Title: Take Time to Smell the Roses
Summary: A simple hunt in the forest turns into an unwanted adventure that neither brother could have anticipated.
Warnings: Some language, nothing major. Set some time after Hunted.
Disclaimer: We're not associated with the show in any way and are doing this for fun, not money.
Gidgetgal9- A/N: This story was a fun venture. I so loved getting to work with Floralia. Happy Birthday Sendintheclowns! You are the best and the reason I write fan fiction. Oh and a big thanks to BlueEyedDemonLiz for taking time to beta this for us!
Floralia – A/N: Happy Birthday Sendintheclown! Thanks to Gidgetgal9 for tackling this with me, it was fun, and to BlueEyedDemonLiz for the last minute beta.
Take Time to Smell the Roses
Part One
In an ideal world, Dean would have got the blaze under control before his brother regained consciousness. But the confused and slightly alarmed "What the Hell?" from behind him just went to prove he could never be that lucky.
"Slight change of plan," he called back, fighting the urge to look over his shoulder and assess his brother's condition, trusting the incredulous snort and annoyed "you think" to tell him what his eyes could not: Sam was no longer prone and unmoving. And if the "Slight, Jesus Dean," was anything to go by, be had not been rendered stupid or speechless by the blow to the head.
Sometimes Dean just couldn't catch a break.
Dean was aware of his own hypocrisy even if Sam's indignation grated – if it hadn't been for the worry over how fast Sam had hit that tree, or more accurately his failure to get straight back up again, Dean would not have felt the need to start with the impromptu barbeque at all.
It had been a weird hunt, even for them. Dean still found it hard believe they'd been up against an evil Willow tree, but that was exactly what his geeky brother had repeatedly been assuring him of. That was why they had spent the better part of the morning traipsing through the forested area of the Ozarks, on the look out for this evil tree.
"So Sam, how does a tree go evil?" Dean had queried as they made their way along the trail to the area where a few unexplained attacks had occurred.
"Well actually the willow would have to be controlled by something evil. Willow trees are considered good trees and if you plant them they are supposed to keep evil away. But they are also favourites of witches and used in their magic. My guess is that this tree is under the spell of a witch, probably to keep people away from her tree." Sam paused in his rambling and Dean had to smile at his own walking encyclopaedia of the supernatural.
"Huh, so that would explain why the thin branches could come to life and try to grab the hikers."
"Yeah, the two hikers reported that the tree did grab one of them pushing him away, he probably got too close. All we have to do is keep our distance and perform the cleansing ritual. Easy as pie." Sam's voice was full of confidence.
"What if it's not a witch cursed tree, just an evil tree?" Dean had wanted to believe things would go easy, but that just wasn't their luck.
"Willows are not evil trees, so somehow something has tainted it. Even if it's not a witch's spell, a cleansing ritual will take care of the problem."
"Sure thing, geek boy." Dean had to stifle the laughter at the thought of his brother getting his panties in a wad over his attack on the willow tree's character.
Shaking off the memories of Sam's assurances, Dean went back to hastily trying to pat out the flames with the broad surface of his shovel.
Cleansing rituals were all well and good, but they had their place. And where one was hemmed in away from their supplies and the other was unconscious, was definitely not it. Fire could be plenty cleansing as far as Dean was concerned.
Somehow he didn't think Sam was going to agree with the logic of that. Especially after the time and energy he'd put into convincing Dean to go with the ritual in the first place.
"A little help maybe? Sam?" He did look over his shoulder then, fire be damned. Because Sam bitching was one thing, but Sam bitching and not making any effort to put out the blaze he'd wanted to avoid starting was something else entirely.
"Yeah, gimme a sec."
Dean spared a few seconds to take Sam in, arms extended to support his trembling frame; eyes closed and not yet off the ground.
"Sam, talk to me," he ordered, turning back to the job at hand. Sam was conscious and seemingly coherent even if he wasn't moving, and Dean's priority had to be on putting out their little fire before it was allowed to get out of hand
"I'm okay."
"Sure you are," Dean murmured as the hiss of pain and mild curse reached him over the sound of the flames.
Sam was on his feet again by the time the undergrowth had been thoroughly extinguished, one hand resting against the tree he had collided with, the other wrapped around his waist.
