Another Rainy Night.
John's away on a hunt leaving the boys to fend for themselves. Trust the younger brother to lose his damn key…
Short fic.
Dean 17, Sam 13.
Author's notes: Many fics write John as the bastard and Dean as the protective big brother. But we all know that roles can be reversed, if only temporarily. Especially when a moody hormonal teenager is involved. Don't worry, good old brotherly love at the end. And guilt.
And let's all be honest here, we can all behave far worse than this as adults after a hard day a work, so Dean can be excused.
Sick Sam! Guilty Dean!
Warning: underage drinking, though the poor sods are of legal age to go to war... ...think about that one!
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"Happy Birthday Dean." Sam smiled softly as he held out an envelope and a small brightly wrapped parcel. The smile faded when his brother merely glared at him. "Look I'm sorry ok? I didn't mean to get sick."
Dean merely grunted, threw himself down on the ratty old couch and grabbed the TV remote. He spent the rest of the day channel surfing, grumbling moodily to himself and generally ignoring his little brother.
It really wasn't Sam's fault. Their father had promised Dean a proper hunt as his sixteenth birthday present, and not just a routine salt and burn in some crappy graveyard, but an actual real hunt for a poltergeist. He'd spent the last few months training extra hard, extra long, and now it was all for nothing.
Because Sam had to go and catch the flu a couple of days ago and it really knocked the little shit on his butt. Subsequently Sam was too sick to be left on his own so John had ordered Dean to stay behind whilst he headed off on his own to complete the hunt. This meant that the only person available as the target for Dean's anger was the person currently lying in bed sneezing and coughing, whilst burning mournful holes in Dean's back.
And yeah, he felt a little guilty. Dean hadn't even unwrapped Sam's present let alone thanked him for it, but he just wasn't in the mood. As the day progressed Dean sunk even further into teenage self-pity until a congested snore from the far side of the room caught his attention...and annoyance. He tried to ignore it but it grew louder, and louder, and finally he couldn't take it anymore. In fact, he could no longer hear the TV and it was just one final straw that broke him.
Figuring Sam would be safe enough here on his own, Dean decided to head out for a few hours. After all, it was his birthday, his dad wouldn't be home for a few days, and then there was the small matter of the fake ID he was dying to try out. So, after leaving a note, with a quick check of protection wards and salt lines, Dean slipped out of the motel room and made for a bar on the other side of town. He'd been told by the guy on the motel reception desk that they did great burgers, and the beer was cold and so smooth it slipped down easier than a snake through a drainpipe. Even that rather disgusting analogy hadn't managed to put him off. He rubbed his hands with glee as his stomach rumbled in anticipation. Maybe it wasn't going to be such a bad night after all.
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When Sam woke up from a restless sleep and glanced at his watch, he was startled to see how late it was. Blinking and glancing around in a daze he soon realised he was alone. The bathroom door was open, the light off, and the TV silent.
No Dean.
Slowly pulling back the covers and getting sluggishly to his feet, Sam stumbled over to the kitchenette to pour a glass of water. He was long overdue another dose of flu remedy, which explained why he still felt like shit. Knocking back the pills and water, he swayed a little and grabbed the kitchen counter to steady himself. And that was when he saw the note.
Sam,
Gone to a bar. Back in a few hours.
Dean.
Short and to the point. But he read the hidden message.
Don't tell Dad.
Sam didn't expect anything less, not after the furious mood his brother was in earlier. But what really hurt was the still wrapped birthday present and unopened card lying on the coffee table in front of the TV.
Sam dropped his gaze to the floor and just stood there for a moment, trying so hard not to feel sorry for himself. Guilt rolled through him for ruining Dean's birthday and he sniffed miserably, wondering how he could fix this. A few tears escaped his eyes with the realisation that his big brother would rather spend his birthday in the company of strangers than with him.
A sudden chirping broke out and Sam recognised his ring tone. Staggering over to the night stand, he couldn't help the feeling of lonely disappointment wash over him at seeing his father flash up on the caller ID. He'd stupidly hoped it was Dean...
"Hi Dad." He croaked out.
"You ok son? You still sound pretty rough. Hope you're still in bed kiddo."
As if he could feel his dad's internal lie detector making its way down the line, Sam sank down on the bed and slowly buried himself under the covers.
"Yeah Dad, I'm still in bed. Just woke up in fact."
"Sorry Sammy, didn't want to wake ya but Dean aint answering his phone."
"Uh…" Sam faked a loud sneeze whilst he came up with a suitable lie.
"Bless you."
"Thanks Dad." He then spent a few precious seconds wiping his nose on a Kleenex before feeling satisfied he had the perfect explanation. He lowered his voice slightly. "He's sound asleep Dad. You want me to wake him?"
