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Chapter Text

"Well, I know one thing. And that's that Baby does not like snow any more than I do." Dean kept a white knuckled grip on the steering wheel of the Impala; whether it was the elevation that was making his breathing short and quick was yet to be determined. Dean's baby might have been a classic beauty, but her turn radius was not made for driving up twisty, two-lane mountain roads. It had been a harrowing couple hours drive they had spent heading up to the ski lodge in northern Vermont which an old hunting buddy of Bobby's now owned, retired from his previous job. They had gotten the call several days before and Bobby's friend had asked if he would be interested taking a job at the ski lodge. Apparently they had had a rash of strange deaths in the past month, bodies of skiers disappearing, only to be found upon later searching torn apart, and strewn through the woods. Local law enforcement was blaming bears or cougars, but it was obvious from the pictures he had sent them that the claw marks were too big to be either. So they packed their stuff and Sam and Dean decided to go along with Bobby.

Castiel had also come along, which had surprised Dean, but he didn't ask. Maybe the angel just wanted a break from trying to figure out apocalyptic issues for the moment and get into a hunt. Dean knew that he had been suffering from his weakening grace and that he took every opportunity to keep himself from feeling worthless, and hunting seemed to help so Dean never said anything against it. Besides, he would be glad to have another man on the job.

"Turn right up here, Dean," Bobby told him, looking at the map. "It's just down this road."

"Finally," Sam groaned from the backseat. Dean cast a look at him and Cas in the rearview mirror. Sam never got car sick, but he looked a little queasy. Dean couldn't blame him. He had never been good with heights and looking at some of the drop offs this road had offered, made him want to wet himself. He would be just as glad as everyone else to get to the ski lodge. He would much rather go up against a flesh eating monster than drive another ten minutes on this road.

The ski lodge was a warm glow in the darkening sky, and Dean breathed an instant sigh of relief as he saw it. Driving up the mountain had been bad enough in the daylight; he definitely didn't want to do it in the dark. He pulled into a parking space and they got out, quickly grabbing their bags and hastening into the warmth of the lodge.

Dean brushed snow out of his hair as they got in the door, and he looked around as he set his duffle bag on the floor. It was your typical ski lodge, warm fireplace in the lounge and decorated with furs and plaid and all that mountain cabin stuff. Kind of cheesy, but they had been promised one of the large family suites to stay in which far surpassed anyplace he and Sam usually stayed.

They were greeted by a pretty young woman in a cream turtleneck sweater, standing at the front desk.

"Welcome to Moose Ski lodge, are you checking in?"

Bobby went up to her. "We're friends of Donald Blackwater, I believe he reserved a suite under Singer."

"I'll just check and make sure everything is set," she said.

"Hey Bobby! Long time no see!"

Bobby and the others turned to see a man with greying hair and a slight limp coming up to them from one of the back offices.

Bobby stepped forward with a smile and clasped hands with the man. "You bet, Don. Last time I saw you was out in Flagstaff, taking care of that werewolf epidemic."

"That was a hairy one," Donald chuckled and turned to the other three men. "I see you brought some wingmen."

Bobby stepped back to introduce the others. "These are John Winchester's boys, Sam and Dean, and that's their buddy Cas."

Donald shook hands with them all in greeting. "Good to finally meet you boys, I met your father a while back when I was still hunting." He cocked his head at Castiel. "No offense, Cas, but you don't look like you're ready for hiking through snow." He motioned to the business suit, trench coat and haphazard tie.

"I don't get cold," Castiel said simply.

"He's a bit of an odd one," Bobby told Donald quickly.

"Well, anyway, Sandra here should have your room all ready, and after you get your stuff put away, we can head to the dining room, and I'll talk to you about the job."

"Yes, please," Dean grinned. The harrowing trip up the mountain had left him ravenous.

The room was indeed huge with three bedrooms (Cas obviously didn't sleep) and a wraparound sofa in the middle of the main room with a pit fireplace in the middle.

"This is awesome, we should always work for your old friends, Bobby," Dean said with a grin as he opened the door to his room and threw his bag inside.

"They don't all retire early and buy a ski lodge," Bobby told him. "Most of them die on the job or go crazy."

Sam laughed. "What's that say about you, Bobby?"

Bobby smirked. "Oh, I'm definitely crazy to stick around with you two idjits." He smacked Sam playfully across the back of the head and they left the room.

The dining room was cozy and smelled wonderful. There were only a few lodgers there, either because they were a little late to the meal or maybe they had just cut their vacations short due to the people getting savagely killed by the 'local wildlife'—That could definitely put a damper on things.

Donald waved them over to a large table in the corner and they ordered their food before getting to business.

"So how many deaths have there been?" Sam asked.

"Three so far, all within the space of two weeks," Donald told him. "And definitely too big to be a wildcat and we don't have grizzlies up here and I can't see a black bear doing that."

"So what are you thinking, wendigo?" Dean asked him.

"That's what I thought at first, but wendigos don't usually leave their kills out like that. And they…well, they eat more of it. These bodies were pretty much just ripped apart, some flesh, some organs eaten. Not a werewolf either, before you ask. All the bodies had their hearts—or parts of them."

"Have you heard of anything else that might do that?" Sam asked with a frown. Dean could almost see him itching to research.

"Abominable snowman?" Donald joked, shaking his head. "Honestly boys, I don't know. I wish I could go out there with you, but I'd never make it with this leg." He slapped his right knee regrettably. "Got that while hunting a rugaru a few years back. Nearly tore my leg off."

"Well, you could certainly take my place," Dean told him. "I'm not looking forward to tromping through the snow for however long it takes to find this thing and gank it."

Donald gave him a rueful smile. "Well, you're gonna have to get used to it. It's snowing afresh out there and it's not likely to stop by morning. You'll have a fine powder to tromp through. We'll get you outfitted with snowshoes, and warm clothes."

Dean gave him a tight smile, cursing inwardly. Sure, he wanted to gank this thing, but he was beginning to regret agreeing to this job. He hated the cold.

They finished their dinner and went to make an early night of it, knowing they would have to be up early preparing for their trip the next day.

"Keep it down out here, Cas," Dean called to his friend as the angel took up residence on the sofa.

"I don't think I'll wake you," Castiel replied and Dean watched him slump back against the cushions, a frown forming between his eyes. If Cas was still weakening, how long would it be before he started needing to sleep and to eat? Would he completely regress to being human? More importantly in their present situation, would he get cold? But he wouldn't sleep at all if he continued worrying (not that he ever slept well anymore anyway) so he decided it was time to just put his brain to rest as well as possible with no worries, and if that didn't work there was always the standby in the well equipped liquor cabinet.

However, the cozy plaid covered bed and flannel sheets seemed to work well enough and before he knew it, it was time to get up, and he realized he had been able to sleep with a minimum of nightmares.

He found everyone already gathered in the main room after he had dressed and ventured out. Bobby gave him a small smile.

"Time to head down for some breakfast, then we'll get Don to suit us up."

"Can't wait," Dean grumbled. If there was anything he hated worse than snow it was snow-appropriate clothing. Too bulky to walk properly, let alone be able to fight and run in. But he didn't want to freeze either. He could only hope that they got this hunt over with as quickly as possible with minimal issues.

Like that would ever happen.

Breakfast perked him up though; hot, dark coffee, accompanied by pancakes and eggs and sausage. And of course, maple syrup to pour over it all, which caused Sam to wrinkled his nose.

"Eat, dude," Dean muttered to Cas who was staring at his plate curiously. "It's not going to hurt you."

Cas carefully picked up his fork and took a cautious bite of pancake, obviously deciding it wasn't terrible as he continued. Dean watched him a few moments with that big brother look to make sure he was eating, before he turned at the arrival of Donald who sat at their table with a mug of coffee in his hand.

"How'd you sleep?" he asked them.

"Well, enough, thank you," Sam told him, even though the kid didn't look like he had slept at all. Dean knew he was having nightmares; just a typical side effect of being a Winchester.

"Well, that's good because you'll be trekking for a while out there. I've drawn up maps for you of all the places the bodies were found. Most of them were around our highest slope, the one the professionals use. It's pretty densely wooded around there and it's no wonder the thing, whatever it is, can hide well enough. The three bodies we found were about half a mile off the path on the east side." He handed Sam the map and the younger Winchester studied it.

"Well, let's just hope we can get this over with first time out," Bobby said and put down his silverware. "If everyone's done, we should go get suited up."

They followed Donald to the ski shop that was part of the lodge. Apparently a lot of people who came didn't have the right equipment. Dean snorted at all the fancy snowsuits and skis that covered the racks and walls. Definitely not made with hunters in mind, as they would all make you stand out like a beacon.

