Hope you all had a great Christmas Eve! Let's see how the boys are doing on their own Christmas Eve...
Chapter 6
Christmas Eve
Morning
The wind was rattling against the window and the snow swirled beyond it. Sam stared out the window for a moment, then pulled another shirt over his head. His back pain had eased a bit after the hot shower and he now was fully awake. And fully aware of his hangover. He also was aware that something smelled wonderful. And now that he'd noticed the smells, his stomach was growling. Starting toward the stairs, he pressed a fist to his pounding head.
Aspirin went to the top of his list. Followed closely by coffee and food.
Reaching the stairs, he found that he didn't have nearly as much trouble walking down them as he had the previous evening. The twinge was still there and he knew he needed to be careful or he'd be in trouble again, but at least he could move. From the sounds of it, Dean was in the kitchen and Sam hoped that meant his brother felt better today. He wasn't counting on it if course, because Dean would be doing what he was doing even if he didn't feel better just to prove a point.
Or just because he was hungry.
The floorboards creaked under Sam's feet as he stepped into the kitchen. The whistle of the wind outside almost covered the sound, but Dean heard it and turned around.
"Mornin."
"Hey," Sam answered, returning Dean's smile, then looking past him to the stove. "Smells great."
"Course it smells great. It's bacon." Dean's grin grew wider. "You bought bacon."
"I bought a lot of stuff."
"I saw that." Dean pointed a finger at the table.
Sam raised an eyebrow. "You already had a piece of pie?"
Dean turned back to the stove and held up two fingers.
Looking back at the pie, Sam shook his head.
"Don't judge. Pie is the breakfast of champions." Dean looked over his shoulder and asked, "Plannin' a holiday feast?"
"I just thought...I don't know, it all looked good." Sam wished his words had come out less unsteady.
"Hey, I'm not complainin'." Dean grinned again, expertly serving up the bacon and eggs onto two plates. "How's the back?"
"I'm moving."
"Caught that," Dean said, holding out a plate. "Coffee?"
"Please."
Sam accepted the plate as Dean poured two cups of coffee. Sitting down at the table was still difficult and pulled at his back, but at least he could do it without groaning this time. Dean set a cup of coffee in front of him and joined him at the table.
"How bad's the hangover?" Dean asked around a mouthful of eggs.
Sam shrugged. "How's your head?"
"Attached."
They ate in silence, watching the blowing snow outside. Sam tried to think of something to say, but nothing seemed right so he kept his mouth shut. It had been a long time since they'd had a comfortable silence between them. It always felt like it was filled with lies. He stared down at his empty plate.
"Want more?" Dean interrupted his thoughts.
"Nah. Tasted great, though."
Dean smiled, looking very proud of himself. "Yes, it did."
They both fell silent again and stared out the window. Dean cleared his throat and said, "So I'm thinking we should go sooner rather than later."
"Go where?" Sam stared at him blankly.
"To the hardware store. You said they had trees, right?"
Sam nodded. "Yeah. You were serious? About getting a tree?"
"Why not?" Dean leaned back in his chair. "What else do we have to do today?"
"I don't know. Nothing I guess."
"Exactly." Dean rubbed his forehead. "We both need some time to lay low. Might as well have something festive to stare at while we kill that bottle of rum tonight."
"Deal."
Dean pushed his chair back and took the plates out to the sink. "Weather's supposed to get worse as the day goes on. Let's go now."
"Ok."
Sam was still more than a little surprised that Dean was interested in getting a Christmas tree. But they were speaking to each other and since that was a small Christmas miracle in and of itself, he wasn't going to do anything to destroy the peace.
So they cleaned up the kitchen together because if there was one thing Bobby hated it was dirty dishes piled up. Once they finished, they went for their coats. Sam kept his mouth shut even when he wanted to suggest that maybe Dean should put the sling on. He was obviously favoring his shoulder and his injured side. From the tightness around his eyes, Sam knew he was hurting.
Even so, he didn't dare suggest the sling and silently followed Dean down the steps. The cold air stung his cheeks and whipped through his hair and he decided they should probably shovel the steps at some point, but it didn't seem important right now.
They went down the steps, both of them moving more slowly and gingerly than they would normally. Sam started toward the passenger side, stopping when Dean held out the keys. "Not sure I can handle her in this weather with the arm outta commission."
