Title: Bitter Cold
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Sam and Dean Winchester, Kara and Lesleigh Bowen (OFCs)
Pairing: Dean/Kara
Verse: Hell and High Water
Genre: Het
Summary: Kara and Dean deal with a very heavy issue.
Disclaimer: Sam and Dean belong to WB et all. I make no claims to them or their universe. Kara and her universe belong to me. I make no money from this. It's only for entertainment purposes.

This was a private entry in my journal for about a month for extremely personal family reasons. It took me quite a while to decide that this story needed to be released. I love feedback, but due to the very personal nature of this fic, (in the immortal words of Thumper) if you can't say something nice, don't say nothin' at all. You can suggest things to make it better, though.

I decided to totally bring some dark reality to Dean's life. I know he's dealt with so much already, but...I have the horrible urge to dig into Dean's heart. I wanna put him in a situation that will test not only him, but Kara, Sam and Lesleigh too. I really need to write about Lesleigh and Sam. Anyway, I'm going to write this down, because it is eating at me.

Kara sat alone on the front porch, curled up in a thick blanket. Winter's deep numbing cold had set in. It was stinging her exposed skin and threatening to do more damage if she didn't go inside, but the numbness didn't help her. The pain went too deep. The questions were too serious to comprehend. She didn't want to face them. Didn't want to face him. Her sister, Lesleigh, was kneeling in front of her, a look of concern hardening her delicate features. "You have to tell him Kara. He has the right to know. He deserves to know." There was a moment of silence and Kara didn't move, didn't acknowledge her sister's words at all, before Lesleigh spoke again. "If you don't call him, I will." The statement brought Kara's eyes to Lesleigh's. The concern in Lesleigh's mirrored the cold in her sister's. There was no response to the threat, so Lesleigh pushed to her feet, and turned for the house.

"Ok." Kara whispered reaching into her pocket for her cell. She hit the speed dial as Lesleigh hovered over her. Her sister knew her too well. She wasn't leaving until she heard him pick up.

"This is a surprise." said the deep voice on the other end, responding to the caller ID. Lesleigh opened the door and stepped inside leaving her foot in the way of the screen so she could listen to the conversation.

"Dean? I need you." was the only thing she said.

Her voice was unsteady enough to let him know that this was serious, "I'll be there in the morning." He didn't even ask Sam. Sam wouldn't mind if he knew. The thought of not going never crossed his mind. He simply adjusted the route in his head and made the turn. In eighteen hours he'd be standing at her door. He'd know what was wrong and he'd fix it. There was no way he could have known that this was way beyond fixing.

The next morning, she was back on the porch. A mixture of joy and dread filled her. She went over what she would say a million times, but it never sounded right. Nothing could express what was going on in her head. There were no words, in any language, to describe what was in her heart. Bitterness didn't even come close. Pain was an understatement. For the third time she jumped up and ran for the bathroom. She'd kept nothing down all morning. A tiny voice in her mind said "It was all a nightmare. It didn't happen. See, you're still sick." She pushed it aside, knowing it was false, but still wanting desperately for it to be true. Kara had always been the strong one. The one that could face anything. This had beaten her, crushed her under foot and ground her into the dirt like a cigarette butt. She brushed her teeth and rinsed her mouth, then caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. Her skin was pale. Shadows settled in her face. Her eyes were empty. The girl she knew was gone, replaced by a strange, frail woman. Her head hung low, she returned to the chair that was by now molded to her shape.

Snow had begun to fall lightly and it danced in the gentle breeze. The sight would have made her smile in that other life. The one she had before. Now it was just another empty action. A reminder of what would never be the same. The urge to walk off into the woods and disappear, to drop into a drift and freeze, was overwhelming. It was already moving her feet out the door when she heard the Impala's engine roar up the street. The dense trees called to her even as the car pulled into the drive and the two men stepped out. Sam reached her first. He could feel her pain. He didn't say a word. He just wrapped his arms around her and held her close. Her walls were up. He wasn't going to get anything from her. She just kissed him on the cheek and whispered, "Help Lesleigh with lunch will ya." She gave him a weak smile and he went inside.