"What happened to the cleansing?" he asked before Dean could jump in with any questions of his own, and in a tone that made the majority of them unnecessary.
Anyone who could complain straight off the mark was fine.
"Same thing that happened with the 'it's peaceful Dean, it hasn't killed anyone yet, we need to put it to rest not kill it': It was Bull."
"It just felt threatened Dean," Sam rolled his eyes, "So it lashed out."
"Yeah, well. Me too," Dean muttered, earning him a lip twitch in response. "Let me see."
"'s okay," Sam assured him, pushing off from the tree and batting away Dean's hands as he tried to get a look at how badly Sam was hurting.
"You're bleeding," Dean told him, pointing to the red spots on his t-shirt that Sam's arm was currently shielding.
"No kidding," Sam said dryly.
"Then don't tell me that you're…"
"It's just a scratch, it's not that bad. Let's just get out of here before it gets dark."
Dean continued to stare until Sam huffed out a sigh and raised his shirt to allow Dean to see for himself.
"Well…?" He enquired with his eyebrows raised, but an indulgent smile on his face.
There was a nasty graze on Sam's side and the surrounding area was already starting to bruise. At the centre of the damage was a large scratch stretching around Sam's side, still slowly dripping blood.
Dean cleared away the dripping trail with his thumb to gauge how quickly it was still flowing.
"Ouch… watch it," Sam squirmed away and covered himself back up indignantly, and Dean had the grace to feel a little guilty after Sam had voluntarily succumbed to the examination.
"It's not too deep," he relented, although if he kept pulling on it that way it would probably end up needing stitches. He followed to where Sam was already packing away the paraphernalia of his aborted ritual. "We'll get it patched up properly when we're back at the motel; you're only going to be pulling it walking. Just keep pressure on it for now."
"Gee, why didn't I think of that?" Sam shook his head good-naturedly, hissing again as he bent to snag up his backpack from the forest floor. Dean left him to it and went to recover his shovel and discarded shotgun, stopping to make sure the smouldering ruins of the tree posed no risk of re-igniting.
"It would have worked you know," Sam called out from behind him, and Dean turned to find his brother shouldering his pack but refusing to look in Dean's – and his carnage's – direction,
"Yeah, I know." He relented.
"You just needed to give it a little more time to take."
"Time... Sam. You might not have noticed with the whole being unconscious thing, but it wasn't exactly keen on the 'giving us time' idea, okay. It was you or the tree, Sam. What choice did you expect me to make?"
Maybe he'd have been able to hold it off long enough for the banishment to kick in, Dean honestly didn't know, but it hadn't really occurred to him to try. Not when he had a guaranteed method of disposing of their little problem without the need to provide it with the time to throw them around some more. But he would not be letting Sam know the instinct to lash out had been as natural as breathing.
They'd set up base deep into the forest, but only an hour's hike from the road and their car. There was less need for stealth this side of the kill, so when they'd been walking for over an hour with no sign of the trees getting any thinner Dean felt the first dull flickers of concern.
"How you doing back there?" he called over his shoulder. They'd left the clearing side-by-side, Dean still trying to defend his decision to use fire over oil and words, but it had not escaped him that Sam had gradually started to lag. But Dean could still hear him scrabbling and cursing through the undergrowth behind him so had chosen not to worry. Yet.
It was almost dark now, the meagre sunlight having a hard time filtering through the thick blanket of trees, and the temperature had also dropped dramatically as the light had faded. Even Dean was feeling the chill beneath his jacket despite the pace he had been setting.
Sam mumbled something undeterminable in response but in a tone that made Dean smile, even if he did feign tying his shoelace to allow his brother to catch up.
Sam was quiet; his focus on the uneven floor, concentration seemingly on remaining on his feet and Dean tried to keep silent with him. But after another 40 minutes and the realisation his fingers were numb from the cold, Dean could keep it in no longer.
"We should be at the road by now," he voiced conversationally, trying to gauge Sam's reaction. Nothing about this job had gone to plan so far, and being lost in the forest would be a fitting way to end it. But Dean knew they weren't that sloppy. He knew the trail they'd taken; they'd traipsed through more than their fair share of wilderness, and this had been part of their training. There was no way they could be lost. Dean refused to believe it.