Sam accepted the keys and didn't comment. If Dean was voluntarily surrendering the keys, he was obviously feeling bad.
The trip was silent and the silence still didn't feel comfortable, but it didn't feel as oppressive as it had the past few weeks. By the time they reached the hardware store, Sam was feeling relaxed and Dean seemed to be feeling better, too. Sam parked the car and Dean grinned.
"We are gettin' a big one."
Sam smiled. "Are you serious?"
Dean waved his good hand in front of his face and said, "This is my serious face."
"That's your only face." Sam rolled his eyes and got out of the car.
They walked toward the display of trees and Sam couldn't deny that there wasn't a certain element of this that he was enjoying. It was cold and that wasn't doing anything for his back, but there were lights on the buildings and music playing and a bunch of kids running around and it felt festive. He didn't remember ever going to pick out a Christmas tree like this. But Dean was grinning and inspecting every tree he came near like he'd been doing it his entire life.
Sam followed him, amused at Dean's enthusiasm. He stood patiently beside his brother as Dean had a very serious discussion with a ten year old on which tree had the better symmetry of branches. The kid's parents stood back and exchanged a smile with Sam as Dean and the kid finally agreed on the same tree. The kid got his tree and Dean looked happy to have shared his unexpectedly astute tree shopping expertise.
They browsed a few more aisles, pausing now and then to allow Dean time to size up a tree's potential. Sam didn't say anything, but simply followed Dean's lead. His amusement with the tree hunt waned as his steps slowed and his back seized up every few minutes. It was getting colder and the cold only made him more tense. He didn't know why they were even here. They were in the middle of a war with enemies on both sides and he didn't know how decorating a Christmas tree made any sense.
A smack on his arm drew his attention and he turned to look at his brother. Dean's eyes were narrowed and he seemed annoyed as he said, "You are being abnormally quiet."
Sam shrugged, hands in his pockets. "What do you want me to say?"
"I don't know." Dean stared at him for a moment and Sam could tell he was irritated. Then Dean broke out in a huge grin. "But if you don't say anything, I'm gonna have the final say in what tree we get."
"You aren't joking about this, are you?"
Dean's eyebrows rose. He waved his good hand around. "You think I just like walking around, freezing to death for the fun of it?"
"So you're gonna put a tree on top of the Impala?" Sam asked dubiously, watching as the light began to dawn in Dean's eyes.
"We've got a tarp in the trunk. Tie downs too." Dean sounded matter of fact. He shrugged and pointed at a tree nestled at the end of a row between a scrubby looking fir tree and the side of the building. "That one."
Dean was smiling again. He looked positively thrilled.
Sam followed him again. If Dean wanted a tree, who was he to stand in the way? Dean was already wrestling with the tree and Sam almost wanted to roll his eyes and walk away because with one arm out of commission, Dean wasn't exactly winning the battle. With his own back one wrong move from disaster, lugging a tree didn't sound like a good idea to Sam. But there was something in Dean's expression that had Sam walking over and assisting even though it hurt to do so.
For whatever reason, Dean wanted a Christmas tree. He needed a Christmas tree. So Sam was going to at least do that for him since he hadn't done much else lately except screw up.
"Think Bobby's got any lights?" Dean asked, grunting as he tugged at the tree and bumped into the side of the building.
"I have no idea. We should just buy a string while we're here." Sam let Dean lean down to grab the base of tree. Once Dean had it, Sam caught the top of the tree.
Dean groaned as he straightened, the heavier end of the tree in his good hand; his left arm held closely to his chest. Sam wanted to switch places with him but there was no way he could bend down and pick up the bottom of the tree. Holding the top was already straining his back. They made it a few steps before Dean spoke up again.
"I'm sure he's got lights in the attic."
"And if he doesn't?" Sam countered, "I'm not coming back to town again in a snowstorm."
They paused, both needing to catch their breaths.
Glaring at each other over the pine needles, Dean relented first. "Fine. I'll get the guy to tie up the tree. You go find some shiny lights, Martha Stewart."
"Shut up." Sam tugged the tree forward and Dean came along, his face damp with sweat and showing the strain he was under.
By the time they made it to the check out, both of them were panting and more than happy to let the high school marching band students take over shaking the tree free from dead needles and wrapping it up in a net. Sam left Dean to pay for the tree and assure it was fastened to the Impala safely.
