December 23rd 3.30pm
Despite the feeling of being impaled upon the bony ridge he now found himself perched perilously atop, (and the general feeling of embarrassment at finding himself – courtesy of Sam - astride a little, grey donkey, albeit with very pretty eyes,) Dean had to admit, if only to himself, that at least they were now able to make better headway. Or, more accurately, any headway at all, as his knee/toe combination had effectively finished him off as a bipedal entity for the time being.
The pleasant warmth that emanated up from the erratically rocking platform was also very welcome.
He sat, self-consciously, astride the now happily plodding beast, who appeared to be totally at ease with the 6ft 1in, well-muscled hunter straddling her narrow back. He gripped tightly, even though the blisters on his hands from clinging to his rough-hewn crutch were raw, to a double handful of the spiky, black mane. Gradually he found his body relaxing as he adapted to the jerky, bouncing motion.
Clenching the muscles in his now throbbing nether regions, he again shifted his weight, trying to minimize the damage from the knobbly backbone. His long legs, dangling on either side, just skimmed the surface of the white-blanketed forest floor. But compared to the agony of staggering alongside his gargantuan, shaggy haired sibling, this was a 'walk in the park'. Or more precisely, he thought shaking his weary head, 'a donkey ride in the forest.'
'Ah, hell! Now I'm doing it. As if it's not enough with Sasquatch and his sucky-ass jokes!'
Raptor, as he had unofficially named her, had calmed quickly under his strong, measured strokes, her trembling flanks gradually stilling under his tender caress, relaxing as he'd crooned comfortingly in her long, fluffy ear. An effect that had not gone unnoticed by his long-striding brother as he kept pace beside them.
"Sam?" He growled quietly, breaking the monotony of the muffled crunch of hooves on crisp, virgin snow, "I swear, if you ever mention this again after today I'll go buy a clown suit, wig and all and make you wear the damn thing in public, so you can see what stupid feels like!"
He aimed emerald daggers in his brother's direction, as once again he caught sight of the smirk Sam now, almost continuously, wore.
"Hey, bro. Don't worry, your secret's safe with me. Not a word shall pass these lips. It's just, we couldn't afford to look a gift horse, or – in this case a gift donkey - in the mouth." He sniggered gleefully.
Dean gave an entirely 'I'm seriously not amused with this crap anymore' huff and tried again.
"Do you think at some stage this evening, we might reach a point where you run out of your tired one-liners? It's getting real old, real fast, dude."
"You're right. I'm sorry. I'm being an ass!"
Sam attempted to look contrite, briefly, before losing the battle, as a huge grin burst across his travel-worn features.
Reaching up, Dean swiped the snow from a low-hanging branch and aimed it with deadly accuracy at his wisecracking brother's head. Even as he congratulated himself on the direct hit, he noticed, with concern, the increasing limp as Sam tramped onwards through the ankle deep snow.
"Well, you never know, Sam. Maybe Raptor's got an ugly, big sister tucked away somewhere for you! I could put in a good word. See if I can get you fixed up, huh, college boy?"
"No, Dean. It's okay, but if I feel the need to 'burro' your girlfriend, I'll let you know!"
"Enough, already! Please, Sammy. Let's just give it a rest, okay?"
"Well, there's no need to be mulish about it, Dean. You don't have to act like a complete Jackass."
"Dude. Stop!" He pleaded, "Seriously though, Sammy, when she ran into us, she was totally freaked, man. I been wondering, what the hell terrified her, maybe there's mountain lion or bear around. Something sure as hell set her off."
Sam simply raised his eyebrows in agreement and peered into the thickening gloom as he double-checked the safety catch on his handgun. But still be couldn't resist one parting shot.
"Don't worry, Tex, whatever happens, I'm ready to kick some ass!"
They travelled onwards into the fast falling darkness, senses alert for any predators, but the only signs of movement were the increasingly heavy flurries that whirled around their heads, falling more heavily as the thick tree cover receded.
wWw
The Christmas Hiker watched from the cover of the trees, a cadaverous grin on his face at the brother's exchanges. The little beast was proving a boon and he was relieved to see that they were now, once again, making progress towards his desired destination for them. They would soon be in a position to fulfil his plans and he prayed he would finally have his way. He smiled his deaths head smile and drifted ethereally behind them on the wind.
wWw
"How ya doin', Sam? You wanna stop, have a rest, maybe something to eat?"