Apart from the small detail that they had yet to reach the car.
"Hmmmmh?" Was Sam's only contribution. His brother was shaking, but Dean could see the sheen of sweat on his forehead even in the dim light. He'd been unconscious for close to five minutes – all the determination in the world was only going to get them so far. They had to get out of here sooner rather than later – but for some reason that just wasn't happening.
Sighing Dean pulled a compass from the pocket of his pack.
"We lose the trail? Sam asked him, frowning at the object in Dean's hands. "We were on it last I checked." He took a couple of steps away from Dean, scanning their surroundings.
"Me too. Well we're heading in the right direction," he gave the compass a quick shake just to be sure, "I just don't know where we are."
"Uh, Dean? I might be able to help with that."
Dean turned to see Sam disappearing into the gloom, and jogged after him with a curse. He only made it a few steps before he found himself in a small clearing. He was just about to ask what Sam was talking about when he smelt it – the faint scent of burning still lingering in the air two hours later.
"You're kidding me!" Dean exclaimed, "What the Hell?" They'd gone in a circle. They'd gone in a giant two hour circle and wound up exactly where they'd started from.
"Tell me about it," Sam agreed. He'd been resting with his hands on his knees, and Dean could see his heavy panting breath fogging the air in front of his face, but as Dean looked over at him Sam pushed himself upright, stamping his feet in an effort to warm them and blowing on his hands.
"You alright?" Casual was the best approach if he wanted a genuine answer. Not that there was much either of them could do about it if the answer was no.
"I got a choice?" Sam smiled grimly.
"You still bleeding?"
"Not too much."
"But that's a yes? Shit Sam!"
"What do you want me to do? You said yourself there's nothing we can do about it until we get out of here." He wasn't angry, just tired, and that in itself set Dean's alarm bells ringing. But Sam was right – the position of the wound meant any attempt to bandage it would only be undone by walking. Sam pulled on it with every step he took, and his little brother was not so little – there was no way Dean could carry him and their gear for three miles.
"Come on… lets just try this again shall we?"
Dean nodded and followed Sam out of the clearing. To lose themselves was one thing, but to turn up exactly where they'd started, out of all the vast miles of woodland they could stumble through – that felt like something else entirely. And he didn't like it.
He could see Sam stumble occasionally on the path in front of him, but Sam remained silent so Dean didn't acknowledge that he'd noticed it, just bit his own lip and kept behind him, letting him set the pace. But after a few minutes trekking in silence the drive that had set Sam striding away from the scene of their last kill appeared to have left him, and their going was slow.
If the path had been wide enough Dean would have walked along side him to offer a steadying presence; even though Dean was trying not to crowd him he could tell Sam felt hurried having Dean at his rear. But the trees to their left were too thick, and there was a mild slope downwards to their right that would make walking there difficult. At least Dean remembered this from their fist trip into the forest, what felt like days earlier.
He was freezing cold now, the sweat generated by their initial hike and his battle with the flames was drying chill on his body, and they were moving too slowly now to work up heat. Sam was pausing occasionally on the trail in front of him, half turning as though checking Dean was still there in a way that had to be pulling on his injured side.
Dean was on the verge of telling him to cut it out, he was still following, when he stumbled himself and had to put a hand to the higher ground on his left to steady himself. It hadn't occurred to him how badly the fallen leaves had been billowing around his feet, but for the brief moment he was leaning to the side and out of Sam's shadow he was suddenly hit by the full force of the wind. It was blowing straight into their faces; Sam had no shield from it and seemed to be struggling to put one foot in front of the other. He wasn't turning to check on Dean – he was trying to clear his vision and keep his footing.
"Sam!" He had to shout twice for his voice to carry over the wind and distance.
Sam turned wobblingly to meet his gaze.
"Stay there. We need to get you behind me." It would be easier for Sam to walk if Dean could shield him from the worst of the wind, and Sam was starting to look as though anything that would make the going easier for him should be grasped hold of.