Dean watched her intently as his brother greeted her. He registered and analyzed every move, every expression. Her clothes, her posture, they gave him information on how she was feeling and how to deal with her. As Sam walked inside, he slowly approached the porch. Her hair was pulled back in a haphazard ponytail that drooped off center. Her usual "put together" look was replaced by a pair of paint stained overalls and at least two grungy old sweatshirts. Her shoulders were dropped and curved slightly forward. A pair of worn, pink, fuzzy slippers peeked from under the overalls. They were the ones she had once snatched from him and thrown in the closet, laughing about how they were "older than the hills" and she never wore them. Her cheeks were pink, as were the tips of her ears and her nose, which he knew was from the cold. The rest of her skin was pale. Her face wore the signs of distress. Her eyes were red and rimmed in dark circles. Her lips were chapped. He climbed the steps, his shoulders square and strong. His observations dictated the need for strength. He came to her as comforter, protector, a fortress waiting to take her in and harbor her until the passing of the storm. From the beginning, that's what he had secretly wanted, to take care of her. To be the one that this strong, independent woman turned to. The fact that she didn't need that from him made him want it more. This was his chance to be her knight in shining armour.

The bad boy, womanizing image was just that, an image. It wasn't who he really was. Dean was a romantic. He believed in honoring beauty, defending the innocent, and protecting the ones you love. He believed destroying evil was right no matter what it required of him. The end justified the means. The idea traced back to his mother, who would read him tales of courageous knights and beautiful princesses, of magic and mystery. When she died, he hung on to those memories with everything he had. The memories and tales gave him a place to escape to when life got difficult and shaped the man he would become. His mother became one of those fairy queens, a legend more dear to him than any material possession could ever be. He identified with the knights of those ancient tales questing for justice, vengeance, glory, and love. Love was the one thing he could not attain. It was one of the many things he had given up for the greater good. It was easier to give it up than to deal with the pain and distraction it had brought him. He had pushed love away, but he couldn't push away the feelings that welled up in him as he looked into Kara's eyes. She needed him, his strength. "Call it what you want," he thought, "I call it devotion to a friend in need."

Dean stopped on the step below her bringing her eyes almost even with his. She took a deep breath, "We need to talk." He could tell it was serious. Putting his arm around her shoulders, he steered her to the porch swing. He took a seat on the end near the road and she sat facing him. She sat for a long moment, staring at her fidgeting hands. She opened her mouth to speak, but released only a heavy sigh. She began to tremble. Reaching out, he took her hand and gently rubbed the back of it with his thumb. "Remember the last time you were here?" she asked.

"Yeah." he answered "Around three months ago. Halloween." Yes, he remembered that time, that night. He now had a pretty good idea where this conversation was going. They hadn't exactly been careful. A look had lead to a touch, to a kiss, to...well, a night that he remembered fondly with a hint of regret. That regret grew now as the implications of her words sank in.

Kara looked up into his face, "Dean, I got..." she began.

Meeting her eyes again, he finished the sentence, "Pregnant."

"Yeah." she continued with a sorrowful smile.

A twinge of pain hit him, "You waited long enough to say something."

It was her turn to feel the pain, "I had to be sure first, but..."

He cut her off, "Be sure? How long did that take?"

"About eleven weeks." she answered.

"Took you two weeks to call?" he asked, the anger just beginning to warm in his stomach. He didn't want a kid now. Couldn't handle a kid. Didn't have time for a kid. "Why did this have to happen now?" he thought, closing his eyes and letting his head fall back against the swing's chain. He ran his hand through his hair and turned his attention back to her. Tears were forming in her eyes and he instantly felt sorry.

"At first I just thought I was getting sick." she defended, "But that's not why I called you.

He jumped on the comment, "Not why you called?" and got to his feet. He wanted to be as far away from the moment as he could get, but he couldn't leave. Not now. He had to face this. Had to face the consequences of his actions, even though she shared the blame. He turned on her, "You weren't going to tell me!"