"Nah, let's just keep going, at least its warmer when we're moving. Besides, it looks like there's another snowstorm on the way." Sam cast a wary eye back at the glowering sky. "We're making good time now, it's probably only 3 or 4 miles back to the car. Only problem is, bro, I don't think your new friend'll fit in the back seat. It may be the end of a beautiful relationship!"
"Bite me, Sammy!"
Dean retorted good-naturedly, and Sam let loose a 'Muttley-esque' chuckle as he hunched down ever deeper into his inadequate jacket, hands digging deep into pockets, searching for warmth. He shivered as the biting wind grew to new proportions, howling around the three slow moving figures as they struggled through the burgeoning snowstorm.
wWw
The little grey burro had slowed to a walk, picking her way carefully through the hock-deep snow that blanketed the valley floor. Despite the lack of visibility, her sense of direction leading them steadily forwards.
Dean sat hunched into the wind, gradually leaning further over the gently swaying neck as the cold and exhaustion took their toll on his already abused frame. Lulled into a fitful sleep by the slow, rocking motion he sagged forwards, the right hand side of his face snuggling into Raptor's thick winter coat as sleep finally claimed him.
Struggling now to keep pace, Sam kept watch on the suddenly silent form at his side. He lunged across just in time to catch the back of Dean's jacket as he saw the sideways slide.
"Dean! Whoa, wake up, man!"
The sudden yank on his collar, and the accompanying burst of agony that rocketed through him as his sibling's quick action pinned his knee to the donkey's side, brought a strangled yelp of surprise and pain.
"Aaahhh! Goddammit!"
He tailed off, face screwed up in anguish.
Sam struggled to keep his brother straddling the skittering donkey as she sidestepped nervously, anxious at the unfamiliar noise and action.
"Whoa! Whoa! Steady there, girl."
Sam soothed, supporting Dean with his right hand and patting the trembling withers with his left.
Dean looked about blearily, clutching at his knee as his now rested nerve endings awoke with a violent intensity. With Sam's help he hitched himself back aboard, regained his balance and clutched tightly to the stubby mane before him.
"Sorry, bro. You were about to take a nose-dive into the white stuff."
Sam raised his voice over the scream of the wind, talking close to his brother's ear.
"S'kay, Sammy. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to fall asleep. Where are we now?"
"Well, it's difficult to tell, but I think once we reach the other side of this valley, we should find the last path down through the trees to the car. It should only be a couple of miles from here."
Dean held up a hand, attempting to shield his eyes from the buffeting wind.
"Dude, I can't see jackshit! You sure we're goin' the right way?"
"S'far as I can tell, we're good."
Sam tried to impart more confidence than he felt in the middle of the open meadow, their view obscured by swirling snow and his eyes closing in fatigue. He knew he had drifted off several times as they had trudged through the evening and on into the night, the bitter cold forcing his mind to take shelter from its harsh brutality. He knew they should have reached the shelter of the woods by now, but with visibility down to a few feet; his sense of direction had become confused.
With alarm he realised that at some point, he had taken to following the little grey beast that walked so confidently beside him, rather than taking the lead himself. Guiltily, he stared into the swirling storm that surrounded them, admitting to himself that his lack of attention would probably mean another night out in the wilderness. They could be less than half a mile from the safety of the car, but in this, there was just no way of knowing.
"Sam?"
It was the low growl that Dean only used when he absolutely demanded the truth. The one Sam, even now, found near impossible to resist.
"Ah, look, Dean. As far as I know we're still going the right way. But, dude, truthfully, I just don't know for sure. I'm sorry!"
"Look, Sammy. Let's just get into the shelter of the trees; you've been walking for hours, man. I'm sorry, we should've stopped sooner. We'll worry about where we are then. Come on!"
He shouted into the storm, his words snatched away by the stinging gusts.
Again the little donkey took the lead, it had waited milling nervously, and unnerved by the presence of the spirit it felt lurking just beyond its range of vision. She felt the rider urging her onwards, so she turned, and headed homewards.