He walked into the hardware store and headed for the aisle with the Christmas decorations. Which, of course, was the busiest aisle. It was picked over and disheveled; not unexpected considering it was the day before Christmas. It took him five minutes to find a decent string of colored lights and a red garland.
He skipped the tree toppers because somehow the thought of an angel staring down at him didn't sound appealing.
A pack of six multi-colored ornaments was the finishing touch because he knew he was about out of cash and he also didn't want to shove his way through the fifteen angry housewives that were in the aisle fighting over tinsel.
Sam headed toward the front of the store and it was only when he reached the checkout line that it occurred to him he had no present to give to his brother. Standing there, Christmas music playing and happy people all around, he felt the burn of tears as his thoughts drifted back to the previous Christmas and the heartfelt if somewhat pathetic presents they'd given each other. Money had been an issue their entire lives and gift giving had never really been their thing but they'd always tried.
He didn't know what to do.
Standing in line, he turned in a circle, eyes roving the store. There might be enough money in his pocket-if he put back the garland- to get something, but what was he going to find in a hardware store? A new knife? Sure, maybe. Somehow, it didn't seem right. Sam didn't know if a gift of any sort would be appreciated at this point.
He didn't have any idea what he should buy and the line was already taking forever so Sam just stood there behind a woman in a huge red hat. She smelled like she was wearing three different perfumes. By the time he'd paid and was walking back outside, he thought he might die from the fumes. Coughing, he sucked in fresh air and hurried, as quickly as he was able to hurry these days, back to where he'd parked the Impala.
Dean was sitting in the passenger seat and the car was running and had a Christmas tree tied on top and Sam couldn't help but smile at the surreal sight. He walked carefully down the snowy sidewalk and almost slipped as he stepped off the curb. Catching himself on the car, he struggled forward the last few feet. Opening the door, he pitched the bag inside and took a deep breath before trying to sit down.
"You get the lights?" Dean asked as soon as the door opened.
Sam pulled his door closed and raised an eyebrow. Dean was already going through the bag so apparently he had his answer. Shifting the car into drive, Sam asked, "Those meet your standards?"
"This a long enough string?" Dean held it up with a frown. He was studying the back of the box as if it were a new exorcism he was learning.
"I don't know. I just grabbed what they had. It was pretty picked over."
"At least they're colored. Colored are better." Dean put the lights back in the bag and pulled out the package of ornaments. He studied them just as intently as he had the string of lights.
Sam smiled at the satisfaction in his brother's voice. This was the first he'd ever heard of Dean having an opinion on the color of Christmas lights. It didn't really surprise him though. Dean had an opinion on just about everything.
"Anything else we need?" Sam asked before they went too far. The food situation was pretty well covered but if Dean wanted something else out of the ordinary then he wanted to know now. Before they drove all the way back to Bobby's and had to turn around.
"You said you got rum, right?"
"Yeah." Sam glanced at his brother. Dean was rubbing his head, eyes squeezed closed. "You alright?"
"Yeah." Dean didn't open his eyes or stop rubbing his head.
"Headache?"
"Yes, Einstein," Dean snapped, lowering his hand. He folded his arms across his chest. "Stop harping at me, will you?"
Sam bit his tongue to hold back any and all comments. Because whatever he said now would be the wrong thing and he honestly didn't feel like getting into a fight. So he kept his mouth shut and drove them back to Bobby's place as the snow fell all around them.
Dean knew he'd overdone it.
He'd known from the moment he woke up in the morning that anything he would do today would be more than he could handle. The headache had been muted earlier although still very present. The more he'd moved, the more his side hurt and he really, really should have put the sling on.
The trip back to Bobby's was silent.
He didn't feel like chatting, but he also thought keeping his eyes on the road and helping Sam watch for any issues along the way was a better idea than starting to talk and ending up in a fight and then in a ditch. The snow was much heavier now and neither of them were at the top of their game. Sam seemed to be moving a little easier now, but Dean could tell he was still hurting.
He started regretting his stupid idea of getting the tree a few minutes after they'd left town, and by the time Sam pulled the car up close to the porch, Dean was ready just to leave it on the top of the car and forget the entire thing. He didn't know what he'd been thinking. They'd only had a real Christmas tree a handful of times in their entire lives. And now, of all times. Of all times, he'd decided now was the time to suggest getting a Christmas tree.