"Take whatever you need, it's on the house," Donald told them. "You fellows are doing us a huge favor, so I figure the lodge can pay for your equipment."

Dean searched for something that wasn't too shouty, and finally settled on black, a pair of waterproof snow pants and insulated parka that were less horrible than the rest. Besides that they were all equipped with heavy snow boots with snowshoes because none of them really wanted to go skiing. It was never a good idea to have things that would trip you on your feet when you were planning on running from monsters. Of course, the snowshoes might prove just as deadly, Dean thought, eying them with trepidation.

"Cas, come on," Dean called, seeing the angel standing there in the middle of the shop, just looking around. He frowned at Dean.

"But I don't…"

"Come on, man, when in Rome. Everyone will just think you're weird if you don't wear the snow gear. Besides, you'll look like a dweeb out there in the snow with your trench coat and tie."

Cas frowned again, cocking his head to one side. "You…think I'm a…dweeb?"

"All the time," Dean told him with a grin, clapping him on the shoulder and helping him pick out an outfit.

Before long they were all kitted out in their snow gear, even Cas who seemed slightly uncomfortable in the change of clothing, tugging at the sleeve he kept his angel blade in. Dean couldn't blame him; he felt like he was wearing a down mattress. However, he was distracted when Sam approached in a white suit, causing him to snort with laughter.

"Dude, you look like the Stay-Puffed Marshmallow Man," he chuckled.

Sam gave him the 'bitchface' and Dean smothered his laughter and turned around, striking a pose. "Does this make my butt look big?"

"Of course, it provides extra padding, Dean," Castiel said matter-of-factly.

Dean shook his head at the angel. "Dude, you are never going to get a girl if you say things like that."

"If you girls are done sharing fashion tips, we've got a monster to hunt," Bobby said as Donald came over to them and handed out pairs of snowshoes.

"You should be able to move pretty well in these," he told them. "In any case, it will be better than just the boots, especially in that powder snow out there today. It's cold and crisp, so you at least shouldn't have to worry about ice too much unless it warms up later, but I doubt it will."

"Great," Dean said with false enthusiasm, and tucked his snowshoes under his arm, heading with the others to collect the rest of their gear. They each had a backpack with supplies and provisions in it in case they got caught out longer than they planned. They also all carried backup weapons and other 'specialty items' not knowing what kind of monster they were up against and wanting to be prepared for anything.

"Well, no sense in wasting daylight," Bobby told them as they stood outside the lodge, skullcaps pulled tight over their ears in the cold morning air and their parka hoods over top of that.

"We can take the ski lift up," Sam told them, pointing to one side. "That will make it a bit easier at least."

They tramped in the crunchy snow over to the ski lift and rode it up to the top of the mountain. Dean gripped the side bar tightly and pressed his back as close as possible to the back of the bench, closing his eyes. Sam, who sat next to him, looked over.

"Dean, you all right?" he asked quietly.

"Don't talk to me," Dean grunted. "I'm trying either not to freak or barf right about now."

Sam smiled and turned away, leaving his brother to his own misery. It wouldn't be too much farther; at least that was what Dean hoped.

It really was a tall mountain, and Dean was definitely glad they would not be skiing on it. The last thing he wanted to do in this already horrible hunt, was ski down the mountain and break his neck trying to get away from the monster.

They took a moment when they stopped to situate their packs and get their snowshoes on, having to help each other do it. Dean couldn't help but laugh, watching Cas try them out. The angel looked like a baby horse, staggering around and falling in the snow every few seconds, unbalanced by the backpack he carried and the snowshoes on his feet. He glared at Dean as he forced himself back to his feet.

"I'm not accustomed to hiking in the snow," he said defensively.

"It's okay, Cas," Sam told him, putting a hand under his elbow to steady him. "You'll get used to it."

Dean was still chuckling when he himself slipped and fell on his backside in a snowdrift; he got up, cursing, as everyone laughed, Cas even cracking a smile.

"Whatever, let's just get this over with," he grumbled as they made their way on a sideways path down the mountain, slightly parallel to the ski slope.

Donald had told them he had closed this slope for the day, telling lodgers it was for safety purposes so at least they wouldn't have to worry about any skiers getting attacked. No, the monster would just be out for their meat, it seemed.

They made their way into the trees, which were densely spread over the mountain as Donald had said. Dean shook his head, wondering what would happen if someone flew off the ski trail. They'd be wrapped around a tree in an instant before the monster would get to them. He couldn't believe people did this kind of thing for fun. It was stupid.

They hiked laboriously toward the first spot where a body had been found, of course once they got there, it was impossible to tell anything had happened. So much snow had fallen over the area, any sign of the creature was long gone.

"This is a waste of time, we're not going to find anything," Dean groused as he hiked his shotgun higher on his shoulder, his hands starting to get cold even inside the insulated gloves he wore and he could hardly feel his face anymore.

"Hold on a second," Sam called from a few yards away. He was looking up at something in the trees and the others went to join him.

"What did you find?" Bobby asked.

"Those look a little high for deer or moose, right?" Sam said, pointing to some deep, and more importantly, fresh, gouges in a tree trunk, about ten feet off the ground.

"Yeah, I'd say," Bobby said wryly as he stepped closer to inspect the marks. "Not to mention they are definitely claw marks."

"Look like the same ones found on the bodies," Dean agreed, shuddering, and not just from the cold. If the placement of the marks was any indication, this thing was huge, and obviously territorial.

"It does look a bit like the kind of marks a wendigo would leave," Sam mused. "Is it possible it could be one gone rogue? I mean, they're very intelligent creatures, who's to say some don't go totally crazy and stop acting like a normal wendigo."

"Well, if it is, at least I brought a flame thrower," Dean said with a grin. He would actually be glad to find out this was a wendigo. It would mean there wasn't another huge, angry fugly out in the world creating carnage for them to clean up.

"Let's check out the other spots and see if we can find any more evidence," Bobby suggested and they hiked off to the other locations of the victims.

The other two spots gave the same result as the first. Snow covered anything they might have found useful, but they did find several more claw marks on the trees nearby the places of the killings. Bobby craned his neck back, looking up at the tall trees that grew around them, partially blocking out the sunlight.

"This is quite a way off the path from the ski trail," he mused. "I doubt the skiers came in here on purpose."

"The creature must have taken them," Castiel agreed, looking around with a frown on his face. "Perhaps, it laid in wait for them."

"That's what I was thinking," Bobby said. "Though why drag them off the path?"

"Maybe it was headed home," Sam said and pointed to another set of the scratch marks a few trees away, heading back toward the top of the mountain. "I think we should see if we can follow these marks. Maybe it will lead us to where this thing lives. It must have somewhere it holes up."

"And we know it's not nocturnal," Dean added. "It's made all the kills we know about during the day. So it might be out now and we can give it a little warm welcome when it comes back."

"Let's take a break and have something to eat and drink first," Bobby suggested. "Got to keep hydrated."

They didn't argue, already tired from tramping through the deep snow. Even Cas seemed relieved to sit down for a few minutes and take off the heavy backpack.

Dean cast his eyes over the forest as he chewed on some beef jerky. He really hoped they would be able to find this thing today. He had a really bad feeling being out here in the cold woods on top of a mountain with something that had already brutally killed three people out and about. Sure, it wasn't like he hadn't been in similar situations many times before, but there was a big difference between knowing what you were hunting and being completely surprised when a normal shotgun shell didn't put a dent in whatever was chasing you down about to tear your guts out and eat them like spaghetti.

He sighed as they began to pack up again and got back on the trail. He hauled Cas out of the snow and then nearly fell on Sam as his snowshoes got tangled together. Sam smirked as he caught his brother and settled him back on his feet.

"Dude, you really need to learn how to walk in those."

"I friggin hate the snow," Dean grumbled as he tried to balance his pack again and leaned far forward as they continued to trudge up the mountain, so that he wouldn't fall backwards and slide down to the bottom—if he wasn't stopped by a tree first.

They were all panting from the high elevation, laboring up the slope. Bobby grumbled something about being too old for this, and Dean didn't even have enough breath to tease him.

It started out so low that none of them noticed, until Dean felt a tremor under his feet and halted, wondering if it was just him.

"Hold up, guys," he commanded.

"What is it?" Sam asked.

"Do you feel that?"

They all waited a few seconds in silence and Dean concentrated on the ground under his feet, but didn't feel anything again. He shrugged. "Never mind, I guess I was imagining things."

A roar behind them sounded out and they all spun around, Dean only barely keeping his balance.

"Well, that was definitely something," Bobby commented. "And not far enough away for comfort."

Dean reached behind him and grabbed his shotgun, noticing the others had done the same and Cas' angel blade was now in his hand.