As the path that lead to the safety of the Impala disappeared behind them, lost to the raging blizzard that assaulted them from all directions, the three silent figures trudged onwards, ever deeper into the adjoining valley. The little donkey picked its way, uncomplaining, on hooves steady even in the thick snow. Sam stumbled alongside, one hand locked on the collar of Dean's stiff leather jacket, eyelids nodding shut as the snow flurries whipped his stinging face. Now he moved as if in a trance.
wWw
The Christmas hiker watched the slow, painful progression of the ragtag parade with concern. They were turning from the path he so desperately needed them to take. The donkey was leading them towards its own choice of destination and the hunters were too out of it to redirect it.
The ghost weighed up the options. He could swoop in and chastise the labouring donkey back onto the path towards the Impala or he could let the weary trio continue to their current destination and take the rest they so desperately needed.
He was loathe to allow them to deviate from the task he had assigned them but he could see exhaustion written all over their injured bodies, and the arid remains of his once beating heart went out to them.
He hung back, letting the little beast lead them where it would, his ethereal form blending with the shadows as his sigh of frustration whispered on the wind.
wWw
It was the sudden cessation of the biting wind that had been his constant unwelcome companion, which roused him from the stumbling stupor he had fallen into. His head jolted upwards, long tendrils of frost encrusted hair whipping round to sting his startled face.
Instinctively his right hand clutched at his brother's jacket collar, the sudden movement rousing the sleeping figure.
"Hunh! Whassamattasammy?" Dean lurched upright, blinking wildly to clear his eyes of the dusting of snow that laced his dark lashes. Over-balancing, he frantically pin wheeled his arms, trying to keep his seat astride the donkey. The startled beast shied away and the erratic combination pitched Dean, head over heels off the shaggy, thin back to land shoulder first into a mound of freshly deposited snow. Twisting onto his side he clenched himself into a ball, desperately trying to avoid the panicked hooves of the distressed Jenny.
The little donkey, terrified, bolted down the narrow path, hee-hawing for all she was worth.
Sam skidded to his knees, by his winded brother's side, adrenaline pumping through him. Reaching out he placed a hand on the heaving shoulder.
"Oh, god! Dean?"
"Aaaahhh! Sonofabitch!"
"Dean? Speak to me, are you alright?"
"Unhh! Goddamit! Just freakin' peachy, Sammy!" Dean managed to grit from between his trembling lips.
"Come on, let's get you up outta that snow. Can you sit up, dude?"
Sam reached out and helped ease his brother from the frozen drift, brushing the powdery snow from his hair and shoulders with one hand as he supported his leather-clad back with the other.
Dean spat out a mouthful of the freezing snow, shaking his head to remove the clumps that clung tenaciously to the side of his face. Blinking to clear his eyes, he assessed their new position.
"So, Dorothy. I guess we're not in Kansas anymore? Any of this looking familiar to you, Sam?"
"Umm, now you mention it. No, not really. I don't remember passing that fencing on the way up, do you?"
Sam pointed to where a stout, three bar fence ran alongside the path and on into the distance.
"Nope, but it might mean we're getting near some sorta civilisation, Sam. Well, at least we're outta the wind. Come on, gimme a hand up here, bro. Hell, I'd just about dried my long suffering ass off, on the long suffering ass. Haahaa, see stand up…"
He glanced, disorientated, at his position on the damp ground.
"Umm, maybe that's 'sit-down' comedy, Sammy. Yeah, sit down comedy runs in the Winchester family. Now, once again I'm freezing my buns off sitting in the goddam 'not supposed to be falling till Christmas Day' snow. Again!"
He tried to raise his arm towards the younger Winchester but the twisting motion had him grabbing instead at his lower back, face scrunched in agony as the abused muscles spasmed. His back arched suddenly, forcing him heavily backwards, into Sam's chest.
"Steady, steady there, Dean. I gotcha, bro. What's the matter? What's wrong?"
Sam held him tightly, feeling the tremors that rippled through the juddering figure beside him.
"Nothin', Sam. I'm okay." He laboured, "Just a twinge. Cramp, maybe." He panted around the groans that forced their way from between his parted lips. "Ahh, crap. Just gimme a minute here, okay?"
Struggling to control his breathing, he dug the heel of his palm deep into the protesting muscles, sighing as he felt them gradually relax. He slumped forward and then dropped his head into shaking hands, running grubby, grazed fingers through his damp hair, leaving deep channels that marked their path.