Now, with angels on one side, demons on another and the two of them caught in the middle of it all.
Getting out of the car, Dean held onto the door for a few seconds, dizziness winning out over his desire to get warm.
"You ok?"
"Yeah." Dean blinked through the snowflakes and saw Sam wrestling with the tie downs on the tree. "What're you doing?"
"What's it look like?" Sam stared at him over the car and the tree.
"Just leave it."
"What are you talking about?"
"You heard me. Leave it." Dean slammed the car door and tried to maintain his balance as he walked through the snow toward the porch.
"Dean?"
He paused and looked back at his brother. "What?"
"We're not leaving the tree out here. I bought lights."
Dean almost laughed at the near whine in his brother's voice. He sighed and decided he might as well help haul the tree inside because if he didn't, Sam clearly intended to do it on his own. Because he bought lights, Dean rolled his eyes. The only good thing about any of this was that the cold air was doing something to help reduce the way he felt like he was burning up.
Of all the times to be wrestling with a Christmas tree.
It took them a good ten minutes just to get the tie downs undone. And then a lot of arguing about what was the best way to get the tree down off the top of the car and into the house. When the tree wound up falling into the snow at their feet, Dean decided Sam probably had been right. They should have done it his way. But of course, Dean had insisted on doing it his way and now they were both staring down at the tree lying in the snow at their feet.
Sam cursed and Dean strongly considered doing the same.
They exchanged heated glares, then Sam said, "You're gonna have to lean down and at least pick it up enough to give me something to grab."
And Dean really wanted to tell him to do it himself, but he knew better. If Sam attempted to bend down, the tree wasn't going to be the only thing lying in the snow and Dean didn't think he was up to trying to fish his brother out of the snow. So he leaned down and picked up the top end of the tree enough that Sam could get a hold of the strings tying the tree up. Then he leaned down to grab the other end and nearly fell over.
"Hey! Easy." Sam's voice was close and Dean wasn't going to offer a word of complaint about the hand gripping his good arm and steadying him. "You alright?"
Well, other than the stabbing pain in his head and side and the way the world seemed to be turning inside out and back again, he was swell. He swallowed back the nausea. "Did you drop the tree again?"
Sam glared at him, but it wasn't as heated as it had been a moment ago. He didn't let go of Dean's arm as he said, "You dropped the tree before. And, no, I didn't drop it. I leaned it against the car in order to keep you from falling on your face."
"Wasn't gonna fall. And you better not have scratched the paint."
"Seriously?" Sam's voice had an edge to it now. "It's freezing out here. Are you really gonna worry about the paint job right now? Just go inside and I'll bring the tree in."
Dean snorted, pulling away slightly. "I'm fine. You're not gonna be able to-"
"Like you're gonna be able to do anything? You're white as a sheet, man. I can get the tree."
"Just…" Dean fumbled with his good hand to reach the tree, "can we work together on this? Let's just get the damned thing in the house before either of us wind up on the ground."
"Fine."
Sam cautiously reached down and grabbed the top of the tree with Dean. Together, they dragged the tree toward the porch steps. As Sam was about to start up the steps, Dean said, "Wait."
"What now?" Sam sounded irritated. Mostly breathless, but also irritated.
"Gotta...get the…" Dean wasn't any less breathless, "stuff."
"What stuff?"
"The lights. The stuff you…bought. For the tree." Dean leaned against the porch. "I'll go-"
"Stay there." Sam left him holding the tree and went back toward the car. Dean watched him slipping and sliding and really hoped he wouldn't fall.
Staring at him until he reached the Impala and was leaning into the car, Dean relaxed to a degree and looked around at the snowy scene. The sky was a pale pink and filled with huge, fat snowflakes. It was quiet. Peaceful in a way that nothing, absolutely nothing, in their lives had been for a very long time.
There was a part of him that just wanted to stay here, in this moment forever. He closed his eyes and turned his face up to the sky and felt the snow landing on his overheated skin. All he could hear was the sound of his own breathing. When he held his breath, he could actually hear the snow falling.
"Dean!"