"What?" As Sam half turned he staggered and lost his footing, his left leg sliding down the slope as it tried to find purchase among the fallen leaves. He had to twist himself backwards and around to face Dean to stop himself from slipping off the trail and down the hill, landing heavily on his backside. And if the scream and the curse that reached Dean were anything to go by it wouldn't have mattered if they'd taken the time and effort to clean and patch up Sam's side before they'd got moving – that little manoeuvre would have undone any attempt at treatment that might have used.
With Sam on the ground Dean got a face full of wind and leaves and it was a struggle to reach him, during which Sam made no attempt to rise. When Dean could finally lay hands on him Sam was panting heavily through clenched teeth, one hand clamped firmly against his side and curling into it to try and escape the pain.
"Lemmie see," Dean ordered softly, touching Sam's elbow and coaxing, noting that Sam offered no resistance this time to Dean's inspection. The poor light and the colour of Sam's clothing did a lot to conceal it, but from the dark stains on Sam's hand and his still uneven breathing Dean knew the wound was doing more than trickling now.
"I said let me go in front of you," Dean repeated, stepping over Sam's legs and crouching on his other side in an effort to protect him from the wind, trying not to let the weight of his pack send him toppling to his ass at Sam's side. Sam just let out a weak snort of a laugh and nodded, eyes closing momentarily. But when they opened again they were clearer.
"'M okay," he issued weakly, then cleared his throat and continued, voice stronger. "Just took me by surprise is all. I'll be okay."
"Sure you will," Dean agreed, and Sam nodded again as though that settled the matter.
"Here," Dean started, struggling out of his pack and jacket and removing his shirt, "We can at least put some pressure on it – we're gonna need both hands free for balance."
"You're gonna freeze," Sam protested as Dean bundled the shirt up for padding and made to tie the arms firmly around Sam's waist.
"Nah, I'll be good." But even he couldn't conceal the way he was shaking crouched in the driving wind clad only in a t-shirt. "We have to slow this down Sam."
Sam nodded reluctantly and raised his arms so Dean could get to his side, hissing and groaning as Dean pulled the material as tightly as he dared and knotted it. It wasn't much, but hopefully the constant pressure would be enough to tide him over until they made it back to the motel, or at least the car.
"You good to continue?" Dean asked, scrambling back into his layers and under his bag.
"Yeah, help me up." Sam offered tightly. He swayed slightly as he took a few experimental steps but Dean had to take his 'I'm good' at face value. He didn't have a great deal of choice.
He'd felt better having Sam in front of him where he could see for himself how well his brother was coping, but he didn't have much time to concentrate on anything else while battling the wind, and that in itself let him know they'd made the right decision having Dean take the lead. He didn't have to feign a slow pace and Sam kept close, making the most of the cover Dean provided. After 10 minutes of struggling the ground levelled off once more and the trail took them away from the rise and its wind tunnel and back into the forest proper. He could still hear the wind creaking ominously overhead, see the dangerous sway of the trees, but they were shielded from the worst of it.
He'd been on the look-out for the small brook they had to cross – the next marker on his trail and sign they were still going in the right direction – for almost 20 minutes before he allowed himself to officially worry. He'd picked up their pace once the ground had levelled – while it was more sheltered here the air was still bitterly cold and clouded with their breath, and he wanted to cover as much distance as they could while Sam was still mobile.
Sam had seemed only too happy to comply with this strategy, but over the last mile any attempt at conversation had all but ceased, and Sam's clipped one word answers were perhaps the best indication Dean had of how well Sam was fairing. It told him what Sam's efforts and stoic front did not – that they really didn't want to find themselves lost out here. Again.
"I don't understand it man," Dean had his compass out once more and was striding around in frustration. "We're definitely going the right way, so why the hell aren't we getting anywhere?"
"Road's North," Sam pointed out, and Dean knew what he was getting at. If they kept going straight they would hit the road at some point, they had to, it just wouldn't be the trail that led them straight to their car.
But with a sinking feeling Dean knew the logic of that had not worked out too well for them last time.
Dean also knew Sam picked up on his doubts, but thankfully he didn't voice them, and they pressed on in silence. Dean had taken the lead again, not keeping to the path but venturing slightly into the trees on either side, still searching for signs of something recognisable that might put them back on the right path. It was beyond frustrating.
