Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural. Kripke does. Take that, me! D':

Challenge Word: Over.

Bonus Challenge: hypothermic!Dean with a side dish of protective, caring Sam.

Word Count: 300, altogether. But there're three separate parts, all 100 words each. So there. :D

A/N: Well, since bhoney is awesome, I decided to write three 100 word drabbles for her birthday. Also, because I love any kind of Dean whump, and will take advantage of any excuse to write more. :D Happy Birthday, dear! Hope you like this.

Summary: E/O Challenge: Over. --Three feet of snow. Three fucking feet- and the Impala was stuck.-- Happy Birthday, bhoney!

"Snowed In"

Three feet of snow. Three fucking feet- and the Impala was stuck. Dean shivered violently, hating the world so hard his teeth chattered. 'Cause that meant they were stuck. In some rickety cabin out in the middle of bumfuck, nowhere.

"Here," Dean said, pulling the lone ratty blanket they'd found over Sam's shivering form. Before his little brother could protest, he leaned forward, stoking the glowing embers in the fireplace (happier than ever that they always had matches or a lighter). Wrapped his jacket tighter around himself and consciously tried to stop shaking.

"D-Dean?"

"Sleep, Sammy."

Conversation over.

"Stage 2"

It took Dean a while to realize Sam wasn't with him, and that was never a good sign. Even worse, he wasn't completely concerned about that, 'cause he was too busy shivering his ass off.

And the blanket... well, that was pretty awesome. But right now he was too damn tired to care. Could feel his eyelids drifting shut even as the door slammed open with a gust of cold air.

"Dean!" That voice sent warmth throughout him; Sammy was safe. He could sleep.

---

Next time he woke they were in the car, tires rolling quietly over snow.

"Hospital Time"

He'd been in and out of consciousness for... who knew how long.

Eyes didn't want to open. Fingers worked at worn sheets. Restless, not quite understanding.

"Dean?"

Everything was white, white, white. Suddenly there was a face hovering over his, hazel eyes ecstatic and bloodshot. "Figures," Dean grunted, throat dry, "you'd... cry like a girl."

Then he had an armful of Sammy that he wasn't quite sure how to handle. He patted him awkwardly on the back. Cleared his throat, which only made him cough painfully.

Sam was there with water before he could say a word.