Sam's voice broke into the peace of the moment and Dean felt his hands on his face. They were as cold as the snowflakes and Dean wanted to push them away. Wanted to tell Sam to get his butt into the house before he wound up with frostbite. But he didn't do either. He wasn't sure what was happening, but he wished Sam would leave him alone so he could retreat back into that perfect moment of peace.
"Dean, please! Come on, don't do this to me!"
Sam sounded scared and all of a sudden very young and Dean usually wanted to start beating up on whatever had made his brother sound that way, but right now, it slowly dawned on him that he was the reason Sam sounded that way. He opened his eyes and stared up into a very familiar, very worried face. Frowning, Dean tried to remember why his eyes had been closed. And then he tried to sort out why he was looking up at Sam. When had that happened?
Oh yeah, ever since the brat decided to grow ten feet tall, Dean thought unhappily. He never had quite forgotten his shock and complete disbelief the day they'd realized Sam was actually an inch taller than he was. Sam had been beside himself with glee and even Dad had been amused by Sam's excitement.
Dean had thought they were both jerks, but he'd slowly adapted to looking up at his little brother.
Of course, Sam had to add insult to injury by not stopping until he was three inches taller. Dean still hadn't forgiven him for that.
"Sam?" His voice came out as a whisper.
"Yeah, yeah, Dean. I'm right here."
Dean closed his eyes as the pain in his head seemed to double. The cold hands were back on his face and Dean considered punching his brother. But he couldn't get his hands to cooperate. Couldn't get much of anything to cooperate, actually.
"Dean, seriously, you gotta keep your eyes open."
He finally managed to peel his eyes open and blinked up at Sam, realizing for the first time that he was on his back in the snow and Sam was leaning over him. Frowning, he asked, "What happened?"
"You just went over backwards." Sam shook his head, eyes wide. "I got here as fast as I could, but you were already down."
"Well, get me up," Dean said, not liking the look in Sam's eyes. "What?"
"What do you think? You're not exactly a lightweight. It's not gonna be easy to get you back up."
Dean squeezed his eyes closed. The snow was still falling and now he could feel it soaking into his back. He was uncomfortable, but for some reason, he found it difficult to care. Falling asleep didn't sound like a bad plan at all.
"Dean!" Sam's voice was loud in his ear.
Groaning in pain, Dean felt himself pulled up into a half-sitting position. He appreciated not being in the snow, but sitting up made him feel worse. It was taking all his concentration to avoid throwing up in the pretty, white snow.
"We gotta get you inside."
Sam was being so bossy, but Dean's head felt like it was about to explode so he didn't bother to argue. He tried to help, honestly he did.
"Would you help a little?" Sam asked, huffing and puffing.
Dean glared at him, trying to uncross his eyes. He had been helping! Listening to Sam struggling, Dean tried again to get his own feet under him. But there was little he could do. He tried moving his arm and abruptly remembered why that was a bad idea.
An embarrassing gasp of pain ripped from his mouth and Sam stopped his movement. "Dean? Sorry, sorry. We just gotta get you up."
"Sam."
"What?"
"Did you get the bag?"
Sam's eyes widened. And then he just looked pissed. "Are you insane? You're sitting with your butt in the snow and you want to know if I got the bag?"
"Yes," Dean whispered. His head was spinning even though he wasn't moving. "Yes, I do want to know."
"The bag is in the snow. Like you. And the tree."
Dean started to feel bad about all of it. And his head started to hurt even worse. It seemed to be getting heavier by the second and he finally couldn't hold it up any longer. He felt Sam's hands on his back and realized his head was resting on Sam's shoulder.
"Dean, please? I know you're hurtin' but we gotta get you inside."
He wanted to sleep, but knew Sam had a point. He could feel Sam shivering and knew he was hurting too. Trying again, he struggled to get his feet under him. Sam pulled him up and leaned him against the railing on the porch. At first Dean thought it was to allow time for his head to stop spinning, but it dawned on him that Sam needed the break as much as he did.
It took a moment, then they were moving again. Dean's head throbbed with every step he took and he could hear Sam doing his best to muffle his own pained groans.
"You...gotta...get outta...your wet clothes," Sam muttered, voice strained and teeth chattering.
"Not now." Dean didn't sound any less strained and he was wavering despite Sam's assistance. "Need to lay down. Now."