"Dean?"
"Yeah."
"De…"
It was fainted and more breathy the second time, and that got Dean turning. Sam had paused further down the trail. He was leaning against a tree and visibly shaking.
"I don' thin'…"
"Hey! Hey, hey, hey," Dean sprinted the distance to him, not liking the way Sam was swaying. The definite slur to his words.
"Talk to me," he instructed gently, taking in Sam's pale hue in the moonlight, the way his head was bowed and his breathing deep but unsteady.
"Dizzy," Sam whispered, raising his head slightly to meet Dean's enquiring gaze with guilty eyes.
"Okay," Dean offered, resting a light hand on Sam's shoulder. "You wanna sit?"
Sam swallowed deeply and shook his head. "I need…. Don't think I'll get back up."
His grip on his brother's shoulder tightened in the face of Sam's honesty.
"Alright… just take a minute." He maintained his hold, increasingly aware that he and the tree were the only things keeping Sam on his feet. He knew Sam was still bleeding; the damp patch on his 'bandage' was larger every time he checked it. But standing close to him Dean could take in Sam's trembling frame, the concentration behind regulating his breathing, and as he brought up one shaking, bloodstained hand to push his hanging hair from out of his eyes, Dean could see for the first time the blossoming bruise on the side of his forehead.
Dean swallowed and looked away, wanting to give Sam the privacy to compose himself but knowing he wasn't steady on his feet enough to be allowed that luxury. He'd been knocked out – his brother had been unconscious for a substantial amount of time, and under normal circumstances that would barely have been worthy of notice. They would have made it to the car, taken it easy for the rest of the evening, maybe dosed up on painkillers and had an early night, but it would hardly break the stride of their routine, and how wrong was that? Not that they would ever say it.
"Warn me if you're gonna hurl, alright." He ordered instead, more relieved by Sam's shaky laugh that he wanted to admit.
"Is it your head or your side?" he asked, relaxing slightly as Sam started to take back some of his own weight.
"I gotta pick one?" Sam murmured, but he was smiling ruefully. "I'm okay now, we can keep going." He straightened up, still swaying slightly.
"You sure?"
"Do I have much choice?" Sam met his gaze briefly and Dean wished he didn't see the worry in Sam's eyes, but he would not acknowledge it. Would not admit that maybe Sam had a cause for it, even if his own guts were clenching with anxiety.
They were moving again but the pace was slower, and Sam had to pause more often to steady himself or catch his breath, one eye on Dean the whole time, who tried not to let his impatience show. It wasn't Sam's fault he was moving so slowly. It wasn't Sam's fault Dean couldn't seem to find their damn way out of the forest, or that the night was deeper and colder than fall in the Ozarks, had a right to be. He was just providing the one added thing they didn't want to have to think about.
Lost and cold was one thing. Stranded and slowly bleeding to death was something else entirely, and he could only pray it wouldn't get that far. That any second now they would feel tarmac beneath their feet and this stupid hunt would be over. He didn't want Sam to have to think about that. He didn't want Sam to have to think about anything but finding the reserves to put one foot in front of the other.
It was that instinct that got him trying to turn Sam around 20 minutes later.
Unfortunately since Sam was the one that had suggested they just continue in their current direction and see where that took them, he didn't quite see the logic behind the move.
Dean was fairly sure logic had left them hours ago.
"Dean, what..? Come on, what's going on?"
It wasn't that Sam was putting up enough of a fight to actually break free and get by him; it was more that Dean didn't want to hurt him further trying to restrain him. And he really didn't want to be alone in this.
Sam took a few wobbling steps up the trail.
"What were you..?"
Dean could tell the instant Sam's foggy brain figured out what Dean had been trying to protect him from – several seconds after Dean would have liked it too. Just where their steps had taken them. Not only did he stop talking as he took in the clearing, the torn foliage and singed earth, but his whole posture wilted dangerously. But when Sam turned to face him he must have seen the defeat lining Dean's own features, because his jaw hardened and he nodded acceptingly.
"Well okay then," and his voice was surprisingly strong. "You think maybe we missed something?"
Dean took a steadying breath and smirked, trying to keep things light. "Yeah, or we pissed something off. But whatever is going on here, we need to make camp and rethink our plans."