This time she broke. Tears poured down her face as she tried to speak, "Dean I...I..." He looked at her intently wondering how she was going to explain this one. She choked on the words, "lost it." He wasn't sure he'd heard her correctly, but instinctively gathered her in his arms, holding her against his chest. The words echoed in his brain. She'd lost it. Miscarriage. Her child, his child, was gone. The pain that flooded through her, crashed over him like a stormy sea. The world went silent. All he heard were her sobs. As the tears ran hot down his cheeks, he forgot everything. The only thing that came to his mind was the comforting face of his mother. He could almost feel her embracing them both. He went back to his childhood. Back to the time when his mother could have comforted him. He felt her hand brush his forehead and move through his hair. He felt her lips gently kiss the top of his head. He heard her voice soothing him. Following the memory as if it were instructions, he kissed the top of Kara's head. Her arms slipped inside his jacket and wrapped around his back. Her hands were cold. He rolled his head to the side, resting his cheek on her head and tightened his grip. He never thought he'd have to deal with something like this. Once again, life had backhanded him out of his precious little reality.

Sam watched the scene through the lace curtains. He saw Dean's tough exterior vanish. Saw his tears glint in the cold, grey light. He made his way to the door and slowly opened it. It squeaked on its old metal hinges, but they seemed not to hear it. They took no notice. Sam pushed his hands deep in the pockets of his jeans and dropped his head. He didn't need powers to see that this was something serious and painful for both of them. He stood there, quiet and still, letting them decide when to acknowledge him.

Dean ignored his brother's presence. It was Kara who took a slow breath and pulled away. She looked up into Dean's face. His eyes were red. The youthful exuberance had drained away. They spoke not a word, only stared at each other. Taking her face in his hands, Dean placed a kiss on her forehead. She gave his hips a gentle squeeze before turning toward Sam and the door. She met Sam's eyes and saw the emotion rising as if he'd been there all along. Titling her head back toward Dean, she spoke, "I'll let you talk." She blinked back fresh tears and headed for the door. Sam put out his arm to stop her. Without looking up, she closed her eyes and let him hold her for a moment. He too kissed her on top of the head before releasing her to go indoors.

The two men watched her go in silence. Dean approached slowly, not knowing really what to do or say. Sam put an arm around his brother's shoulders, "Come on." he said, guiding him to the glider sofa. The old mechanism squeaked and groaned as they sat down. They sat for a moment, uncertain how to continue.

Dean laced and unlaced his fingers. He squeezed his fist in his palm. His voice was low when he finally spoke, "Kara got pregnant, but she uh..." He sniffed and took a deep breath. He felt the weight of Sam's hand on his shoulder and took a moment to feel the comfort of having what was left of his family close. "She had a miscarriage." A tear fell from Dean's cheek as he leaned forward. He stared at his feet and thought aloud more than spoke to Sam, "We had a kid. We had a baby. For thirteen weeks I had a family of my own and didn't even know it. It's not her fault. She just wanted to be sure." He sighed heavily and wiped at his face, "I knew it could happen, you know, somewhere along the way. I just never expected."

"Dean, I'm sorry." Sam said putting his arm across his brother's back. Dean turned to face his little brother and surprisingly pulled him into a hug.

That night, Kara lay in Dean's arms. He pushed up her t-shirt and rubbed her belly in a slow circle. Her head rested against his shoulder. She hadn't said much since the morning. He and Sam had "moved in" for a while, taking the afternoon to unpack. Kara had spent the time curled up on the porch again. She'd refused dinner and Dean had waited until she drifted off before taking her upstairs to bed. She woke up the moment he put her down. That's when he climbed in bed with her and turned out the light. He didn't ask any questions, just let her tell what she felt comfortable saying. She said she hadn't thought of anything but how to tell him. Since the miscarriage she had thought more about what it would have been like. She hadn't wanted to know anything except why it had miscarried. The doctor told her it had to do with a chromosome abnormality. Kara hadn't quite understood then and probably never would, but all she needed now was right there, holding her close.