Okay everyone, here's the final part of the story. Sorry it took me so long to get it up, I was away from home most of the weekend, but I hope you enjoy the conclusion. Thanks to everyone who has read and reviewed and if you liked this one, please check out my other stories if you wish :) Let me know what you this of this one!

Part Three

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