Sam held his breath whilst his father thought about that.
Pleasesaynopleasesaynopleasesayno….
"No. Leave him son…" Sam managed to sigh silently with relief "Just let him know that I'll be back by sun up."
Sam sat up sharply and nearly groaned at the accompanying dizziness. "I thought you were gonna be gone a few days."
"Me too, but Caleb put in a surprise visit and helped me out. Which means I can come home and make it up to your brother for missing out on the hunt."
Again, that wave of guilt hit Sam again and fresh tears threatened.
"Sammy? You still there son?"
"Yeah, just really tired Dad."
"Get some sleep kiddo and I'll see you tomorrow."
"Sure Dad. Drive safely."
Sam sank back against the pillows wondering what the hell to do now. He didn't know what time Dean was planning on coming back, and if Dean wasn't answering his cell then it was a safe bet he'd switched the damn thing off.
Taking it slow and steady Sam got dressed and did the only thing he could think of to keep his brother from getting in trouble with their father. After all, he owed Dean for the boring, crappy birthday, and the last thing Sam wanted was to make things worse for him.
Being environmentally conscious, Sam switched off the lights before closing and locking the motel room door.
He managed about three blocks when the heavens opened and Sam was soaked through in seconds. He raised his face to sky, swore softly and trudged onwards to the nearest bar.
By the time he got there his shoulders were slumped against the downpour, thin cotton jacket pulled tightly closed around him, as he stared through the windows, anxiously seeking his brother.
There was no sign of Dean and it was easy to see why. No hot chicks, not even behind the bar. In fact the place was virtually dead. Letting out a pained sigh, Sam carried on down the block.
It was turning out to be a long night as the rain came down harder and his brother remained ever more elusive. Three more bars, a check of his watch, and Sam was ready to call it a night. He'd done his best and could only hope that Dean showed up at the motel long before their Dad. Otherwise his brother's crappy birthday was about to get even crappier.
He didn't hear the clink of metal as his room key fell out of his pocket and hit the sidewalk. The rain was much too loud.
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Dean was feeling nice and relaxed after a good meal and a few beers, but when he checked the time above the bar he realised he'd been out longer than he intended. Grabbing his jacket and leaving some cash on the table, he began to make his way back to the motel, and his little brother. He no longer felt angry about missing out on the hunt. Disappointed still, but not angry, and figured he owed it to Sam to at least open the birthday gift waiting for him. And, yeah, may be apologise for being a grumpy bastard.
Even the heavy rain couldn't dampen his newly bolstered spirits, and he enjoyed the refreshing chill to the air.
But by the time he had the key in the lock, Dean was feeling pretty exhausted and the beers hadn't helped. Not bothering to switch on the lights or undress, he slung his jacket over the back of the sofa, and took a nose dive into his pillows, sinking down comfortably, a deep sleep already waiting for him.
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Sam stumbled and nearly fell several times as the shivering got worse. He was starting to feel real sick again, stomach rolling and churning in protest to every movement, and his chest had tightened considerably in the last hour or so.
Approaching the motel, he fished clumsily in his pocket for his key but when his hand came back empty, Sam started rummaging through all pockets, including his jeans. But there was still no sign of the damn thing.
He groaned softly as his head pounded, and the cold night rain attacked his body yet again. Shuffling over to their room, Sam tried the door but found it locked.
Of course it was locked. I locked it before I left.
Or maybe Dean had made it back before him. He didn't think so somehow because surely he would have noticed Sam was missing, but just in case he peered in through the crack in the curtains and his heart leapt with relief when he caught sight of the sprawled out form of his brother on the nearest bed. He must have fallen straight to sleep when he got in.
"Oh thank God!" Sam whispered to himself, thoroughly exhausted and looking forward to getting into some dry clothes and climbing into a nice warm bed. He raised his fist, thumped on the door and waited.
And waited.
Frowning and shivering all the more as a gust of cold wind swept by, Sam knocked again but louder this time. And still he waited.
Even thumping frantically on the window didn't wake Dean up and Sam started to despair. He knew the latch on the window was painted shut, and smashing the glass was out of the question. Their father would want to know why someone had felt the need to let all the rain in. And that would just get Dean in trouble, which was kind of missing the point of the night's activities.
Sam realised he'd have to wait it out until Dean woke up and hopefully that would be before dawn and their Dad returned, if not then Sam could always pretend he'd gone out for some early morning fresh air without waking his brother. His father would either think him stupid, or, more likely, delirious again, and Sam could live with that so long as Dean was ok.
So he settled down in the meagre shelter of the doorframe, knees drawn up to his chest, arms wrapped round his body to keep warm. Sam leaned against the door in the vague hope that some of the room's inner heat might seep through the gaps.