Dean's vision was starting to tunnel by the time they reached the study. He dropped heavily onto the couch and tried but failed to put up a fight when Sam started pulling his coat off. Slumping back, he let his head rest on the couch, shivering and wishing Sam had left him his coat. He wasn't sure what Sam was doing, but he really hoped he was getting a blanket. Instead of paying attention to his brother, Dean started listing to the right.
"Dean?" Sam's voice was calling him persistently.
He groaned and tried to focus on his brother. It might be worth the effort if he could get him to bring a blanket. Forcing his eyes open, he saw that Sam had the sling in one hand and a blanket in the other.
"Don't need that," Dean said, then quickly clarified. "The sling. Don't need it."
"The hell you don't."
And then Sam was forcing the sling onto him without another word and Dean was hurting badly enough that he couldn't do anything to stop him. The best part about the entire situation was that, once the sling was on, Sam dropped the blanket over him. He didn't feel much warmer, but it was a start.
For a few minutes, everything faded out on him and he settled uncomfortably into a place halfway between sleep and awareness. Sam pulled him back in order to feed him some pills and Dean didn't argue.
Sam straightened with difficulty and stared down at his brother. His heart hadn't stopped beating double time since the moment he'd turned around and found Dean flat on his back in the snow. He hadn't even heard him go down. Getting him out of the snow and into the house had been difficult. Now, looking at him as he sat there, half-conscious, Sam wondered if he shouldn't be taking him straight to the hospital.
He didn't look good.
Sam shook his head. They never should have gone to town for the tree. Dean had a concussion and the exertion had not been good for him. Not that the exertion had been good for Sam, either.
Rubbing his back, he felt the strain of everything he'd just done. The bolts of pain were running down his legs and he really wanted to lie down too. Dean was somewhat settled and it didn't look like he would be moving anytime soon. He looked too uncomfortable to be asleep, or even unconscious, but at least he'd accepted the Tylenol before he'd faded out.
Taking a step forward, Sam glanced out the window. The tree was sitting there getting covered with snow just like the bag of decorations was. He should really go out there and bring it all in. Sighing, Sam stood there for a good five minutes before telling himself just to get it over with since he was still wearing his coat.
The instant the biting cold wind hit his skin, he started to regret his decision, but there was no going back now. At the very least, he could bring the bag of decorations inside. The tree wouldn't get lost under the snow, but he'd never hear the end of it if he lost the decorations under a snow bank.
Limping down the steps, Sam almost slipped and he had an awful vision of himself winding up on his own back in the snow. He'd probably die of hypothermia before Dean would even wake up enough to notice he was missing.
If he would even care.
It took him a horrible, tedious, painful two minutes to find the bag. If he had waited, it really would have been lost till spring. It took another minute of careful maneuvering for him to be able to get down there and pick it up. He almost didn't make it up again, but the thought of freezing to death didn't appeal to him. Neither did the thought of Dean killing him for freezing to death. So he bit his lip and didn't scream even a little.
Well, maybe a little.
Sam clutched the bag in a shaking hand and stared sadly at the Christmas tree as it collected snow. He wanted so badly to pick it up and get it into the house and put the decorations on it and wrap presents to put under it and have everything ready for Dean when he woke up. But none of that was going to happen because there was no hope of him being able to lift the tree on his own and there were no presents this year.
Sam turned his eyes up to the sky and tried to tell himself what he felt on his face was snow melting. But it wasn't.
Blinking a few times, he breathed in the cold air and it made his teeth hurt, but it helped clear his mind a little bit.
They didn't have much. Never had. And this year it seemed like they had even less. Watching the flakes drift in front of his burning eyes, Sam tried to focus on the fact that they did have something. They had the only thing that had ever mattered. The only thing they'd always had.
Each other.
One year ago, on a Christmas Eve without snow, Sam had stood outside just like this and stared up at the dark, voiceless sky and let the tears run down his face without shame. Last year, he'd been trying to prepare himself to lose his brother. Trying to figure out how on earth he was going to manage without Dean. How he was going to live without him.
Tried to convince himself that he even could live without his brother.
Right now, 365 days later, he still wasn't sure how he could live without his brother. The awful, awful truth was that he couldn't and he hadn't. And he probably never would. Sam brushed his icy fingers over his face. He knew he shouldn't be standing outside this long. The possibility of frostbite crossed his mind, but he ignored it.
