, and yet was terrified of flying...and skunks. Dean had been Sam's hero, his knight in shining armor, since he was a toddler in diapers and, although he'd learned over the years of the few chinks in that armor, he wouldn't dream of pressing his older brother too hard with quirks that Dean obviously saw as shortcomings. So, instead, Sam said nothing more, just smiled a lop-sided, dimpled grin at his brother's preposterous justifications and shook his head.

Sighing, Sam pulled his long legs back and placing his hands on his knees, he pushed himself to his full height. A few long strides later he stooped in front of his discarded pack, his right hand grabbing at the odorous fabric. Sam's brain registered a sudden blur of motion just an instant before he felt the piercing pain in his right hand. The young man drew back instinctively, his right forearm clutched tightly in his left hand and held closely to his body.

"Aahhh...geez!"

Dean looked up questioningly to see Sam cradling his right arm and staring transfixed at something on the ground. "Sam? Something wrong?"

Sam cautiously backed a few steps, his eyes never wavering from the ground. "Huh?"

Something about Sam's distracted and almost fearful behavior set off alarm bells in Dean's head. Quickly crossing the clearing to stand at Sam's side, Dean followed his baby brother's line of sight. There, lying tightly coiled near Sam's now forgotten duffel was a large amber snake, its back adorned with nearly symmetrical diamond-shaped patches of black that faded to gray and black rings at the tail. It's triangular shaped head and neck were drawn back menacingly and elevated several inches from the rock bed as it aggressively stood its ground. Dean wasn't certain of the exact identification of the snake, but the large and angrily shaken rattles at the end of its body gave him a pretty good clue.

Dean wrenched Sam away in one motion and frantically searched his brother for signs of a bite. "Did it get you? Were you bitten?"