Author's Note: Hey everyone. This is my first Supernatural fan fiction and I really want to know what you think. Please read and let me know if you like it, and if I should keep writing. Thanks! Hope you enjoy it.
The layer of snow blanketing the 1967 Chevrolet Impala slowly thickened as the two young boys sat in the back seat, curled up together in a heavy blanket, a flashlight lying in between them. "The woodsman knocked out the wolf and carried him deep into the forest where he couldn't bother people any longer. Little Red Riding Hood jumped into her grandmother's arms and they all lived happily after," Dean sleepily finished off the story and slammed the book closed, laying it down on the floor under his seat. Sam was quiet. Dean carefully turned to him in hopes that his brother finally fell asleep. He smiled to see a mess of blanket – only a small arm sticking out – rising and falling in a slow, rhythmic movement. Finally. Dean turned around to face the window, watching the large white flakes fall onto the frosted glass. All of sudden he felt something from behind pounce on his shoulders.
"Boo!" Sam shouted in his 'scary' voice as he tackled his brother.
"Very funny, Sammy," Dean pushed the five-year-old back down onto the car seat. Sammy giggled as he plopped onto the blanket.
"Dean can you read me another story?" Sam picked the storybook off the floor and handed it to his big brother.
"I read you like ten stories already," Dean tossed the book onto the front seat, "Its time to go to bed."
"But I'm not tired," Sam argued, stretching his small arms out towards the book.
"Well I am," Dean said as he pulled the blanket over his head, turning away from Sam.
"Please, Dean?" Sam lightly tapped his brother's arm through the blanket. Dean ignored him, burying himself deeper into the corner of the Impala. For a long while, the boys were silent. Even with his eyes closed and the blanket over his head, Dean could see Sammy's big, brown puppy-eyes staring up at him in disappointment.
"Fine, you win," Dean grumbled as he threw the blanket off himself and picked up the book.
"Thanks Dean!" Sammy gurgled cheerfully, "Just this one and then I'll go to sleep. I promise."
"What story do you want?" Dean held the book in front of Sam.
Sam flipped quickly through the pages until he found one that they didn't read tonight. "This one!" Sam pointed to the picture of Hansel and Gretel.
"Alright. But this is the last one," Dean warned. Sam nodded and shifted closer to Dean. "Once upon a time a very poor woodcutter lived in a tiny cottage in the forest with his two children, Hansel and Gretel. His second wife often ill-treated the children and was forever nagging the woodcutter…" Sam listened in fascination to his favorite story. As he read, Dean thought furiously about fathers that leave their children alone at night in a cold, dangerous forest.
"Dean?" Sam said abruptly.
"Sammy, don't interrupt or I'm not gonna read anymore," Dean prepared to close the book, as usual trying to get Sammy to stop asking questions.
"Daddy's coming back for us, right?" Sam asked anyways.
Dean's impatient tone dropped. "Of course he's coming," Dean replied softly, "Now do you want to hear the rest or not?"
"You're sure?" Sam's eyes were focused on the picture of the two kids wandering through the dark.
"Dad said that when he kills the –" Dean stopped himself n time, "Uh… when he finishes helping his friend, he'll come and take us to Uncle Bobby's."
"Who is he gonna kill?" Sam's eyes widened in fear.
"No one," Dean shook his head. He felt like punching himself in the face right now for almost telling Sammy. He can't find out about monsters. Not yet.
"But you said – "
"I didn't say anything" Dean snapped, "Listen to the story," Dean flipped the page and continued, "On they walked and walked, till suddenly they came upon a strange cottage in the middle of a meadow…"
"Dean, I'm hungry," Sam complained.
"Wait a few more hours. Dad will be here soon."
"But we haven't ate anything since yesterday!" Sam put a hand on his growling stomach.
"Well do you wanna go outside and become dinner for a scary witch?" Dean scanned the car for some left-over candy bar or chips. He found nothing.
"There's no such thing as witches. Or monsters" Sam responded. Dean didn't answer. "…Right?" Sam suspiciously questioned his brother's silence. Dean nodded.
"Can we go look for something to eat?" Sam nagged.
