Cold Feet—Season 7
When Dean came to it was to find his feet were wet. Since there was nothing the hunter hated more than wet feet (well, Hell and dick angels notwithstanding but whatever), he forced bleary eyes open and regretted it instantly. The flare of white pain that split through his skull was enough to make him let out a very unmanly whimper and close his eyes again, for the moment content just to lie back and go back to sleep, wet feet of no.
But since when had fate ever decided to be kind to Dean Winchester? Familiar hands shook his shoulder and his brother's incessant calls that he wake up led Dean to politely tell his brother to fuck off. At least he thought he did…might have sounded more like a moan.
"No Dean, we don't have time for this! You have to wake up!" Sam sounded nearly frantic with worry and it was that that made Dean crack his eyes open again. His brother's fear was something he could never truly ignore.
"What?" He tried to say but it came out in more of a rasping cough.
Sam seemed to understand anyway and his face broke with a fraction of relief. "You with me?" He waited a beat for Dean's nod before leaning over and unbuckling Dean's seatbelt keeping a steady stream of chatter up as he worked. "That squad car sent us over the rail…We're sinking."
Sam gestured toward the floorboards and Dean now realized why his feet felt wet. The water level had crawled to his knees now and Dean could see it continue to rise as Sam finally got Dean's buckle undone with shaking fingers. And that was another thing, it was damn cold!
"S'mmy?" Dean caught his brother's chin before Sam could turn away "Y'r bleedin'."
Sam shrugged him off and fumbled in the glove compartment. "Trust me Dean, you're three times worse than me. I'm fine…Where's your gun?"
Dean squirmed in the seat until he fished his Colt 1911 from the waistband of his jeans and handed it to his brother who immediately began working on breaking the window with the butt of the handle.
The enormity of the situation was slowly becoming apparent to the older Winchester brother 's foggy brain. The car was filling up with water…freezing cold water, mind…which meant they had to get out of there. Fast.
"W't?" What's the plan?
Sam didn't turn around keeping his attention on finishing breaking the passenger window as spiderweb cracks spread over the glass. The water inside was lapping over Dean's thighs…but outside it was about to swallow the roof of the '72 Challenger Dean had swiped before Lily Dale. "I'm gonna get you out first…With that concussion, your sense of direction can't be great so…" he huffed a sigh and turned back to Dean but not before Dean caught his eyes flicker toward an invisible something in the backseat.
"Lucifer?" Dean pushed himself up in his seat.
"Doesn't matter, we don't have time…Anyway, this is close to breaking so I need you to swim up as much as you can and then I'll come for you. Got that?" It was simple and crude but they really didn't have time to think up anything else…or wait until Dean's brain stopped throwing bitch fits.
He bit back a retort of not being five years old because Sam was right, they didn't have time for it and frankly Dean didn't think he could make it on his own. The pain wasn't bad when he stayed still but any small movement threw bolts of lightning skittering around in his brain. Even the short distance to the passenger window was going to royally suck. Dean gave a barely audible grunt of consent.
He kept his eyes closed when Sam moved him. Mostly to defer the dizziness that threatened to send him reeling onto the floorboards. The next few moments passed in a blur of Sam asking him if he was ready, Dean replying in the negative but telling him to break the window anyway, a quick gasp for air and cold water that rushed into the car and made his chest tighten. He felt himself pushed out of the window and pondered that a moment before remembering his orders and opening his eyes finally before attempting to swim up…At least, he thought it was up.
Sam's fears about Dean's sense of direction being screwed to hell were proven right a moment later when Dean found his brother's arm wind around his chest before he hauled him bodily in the opposite direction.
They broke the surface gasping clouds of vapour into the chill of the day, Sam continuing to swim as he pulled Dean back away from where the car had gone down. No doubt worried that the undertow created by the weight of the car might pull them under again. A moment later they hit the bank below the bridge.
They were both spent. Sam flat on his ass in the sand and breathing hard and Dean trying hard to avoid vomiting on his brother's knees as nausea became more apparent now that the heat of the moment had passed. His vision darkened and he listed to the side hearing Sam shout his name.
Eventually the black edges around his mind ebbed back enough to let the older Winchester think enough to piece together the beginnings of the accident.
"Leviathan." He said faintly.
"What?" Sam responded and Dean now realized that his little brother was kneeling in front of him and holding him by his shoulders. He was glad; he didn't think he'd be upright on his own.
"The cop…Must've been a Leviathan or something…" Dean lifted his head slowly enough to keep back the lightning bolts, for now.
Sam frowned and his brow wrinkled like it did whenever he was worried or piecing together a mystery. "Yeah, maybe…whatever the case, we gotta get out of here. You've got the mother of all head injuries and we'll both freeze out asses off if we stick around here."
Dean nodded his agreement and glanced out over the water as the last of the ripples made by the sinking car faded. He allowed himself a sigh of relief. They still had to climb up to the bridge and find a way back to the motel before hypothermia became an even bigger problem than his head injury, but they were alive and kicking. That was all that mattered for now.