"Something is not right," the angel said slowly, his eyes narrowed as he looked around at the surrounding woods.

"That's got to be our monster," Bobby told them. "Are we gonna go get it, or are we gonna stand here and wait for it to make a buffet of us?"

"Bobby, wait," Cas told him when a rumble sounded, low and guttural, and this time it was not a monster who made it, but the mountain itself.

"Please tell me that is not what I think it is," Dean gulped, his knees buckling as the rumbling intensified, determined to knock them off their feet.

"Avalanche!" Bobby shouted as they cast their gazes upward and saw the snow tumbling down the mountain toward them, looking lazy but oh, so deadly.

"Find shelter, get behind a tree or something!" Sam called to them.

"Head for the deeper parts of the woods, more trees will slow the flow," Bobby shouted.

Bobby pulled Cas into a run as they all barreled down the mountain, looking for any place they might be able to find shelter from the snow, but it was coming too fast, and there was no way they were going outrun it. Dean resigned himself to the imminent impact and only hoped it would take the monster they were hunting out with them. As if they could be so lucky.

"Sammy!" he cried, reaching out for his floundering little brother, and Sam tried to lunge for his hand, but Dean slipped and rolled several yards downward, hauling himself upright as quickly as possible only to see the snow on them and swallowing up his brother.

"Sam!" he screamed before he too was hit with the wave of snow, all the air driven from his lungs. Everything was white, and he was tossed about for what seemed an eternity before he finally came to a stop, not knowing which way was up, and deciding he didn't really care, as he allowed himself to fall into blackness, lulled by the low rumble that echoed through the mountains.

Chapter Text

Castiel came to slowly. This was a feeling he was becoming more and more accustomed to, being injured more badly, being knocked unconscious. He had to admit, he didn't care for it much.

It took him a moment to remember what had happened. The avalanche had come, and he had tried to get to the others, hoping in some vain way that he could protect them, but he had only been able to reach Sam, half pull him from the snow before they were both buried in it and tumbled head over heels down the mountain. After that he only remembered something stopping him very violently then everything went blank.

He forced his eyes open, curious to see what had stopped him, and found that he was wrapped around the trunk of a tree. Somehow, he had managed not to be completely buried though, just a snow drift over his legs and hips, and for that he was very grateful. He groaned slightly, trying to shift, but he was still stuck fast and the movement made his body scream in pain. It was an all too human feeling and it shocked him. He coughed and something red spattered into the pure white snow in front of him. It took him a moment to realize it was blood. His blood.

He had to move, assess his injuries and try to heal them so he could find the others.

With great effort, he pushed himself away from the tree trunk and forced himself up until he was sitting against it. By that time he was gasping for breath and coughing more blood. He could feel most of his ribcage collapsed in on itself from the impact and winced as he yanked the gloves off his hands and was shocked to feel the bite of cold on his now bare fingers. He was far more weakened than he thought. He bit back a moan as he unzipped the coat and pressed a hand to his chest, summoning all the strength of his fading grace to heal his wounds. The snapping of his ribs as they healed was painful and made him light-headed, but he somehow managed to get them and his lungs back into one piece before he collapsed back against the tree, gasping for breath. There were other superficial injuries he could feel now that the worst was gone, many bruises everywhere and some dried blood in his hair, but they were not life threatening and he could not expend any more energy at the moment to heal them if he was going to find the others. A worrying thought suddenly came into his mind. What if they were injured as badly as he had been? Even if he had enough strength, he couldn't have healed them if he wanted to. He could only hope that that was not the case; that they were, indeed, fine.

He forced himself up onto his feet, zipping his coat up and pulling his gloves back on. He was cold, and he had never been cold before. This was not a good start. He looked around to see if there was any sign of his companions, but all he saw was a dark bit of fabric sticking out of the snow right in front of where he had lain. He quickly knelt and started shoving snow away from it, soon revealing it to be a backpack. He slumped in disappointment, even though he knew it was important to have, and he remembered throwing his off so he could run earlier. He grabbed it and pulled, only to find resistance. He frowned and pulled harder, but it wouldn't move. He quickly dug deeper and uncovered a shoulder and then a hand and a white snowsuit.

Digging upwards, he soon uncovered Sam's pale face, his hair covering his eyes, which were closed and looked frozen together. Castiel dug deeper, pulling the younger Winchester from his snowy prison, all the time, calling to him to see if he would wake.

"Sam," he finally slapped his face and was rewarded by a flinch and a sigh. Castiel pulled Sam's upper body against him and relieved him of the backpack, checking him for injuries, but could see none on his face or chest. Realization dawned on him, that he had actually been what had kept Sam from major injury, acting as a buffer between him and the tree. He was incredibly thankful their positions had not been reversed. Sam would have died with injuries like the ones Castiel had sustained.

"Sam, open your eyes," he commanded, pulling the hood of Sam's parka up around his face. He seemed to have lost his skullcap and Castiel knew he needed to stay warm. Sam moaned as Cas shook him slightly and his head lolled onto the angel's shoulder before his eyes fluttered open, looking up, confused at Castiel.

Cas smiled in relief. "Good to see you awake, Sam," he said truthfully.

"Wh-what happened?" Sam murmured, looking around.

"We were caught in an avalanche," Castiel explained. "We were not buried too deep."

Sam frowned as he caught sight of the blood that still covered Castiel's chin. "Are you bleeding?"

"I was able to heal myself," the angel explained. "Are you injured?"

Sam frowned. "I don't know. I'm too cold to feel anything."

Castiel stood and propped him against the tree. "Let's get up, I don't know where Dean and Bobby might be, but they likely need our assistance." He shouldered the backpack, figuring Sam was too weak to carry it and reached down for the younger Winchester's hands. Sam grabbed hold and was nearly on his feet before he cried out and slumped back into the snow.

"What's wrong?" Castiel asked worriedly, kneeling beside him. "Sam?"

His face had gone another shade paler and he was breathing hard through gritted teeth. "My-my ankle. I think it might be broken."

"Oh, Sam," Castiel said worriedly as he peered at Sam's ankle even though it didn't look any different in his boot. He noticed for the first time that neither of them had any snowshoes anymore. Perhaps losing them in the fall had caused Sam's ankle to wrench.

"Go find Dean and Bobby," Sam urged him. "I'll be fine here."

Castiel shook his head, reaching down again. "I'm not leaving you here, Sam, not with that creature roaming the woods. We'll find a place to rest, somewhere sheltered, and then I'll go out and look for them."

