A/N: March 3 is my beta Abni's birthday. After some carefully innocent questions I discovered she would like a story in the wild with a little hurt Sam and an interesting hunt. Here it is, and I promise no weird horsies, no descent into weirdness. Just a nice hunt and some hurt here and there. I can't promise that Dean won't get a little hurt along the way…but I will try and keep that under control. Thanks much to TraSan and Dennis for reading and correcting. Any mistakes remaining are solely mine! This story is set sometime during season one. Title comes from the song.

Welcome to the Jungle

Chapter One

The smell of fresh coffee wound itself into Sam's brain. The scent woke him from a sound sleep. He shifted around, trying to get comfortable, trying to ignore the huge lump under his hip. He punched at what was passing for a pillow under his head and burrowed deeper into the warmth of the lumpy bed. He sighed as he moved around, knowing there was really no way to avoid getting up.

"Sammy! Rise and shine." Dean emphasized the statement with a quick kick on the side of the tent. Sam groaned. "Come on, Sammy, time's awastin'."

"Go away," Sam grumbled as Dean kicked the tent again. "Five minutes, Dean," he said a little louder.

"Five, okay, no more." Dean's voice was light, full of laughter. And that is getting a little more than annoying, Dean, you know.

Sam rolled over on his back and looked at the ceiling of the small hiker's tent. Five days…He sighed again. A week and a half before, Drew Martin, a friend of their father's had called. He was steward over a wilderness area and people were disappearing. He suspected it was a sasquatch, not a bear as the press had it. He had wanted John, he got Sam and Dean. They had arrived at the ranger station seven days before and Drew had run them through all the information he had on the hikers, where they had disappeared and any evidence he had found. After a comfortable day at Drew's they had headed out, weighed down by new equipment and directions into the wilderness area. They were four days from the trailhead and camping was beginning to wear on Sam. And Dean…? When they set out Sam had expected grumbles, complaints and all the other things that generally accompanied him on excursions into the wilds with his brother. What he got he had never seen coming. Not in a million years. Dean was…Well…

"Come on, bacon's cooking, up and out or I take the tent down around you." Dean kicked the tent hard enough to connect with him that time.

No, never in a million years had he expected…well…the only word he could think of was chipper. Although perky and chirpingly cheerful also came to mind. And it was beginning to terrify Sam. Dean was up early, happily doing camping things that Sam knew he loathed and seemingly having a great time looking for the sasquatch. They'd been following the trail for two days now and had found a shoe, a bloody coat and one or two other items that let them know they were on the right track. Dean was ecstatic, following the trail like a happy bloodhound.

Sam groaned and rolled out of his sleeping bag, taking time to deflate the pillow and roll up the bag before dragging himself out of the tent. Dean grinned at him as Sam stood up, trying to stretch out bruises caused by sleeping on at least several hundred sharp stones. He blinked up at the sun, still low in the sky. "What time it is?"

Dean shrugged. "Around seven I think."

"Seven? Dean?"

"What?" Dean looked up from what he was doing.

"Nothing." Sam walked over to the water bucket and splashed icy water on his face, hoping it would do something about the cobwebs that had formed in his head sometime between the end of his watch at three and Dean's first cheerful chirp. He took the cup Dean handed him and sank down on a large rock by the small fire. Dean was frying bacon, the rich scent blending with the coffee and the smell of the river and trees, making Sam's stomach rumble a little. He sighed.

"Looks like it might be a nice day," Dean said with a smile as he put food on a plate and handed it to Sam.

"It'll probably rain later." It has every day. Every single day. Rain in the afternoon. Every day.

"That's why I thought we'd get going a little earlier today, beat the rain, get our day in before it starts. I was thinking of making camp up by those caves Drew told us about."

"How far is that from here?" Sam asked, his mood was beginning to improve as he ate.

"I'm not really sure, a day's walk if I'm reading the GPS right." Dean grinned. It was part of a large package of what he termed "toys" Drew had loaned them for the trip. Dean was having more fun with the collection of gadgets than anyone had a right to. His favorite seemed to be the walkie talkies and he had driven Sam nearly insane with his "Agent Dean to Agent Sam" or "Over and out" or other lingo he had picked up watching too many bad films late at night. If Sam didn't answer correctly Dean would patiently explain why he had to say "over and out" or something similar. "Check it out, Sammy." Dean pulled what looked like a gun stock out of a bucket of water.

