The Longest Weekend – Supernatural Fic.
by: sifi.
Disclaimed Yes.
Loved? grins
OOooOO
1995 Outside of Coaldale Colorado.
"Jesus Christ dad! Would you watch the road! Don't mind Sammy he'll be fine so long as you don't break our damn necks anytime soon," Dean couldn't stop his mouth but that was the third time some damned pothole in this god-forsaken hiking trail tried to eject his head through the roof of the car.
"Watch it..." John growled half heartedly. Dean was right. When it came to Sam he was always right.
"Sorry..." The eldest muttered glancing back at gangly length of arms and legs that had sprouted a solid six inches in just as many months. "You alright there Sammy?"
"S'the nice thing about laying down... my concussion'll be at the back of my head s'tead o'the top," the teen grumbled and shot a tired smile at his caretaker.
"Well your mouth's workin' just fine..." John smirked.
"Yes sir... s'just a cold comin' is all... a good night's sleep and a weekend in front of a fireplace I'll be fine sir."
"S'more than a cold," Dean said low.
"Mmm," John frowned, "Shouldn't take more than the weekend to get this taken care of though."
"But a cabin dad? In the middle of nowhere? I mean..." Dean frowned fighting the twittery feeling in his belly. He never could stand it when Sammy got sick. Somehow he always felt like it was his fault, like he should've dressed him better, gotten him a thicker coat, thicker socks, oh for shits sake... why don't I just tuck him in and kiss his widdle forehead too... still... it IS my job to look after him... he gets sick, it's just proof I fucked up somewhere.
"Look I checked the place out, it's fully stocked with everything you're gonna need, the woodpile's roof high, there's a generator in a little shed attached to the back of the cabin. The old Ben Franklin's been mucked out... and it's closer to where I'll be than the nearest hotel."
"No phone." Dean pointed out.
"Ham radio gets picked up at the Ranger Station not 3 miles away," John reminded him.
"And they're going to be with YOU..." Dean shook his head disbelieving, "What're you hunting this time anyway? Sasquatch gone wild or something? And more important, how the hell did you get RANGERS on your side? You never get ANYONE on your side."
John huffed a chuckle swerving hard to avoid dragging his beloved Impala through another woodland crater.
"I think we're almost there, turn on your spot," he directed pointing up ahead and to the right. A moment later he grinned in the darkness. The spotlight winked back at them from a barely visible four pane window closely snuggled from behind by a forested embrace.
As much as Dean hated to admit it, the raccoon infested death trap waiting to fall down around their ears that he'd envisioned the cabin to be, was a far cry from what he was seeing.
For all intents and purposes this little cabin, painted rust-red, with its tidy little porch and wide open front yard, looks downright homey... at least on the outside, brought a faint smile to the elder son's face.
"It's small, just two rooms, one room with two twin beds and the main room..."
"Pot to piss in?" Dean asked.
"Almost literally," John nodded, "The sinks and toilet are fed from a tank on the opposite side of the generator shed."
"It's all gravity flow I take it?" Dean asked.
John nodded, "I checked the line, it's running free and the tank is full, it's got a solar cover to keep it from freezing," Dean nodded his understanding, it wasn't the first time they'd been on wilderness rations, he knew the drill well enough as did Sam, so he continued, "The sofa pulls out to a bed in case it gets too cold and you boys have to bunk up together. Just make sure you shut..."
"Shut the bedroom door, cover the windows and make sure there's nothing flammable around the stove... I know dad... it's not the first time we've done the cabin thing," Dean nodded smiling easily as John's mitt ruffed his hair.
"I know," he nodded searching his pockets for the keys.
Dean ducked down and smiled at Sam, "Why don't you stay here while we get everything..."
"I'm not a fuh..." he started to snarl then caught sight of his father's raised eyebrow, "invalid Dean it's a damned cold alright!" then pushed his big brother out of the way with the rear door in spite of the deep wrenching cough that squeezed him in half before he made it to his feet.
