SNOWED IN
SUMMARY: Getting snowed in with Dean. Sam's idea of a winter wonderland escape to cure Dean's ill health doesn't seem so wonderful after all.
A/N- So I am going to the snow in a few days, and this little ditty popped into my brain. Sam and Dean (hurt) and holed up in a cabin, what could be better? Originally going to be a one-shot, but I will see how it plays out. Might be better off as a series of drabbles, but we'll see how we go. Hopefully I will update before I go away.
I own nothing.
"And you're sure there is a job in this town?"
Dean scans the newspaper half-listening, half-dozing as Sam chats incessantly with Bobby. He draws in a jagged breath as the pain killers Sam had forced down his throat minutes earlier begin to work their rapid, mind-numbing magic on the two ribs broken in a miscalculated confrontation with a rouge spirit a few hours earlier.
Sam had insisted on driving when once he fumingly accepted that Dean wasn't going to go within a ten mile radius of a medical centre. That Dean had accepted this outlandish request without comment or even a stray punch was more than enough indication that his brother had come off this encounter worse for wear. Needless to say, Sam was struggling to keep his own concern in check whilst juggling the combination of navigating and dispensing enough meds to control his brother's pain.
"Is it really that urgent, Bobby?" Sam snaps suddenly. Shocked from his hazy loll, Dean's head cranes towards his younger brother, brow furrowed in concern as the extremity of the harsh tone registers somewhere as a warning sign.
"I understand that there has been a pattern of attacks..."Sam responded, flexing his knuckles against the steering wheel whilst trying to modify his tone, though he was sure Dean had caught the hitch, "But vampires?"
He curses quietly under his breath, cursing his stupid voice, and his stupid inability to hide his emotions, and himself for not being more prepared and allowing Dean to run in all gung-ho, guns-blazing on their last vanquished evil-doer.
After a few dodgy hours sleep, Sam had insisted they hit the road as quickly as he could fabricate a half-believable case. Sam's intent had been to keep Dean as sedated as possible, drive to the nearest motel, and lay low for a few days whilst he recovered.
Call Sam a control freak, but Bobby ringing when their phone had remained silent for days on end had not factored into the equation.
"How's Dean doing?"
"Fine" Sam replies, a little too quickly.
"Damn, this bitch fit must have been a long time coming..."Dean comments, sinking deeper into the seat. Sam misses the whine of discomfort, the evening breathing, too focused on the coming argument.
"I don't suppose you're gunna hand over the phone, huh?"
"Not a chance," Sam laughed grimly. A swarming case of blood thirsty vampires was exactly the kind of case Dean would love to get in on; exactly the kind of case that neither of them needs right now.
"Look kiddo, I know you're worried about your brother, Sam..."
Hitting the accelerator slightly harder, rage surges through him in response to the slightly patronising tone. Maybe it was the adrenaline from the hunt still working overtime, or the anxiety he felt for Dean, but seriously, did everyone think he was just some incapable, overly emotional kid still?
"Thanks Dad, but I think I can handle it somehow" Sam snaps, unable to control the impulse- it was either that or scream.
"These people need your help, son!"
"I'll call you when I re-assess our options".
Snapping his phone shut wasn't half as soothing as Sam had anticipated, but the cool breath of fresh air slipping through the window was enough to calm the building rage inside of him. Ah, back to good old suppressed, mentally unstable Sam.
His self-confidence was shot as quickly as it was boosted, when he notices Dean slipping into unconsciousness in his peripheral.
"Dean, Dean!" Sam yells, nearly taking both hands off the wheel in his panicked effort to keep Dean here.
Dean's glassy opened eyes acknowledge his consciousness, but his words are incoherent mumblings, addled by the drugs suppressing the untended pain.
Pulling over to the shoulder of the road, Sam checks his temperature, hand slick on the sickly warmth of his forehead. Sam notices for the first time how Dean's complexion has paled. How his eyes show only the faintest flickers of life as they roll back and forth in his head, his mouth a tightened, hopeless line.
Stranded on the side of the highway, it hits Sam hard. It's not the sickness or the pain: the deterioration has been happening over time, over months, right before their eyes. This gig, this life is taxing, and now it's taking its toll on them both, Sam suddenly feels helpless and very, very alone.
"Sam?"
Sam lifts his head hopelessly to look at his brother, desperate for some words of guidance or directions.
"I think I'm going to hurl"
Or that, Sam thinks with a kind of fondness, as his brother staggers out of the car andhe races to collect him in his arms right before he falls flat on his face from exhaustion, like he always does, muttering the soothing noises while Dean dry retches onto the asphalt.
"Don't worry Dean. You're going to be okay, I'm going to make this okay."
Sam isn't sure if the bob of Dean's head is in approval, a re-affirmation of his trust, or just semi-passing out, but Sam takes it as a positive sign.
Taking Dean's weight under his arm, as he falters back to the comfortable interior of the Impala, Sam is determined to give Dean what he really needs: rest.
A rest from this lifestyle, for a little while, if only for the time he needs to recuperate, Sam tells himself. He owes his brother that much, and there is no way he is going to let him fade away.
"So does this mean we aren't going to make see the Eenie Weenie Bikini Contest in Colorado then?" Dean rasps throatily, shooting a gleaming grin that draws Sam's eyes the scantily clad women surrounded by snow on the newspaper in Dean's lap.
Even hearing the keenness in Dean's voice, hungry to get back on the road and into another job, Sam's mind is racing in the moment of silence as he regards the story on the opposite page. A snapshot of forest-side lodge dominates the page, framed by blanketing snow, circled in police tape. A hundred miles from the direction their headed in and Bobby's vampire country.
Surely it can't hurt to fall off the map for a little while?
Sam entertains the thought, a ghost of a smile playing on his features as he conjures his plan to deceive the two people who trust him the most...for their own good, of course.
"As long as you don't have any more interior designing to do, no, we don't have time" Sam admonishes, readapting easily to mature and in control, " If you're ready to go, we have a job to do."
His voice softens considerably as he starts the engine, looking at Dean pleadingly.
"And please, sleep?"
Dean acquiesces without argument, his eyes already closed. Sure his brother is sleeping, Sam takes a deep breath, before resolutely switching off his cell and U-turn in the opposite direction, towards the mountains and off the map.