"What?" Sam sighed. I was wrong, that's his favorite. And if he says…

"Waterproof, it really is waterproof." Dean opened the stock and happily assembled the rifle. "Can't beat it! Henry US Survival model. Can't freaking beat it."

"Yeah, you've said that." About twelve thousand times. Sam watched as his brother pulled the gun apart and stored it all back in the stock. Every morning, every evening, every day.

"The Texas Rangers used Henry Rifles, Sammy," Dean said sadly, with a shake of his head at the lack of interest his brother had shown in the subject. It was one small piece of history he knew and liked sharing with Sam.

"Yeah, you've said that too, Dean."

Dean just laughed at him, finished his breakfast and set about breaking camp. Sam was impressed with the speed Dean tore everything down and stowed it. Since their last trip into the woods, Dean seemed to have improved his camping skills, although how Sam had no idea. Dean had everything ready to go fifteen minutes later, humming as he secured the straps on Sam's pack. "Ready?"

"Yeah." Sam pushed himself up off the rock and picked up the pack.

Dean swung his own pack onto his back and headed up the trail. As they walked Sam could hear the burble of a stream to his left. They'd camped beside the brook two nights before, a little lower in the valley. The sound had accompanied them as they walked deeper into the woods. It was a popular hikers' area in the summer, but even in the cold and damp of early spring hikers did head into the wilderness area for weekend trips or other activities. Drew had told them there was a lot of poaching and illegal fishing in the area in the early spring and summer. He thought the poaching might have something to do with the activity of the sasquatch. He had found evidence of at least one human and three elk bodies about three days closer to civilization.

"Sam?" Dean called from in front of him. Sam quickened his pace to catch up with his brother. I should focus a little more. If I trip over a root again, Dean will never let me live it down.

"What?"

"Found something." Dean's voice sounded off somehow.

Sam caught up with his brother and stood beside him, looking down at the pulpy mess just off the trail. Large footprint surrounded the mass. Sam could make out what looked like a human skull and what was left of the haunch of a deer. He looked over at Dean, his brother gave him a wan smile. "Do we bury or burn?" Sam asked.

Dean thought about it for a minute. "Bury." He dropped his pack to the ground and pulled out a shovel. "We can burn on the way back. This looks fresh, so the sooner we are on our way the better," Dean said as he started digging. Sam pulled out his shovel and they had everything in the ground in less than half an hour.

Dean started out again. Sam dropped back a little, scanning the area off the trail for more evidence of the creature. He knew Dean would keep an eye ahead. They had established the pattern over the last few days and it seemed to work well.

"Heading left, thirty minutes," Dean called from up the trail.

"Okay, thirty," Sam answered. When he reached the fork in the trail, he headed right. The trail dipped off the hill heading into a stand of aspen. The stark white trunks stood out against the surrounding forest, the few dead leaves looking like forgotten Christmas ornaments. As he reached the center of the stand, Sam noticed a large footprint and another, leading into the trees. He pulled the walkie talkie off his belt. "Dean? I found footprints down here, I'm going to investigate. They're off the trail to the right."

"Check back in five minutes, Sam." There was a pause. "Over."

"I'll check back." Sam waited for what he knew was coming.

"You're supposed to say over. Over."

"Bite me."

"That works, over and out," Dean said, Sam could hear the chuckle as his brother broke the connection.

He shook his head and walked off the path following the trail of footprints. Dean is enjoying himself. Way too much. Sam grinned to himself. He was still smiling when he noticed a bloody mark on one tree, the red standing out against the white of the trunk. Two trees further there was another red stripe marring the bone-white bark. The next mark was lower down on the tree. It was a hand print, like someone had grabbed the tree. Sam crouched down to get a better look, fingernails had scored the bark. Whoever it was, they had a big hand. Sam held his hand over the mark, trying to get an idea of the size of the person who had left it. Big, bigger than me.

"Sam?" The walkie talkie crackled to life.

"Yeah?" Sam noticed his brother didn't bother with "over" when he was worried, and Sam could hear concern in his brother's voice.

"You were supposed to check back in five minutes."

"Sorry, following something, there are marks on the trees down here."

"Stay put, I'll head that way."

"The trail I'm following is swinging back up the hill." Sam paused, looking around. "I think it will bring me up to the trail you were following."

There was a long pause. Sam could picture his brother, a little frown on his face as he weighed the advantages of continuing what he was doing against the urge to catch up with Sam to keep an eye on him. "Okay. I'll keep an eye out for you. If you're not up here in twenty minutes I'll head down towards you. Over."