Sam didn't seem to have the energy to argue. He allowed Castiel to pull him to his feet, and leaned gratefully on his shoulder. Castiel wasn't sure where to go, but he hoped there might be some place sheltered nearby, maybe they could start a fire. Something warm would help both of them, and he'd need to get Sam's ankle tended to or it might get worse. In any case, they were in a dire situation, and he could only hope that Dean and Bobby were better off than they were at the moment.

~~~~~~~

Dean blinked groggily, his eyes feeling stiff, if that was at all possible, his eyelashes stuck to his cheeks. He groaned and tried to turn and wipe his eyes on his shoulder, but seemed unable to move. He coughed and grunted as he shifted more violently. Something fell on his face, startling him and he finally got his eyes open.

Everything was dark, and though he couldn't see, there was a closeness to his surroundings that he didn't like one bit. He couldn't move, he could hardly breathe, and he had no idea where he was. His mind went back to when he had gotten out of hell, woken up in a coffin. Panic settled in his chest and he tried to fight it back, but he hated tight spaces. His breathing was ragged in the close space and he wriggled as hard as he could, screaming in the tight space before he felt his arms moving more freely. Whatever he was stuck in, it was moveable. More of it fell onto his face, and into his mouth, cold, melting, and then he realized it was snow, and remembered what had happened. The avalanche. He must have been buried in it.

Not that that helped how he was feeling. He was still stuck under who knew how much snow, and could barely move, with no way of knowing which way was up or down. He vaguely remembered stories about people spitting to see which way it fell, but his mouth was too dry with fear, and he couldn't see anyway.

With a huge effort, panting for breath now in the tight space, he managed to free one arm, and clawed at the snow around his face, making a bigger hole. He felt pretty confident that he was facing upward, and so without further ado, he attacked the snow, trying to keep his panic at bay as he shoved it, only really succeeding in burying his lower body more.

Then something occurred to him. He still had his backpack, and with much maneuvering, he was able to reach for it, and pulled out his pistol. He yanked off his gloves to use it and forced his frozen hands to work. He pressed the muzzle of the gun up into the snow above his head and closed his eyes as he fired. Then he did the same several more times, hoping he might have loosened the snow.

He used the butt of the pistol to hack at the snow now, a bunch of it tumbling down on top of him. He was sweating under his snowsuit and he knew that wasn't good, that he would freeze when he got out into the wind again, but at the moment he didn't care about anything but getting out of the ground.

Another thought hit him then, as his panic subsided. Sammy. Sammy might be buried like this too. As if Dean needed any more incentive to get out of there, he fought even harder through the snow just with the thought of his little brother caught in a similar way. Sam didn't like tight spaces any more than he did.

Finally, he was rewarded for his labors as a large chuck of snow fell down into his lap and he was greeted by brilliant sunlight. Dean almost sobbed in relief and wriggled until his legs were free and then hauled himself out of the snow, collapsing in the powdery stuff and gasping for breath.

"I friggin' hate snow," he whimpered as he rolled onto his back and looked up at the sky. He allowed himself a few minutes to recover, checking his body for injuries, before he forced himself up, immediately falling to his knees in the deep drifts. He had lost a snowshoe and decided the other one wasn't going to do any good. He was surprised that one had stayed on. He hauled his backpack up higher on his shoulders and looked around, half hoping to see any one of the others tromping through the snow looking for him, but he knew it was too much to hope for. They were probably all just as stuck as he was. He only hoped they were similarly uninjured. It seemed the snow had done well enough to cushion Dean's descent. He had to admit it was good for that, if nothing else.

"Sam!" he cried anyway, his voice ragged, but echoing through the trees. Good thing he hadn't hit one of those. "Cas! Bobby! Sammy!" no one answered. He cursed and knew there was nothing else to do except go looking. He wondered how far down the mountain he had fallen. He had been too shook up to tell.

He kept calling, though not too loudly, as he didn't want to start another avalanche. Finally, at long last, someone answered his cries with a groan.

"Dean?"

Dean spun around and caught sight of a figure sitting against a rock. He ran as fast as he could, falling several times before he reached Bobby and crouched next to the old hunter.

"Bobby! Are you all right?" he asked, seeing the hunter holding his right arm close to his chest.

"Think my shoulder's dislocated, but besides that, I'm peachy," he grunted. "You find Sam and Cas?"

Dean shook his head, slumping back against the rock alongside Bobby in defeat. "No. I don't know if they might have gotten buried farther up, hell, they might be farther down. They might be dead. I can't move fast enough in this damn snow."

"Calm down, son," Bobby told him firmly. "Ain't nothing gonna get fixed if you keep fretting. First you gotta help me get this shoulder back into socket, and then we can see if we can find the others."

Dean sighed, but knew he was right. He shrugged off his pack and stood up in front of Bobby. He got his footing, and then grabbed the hunter's bad arm, bracing one foot against his chest.

"Ready? On three, one…two…" He yanked and felt the socket pop back into joint as Bobby yelled and spit several curses out as he curled in on himself. Dean gripped his good shoulder until he got his breath back, and Bobby finally pulled his head back up again.

"You sure you're good, Bobby?" Dean asked him, worried about his paled complexion.

"This ain't my first rodeo, boy. Now, help me up."

Dean allowed himself a small smile and pulled the older hunter up by his good arm, and decided to shoulder both their packs. Bobby wasn't happy about it, but he couldn't carry his with his shoulder. He did keep his shotgun though, not about to part with that, and refused the shoulder Dean offered him to lean on.

"I'm good, Dean, stop worrying about me. Let's go find that brother and angel of yours."

Dean nodded, he hoped Sam and Cas were all right. He shuddered at the thought of finding their frozen bodies buried deep in the snow, or worse, eaten by the creature they had come to hunt. He didn't want to think that Cas could be killed by an avalanche, but with his weakening grace, he had no idea what could happen to the angel, and neither did Cas himself.

"You think the avalanche did our job for us?" Dean asked Bobby hopefully.

"I hope so," the older hunter said. "It would certainly be one good thing that would come of this."

Dean nodded, but then, something caught the corner of his eye and he frowned, looking to the right.

"Did you see something?" he asked.

Bobby looked over in the same direction. "Not that I can say."

Dean swallowed hard, unable to let go of the feeling of being watched, and then he saw something again, and this time Bobby also turned in the same direction.

"I saw it that time," he said grimly.

A low growl sounded out from the dense trees and the two immediately grabbed their guns, Bobby wincing as he tried to maneuver his with mostly his left arm.

"I think we've got our answer to your question, Dean," Bobby told him grimly as a shadow revealed itself from among the trees. The two hunters stood their ground as it emerged from its covering. The creature stood easily twelve feet tall, covered in white fur with a vaguely humanoid form.

"What in blazes is that thing?" Bobby gasped.

"I think it might be an abominable snowman," Dean half-joked with a gulp, then as the creature opened its teeth-filled mouth and roared, he decided he wasn't joking anymore. It raised its hands, showing easily six-inch claws extending from each finger.

"Whatever it is, I think we'd have a better chance of running," Bobby shouted, as the thing leapt forward and the two hunters turned tail and ran, stumbling through the snow as it gave quick pursuit.

~~~~~~~

Castiel and Sam had finally stumbled across a sheltered cleft in some rocks, creating a kind of windbreak so they would be able to start a fire. Castiel sat Sam down, and hurriedly worked on clearing snow away from the ground as well as he could. He finally cleared a spot big enough for them to sit and make a small fire.

"I think there's some fire starters in my pack," Sam told him, rooting around in it.

"I'll fetch some wood," Castiel told him, and before long he was able to get a small fire going, the warmth working a good deal toward making him feel better and a little stronger. He knew he would need all the strength he could muster to be able to go out there and find Dean and Bobby. Walking through the snow was harder than he had thought it would be without the snowshoes, and he didn't think he could afford to use any of his power by flying. It wouldn't matter if he couldn't locate his friends, anyway.

After he and Sam had both drank a little water and put some on the fire to boil for coffee, he turned to the younger Winchester and decided there was no point in delaying the inevitable.

"We're going to have to get your boot off if I'm to see to your injury, Sam," he said quietly.

Sam nodded, wincing as he shifted so that his long limb was resting across Castiel's knees. The angel first tried to undo the boot laces, but after several tugs and Sam nearly passing out from the pain, he decided that wasn't going to work.

"You're going to have to cut it off," Sam gritted out. He was lying with his head on the pack, trying to keep his foot elevated as much as possible to keep the swelling down that he knew was causing the boot to have become so tight.

Castiel didn't hesitate to take his angel blade out and easily slit the boot down both sides before easing it from the injured limb. A touch told him all he needed to know as he felt the swelling ankle under the thick sock.

"It is broken," he confirmed grimly and Sam huffed in resignation. "Though it doesn't seem to be anything more than a simple fracture and should be all right if we can find something to brace it."

"There's stuff in the bag," Sam mumbled.

Castiel didn't like his weary tone. He knew he must be in pain, but he couldn't have him passing out, because he had to know if he was too cold; he knew that could be dangerous to an injured person. Humans were such delicate creatures, Castiel was continually amazed they survived at all, but if anyone was a testament to that, it was the Winchester brothers.

"Sam, I'm going to attempt to set it," he said.

Sam looked up, raising his head slightly to see Cas. "No offense, Cas, but are you sure you know what you're doing?"

"I've been…researching," Castiel said, somewhat sheepishly. "I've been reading about first aid and injury treatments on the internet. I thought it would be prudent to do so, now that I cannot heal you and your brother with my powers. You do have a tendency to get injured."

Sam let out a deep breath, his eyes softening through the pained haze as he looked up at his friend. Just another thing that Cas did for them that he shouldn't have had to do. "Do what you need to, Cas," he said, laying back and trying to brace himself for the pain.

Castiel nodded and didn't give much warning before he gave a sharp tug on Sam's foot and the younger Winchester screamed in pain, shooting to a sitting position. Cas gently took his shoulders and pressed him back down, noticing the young hunter was shivering and knowing that was not a good sign. "Just a bit longer, Sam," he urged, and pulled a blanket from the pack, tucking it over Sam's shuddering frame. He swiftly dug around for the first aid kit and pulled out several rolls of bandages and a splint and set to work before decided he had done all he could. He propped Sam's foot up to reduce the swelling and found some pain medicine in the kit as well. He shifted until he was sitting at Sam's head, the young man was panting, his eyes squeezed shut. Castiel tugged one of his gloves off and pressed his fingers under Sam's chin to feel a quick, reedy pulse.

"Sam," he called and the hunter's eyes opened slightly. "Try to take some of this medicine."

Sam nodded and allowed Castiel to raise his head and put the pills on his tongue, followed by a canteen of water. Sam swallowed and Cas left him for a minute to finish making the coffee. He had become fond of the bitter drink and for some reason, really craved the warmth it would offer him at that moment. He poured it from the pot into a cup and waited a second for it to cool before taking a gulp of it. It scalded his tongue slightly but he took another grateful sip before he set his cup aside and poured another for Sam.