"Listen up... you look like shit and I'm sure you don't feel much better but so help me boy you give your brother a hard time..." John started to warn.
"What? He'll strap me down for the weekend? I'll be lucky if I can keep my eyes open or stop the snot from running long enough to take the damned High School Entrance exam..." Sam grumbled shuffling through the moist detritus and dragging his bag along behind him.
Must be feeling pretty crappy if he can't even carry the damned thing, Dean thought knowing full well the last thing Sam would want is for moisture from the ground to seep into the workbooks he'd mowed lawns half the summer to purchase. You're a good man Pastor Jim... Dean shook his head.
"Was I that bad at 13?" He asked.
"Where do you think he gets it from?" John returned watching his youngest slump against the door and shouldering his eldest forward.
John opened the padlock and drew out his flashlight, moving directly to the mantle where he lit a couple of oil lamps.
"Get in there..." Dean grumbled gently shoving his little brother into the cabin in front of him then moved immediately to the fireplace and laying out the kindling while John got a fire going in the old potbellied stove.
The floor of the cabin rumbled a split second before both men identified the sound and turned back to the center of the room. They were both surprised and unnerved by the sight of Sam sitting upright with his coltish legs splayed out on the floor and a look of deep confusion on his face.
"Sam?"
"Sammy?" Dean pushed his way to the boy's side, thoughtlessly moving John out of the way, "Hey? You trip over those giant clodhoppers again?" he frowned pressing his hand to the teen's forehead, "Dad get the first aid kit." He instructed grasping Sam under the arms and hauling him to his feet, "Dude you're all arms and legs... what the hell are you mutating into?" he asked half carrying him into the only other sectioned room besides the small bathroom.
"Mmmokay... just... kinda lost my balance... I think one of the floorboards is loose'r somethin'," he shook his head as Dean sat him down on the bed closest to the inner wall.
"Yeah yeah... you'd trip over an ant if it got in your way Gracie... did you break anything besides the floor?" Dean asked taking the kit from John and popping it open as Sam swung his head loosely on his neck, his eyes wide with disbelief for a split second before his big brother shoved a thermometer under his tongue, "Don't bite!" he ordered as Sam's teeth jingled against the glass.
"I roke heh phoor?" Sam asked then seemed to clear up just a bit before he punched his big brother in the shoulder, "Ath hoe."
When he'd come to check the cabin out earlier John had remembered to stock the boys up on drinking water. He poured a cup for his youngest and handed him two aspirin to swallow down. "Tuck yourself in Sam. Dean and I'll get everything settled, and I'll be back in just a couple days..." John instructed sitting on the edge of the bed. "I want you over the hump of this cold by Monday, we're gonna be heading out to Jim's and he doesn't need to be spreading your cold around to his parish just before the holidays start you understand?" John admonished.
"Yes sir." Sam nodded rolling onto his side as his dad draped the blanket over him.
It's just his way of masking his concern, Dean thought but read the look on his little brother's face as easily as Sam read most books; it was a look that despite being born of fever in this instance, had actually sprouted to life years ago when John had forgotten how to talk with the boy as a son rather than a Commanding Officer, way to move right up the ranks there Corporal... his eyes flicked to his charge, you just gotta learn how to read him Sammy... that's all... I promise he's doing the best he can by us.
"How high is it?" John asked after closing the door behind him.
"Hundred and one. We'll see what the aspirin does." Dean nodded.
"You know it's the flu..." John sighed.
"Yeah."
"Keep him hydrated, and keep him in bed," he looked straight into his eldest son's bright green eyes, the ones he'd inherited from his mother, "If there wasn't going to be this stupid convention..." he shook his head.
Dean smiled, "I know dad. And I know that's why you want us HERE instead of at the lodge... what are you hunting?" he asked again.
"You wouldn't believe me if I told you... hell son I'm not sure I believe it... point is, since it closed for the season in September there have been six private parties, two of them being ten people or less who've just disappeared into thin air... Whatever it is or whatever THEY are... they gotta be stopped." John explained.