What did it matter if his fingers froze when everything else was already frozen? From his heart outwards, he was one solid block of ice that would never thaw. He'd screwed up in every way possible. In so many ways that Dean didn't even know about. Probably in a million ways that he didn't even realize yet.
"Sam!"
He almost jumped out of his skin at the sound of Dean's shout. Sam gasped as pain lanced through him at the surprise. Turning slowly, gingerly, Sam found Dean standing at the top of the steps. He wasn't wearing a coat and looked a lot more concerned than Sam thought the situation warranted.
"Sammy?" Dean repeated, going down one step. "What are you doing?"
Sam stared at him, trying to remember what he'd been doing.
Dean inched forward again and said, "Get in here."
"The tree." Sam could barely get the words out past his chattering teeth. He felt like he was frozen where he stood.
Sam turned away from his brother and looked down at the tree. It was buried in snow and he wondered when that had happened. He frowned when he felt a hand on his arm. Sam turned his head and almost jumped again. Because Dean was suddenly standing in front of him, gripping his shoulder with his right hand. His eyes were wide and he looked like he was freaking out. Sam wasn't sure why. He had the decorations in his hand and the tree was still sort of visible.
"Sam!" Dean's fingers dug into his shoulder, then ran up his neck to his cheek and Sam knew he should probably be able to feel his brother's touch. Dean's eyes widened and he cursed, "Damn it, Sam! You're freezing."
"I'm fine." Sam's teeth were chattering despite his best efforts to disguise it. "Got the decorations."
"You're an idiot." Dean cursed again and pulled on his arm. "Forget the decorations. Come on, come on."
Sam forced himself to move even though he could barely lift his feet. He gritted his teeth as Dean wrapped his arm around his back. Dean pushed on him and he couldn't move that fast.
"Stop." Sam squeezed his eyes closed and planted his feet.
Dean stopped, pressed close to Sam's side. He said urgently, "You can't stop, Sam. We gotta get you warmed up. How long have you been out here?"
He had no idea. Sam opened his eyes and stared at the ground. "I don't know."
Dean cursed at his brother's admission.
Ever since he'd warmed up a little and the Tylenol had kicked the headache down a notch or two, Dean had arranged himself comfortably on the couch with the remote. He'd been sitting in front of the television watching infomercials for at least half an hour thinking Sam was upstairs moping or sleeping. Instead, Sam had been standing out here, apparently oblivious to the fact that hypothermia was setting in. Dean couldn't believe how stupid he was.
How stupid they both were.
Now was not the time to start that argument, though. He was limited in what he could do since Sam had insisted on tying his left arm down. Dean stared at the steps and wished they were closer. He hadn't even bothered to grab his coat when he'd realized Sam wasn't firing on all cylinders and now he was regretting it. At least Sam had his coat on. Shaking his head, Dean applied gentle pressure to his brother's back and got him moving again.
"The tree," Sam muttered, halting forward movement again just when Dean thought they were finally making progress.
"Forget. The. Tree." Dean was glad they'd made it to the bottom of the steps, because he could push Sam against the rail to help keep him upright. Sam reached up to grab the rail with a shaking hand and Dean realized he didn't even have any gloves on.
Cursing again, he hoped they weren't going to be dealing with frostbite on top of everything else. Urging Sam up the steps, Dean asked, "What were you thinking?"
Sam didn't answer. He just kept stumbling up the steps. They reached the door and Dean shoved Sam into the house and slammed the door behind them.
"Keep moving," Dean said, pushing Sam toward the kitchen.
It looked like Sam would have rather done almost anything else, when Dean pointed him at a chair, he dropped the bag of decorations on the table and gingerly sat down. He hunched in on himself, tucking his hands under his arms and shooting Dean a miserable glance before he lowered his head and stared at the floor. The snow in his hair was melting and dripping onto the hardwood in a growing puddle.
Dean sighed and left him there while he headed for the kitchen counter. He grabbed the cup of coffee he'd poured for himself moments before taking a peek out the window and finding his stupid brother standing outside like a statue. The cup was still relatively hot so he set it in front of Sam.
Sam straightened up a pinch, then froze with a gasp of pain. It took another minute before he could sit up enough to reach out for the cup of coffee. He wrapped both hands around the mug, but didn't take a drink. Dean headed back to the coffee pot and poured himself a mug. Sitting down across from Sam, Dean watched him shivering and not drinking the coffee.