"Try and drink some of this, you have to stay warm," he told the young man, and pulled his head and shoulders up into the crook of his arm, holding the cup for him to drink from. Sam didn't argue and sipped the hot coffee gladly. His shivering subsided after about half the cup was drunk and Castiel relaxed a bit. But he was still worried that Sam wasn't strong enough to be left on his own. He knew he needed to make sure Dean and Bobby were all right, but he also knew that Dean would be even more upset if he abandoned his little brother out in the cold while he was injured and half delirious. Cas decided to wait a few hours, though it pained him to do so, knowing that could be crucial to the survival of his friends, but he couldn't quite justify leaving Sam alone, unable to run if the monster decided to hunt them instead of the other way around. It seemed his situation had no real silver lining to it.

He went to add more wood to the fire, and stared into it, feeling the warmth on his strangely cold cheeks. He was still feeling cold, still feeling all too human. He cautiously pulled up a sleeve and found a huge purple bruise on his forearm where it had been aching since he woke up. He concentrated on healing it for a few seconds but the process was much slower than it should have been. He sat back, worry stealing over him. It was taking him longer and longer to regain his strength after doing anything anymore. He wondered grimly, how long it would be before everything just dwindled away completely.

His dour thoughts were suddenly interrupted by a loud roar that echoed through the mountains.

Sam jerked awake and scrambled for a weapon that was not there.

"What was that?" he gasped, wincing as his movement jarred his ankle.

"I think it was whatever we're supposed to be hunting," Castiel said grimly.

"Do—do you think it found Dean and Bobby?" Sam asked quietly.

"I don't know," Castiel said, standing up, his angel blade automatically in his hand. "We'll be ready for it if it comes though."

Sam slumped back, not looking reassured at all, and if Castiel was being honest, neither was he. He only knew one thing and that was that they needed to get off this mountain as quickly as possible, or none of them were going to come back alive.

~~~~~~~

Dean and Bobby ran full tilt down the mountain, the only way they could go fast enough to hope to escape the monster pursuing them. They continuously stumbled, sometimes sliding more than running, and once Dean fell and rolled several feet before he regained his footing seconds before being crushed against a tree trunk. This was not what he had had in mind when he'd set out on this hunt. In fact, nothing about this hunt had gone right so far. He would never take a job in the snow again. Ever.

Bobby tripped and sprawled in the snow, shouting in pain as his injured shoulder protested the movement. Dean reached down the help him up, but before he could get the older hunter to his feet again, the monster was roaring, charging down on top of them. Dean didn't have time for anything but raising his shotgun and blasting it. He thought the bullets hit, but the monster didn't even falter. Bobby grabbed his arm and yanked him downhill again.

"Come on, ya idjit, what are you just standing there for?!"

They ran flat out again and finally couldn't keep their feet any longer; a particularly steep part defeated them and they tumbled several yards before skidding to a stop. Dean hauled himself up, throwing off the heavy packs so he could move, chocking on the snow that had forced its way into his mouth, just in time to see the angry yeti or whatever it was, bear down on them.

"Bobby!" he yelled, gaining his feet at the same time the older hunter did, reloading his shotgun and hoping for a better hit this time, going for a headshot.

Bobby got there first, the reverberations of the gunshot echoing around the mountains. This time, the creature obviously reeled from the hit to the shoulder, but it regrouped all too quickly, even more angry now, and swatted Bobby with the back of its hand as if he were a fly, flinging him into a tree before the hunter slid to the ground.

"Bobby!" Dean cried and snarled at the creature that was now turning to him. "Come get me you son of a bitch!" he shouted, raising his shotgun again and waiting until the thing charged him before shooting right at its eye.

He shot at just the same moment the thing swiped him with its claws and his shot went wide. Dean was flung roughly to skid through the snow, his gun knocked from his hands and all the breath torn from his body. He rolled over and over before coming to rest on his face, gagging for breath, his stomach and chest feeling oddly on fire in the cold snow.

"Hey ugly!" he heard Bobby yell and forced his eyes up to see the old hunter holding a grenade of all things and flinging it at the creature before quickly ducking behind a tree. Dean quickly covered his head with his arms, bracing himself for the explosion. The monster, angry, ran right toward it just as it exploded. The thing howled in rage and hopefully pain, and staggered back, before it started running full tilt up the mountain again, seeming to decide that a retreat was in order.

"Dean!" Bobby cried as he staggered over to the younger man, practically falling beside him.

Dean was still winded, huffing for breath, he grinned at Bobby. "Grenades? Seriously?"

"Saving it for a special occasion," Bobby told him, grabbing him by the shoulders. "Now come on, kid, let me see the damage."

"I ain't hurt," Dean huffed out, but as he said it he looked up and saw the imprints his body had made through the snow, a splash of red in each one. Confused, he allowed Bobby to turn him onto his back, seeming to be too weak to do so himself, and heard the older hunter curse under his breath.

"Balls. It really got you, son," he said in a hushed voice. "You're damn lucky it didn't gut you, though it came close enough."

Dean craned his head to look down at himself, first seeing the pool of blood he had been lying in, and then the mess that was the front of his parka. It took him a moment to make out that most of it had been torn away and what he was looking at was the bare skin of his stomach that had been crossed by four deep gashes that were bleeding heavily.

"Damn," Dean breathed weakly. The wounds hadn't hurt until he looked at them, but now… He curled up, a moan escaping his lips as Bobby grabbed a blanket from one of the packs and pressed it to Dean's stomach, only making it hurt worse.

"Well, that's that, then," he said. "We'll have to get you fixed up and hope that thing doesn't come back to finish the job. Dean? Dean, stay with me, kid, don't you dare make me carry your ass out of here."

Dean tried to listen, but all he seemed able to manage was taking a tight grip on Bobby's jacket and giving him a reassuring grimace, before he passed out.

Chapter Text

The roar Sam and Castiel had heard echoing through the mountains was followed by several gunshots that actually worked to put their minds to ease a bit. But only a small bit. Because while it might have indicated Dean or Bobby, and hopefully both of them, were free of the snow and alive, it also meant that whatever they were hunting was likely after them and they might be in even more trouble now than they were after the avalanche.

After a particularly big explosion that made both Sam and the angel jump, followed by silence, the younger Winchester swallowed hard and looked at Castiel.

"Do you think they got it?" he asked quietly.

Castiel turned to him and was pained to see how young Sam looked, hurt and scared for his older brother and surrogate uncle. He wanted to do everything he could to reassure him, but those human things such as emotions, the more delicate things, were still quite far from his reach, while of course things like pain and cold could be easily felt. It made him feel all the more worthless. He could never be what Sam needed right now, which was Dean. Dean would know exactly how to calm his little brother, but Castiel would just have to try as best he could and hope he didn't make a mess of it as usual.

"Dean and Bobby are both very good hunters, Sam," he said, forcing a small smile, and hoping it looked reassuring. "I'm sure they'll be fine." He reached out and put a tentative hand on Sam's shoulder, patting it awkwardly. Sam watched the awkward hand a second then he too forced a smile, likely trying to let Cas know he was doing okay, even if the angel was failing to make him feel less anxious.

"Thanks, Cas. I know, I'm sure they'll be fine. I just wish we could go help them." He grunted, trying to sit up and Castiel hurriedly pushed him back down.

"You need to keep your foot above your heart to keep the swelling down," he said firmly.

Sam huffed, but lay back down. "Look, Cas, I don't need a babysitter. I think it would be best if you went looking for Dean and Bobby."

"Sam, I can't leave you here alone," Castiel told him, shaking his head. "You can't run, and we still don't know what kills this creature. Perhaps bullets won't work."

Sam closed his eyes with a sigh. "I don't know what to do then."

Castiel slumped by his side, feeling more worthless now than he usually did. He put more wood on the fire and reached for the coffee pot, thinking.

"Maybe you could go back to the lodge and send help," Sam suggested. "You could just mojo yourself there right? Fly there and back in a few minutes. Don should be able to gather a couple people to help look for Dean and Bobby."

Castiel sighed deeply. "I don't know if I can, Sam. I…I expended a good bit of my energy healing the injuries I sustained. I am feeling very…human at the moment."

Sam reached out and gripped Castiel's knee reassuringly. "It's okay, Cas. It's not your fault."

"I just feel worthless, I don't like it," the angel confided wearily. "Just thinking that this, my fading grace, will only get worse—it scares me, and that makes me…frustrated because there's nothing I can do about it."

Sam watched him carefully, he had come, like Dean, to see the angel as a good friend, pretty much another brother—family. He knew how hard it had been for Castiel to give up his own family for the sake of the Winchesters, and now his voicing the reality that his powers would continue to fade, and that he was scared, really let Sam know that Cas saw them as family too.

"Cas," he said quietly. "Look, I'm feeling better than before, I can at least use a gun. Whatever it is out there is obviously occupied with Dean and Bobby right now. This might be the best opportunity we'll get. Why don't you go and see if you can find them, lend them a hand, and I'll stay here. If I need something, I'll send up a flare."

"Sam, I—" Cas started, but seeing the insistence in Sam's eyes, he sighed and finally nodded. He knew that the best thing to do for the younger Winchester was find his family, and he decided he was just going to have to take that risk. "Very well. But don't hesitate to signal if you see anything."

"I won't," Sam sat himself up so he was leaning against the rocks. Castiel put the shotgun and a box of ammunition in his lap, and clasped his shoulder before he left.

"I'll bring them back, Sam," he assured the young man and Sam gave him a smile that, if a little forced, was genuine.

"Thanks, Cas. And, for the record, you're not worthless. Ever. Whether you have your mojo or not."

Cas looked at him, something akin to amusement in his face. "I believe that is what Dean would call a 'chick flick moment'."

Sam chuckled. "Yeah, it probably is."

"Be safe, Sam," Castiel said, then took up his angel blade and went off through the deep snow again.

Sam watched him until he disappeared down the mountain, then looked to the west where he saw the sun was getting lower and lower in the sky. They only had a couple hours of daylight left. He hoped Cas could find Dean and Bobby before then, otherwise they were probably all screwed.