"I know dad... we'll be fine, I'll salt the doors and windows... and we'll hunker down till you get back."
John sidled across to his duffel bag and pulled out a machete, "If anyone comes that isn't me? Cut off their head."
"What?" Dean grimaced taking the machete.
"It's an order Dean," his voice held warning.
I was wondering when 'sir' would show up, "Yes sir," the eldest nodded.
Dean knew all too well that if he asked the question twice and had not been answered either time, there would be no answer forthcoming. He knew John didn't like exposing his boys to these 'things that go bump in the night', he knew his dad never HAD wanted to expose them to this world of monsters. At least he was sure there was part of his dad that still felt that way.
He glanced at the closed bedroom door, strode across the cabin floor and opened it a few inches, certainly more for himself than for Sam, then continued the familiar routine of setting up base before crashing for the night.
"When are you leaving?" he asked pulling the bed out of the couch.
"I'll probably be gone before you boys are up, and I expect to be back Monday. If you haven't heard from me by Tuesday morning, get on the horn to the ranger's station and see if you can raise anyone... if you can't... you and Sammy are gonna hafta hike it out there... and take one of the cars, make sure you keep plenty of daylight on your side," John noted his son's curious frown, "Woods can get tricky at night."
Dean tapped his duffel with his toe, "Got the maps."
All these things were standard, all the warnings and precautions and the constant reiteration of who to go to and when, if anything should happen to John... Dean knew them inside and out, Sammy knew them inside and out and though he was a long way away from the restless nine year old boy who'd broken the rules and left the motel room for three pissy little hours out of 72 that John wanted them to be cooped up the WRONG pissy little three hours... every repetition of them left him feeling just a little smaller in his father's eyes, especially the older he got.
But after that incident he never rolled his eyes at his father's grating repetition, he never again scoffed or reminded his dad that, '...you know I'm not stupid...' in fact he avoided the word 'stupid' altogether afraid that it would remind his father of the 'stupid' mistake he'd made... and the memory would be brought to the fore once again instead of hopefully buried in eight years of almost perfect care for his little brother, and almost perfect obedience to the rules. If I can do what he says just right... maybe I can erase that one mistake... please... let me be able to do things right enough for long enough to erase that night... a deep part of him that he wasn't even aware existed begged.
"Good man." John nodded and turned to face his firstborn son. It was as if he could feel something eating at the young man. There was something inside him, something fierce and strong and frighteningly proficient and after the hunts they'd been on together, he had very little fear for Dean's well being, or the young man's devotion to his little brother. But he sensed there was something not quite right there too... something held back, something stunted and hidden, kept in the dark and sometimes late in the night when he wasn't on a hunt and wasn't forced to focus on keeping his own ass alive, and finding out what the hell those damned demons are talking about... he wondered if maybe he wasn't the one responsible for that stunted thing, and he wondered if that un-cared for 'thing' would one day be killed by his own son's hand. Maybe because it was something John hadn't dared to nurture during their first years in this wild world. It'll be my fault... whatever it is, it's part of him... and if it dies... it's my fault. He took a breath and shook it off, whatever it takes to keep them safe.
"Good." he repeated.
Dean stood in the small single room looking around, even feeling a little sheen of sweat on his face. In two strides he was back at the bedroom where, although there was still a faint chill in the air, the warmth had begun to permeate. That the potbellied Ben Franklin stove was against the same wall as Sam's bed gave him a lot of relief.
Wonder if it'd be creepy if I crawled in with him? It'd keep us both warm that's for sure... little guy's a freakin' radiator even when he's NOT sick. His head tilted to the side and he took a moment to really look at his younger brother, not so little anymore are you Sammy? At the rate you're growing... you're gonna shoot past me... that's not right. If it was anyone but you I might even take offense. And he smiled a little sadly.
"Gonna be warm enough or you wanna move him to the couch?" John asked over his boy's shoulder.