"Okay." Sam wondered if he should tell Dean what kind of trail he was following. No, he'd change his mind and come charging down here. "Over and out," he said.

"Good job. Be careful, Sam. Over and out," Dean added with a chuckle. Sam could almost hear the smirk on his brother's face.

Sam turned back to the trail. It was a faint game path that wound through the aspen and then up the hill. Several gnarled trees stood in a small clearing. Their twisted trunks gave the trees an ancient, almost sinister look. From somewhere in the back of his mind came an identification—fruit trees of some kind. He followed the path further. No more bloody marks appeared on the trees or bushes along the trail.

Sam had nearly decided to turn back—the track was going through a stand of wild roses and they were beginning to do a lot of damage—when he noticed more of the large footprints. There was a large muddy spot on the trail and he stopped to look at the collection of prints that were there. Deer, elk, the small handprints of a raccoon, something larger looking almost like a child's footprint, birds. It was the prints at the far edge of the mud that caught his eye. They looked human. Several were large, bigger than Sam's foot. And that's to be expected when hunting saquatches. That wasn't what had stopped him. It was the fact that there were a lot of prints, some large, some about the size of his foot and one smaller. He pulled the walkie talkie off his belt. "Dean?"

"Yeah, over?"

"I found something I think you should see." Sam stood looking up the game trail. "I'm down a small path, there's a lightning struck tree at the crest of the hill."

"Got it, I'm almost there, over."

"Thanks."

"Sammy, come on, over," Dean said with a whine in his voice. It was the tone he had used for years to get his brother to play when Sam was otherwise occupied. It always worked.

"Okay, Dean. Over and out."

Sam took his pack off and set it carefully on a log and wandered over to the collection of prints. Glancing into the bushes he could see where the plants had been broken by the passage of something large. Branches were bent, one bush completely crushed. He took a step to follow the line of broken vegetation when Dean's voice stopped him.

"What the hell?" Dean sounded annoyed.

Sam turned back. "Yeah, could it be a family group?"

"Do they have families?" Dean asked, squatting down to look at the prints.

"Can you think of another explanation?"

"Not off the top of my head. Looks like they went that way." Dean pointed to the trail of broken plants. He picked up Sam's pack. "I know they're a pain in the ass, but I don't want to get caught without."

"It'll be hard getting through the undergrowth," Sam said as he swung his pack onto his back.

"Doesn't matter, never again," Dean said.

Sam took the lead, keeping his eyes ahead, watching the trees for bloody prints or claw marks. They passed one tree that had the bark pulled partially off by sharp claws. Dean stopped to look at it, Sam shrugged and they moved off again. They were both quiet, moving as silently as possible through the brush. The trail they were following turned, heading down the hill towards the stream. Sam was so intent he didn't see the root that caught his foot. He tripped, going down hard.

It was the fall that saved his life.

He heard Dean shout his name as he fell and something impacted on his head. He saw stars, the blow dazed him. He struggled a little to push himself up, but Dean had grabbed his ankles and was pulling him down the trail. "Stay down," Dean shouted. Sam obeyed automatically. Sam was still dazed, more unconscious than aware when he felt Dean's hand on the back of his head.

"Sam?" Dean's voice was anxious. "You there?"

"Yeah," he groaned. His head was pounding and something warm was flowing down his neck and across his face.

"Hold still." Dean's hands pressed against his head. "Sam?"

"Yeah?"

"Just checking. Can you sit up? I'll help, just ease over a little, okay?"

"Yeah," Sam tried to push himself up, but a wave of dizziness hit him in the same instant as breakfast made itself known. He did manage to get up onto his hands and knees before the food reappeared. He felt Dean's hand on his back. When he was finished Dean helped him sit, holding him with one hand while he tugged the pack off with the other. Sam blinked trying to focus on his brother. "What happened?" he asked, lifting his hand to feel the back of his head.

"Stop that." Dean swatted his hand down. "It's nothing, just let me take care of it so you don't ruin Drew's pack."

"That bad?" Sam knew the tone and the voice. Dean and their father could both manage it. It was the "there is nothing to panic about, you are supposed to have a hole that big in your…fill in the body part" tone. It never calmed Sam down, never once. In fact, it has the opposite effect most of the time.

"Just a scratch, Sammy," Dean said, the white face and slightly trembling hands giving lie to words.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." Dean took off his pack and pulled out the first-aid kit. Sam watched as he fished out an assortment of bandages and…

"I thought you said it was just a scratch,' Sam said, looking at Dean.

"It is."

"And the suture is for…?"