Sam finally let his weariness show on his face and nodded. "Okay, but we don't have many supplies."
Dean watched as Sam slumped down hard until he was sitting on the ground.
"Nope, we weren't planning on camping out, but we've made do with worse. I think the first order of business is to start a campfire. With the wind dying down, I think we're okay in this spot. I'll just grab some firewood, be right back."
Dean gave Sam an appraising look, the kid looked bad, pale and sweaty. A night in the woods was the last thing his little brother needed, but they really didn't have a choice. Dean gave his brother a reassuring smile before he headed off for firewood.
It hadn't taken long for Dean to get a good fire going, but during that short time his brother had managed to look worse. At least it seemed that way to Dean.
"Sammy, let's get you stitched up." Dean said as he approached his dazed brother.
When Sam didn't respond, Dean quickly slumped down next to his brother giving him a gentle shake. "Earth to Sammy."
Sam turned his glassy stare towards Dean. "D-Dean where are we?"
Shit, this is bad. Dean took a calming breath before he answered.
"We're in the woods. You had a fight with an evil willow tree and lost. Remember?"
Sam nodded. "N-Not evil Dean."
Dean smiled at his confused but stubborn sibling. "Well, whatever it was it knocked you for a loop, and now we're camping out. But first I need to stitch you up: do you think we could get you closer to the campfire? The light is better there, and it's warmer."
" 'Kay." Sam replied quietly and started to stand only to fall back in place.
"Huh, I think I'm stuck." Sam whispered out as he winced.
"Alright Sasquatch, let me do most of the work." Dean wrapped his arms around the waist of his ailing sibling and gave a gentle tug. It took some work but Dean slowly got Sam to stand, and then half dragged him a few feet until they were seated in front of the warm fire.
Dean reached into his duffle bag and pulled out a flask. "Here Sammy, take a few sips of this while I get the supplies together to stitch you."
Sam took the flask and looked at it, puzzled.
Dean huffed a little and took the flask back, unscrewing the cap and then holding the bottle in front of Sam's lips. "Drink this."
Sam opened his mouth and took a couple of sips, sputtering a bit as he did. Dean took it away and placed the cap back, sitting the flask next to him.
Over the next half hour, Dean slowly took care of Sam's injury. He was hindered by his brother's confusion, but luckily the wound itself didn't present any problems. It looked clean, and Sam wasn't showing any signs of infection.
The blood loss and head injury were definitely making themselves known. His brother was very confused, and exhausted. Dean just hoped a good night's sleep would be enough for his sibling to make the trek out of the woods in the morning.
Dean's stomach grumbled and he realized that another important factor in having the strength to leave in the morning involved food. Unfortunately, they hadn't brought much.
"Sammy, I need to fix us something to eat. How about some jerky stew, think you could keep that down?" Dean started digging in the duffle bag, pulling out a small pot that they kept for emergencies and jerky sticks.
"Ewww Dean. Not jerky stew, didn't you at least bring some beans?" Sam looked about five with his face scrunched up.
"Sam, we were only going to be here a few hours so no, this and some candy bars are all I have. So suck it up." Dean figured the candy bars would at least make some good desert.
"Well, I'm telling Dad. You so weren't prepared." Sam huffed out.
Dean's eyes widen at Sam's tone and words. He sounded just like he did when he was thirteen, and with the mention of Dad, Dean realized that his brother was a bit more confused than he'd first realized.
Trying not to let his worry show, Dean smirked and replied. "You got me on that one Sammy. But seriously dude, jerky stew is all there is, and you need to eat to keep your strength up, okay?"
Sam rolled his eyes. "Whatever."
After a not so filling dinner of stew and candy, Dean was relieved when his brother curled up by the fire and went to sleep. Minus his outer shirt, and with his brother's head injury, Dean decided to stay up all night. The fire needed to be stoked and it might be a good idea to wake Sam every so often, just to be safe, and Dean was stuck with the honours. Not that he minded; he never minded taking care of Sam. Or at least most of the time he didn't.
What was bothering Dean was not knowing what was going on. They shouldn't be going in circles, he knew that. So that left one option; something supernatural was playing with them.
TBC