"Should be alright..." Dean shrugged, "I'll toss my sleeping bag over him," he nodded toward the window side bed, "make due with the blanket."
"Just don't let yourself get sick too... I don't want both my boys down," John clapped him on the shoulder then ruffed the back of his hair.
"'Kay."
OOooOO
"Mm?"
Dean's eyes flicked across the darkness to his little brother.
"Huhnuh...De..."
He sat up and whispered, "Easy Sammy I'm right here."
"Mmm?"
He leaned forward, twisted and sat on Sam's bed grasping the cup of water on the table between them. He had no trouble finding it even in the darkness, his eyes had long ago grown acclimated and he hadn't had a moment's sleep.
Gently he slid his hand behind the boys head, grimacing at the dripping sweat on the back of his neck. He watched Sam's eyes pop open and heard his breath catch for a split second before a racking washboard cough sat him up.
Dean caught him around the back before he could fall back to the bed, "Here... some water."
"Dean?" Sam asked wrapping his hands around his brothers and bringing the cup to his mouth, "Where are we again?"
"Colorado. Just east of the Rockies..."
"Dad leave?" he gasped after gulping the cup empty.
"Yeah, 'bout a half hour ago."
"Good," the boy smiled groggily, "you're not so uptight when he's not around."
"Mmm."
"Dean?" Sam asked as his big brother gently lowered him back to the bed and tucked the blankets and sleeping bag around him, "You think they'll let me in High School?"
"I think if you wanted to Sammy, you could probably ace your way into college."
"Y'think?" the boy smiled.
"Yeah I do."
"Dean?"
"Yeah?"
"It's Sam... Sammy's a chubby twelve year old..." he snickered.
"Yeah well now he's a gangly thirteen year old..." Dean smiled grateful for the familiar banter.
"Heeh... gangly..." he giggled then frowned, "Mmm hot..." while shoving at the blankets layered over him.
Dean pressed his hand to Sam's forehead, the skin was cool and clammy and he was pretty sure that if he brought in a lamp he'd probably see the slap red cheeks his little brother always got when he was fevered up. Dean sighed, oh yeah... definitely the flu. First run of fever's down... he'll be spiking by morning then simmer down during the day and spiking again by nightfall. This is gonna be a fun weekend.
"Too bad... you got the flu Sam, you need to stay bundled up," he stood from the bed, "I'm gonna go toss some more wood in the stove and in the fireplace... you wanna move out to the living room? It's warmer?"
Sam rolled his head loosely back and forth, "Mm mm..." then was out like a light again leaving Dean to the thoughts that sometimes haunted him.
When I was his age dad ditched me in a freakin' vortex... kept Sammy with him though... well, tossed him at Bobby... left me alone for days in the middle of nowhere with nothing but the barest field essentials... course neither of 'em would've survived I don't think... if it wasn't for me... well maybe they would have... sitting on the foot of the sofa bed, watching the flames dance in the fireplace the back of his nose filled with the scent of lighter fluid and the memory of a dozen polaroid photos he'd watched burn to ash while in the basement of the house he'd just left, a man lay dead or dying, by his hand.
There were times when the memory was fuzzy and twisted like taffy, partly because he'd already been fighting his own battles against the creatures that had taken firm hold of John and through him Sam. But there were times when it was quiet and sleep wouldn't have him, that he knew they were as sharp as digital video and he couldn't for the life of him, fool himself into thinking he didn't remember every bit of it.
In the bedroom, the nylon of his sleeping bag whispered as it slid to the floor and he got to his feet, picked it up and snugged it around his boy again in spite of the faint protestations.
Love you runt. He waved the damp cloth in the cool air and laid it over Sam's forehead once again, unsettled by how quickly it grew warm again.
This is going to be a very long weekend.
OOooOO
tbc.
Please R&R
Thanks
sifi
A/N – I'm still working on High Noon... but this one was a request from TraSan and I've kept her waiting for an awfully long time. I hope you enjoy milady.
And I hope that everyone who reads it also enjoys it.
Thank you for your time and attention.