"Your jacket. It got a little torn," Dean said with a half-hearted smile.

"Oh, thanks." Sam let his eyes drift closed as Dean worked on him. His head was pounding, so much so that the stitches Dean was carefully putting in his scalp seemed a minor annoyance.

"All fixed. How're you feeling?" Dean said, putting a hand on his shoulder.

Sam opened his eyes. "Great. What happened?"

"That." Dean pointed at something hanging over the path. It looked like a small log embedded with something was swinging there. Dean stood up and walked to the object. He looked at it for a minute, then cut it down and dragged it over for Sam to see. Sam looked down.

"What the…?"

"Yep," Dean said, grimly. The small log was embedded with glistening bits of stone, all razor-sharp. "Since when did sasquatches learn to do that?"

"I…" Sam looked up and met his brother's eyes. "I don't think they can."

Dean dropped down beside Sam and pulled his water bottle out. He fished in the first-aid pack and came up with a package of Tylenol. Dean handed it to Sam. "Take it, it might help."

"Thanks." Sam leaned against his brother a little. As he looked down at the log he realized his hands were shaking.

"Close," Dean said, his voice trembled a little. "Good thing you planned ahead to fall on your face."

"Yeah." Sam nudged Dean with his shoulder. "I'm okay."

"I never saw that coming, Sam. I'm sorry."

"Are you apologizing because…never mind." Sam shook his head. "So, survivalists? Hunters?"

"I don't know. Whoever it is…" Dean trailed off. "We have to be more careful from now on." Dean pushed himself up. "Think you can go a little further? I don't think we can make it all the way to the caves tonight, but I spotted a nice place to camp up on that other trail."

Sam took the hand Dean offered and stood, swaying a little as the world spun around him. "Let's try for the caves. We can always stop sooner." If you say we'll head for the caves, Dean, it means I'm not that badly hurt, if you say no then… Dean looked at him for a minute, a frown on his face. Sam knew his brother was looking for any sign of discomfort, dizziness or anything else that might qualify as a reason to slow down and stop early. Sam schooled his features as best he could. Dean's frown deepened, then he sighed.

"Okay, we'll head for the caves." Dean swung his pack up and then picked up Sam's.

"I can carry that." Sam stuck his hand out for the pack. Dean shook his head and helped him get it on his back. "Thanks." Sam turned to continue on the trail. Dean grabbed his arm and pointed back the way they came. Sam shrugged. I got him to head for the caves and let me carry my own pack, more than that would have been a miracle. Dean waited until Sam stepped ahead of him and then followed him up the trail.

XXX

The sun was starting to drop in the sky. The rain that had been threatening all day had not come and it was nearly warm in the patches of sunlight that dappled the trail. The shadows were cold, the darkness under the trees pulling the warmth from the day. Birds danced in the bushes, merrily singing as they looked for food.

Dean kept one eye on the edge of the trail looking for any evidence of the sasquatch, and one eye on Sam walking ahead of him on the trail. His brother had gotten increasingly quiet as the day went on. He winced as Sam stumbled. The memory of his brother's earlier fall was suddenly before him again. It replayed with amazing frequency. I was thinking about…hmm…what was her name? And then he fell. Dean swallowed as the vision of the log swinging down on his brother ran through his head again. If he didn't have the pack on, if he hadn't fallen, it would have killed him. I didn't see it coming. I wasn't watching for it. Dad would kick my ass if he knew something like that happened. Dean sighed.

Sam stumbled again. Not letting it pass this time, Sammy. Dean hurried to catch up with his brother. Dean grabbed Sam's arm to stop him. Sam looked up at him in surprise. Running on autopilot there? Dean looked at his brother. Sam was pale, he was sweating. "Sam?"

"I'm okay, Dean."

Dean put a hand on his brother's forehead. It was clammy and cool. He looked around. They were still a good distance from the caves, but they had reached an open area with a large overhang of stone on one side of it. The black rock hugged the hillside, flowing over the top and down into the small valley. The overhang looked like the remnant of a long-ago bubble formed as lava oozed over the landscape. Dean pulled Sam towards it. His brother stumbled blindly along behind him. When they got under cover, Dean pulled Sam's pack off and pushed him down on the ground. Sam tried to protest. "Shut up, Sammy."

The rock shelter was big enough to pitch their tent in and it provided the added cover of stone in case it started raining in the night. It also gives me something at my back. Dean had to admit he had been jumpy since Sam's narrow escape. Someone was setting traps in the woods and it made Dean nervous. Now that he was looking for it, he'd noticed traces of at least three other traps, all sprung, but all there nonetheless.