"It's two in the morning, Sam," Dean grumbled, "And dad told us to stay here until he comes back."
"But we won't go far," Sam insisted, "And we'll be super fast."
"Sam, go to sleep," Dean was losing his patience. Sam pressed his face against the icy window and closed his eyes. The car filled with silence. Dean watched as his little brother began to doze off. Dean too felt his eyes filling with sand and slowly closing. He sat up straight and rubbed his eyes vigorously to feel more alert. Falling asleep was not a part of dad's orders.
Ten minutes, maybe fifteen passed by. Dean flipped through the story book to keep himself occupied, looking over at Sam every few minutes. Sam's eyes lazily slid open. "Dean I can't fall asleep," the five-year-old whined.
"Then count sheep," Dean snapped. He was getting frustrated again. It wasn't Sam's constant nagging and whining that was keeping eight-year-old Dean on edge, but more the fact that there was nothing he could do to make his little brother less hungry.
"I tried counting sheep and it doesn't work," Sam said, "Can't we go find something to eat? I'm so hungry! Aren't you hungry too?" Dean did not reply. "Dean, what if daddy got lost in the forest? Do you think he's okay? What if he doesn't come back? What if he got hurt?"
"Dad's fine, Sam. Leave me alone!" Dean shouted, turning away from his brother, not wanting Sam to see the fear in his eyes. His father said he'll be back before it gets dark. Now, at 2:30 in the morning, he still wasn't back.
"I'm sorry," Sam said guiltily. He didn't mean to make Dean angry. "Dean, I'm sorry," Sammy repeated, tugging on his big brother's sleeve, urging him to turn around, "Please don't be angry at me."
Dean sighed and turned around. "I'm not angry at you Sammy." Dean reached into the front seat of the Impala to get his jacket and one of his dad's guns. He took the blanket off himself and wrapped it around Sam.
"Where are you going?" Sam asked as Dean zipped up his jacket.
"I'm gonna have a look around. Maybe I'll find us some food or something," Dean began to open the door. Sam shrugged the blanket off and reached also reached for his jacket. "No, you stay here," Dean stopped him, "Don't leave the car. I'll be back soon."
"I'm scared by myself…" Sam pouted.
"You'll be fine. I'll be back really soon," Dean convinced him.
"What about you?" the thought of Dean walking alone in the forest scared him.
"I'll be fine too," Dean assured.
"I'm not that hungry anymore," Sammy lied, "Maybe we can wait until morning."
"Just don't leave the car," Dean repeated. Sam gave up and nodded. As Dean closed the door behind him, Sam pulled the covers over his head, not wanting to face his dark surroundings.
Dean made his way through the dense forest, searching for any sign of civilization, hoping that maybe he would find his dad. Of course, Dean thought, dad would be angry for leaving Sammy in the car, but it was only for a short time. And Dean was worried that something happened – that dad's hunt didn't go as planned. A crackling noise coming from somewhere deeper in the woods startled Dean. He pointed his flashlight trying to find the source. Long greyish-purple shadows stretched out all around him, as though trying to wrap themselves around Dean. The nine-year-old boy froze, not sure of what to do as fear took over him. "You're a hunter, Dean," he told himself, taking a deep breath, "And hunters aren't supposed to get scared." Dean held onto the gun almost like a scared child would cling to a teddy bear. The howling wind whipped his face as he looked around. "Maybe this wasn't such a good idea…" Dean was beginning to have a bad feeling about this. He turned around and headed back to the Impala. With the sudden terrifying thought that someone was following him, Dean picked up pace. He ran as fast as he could back to the car, almost tripping over the heaps of fresh snow. He flung open the car door and burst inside it, trying to catch his breath. "Sammy, I'm back," Dean said, trying to sound calm. No answer came. "Sammy, wake up," Dean tapped the blanket, but it sank down onto the seat. "Sam?" Dean lifted the blanket up to find nothing. "Sam? Where are you?" Dean searched the car for his brother only to find that his jacket was no longer there. Dean burst out of the Impala "Sam!" Desperately, Dean circled the nearby area, panic quickly overtaking him. "SAMMY!"