~~~~~~~

"Dean, I need you up, come on son!"

Dean woke with a sharp gasp, jerking halfway upright before he regretted it. The pain that tore across his stomach took his breath away and he slumped back to the ground, shivering suddenly.

Bobby was standing over him, and suddenly a heavy pack was tossed down beside Dean's shoulder, Bobby following soon enough with a grunt. The older hunter spent a moment, tenderly cradling his injured arm, before he turned to the pack and began to rummage through it.

Dean swallowed hard and didn't protest as Bobby put the extra pack under his head. "Where are we?" he asked, his voice a croak. He looked around and saw it was some sort of cave.

"We got lucky," Bobby told him grimly. "I found this cave not too far from where you fainted."

Dean scrunched his nose up at the term. "Hey, I lost a lot of blood."

"Yeah, you did, and you're still losing it, especially since I had to drag you here since I only had one hand and you decided to play sleeping beauty." The gruffness in Bobby's voice did little to hide his worry; Dean had known him too long not to be able to tell. He craned his neck to try and see his wounds but they were covered by a blanket torn into strips to stop the bleeding.

"How bad is it?" he asked, not sure he really wanted to know the answer.

Bobby was silent as he fished out a first aid kit. "Your guts aren't showin' but that's about all you've got to be thankful for. You're gonna need about a million stitches."

Dean looked over and noticed that Bobby had managed to set up the small camp stove they had brought and was boiling water on it. He dropped a needle and thread into it to sterilize and Dean swallowed hard, knowing this was not going to be fun. He wasn't a stranger to crude first aid—it was actually a plus when he didn't have to stitch himself up—but that didn't mean he ever had to like it.

He allowed Bobby to help him out of the torn parka, and lay on it to pad the hard floor of the cave. He didn't protest until Bobby started unwrapping the makeshift bandages and rolling his torn and blood soaked shirts up so he could work on the wounds. The cold that hit Dean's skin chilled him to the bone and he let out a hushed curse.

"I'll try to do this as quickly as possible," Bobby assured him. "But it would be nice if my right arm was in better condition. I can't promise my embroidery will be as pretty with my left."

Dean snorted and finally steeled himself to look down at his torn skin. He probably shouldn't have because it was not a pretty sight. The monster's claws had caught him from his right hip across to his left ribcage. Bobby was right, he was lucky his guts were still inside of him. Another half inch deeper and it would have been a different story. At least the bleeding seemed to have stopped for the most part. The two lower gouges, which were the deepest and cut right across his hipbone, were still bleeding sluggishly, but at least it didn't seem like any arteries were hit.

Bobby got the pot of boiling water and tore a few strips off the other blanket to use as rags.

"All right, just don't hit me," Bobby told Dean as he dipped the rag into the scalding water and began to wash the wounds.

Dean cried out and cursed as Bobby worked, washing the wounds as well as he could and finally turning Dean onto his side so he could flush them with the rest of the water. Dean fought his control not to curl up into a ball to escape the torture, but it was finally over and Bobby left him panting on his back for a few seconds to ready everything else.

"You with me, kid?" he asked softly.

Dean grunted, or tried to, but it came out as more of a whimper.

Bobby took a moment to wipe the sweat from Dean's forehead and neck before he gently dabbed the wounds dry. He reached into his pack again and brought out a flask. He opened it and took one sip himself before he raised Dean's head.

"Open up," he ordered and Dean didn't argue, gladly gulping the burning liquor. He didn't have the heart to tell Bobby it was going to take a lot more than that to dull the pain. It wasn't like he was sixteen anymore. Bobby took another swig then pressed down firmly on Dean's chest before he emptied the rest of the flask's contents over a rag and dabbed the wounds again.

Dean arched his back and screamed in shock at the pain he hadn't been expecting. He grabbed Bobby's wrist, but the older hunter firmly pushed his hands to one side as he continued the cleaning.

"Damn it, Bobby," Dean gasped when he could breathe again.

"Don't know where that thing's claws have been."

Dean huffed and slumped back, closing his eyes. He wished they had about five more bottles of whisky.

Once Bobby had finished dabbing the wounds as clean as they would get, he gathered the needle and thread and met Dean's eyes before he got to work.

"Now don't go squirming on me, because I'm not gonna lie, this will take a while, and it's not much fun for me either. You know how I hate having to put you two boys back together."

"I know, Bobby," Dean sighed tiredly, laying back and clenching his hands tightly against his thighs. "Just do what you gotta. I'll stay still."

Bobby exhaled slowly, and then started the first stitch, feeling Dean tense under him. It did not feel good to have the needle pass through the tender skin made even more tender by the scalding water that had been used to clean it.

It took the better part of an hour for Bobby to stitch the long wounds closed to his preference and couldn't have gone much farther than that anyway, because the daylight was fading and the camp lantern they had brought didn't offer the best lighting for delicate work. By the time he was done, Dean was lying still, too tired to even feel pain anymore, his eyes closed and his breathing shallow, unconsciously keeping from moving his stomach muscles as much as possible. Bobby sighed as he watched Dean for a minute, hating to have to stir him again. The kid looked too pale from blood loss, his freckles stark on his face making him look all too young for the old hunter's liking.

He wrapped the ruined parka as well as he could around Dean's shoulders and then supplemented it with the other blanket, but knew it was not nearly enough to keep Dean properly warm through the night, not with all the blood he'd lost. Bobby decided cooking some coffee would be a good idea, get a little warmth into the both of them.

He washed his cold, bare hands in some snow, shuddering as it turned pink from Dean's blood. He hated it when his kids got hurt, and even more when it was on his watch. He only hoped Sam was safe and maybe Cas was with him. He refused to think of anything else, especially when Dean was lying there half gutted with half his blood drained in the snow on the way to the cave.

Bobby started the coffee and fished out a couple cups. When it was done, he sat by Dean's head and put a hand on his cheek to wake him. Dean startled, and his eyes, dulled with pain, looked up at the older hunter reproachfully.

"Sorry to wake you, son, but how about you try and get some coffee into you? It will warm you up."

Dean winced as Bobby sat him up against his chest and wrapped the younger man's hands around the warm cup. Dean's hands shook too much to drink though, and Bobby had to help him get it to his mouth. After a few sips, Dean stopped shuddering as much but he was still paler than Bobby liked and he decided to stay sitting with Dean propped against him. If he could share a little body heat, that would be something, he guessed. Dean was in no state to protest anyway, he was out again as soon as Bobby took the cooling coffee away from him, his head lolling against his shoulder. Bobby didn't like this at all. There was no way he would leave Dean out here alone, and the trail of blood he had left getting him here was already enough to lead the monster to them. He had no idea how he was going to get help at all, not for a few more hours until Don realized something must have happened to them and sent out a search party—they must have known about the avalanche, they would have heard it. Even then, there was no telling whether they would get there, or find them before the monster decided it needed a snack. If they were lucky, Sam and-or Cas might have run for help or were out looking for Bobby and Dean. That is if they weren't in a worse state themselves.