Dean began setting up camp, he hadn't mentioned it to Sam, but he planned to stay there the next day, scouting around the area. I need to know Sam is okay before we head back. He'd also decided that no matter what his brother said, they were heading back to civilization the day after that. It'll take us a little longer to walk out, but I think once we drop into the lower valley the cell phone will work. That shouldn't take more than three days. The vision of Sam prone on the trail, blood pouring from his scalp, played in front of Dean's eyes again. He stopped for a minute to calm the shaking of his hands. He's okay, it's just a few stitches. He's okay.

"What do you want for dinner?" Dean asked Sam. His brother opened his eyes and looked at him.

"Dinner?" Sam's voice sounded a little confused.

"Sammy?" Dean walked over to look in his brother's eyes. The pupils were the same size, he put his hand on Sam's forehead, it seemed warm to the touch, but he wasn't sure. The evening was rapidly cooling off without cloud cover to hold the heat of the day in. "Yeah, dinner."

"Pizza?" Sam said with a laugh.

"Sorry. No pizza. How about hash?" Dean took Sam's shrug as an affirmative.

The fire warmed the rock shelter. Dean had peeled off his jacket by the time dinner was ready. Sam had grown quiet again as Dean cooked, watching without comment as he made dinner. Dean scooped out a serving for both of them and settled down beside Sam, leaning against the wall behind them. "Eat up." He handed the plate to Sam. His brother took it mechanically and, with stiff movements, started to eat. Dean watched him with growing concern. Something's wrong. The spidey-sense is tingling.

"My head just hurts, Dean," Sam said, apparently reading his mind.

"You sure?"

"Yeah." Sam sighed and set his plate down beside him. "I might be a little sick to my stomach, too," he added with a rueful grin.

"Head wounds can do that."

"You've had enough to know." Sam jabbed him in the ribs with an elbow. "I'm surprised they even worry about brain damage with you. Everything there is either damaged or impervious."

"Impervious?" Dean raised his eyebrows. "Thanks." He laughed, relief coloring the sound.

Sam pushed himself up, keeping a hand on the wall for a moment. "I'll be right back."

"Where are you going?" Dean stood as well.

"Where do you think, Dean?" Sam frowned at him.

"What? Oh. Okay, well be careful." Dean looked beyond the light of the fire into the dark stands of trees around them. Night had fallen and there was no moon. It was almost pitch black, just the smallest light from the stars and the Milky Way lit the forest. "Maybe I should come," he said tucking the .45 in his waistband and picking up the assembled Henry Rifle.

"Dean? I'm just going to…well…I don't need an armed escort and I would like a little privacy."

"Okay, but take the walkie talkie," Dean said, turning it on and handing it to him. It garnered him one of the largest eye rolls he'd ever seen from his brother. Sam swayed a little. "Teach you to do that with a head wound." Dean smirked at him.

Sam grumbled something under his breath and headed out into the trees. After a few minutes of silence Dean couldn't stand it anymore. "You okay?" he shouted.

"Fine, Dean," the annoyed call came back.

Dean settled back down, still listening for the return of his brother. "Sam?"

"Privacy, Dean?"

"Right, fine. Hurry." Dean paced back and forth, the length of the shelter. From the corner where he had pitched camp to the edge Sam had walked out of and back. Something caught his eye. He walked back over to the camp and picked up a flashlight, shining it on the wall he took a better look at what was there. A drawing, he couldn't tell how old, red against the black of the rock. He'd noticed some pictographs earlier. Mostly the usual thing. Deer, wavy lines, other animals. He'd seen them off and on for the last five days. This drawing was different. It was a group of what he at first took to be people. When he noticed that one of them was holding a human skull, dwarfed by its hands he changed his mind. Creatures, sasquatch? But I didn't know they ran in packs. I'll have to ask Sam when he gets back, thinking of that…"Sammy?"

"Coming, Dean." The irritation was palpable in his brother's voice. Dean grinned.

A sharp crack split the soft sounds of the night. A chorus of frogs was silenced as if a switch had been shut off. It was the next sound that had Dean moving.

Sam screamed.

"Sam?" Dean yelled, running towards the stand of trees his brother had disappeared into. "Sam!" No answer. "SAMMY!" He barreled into the trees, frantically swinging the flashlight back and forth.

"Dean?"

"Where are you?" Sam didn't answer. "Sammy, answer me, where are you?"

"In trouble," came the soft reply.

To Be Continued