Without meaning to, he fell into an uneasy sleep.
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John swore viscously at no one in particular when he spotted the flashing emergency lights. There'd clearly been some kind of severe crash involving several vehicles, one of which was a large semi. There hadn't been much traffic on the roads, given the early hour, but now with the road blocked off the traffic was building up. John couldn't move forward, but equally, as the cars moved in behind him, complete with impatient drivers tooting their horns, he couldn't turn around and find a different route. And as the horn tooting grew louder, John felt a headache developing.
It really was going to be a long journey.
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Dean gradually woke up to a raging thirst and the need to relieve his bladder. Deciding to kill two birds with one stone, he slid from the bed and slouched over to the bathroom to take care of business. Once he'd thoroughly washed his hands, Dean took a few slurps of water straight from the tap, and feeling satisfied just for a little while, turned to stare at his brother's bed.
Something didn't look right in the darkness. Or feel right, for that matter.
"Sammy?" He called out softly, but when no answer was forthcoming, Dean was across the room in two long strides and yanking back the rumpled covers.
Shit!
Trying to think and failing Dean paced for a few minutes, decided it wasn't helping, and was about to reach for his cell when he heard a quiet moan. He glanced around the room, but he couldn't make out where it was coming from.
"Sam?" He called louder this time. This time he heard it; a soft whimper of pain. And it was coming from the other side of the motel room door.
Without stopping to think about it, Dean flipped the lock, pulled open the door, and an extremely wet and badly shivering little brother flopped across the threshold.
"Sam!" Dean reached down and scooped the kid into his arms, feeling the chills racking his brother's body in worrying contrast to the clear signs of a returning fever. "Sammy, what the hell were ya doin' out there?"
Sam opened his tired eyes to gaze up at his brother, not quite sure what was going on. He was pretty sure it was Dean carrying him across the room, and then he was equally certain it was his big brother that laid him on the bed and began stripping him of his soaking wet clothes. But he had no idea what was wrong or why Dean sounded so worried.
He felt warm hands on either side of his frozen face, and then that same question was being asked of him again. "Sam? Why were you sitting outside in the rain?"
Sam blinked rapidly, trying to stay awake. "Da…dad called. Comin' home soon. Had to find you…" he croaked, throat feeling torn to ribbons. His lungs didn't feel much better either, and the sudden bout of wet coughing had him writhing in agony.
"Easy kiddo," Dean pulled him into his arms and rubbed soothing circles on his back. "Just breathe."
Sam's focus was wavering in and out, and he just wanted to sleep.
Unable and unwilling to stay awake any longer, Sam closed his eyes and let himself just drift away.
Dean almost panicked when Sam went limp in his arms.
"Hey, wake up!" He searched his brother's face, worried at the dark shadows under his eyes and the shivers hadn't abated. "Sam?"
The kid was out of it, and would likely remain so for most of the night…er…it was two am, so morning then.
Dean laid Sam back on the bed and rummaged through one of the duffle bags, digging out dry warm clothes. As soon as he had his little brother dressed, he stuffed him into bed and under the covers, piling them on top of him, then practically ran to the bathroom for a damp washcloth.
Sam whimpered softly and snuggled deeper into the blankets, whilst Dean fought to bathe his forehead, face and neck without getting the sheets damp.
"Jesus Christ kid." Dean murmured when he took his temperature a few minutes later and didn't like the readout one bit. Sam's explanation for being found semi-conscious, feverish and half-drowned on the doorstep so early in the morning was a little garbled, but one thing did come through loud and clear.
John was on his way back already, and Sam was worse than before, which meant that Dean was well and truly in the shit. The only thing he could think of was that Sam must have gotten worse during the night, become delirious and wandered out of the room in a daze.
Dean knew he deserved any punishment his father decided to deal out, because he'd let Sam down. The memory of their run in with a shtriga, and nearly losing Sam as a result some years before still haunted him, and he tried to figure out how the hell he'd managed to fuck up so badly yet again. It wasn't that difficult.
So he tucked his little brother in securely and kept watch over him, refusing to fall asleep. Occasionally, he got up to pace, trying to keep his legs from seizing up, or to make some fresh coffee. He paused by the coffee table for a moment then reached out and picked up Sam's birthday present to him, ripping open the paper.
The gift left him reeling in shock.
Sammy what did you do?
It was the latest Metallica album and Dean had been eyeing it in the shops for some time, waiting for the price to drop. Sam must have saved every penny of his allowance for the last god knew how long in order to pay for this. Now he came to think about it, Dean couldn't remember the last time he saw his little brother buying his favourite candy, or a new book, or any other of the few luxuries the boys were occasionally allowed to indulge in.