Bobby groaned, sitting back against the cave wall with Dean slumped against him. He winced as his shoulder protested. The only good thing about the cold was that it was keeping the swelling down. There was nothing he could do except settle in for a long wait.

And then things went from bad to worse as he heard the sound of something moving out in the trees. Something big. And the grunting and growling told him it was not a human, or any normal animal that would be out in these mountains. Of course, he knew instantly what it was.

"Balls," he cursed in resignation as the last light of day was blotted out from the cave entrance.

~~~~~~~

Sam sat alert in the small alcove, his rifle clasped tightly in his hands. He anxiously watched the setting sun and listened for any indication of fighting or, even better, Cas coming back with Dean and Bobby, but as the day dragged on closer and closer to its closing, he felt more and more frightened about what might have happened to the others.

He hadn't heard any more gunfire, and that could be both good or bad. Sure, they could have killed the monster, but it could have just as easily killed them. Sam shuddered, forcing himself to stop thinking of the worst case scenario. It wouldn't do him any good as he couldn't help anyway. The thing he hated most was being out of commission when he was most needed.

He slumped back against the rocks with a sigh, shifting slightly to find a more comfortable position, but was unable to. His ankle hurt, and he was starting to get chilled. He decided that he should drink the rest of the coffee Cas had made to keep his body warm, but as he was reaching for it, he heard something shifting in the surrounding woods.

He was instantly alert; his rifle held up and cocked. He knew immediately that it was too big to be the others, and his heart sank further, as it was simultaneously gripped with fear as a growling grunt sounded all too close, and he saw a shadowy figure moving between the trees.

He looked over at the flare he had for a signal, but what good would it really do? Besides, before he could really think, the creature was already coming out of the trees toward him, stopping in its tracks as it smelled the fire and Sam's human scent.

The younger Winchester brother caught his breath as he saw the monster. He really had no other way to describe it than a yeti. And he hadn't known previously that they existed, but he was being proved wrong, it seemed.

Taking a chance, he raised the rifle to his shoulder and fired off a shot at the creature, the bullet hitting it somewhere in its large body, but hardly doing a thing to stop it. In fact, it only seemed to enrage it more, as it roared and charged.

Sam fired off several more shots as it ran, then resigned himself to his fate. Even as the monster-yeti-whatever rushed toward him to deliver a killing blow, Sam hurt more for the fact that he still didn't know whether Dean or Bobby were even alive.

~~~~~~~

Castiel trudged through the snow in the dying light of day. Sometimes it was knee deep, sometimes, he sank up to his thighs or hips, causing him to almost have to swim through it instead of walk. Luckily, he was traveling downhill but it was still slow going and rough. He was still worryingly weakened by his earlier ordeal and he thought the cold probably wasn't helping, but he also knew there was nothing he could do about it. He might be the only hope Dean and Bobby had, and he was not going to let them down.

He did still have his heightened senses to be thankful for, and knew roughly the distance and direction he had heard the gunshots earlier. He hoped to find the place before he lost the sun. It was already getting darker in among the trees.

As he finally neared what he thought was the spot, he was instantly put on alert. He could smell the sharp tang of fresh blood against the snow, and another musky odor underlying that that he thought might have been the lingering scent of the monster. There was also the obvious smell of gunpowder in the air and when he came upon the spot, he saw several trees had been hit by some kind of explosion. But that didn't catch his interest as much as the blood spattered around, and pooling in one spot particularly. He could tell from the smell that it was human, and was pretty sure it was Dean's. He had certainly had enough time to customize himself with that scent. The Winchesters were always bleeding.

Crouching to see the blood more closely, he worried at how much there was, but then he noticed it trailed off to the left, and hurried in that direction, wondering if perhaps the monster had dragged an incapacitated Dean and Bobby off to its lair. But then he saw heavy boot prints near the drag marks and relaxed a bit.

His reassurance didn't last long however, when he heard the sound of a deep growling and heavy shuffle up ahead of him. The bitter musk smell was far stronger now, and he knew it was the creature. He pulled his angel blade out and held it ready in his hand. The smell of blood was also present ahead, and another familiar odor…coffee?

Then a gunshot rang out and Castiel surged forward, before falling unceremoniously into the deep snow, almost getting lost in it. He came up, sputtering, and decided to try and fly there.

It didn't go as well as he hoped, he crashed to the ground a few yards from a cave, gasping for breath and almost getting slashed by the monster who had turned at his intrusion to see what had fallen at its feet. He rolled out of the way and quickly forced himself to his feet, blade held out in front of him.

"Dean, Bobby?" he called.

"Cas?" Bobby's voice came, but before the angel could answer, the monster roared and whipped back around to the cave, bending over and reaching a huge clawed hand inside for Bobby. A shot rang out, accompanying the hunter's cursing and Castiel surged forward, taking the chance to stab his blade into the back of the creature's thigh. It screamed, not liking that very much at all, and backhanded Cas, swatted him like a fly so that he flew several feet and slammed against a tree. He crumpled to the ground, his back aching and no breath at all in his lungs. He couldn't recover before the monster was on top of him, slashing down. Cas rolled and felt the claws tear through the back of his parka, the thick article keeping him safe. He scrambled for his angel blade and realized it was still stuck in the monster. He cried out as it grabbed him by the leg and lifted him into the air.

"Cas!" Bobby shouted as Castiel was slammed into the ground again right in front of the cave, the snow cushioning his fall a bit. A shotgun was pushed into his hands as he was picked up in a giant clawed fist and brought right before the face of the monster, smelling its rancid breath wash over his face, and seeing the teeth that were about to tear him apart.

Castiel thought quickly and brought up the shotgun, already loaded and ready and aimed right for one of the yellow eyes in the creature's face and pulled the trigger.

It screamed, dropped Cas to the ground and staggered a few steps away. Bobby shot it again in the throat, and Castiel got his feet under him again and snatched his angel blade from the creature's leg and leapt onto its chest at it went down, driving it up under the chin. The monster twitched under him for a few seconds before it stilled. Castiel ripped his blade out, panting, and cleaned it on the course fur that covered the monster. He fell more than slid off of it, and Bobby caught him with his good arm, keeping him upright. Castiel smiled in relief, a hand on the hunter's shoulder as he got his footing again.

"Boy am I glad to see you, Cas," Bobby said, taking the angel under the elbow and helping him to the cave.

"I'm glad I came when I did," Castiel replied.

"Cas?"

Dean was sitting up against the cave wall, a shotgun across his lap, even though he looked like he could hardly raise it. Castiel went to crouch beside him instantly.

"Dean, are you well?" he asked with a frown.

"It caught me," Dean told him. "I'll be okay though. Did—did you…?" he swallowed hard, fear for the answer he was seeking keeping him from continuing. Castiel knew exactly what he needed to know and smiled reassuringly.

"Sam is safe, Dean. He's injured his ankle, but he's in no danger. We will pick him up when we get back up the mountain."

"That's the problem," Bobby told him grimly. "Unless you got enough mojo to airlift us outta here, we ain't getting Dean up that mountain without help. I can't carry him with my shoulder and you look like hell, if you don't mind my saying so."

Castiel nodded in resignation. "I did spend most of my energy healing injuries I took in the avalanche. I will need time to 'recharge my batteries' as you would say."

"What are we gonna do then?" Bobby asked no one in particular, looking around as if an idea would come to him.

"You can come back for me," Dean offered.

"No, we definitely ain't doing that," Bobby told him. "You'd freeze out here before we got back. No, there's only one thing for it; we're gonna have to make a sled to pull you on."

Dean didn't look overly enthusiastic about the plan, but Bobby and Cas set to work forming a crude sled out of fallen branches and tying them together with rope they had. They took more rope and fashioned a handle for pulling and Bobby worked on loading the packs at the head of the sled before he and Cas lifted Dean onto it and situated him as well as they could. The young man was shivering already and they knew they had to move fast.

"Hold on, son, we'll make this as quick as we can," Bobby assured him.

"Great," Dean winced, closing his eyes and trying to keep his teeth from chattering as Bobby and Cas started the arduous journey up the hill in the deep snow.

Not long after they started, more gunshots rang out further up the mountain.

"What the…?" Bobby started.

"Sam," Castiel said quickly, a sinking feeling entering his chest.

"Sammy!" Dean cried out, struggling to sit up, for what good that would do. "We gotta get to him, agh!"

"Dean, stop," Cas told him firmly, and pushed him back gently as he huffed from the pain of his wounds. "We'll get there as fast as we can, just let us pull you."

"This must mean there's two of them," Bobby said grimly as he and Castiel doubled their efforts pulling the sled upward. "Could this day get any worse?"

Castiel decided not to answer that with logic. He had learned something about tact. It was then that a red light in the sky caught his eye and he looked up to see a flare.