By the time Dean had finished his cup, Sam still hadn't moved an inch.
"Sammy."
Sam didn't say anything, but he made brief eye contact which helped untwist a knot in Dean's stomach. Dean set his cup aside and asked, "Where should we put it?"
"Put what?" Sam asked softly. His teeth weren't chattering any more and he took a sip of what had to be lukewarm coffee by now.
"The tree," Dean said, spinning his cup with his good hand and looking outside at the drifting snow. "I'm thinking the far corner. Front of the window would be nice, but then we'd have to move the couch and I don't know about you, but I'm not sure I feel up to rearranging the furniture."
"Why do you do that?"
Dean frowned, pulling his gaze back to his brother. Sam was staring at his coffee. His hair and coat were wet with melted snow, but at least he'd stopped shivering. Dean asked, "Do what?"
"Call me Sammy."
The knot started to twist back up in his gut as Dean stared at his brother. He should've known that big, bad hunter Sam Winchester wouldn't want that nickname anymore. Pushing himself to his feet, Dean crossed the room and slammed the mug on the counter much harder than he'd intended. He was still trying to come up with an answer for his brother when he heard Sam set his own mug down and stand up. Dean pressed his fingers to his eyes, the headache starting to blossom again.
"You don't have to. I know I'm not him anymore."
Dean spun around when he heard Sam's whispered confession. Sam had his back to him as he leaned against the door frame. He wasn't standing there trying to look tough. His shoulders were slumped and, like a lightning bolt, Dean realized he'd been wrong. It had nothing to do with Sam thinking he was too big and strong for the nickname; he truly felt like he didn't deserve it anymore.
And that was the final straw.
They'd been at each other too much lately and, as angry as he still was, Dean needed to set one thing straight with his stupid, stubborn, little brother. So he crossed the room and grabbed Sam's arm. Spinning him around, Dean saw the shock - the fear - in Sam's eyes and knew the fire in his eyes must be showing.
"Listen to me. I'm sayin' this once. You hear me?"
Sam nodded. The muscles under Dean's fingers tensed and he knew Sam was testing to see if he could pull away. Dean just squeezed until he saw Sam flinch and then he said, "You are him. Always will be. I don't give a crap what anyone or anything says. I don't care what happened for those four months and I don't care what happens in the next four months because one thing isn't gonna change."
"Dean-" Sam started to interrupt, his posture changing as understanding lit his eyes.
"Shut up." Dean cut him off. "Yes, I want to punch you in the teeth at times. Yes, I want to kick your ass about Ruby. And yes, I will kill you if that tree scratched my Baby's paint job."
Sam snorted and the last bit of tension eased out of his shoulders.
Dean fought to keep the smile off his face as he said, "And I'm still pissed at you for that damned iPod. But you're always gonna be my little brother. Nothin' is gonna change that."
If Sam's eyes got a little bright and Dean's throat tightened a bit, neither of them mentioned it.
Letting go of Sam's arm, Dean smacked him gently. "And I can call you whatever I want. So, sorry, but you're stuck with it, Sammy."
Sam nodded, not looking up, but Dean could tell his words - and the unspoken message behind them - had been received loud and clear. He turned till he was standing next to his brother, staring into the study. They hadn't fixed anything. Not really. There was still so much that was going wrong between them. But maybe, just maybe, he'd put one piece of his brother back where it belonged.
Clearing his throat, Sam shifted until his shoulder bumped Dean's good shoulder. He said, "The far corner is good. We can see it from the couch and it isn't in the way of the tv."
Dean grinned. "So that mean you're warmed up enough to go bring the tree inside?"
"Yeah." Sam smiled and met his eyes this time. "And then I'm makin' egg nog."
They headed for the door together as one more piece fell into place.
One more chapter! Will post it tomorrow morning as it covers the end of Christmas Eve and then Christmas Day for the boys. I'm so proud of myself folks, this story is complete lol! It didn't take me a year to finish it haha! This was one of my NaNoWriMo projects. I'll probably start posting the other one (a tag to Red Meat) in February. And for those of you reading "Face Down in the Desert"...chapter 31 is coming soon!
Thank you for reading! All of your reviews are like the best Christmas presents ever! I'll drop you all replies in the next few days!