Still holding the present, Dean moved quietly over to Sam's bed and sat on the edge. Smoothing his brother's unruly mop of hair back from his face, Dean smiled down sadly.
"Thanks little bro. I can't believe you got me this."
Sam opened tired eyes and gazed up at him, a small smile forming. "You're welcome." He whispered back, then coughed violently. Dean rolled him onto his side and once again rubbed his back, until it eased up, only to be followed up with more shivering. "C…cold Dean. So c…cold."
Getting more and more worried by the minute, Dean climbed under the covers fully clothed and pulled his brother back to his chest, wrapping his arms round him.
"Better?"
Sam immediately began to relax as the shared body heat seeped through his PJs.
"Yeah." Sam replied with a heart achingly weak voice.
They just lay there for a while until Sam's breathing evened out. But Dean needed to know something before they both fell asleep.
"Sammy, why did you really leave the room?"
For a moment there he thought Sam had fallen asleep again. So he was surprised when his little brother answered him softly and slightly slurred.
"Dad called. He tried to get through to you but your phone was switched off. I told him you were asleep." His voice became sleepy with each word but Dean was getting the gist. "He's comin' home early and I didn't want you to get in trouble, so I went lookin' for ya…couldn't find ya. Lost…my key…knocked but ya didn't wake up…"
Dean closed his eyes in despair. Now he got it. "Sam, no matter what you shouldn't have gone looking for me. Anything could've happened to you out there."
It did damn well happen, didn't it? 'Cos I wasn't there. 'Cos I was a selfish bastard.
"But I had to…" Sam let loose a small sob, only just audible by now, but he kept going. "…I messed up your birthday…"
Dean froze for just a second, then held him closer, his heart breaking for what he'd put Sam through that night, finally understanding. "No ya didn't kiddo. Wasn't your fault." He whispered in Sam's ear. "I managed to ruin it for myself."
Shoulda spent it with you.
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Dean woke up to a face full of his little brother's hair, tickling his nose. A shadow loomed over the bed, and he looked up to find his father silhouetted against the late morning sun, peeking in through the curtains.
John placed a hand on Sam's forehead and frowned. "He got worse during the night?"
Dean nodded then opened to mouth to explain, but Sam beat him to it.
"S'my fault Dad." Sam rolled onto his back and suffered another coughing fit. Dean, rubbing his back, blinked in surprise. He hadn't realised his kid brother was awake. "Dean was asleep and I wanted to clean up, but there was no hot water so I had to take a cold shower." His gaze fell with shame and he mumbled apologetically "I got sick again. Sorry Dad."
John got the feeling something was off here as his eyes swivelled between his sons. Dean was staring at Sam, speechless possibly for the first time in his life, and Sam was refusing to look either his father or brother in the eye. The only explanation he could come up with is that his boys must've had a fight, but that didn't explain the avoidance of eye contact. John knew them both well enough, though; they wouldn't be telling him the truth any time soon.
With one last suspicious glanced at his sons John nodded. "Seems you've got yourself a chest infection kiddo." He smiled down worriedly as he ruffled Sam's hair. "I'm gonna see if I can't get hold of some antibiotics and heavy duty cough mixture. You stay warm and take it easy. Dean?"
"Yes sir?" And John wondered again at how subdued he sounded.
"Fix us all some coffee. I'm pretty sure we could use it." Though it was an order, it was delivered with kindness.
"Yes sir."
Dean stayed quiet until their father left the room, then turned to his brother.
"Sam stop doin' that…"
"It's ok Dean. You've covered for me in the past, now I'm just returning the favour. And he's not gonna bawl me out when I'm sick." Sam tried not to yawn but the result was another terrible, phlegm-loaded bout of coughing.
Dean grimaced in disgust. "You wanna point your mouth in the other direction when you do that?"
Sam grinned tiredly. "Little hard to move when I'm sharing the bed with my big ass brother."
"Hey! Ya ungrateful little shit, if it weren't for me you'd have frozen your skinny ass right off last night." But Dean was fighting his own grin as he extricated himself from the tangle of sheets, blankets and little brother. He made his way sleepily to the breakfast bar to get started on the coffee.
"I nearly did anyway; you stole the covers just like you always do." Sam countered, trying not to laugh.
"I'm allowed more covers, I'm the oldest and I'm tallest."
"Not for much longer." Sam was growing drowsy again. "I'm gonna be taller than you one day."
"Never gonna happen bitch."
"Sure it will…jerk."
Dean turned back with one last retort, but Sam had fallen asleep again. He couldn't help but smile, even if he still felt guilty as hell.
"Thanks Sammy." He whispered once more.
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Author's notes:
Yeah, I'm a soppy tart and couldn't resist it.
I'm not catholic but do I warrant forgiveness for this?
Kind regards,
ST.xxx.