"Is that Sam?" Bobby asked.

"Yes, that's what I told him to signal," Castiel said grimly.

"Let's just stop talking and go save my brother!" Dean demanded.

Castiel hope there was something left to save by the time they got there.

~~~~~~~

Sam was able to get off two more shots before the monster was on top of him. He scrambled aside, his ankle jarring with pain that made him gasp and nearly pass out, but he was able to snag a long knife from his pack before the yeti-thing grabbed the back of his parka and drug him nearly off the ground. He lashed backwards and caught the thing's wrist with the blade, finding out why bullets were hardly doing anything to stop it. Its fur was so thick that it almost acted as armor. But he dug the blade in until it sunk into the flesh and blood seeped out.

The creature howled and slammed Sam backwards against the rocks. He crumped to the ground, gasping for breath and feeling as if every bone in his body was broken. He lunged forward as the yeti came at him again, scrambling for the flare gun, what little good it would do. His fingers just barely touched it before he was grabbed again and thrown into the snow, rolling several feet as the yeti roared its displeasure at him. Sam hauled himself to his hands and knees, hoping that he could get a weapon before this thing completely beat him to pulp. He thought it was just toying with him and that made him angry. If this thing had killed Dean and Bobby, then he was going to make sure it never got another meal again.

He found a heavy branch and as the yeti came for him again, he swung it with all the strength he had and as it staggered backwards, he flung himself back toward to camp, nearly falling into the fire as he did so, but managed to snag the flare gun and rolled onto his back to shoot the thing, watching with some relief as the red rocket flew into the air.

His moment of victory was short lived. The yeti grabbed him around his broken ankle and yanked him towards it as Sam screamed in pain. He fell at its feet and it crouched down, his mouth open, and yeti saliva dripped onto Sam's face as he cringed back from the thing's breath. It raised its claws to tear him apart when several gunshots rang out simultaneously and the yeti staggered away from Sam, raising its arms to protect itself. There was shouting and more gunfire and Sam could see people approaching through the darkness, and the yeti was screaming and before long, it staggered and fell while several men leapt on top of it, and finished it off with a bullet—or several—to the head.

"Sam!"

Sam turned his head to see Donald hurrying up to him as fast as his bad leg could get him there. He knelt next to the younger hunter with a grunt and helped Sam to sit up.

"You okay, son?" he asked.

Sam gulped. "Yeah—my ankle's broken, but apart from that, I'm good. I'm glad you came when you did. Thank you."

Donald nodded and called several other men over to help Sam. "Sorry it took us so long to get out here; it was lucky we saw your flare. Where's everyone else?"

Sam winced as he was helped onto a stretcher. "Bobby and Dean were separated from us in the avalanche, and Cas went to find them not long ago. I don't…"

"It's okay, Sam, we'll go look for them," Don assured him before turning to several of the others. "Take him back to the lodge and get his injuries seen to. The rest of you are with me, we're finding the others."

Sam wanted to protest, he wanted to go find Dean and Bobby and Cas, but he knew he couldn't manage it so he allowed himself to be taken back and only hoped that the yeti hadn't killed the others.

~~~~~~~

It was not easy going, and they had finally lost all light of day, having to pull out a flashlight that Bobby held in his bad hand while he pulled Dean's makeshift sled with the other. Castiel had felt none of his power returning, still zapped by the cold and again after the fight with the creature, and this was not helping. He wondered grimly how many days it would be before he was back to his previous state of power…if he ever got back to it.

The farther they went, the more rests they had to take. Bobby was breathing heavily, and Dean was shivering uncontrollably now, unable to help moaning in pain whenever he was jostled. They all sat unable to move for a few minutes, silent to save their breath, when Castiel looked up and saw a light flash through the trees up ahead.

"Bobby," he said quickly, pointing. "Do you see that?"

Bobby looked up and suddenly forced himself to his feet. "I'm either hallucinating or that's a rescue party. I don't think abominable snowmen carry flashlights." He raised his flashlight and waved it, shouting out to get their attention. "Over here!"

In another few minutes, several hikers came up to them, a few on skis, Donald among them. Bobby grinned as he saw his old friend, relief clear on his face.

"Don, I have never been so glad to see you."

"Same here, Bobby, we've been worried since we got news of the avalanche, too dangerous to send anyone out earlier though. I hope you don't take it personally."

"I'll try not to," Bobby turned to Castiel who was kneeling beside Dean, speaking quietly to him in reassurance. "Dean's hurt bad though. We need to get him back as quickly as possible. He's lost a lot of blood."

Donald turned to the other men who had brought a proper sled they could get Dean onto. Bobby turned when he heard Dean talking and looked to Castiel.

"He wants to know if you found Sam?" the angel asked the men.

"We got him," Donald smiled. "He sent up a flair as soon as he saw us. Told me Cas had gone to find you two. We shot the monster too. Nearly had Sam for supper, but it's gone now."

"There were two of them?" Bobby asked. "We got one too," he added at Don's inquiring glance.

The other hunter shrugged. "Never seen anything like it. I didn't think yetis actually existed. Boy was I wrong."

"Sammy's safe?" Dean slurred as the men from the rescue party piled more blankets onto him and got him ready to lift onto the new sled.

Donald nodded reassuringly. "He's already back at the lodge, warm and taken care of where you should be."

"Not gonna argue," Bobby said and watched as Dean was loaded onto the sled and strapped down. Another man took their packs and Bobby and Cas caught a ride back on snowmobiles from the rescue party. The whole lodge greeted them like heroes when they got back, but they were too tired to appreciate it. Dean was only barely conscious when they dragged him in, but he was greeted by Sam who came to see them on crutches.

"Dean!" he said with a relieved smile as his older brother fought one of his hands free of the blanket covering him and Sam grabbed it dutifully.

"You good?" Dean asked him.

Sam nodded. "I'm good. You look like hell though."

A small smile quirked Dean's lips. "Y'always say the nicest things, Sammy."

Sam chuckled and released Dean's hand as they carried him off to their room, relief clear in his eyes.

It was a very weary and aching group that retired to their room in the lodge that night. Someone had built a fire in the pit and it was warm and welcome on their frozen skin. Dean demanded not to be sent to a hospital, and Bobby reluctantly allowed it only after Dean agreed to let the on-site nurse look at his wounds and made sure he wouldn't need a blood transfusion. After he suffered the poking and prodding and let Cas who was the least wounded of them, help him into clean clothes, he was out and buried in blankets on the soft bed.

Bobby's arm was put in a sling and Castiel reluctantly agreed to let the nurse see to his minor injuries—just some lacerations and bruised ribs—even though he assured her he could heal them himself once he got some rest. She didn't exactly know what to say to that, but Bobby just shook his head.

"He's into the whole holistic thing," he provided.

Castiel slumped onto the couch after he had been treated and decided to lie down instead because of the bruised ribs he had suffered. Eventually that led to closing his eyes, and before he realized it, he was falling asleep, but he didn't really care at the moment. Didn't care for this frighteningly sudden human weakness. He just needed the sleep, so he slept.

Bobby finished making sure Sam and Dean were situated and then went to go to his own room when he saw the angel curled up on the couch, asleep. He sighed deeply, maybe a bit fondly. It was strange, but he had begun to see Castiel in much the same light as Sam and Dean. Just another idjit to look after. He took a blanket off the back of the couch and draped it over Cas before heading to his room and passing out himself.

~~~~~~~

Several days later Dean assured them he was well enough to drive down the mountain and Bobby didn't argue, knowing how stir crazy he was, so they piled their stuff in the trunk of the Impala and bade goodbye to Donald.

"Thanks again, fellas," the old hunter said, clasping each of their hands in turn, shaking his head slightly at Castiel who was once again dressed in his customary trench coat and tie.

"Anytime," Bobby told him.

"Just not in the snow," Dean said firmly. "I am never working in the snow again. Nor am I going after any abominable snowmen, because—don't say it, Sam, I have nothing better to call it."

Sam shook his head, deciding he wasn't thrilled about getting into that argument again and allowed Cas to help him into the back of the car, taking his crutches to put in the trunk.

Donald grinned. "I don't blame you, Dean. Just drive safe, hope to see you again sometime. Just for old time's sake."

Bobby clasped his hand again and climbed into the car. Dean winced as he sat, and started the engine, pulling out of the lodge. As soon as they were out onto the road, his face paled again and his knuckles were white. He cursed.

"Damn, I hate mountains. And I hate mountain roads. I think I hate going down more. If Baby burns her breaks out, I quit."

Bobby hid a smirk. "Well, you better get used to it, princess, because it's a long way down."

Dean scowled at him, but turned his eyes back on the road. Wasn't that the truth.

The End