Sam felt his brother wilt beside him as the contraction passed; worriedly he looked around, his eyes following along the route taken by the panic-ridden donkey. He tipped his head to the side, listening to the sound of muted braying as it filtered its way to him along the track.
"Dude! Ssshhh! You hear that?" Sam asked quietly. "Listen, man!"
"What am I supposed to be listening to?"
"Donkey!"
"Jackass!" Dean countered, hotly.
"No, Dean. I mean listen to it. I can hear the donkey; in fact, I think I can hear two donkeys!" Sam whispered excitedly.
"Ah, your date arriving at last, dude? And why exactly are we whispering?"
"Quit fooling around, Dean. We need your noble steed! In case you hadn't noticed, you're not exactly Mr Fully Mobile at the moment. And, I seriously don't think I'm up to hauling your sorry, soaking wet ass around all night while we look for the goddam car! Maybe your ride was taking us back to her place for the night. Maybe that's why we ended up on a different path."
"Dude, I know you've had a bad couple of days. Maybe, it's the wrong time of the month. I don't know? But you don't have to cuss about my baby, she's not done anything wrong here!" Dean defended his car vigorously.
Sam shook his head in exasperation, his voice slowly rising as he confronted his obtuse brother.
"Dean, are you deliberately trying to miss the point here? We're lost! I can't see further than six foot in front of me, it's freezing, you can't walk, we got next to nothing to eat, no shelter, there's a freakin ghost on our tail and we just lost the only form of transport we had. Yes, I'm having a bad couple of days! I don't care about the goddam car, apart from wanting to get us back inside her and away from this damned mountain."
Dean bit back the snarky reply, catching the look of increasing panic that had taken up residence on his baby brother's pale, lined face. Big brother mode kicked in, full force.
"Hey, I'm sorry, Sam! I didn't mean to upset you, I was just trying to lighten the mood a little. Come on, just calm down, man. We'll be okay." He soothed. "We can't be far from the car now; we must be down in the valley at least, and I can walk just fine. I just need a hand up, and that walking stick back. Seriously, dude. I've had a great rest on the donkey, I'll be able to walk, no problem! Come on, help me up, here!"
Sam turned, his huge soulful eyes locked with his brother's glassy stare, desperate to believe the lie he had just heard, searching for reassurance. Dean's haggard features melted into a crooked grin and he cuffed his sad eyed kin gently round the back of the head. The sound of agitated braying drifted to them on the wind.
"Listen, they can't be far. Come on, gimme a hand to stand. Let's go see if we can catch up with Raptor, see if she's found you a friend. Don't want you missing out on the chance of a hot date!"
Sam shuffled to get one foot under him, wrapping Dean's arm round his shoulder and gripping his belt tightly with his free hand. He felt his brother taking deep breaths, steeling himself for the pain to come.
"Ready, bro?" Sam asked quietly, he noted the nod of confirmation and, bracing himself, he rose steadily to his feet, grimacing as he brought almost the full weight of his brother up with him.
Dean's bravado only carried him so far, before Sam felt desperate fingers digging through his jacket and the muffled sound of hitching sobs that rocked through his brother's frame. He stood, silently, giving the swaying form at this side a chance to regain his composure.
Dean brought his hand up, roughly swiping at the tears that brimmed from his dark ringed eyes. Shakily, he pinched the bridge of his nose, huffing out short puffs that ghosted into the night as he fought to control his breathing.
"Think you can stand on your own while I get your stick?" Sam asked dubiously.
Dean nodded an affirmative, whilst his fiercely clutching hand at Sam's shoulder told a totally different story.
"How's your foot feel?"
"Foot's just dandy, can't feel the freaky little mother, at all!" He panted, shakily.
"Knee?"
"Hurts like a sonofabitch, Sam. Its kinda locked up while I was sitting. I'll be fine once I get going!"
He glanced briefly into Sam's disbelieving face, and then lowered his pain-filled eyes.
"Listen, dude, why don't you just prop me up over there by the fence," he indicated a small group of rocks, "while you nip up ahead and check out the donkey situation. See if my ride's still around, huh? You're right, it does sound like a pair of them and they're not far up ahead. Leave me one of the shotguns. Just give my foot a chance to get the circulation going again."
"Come on then, let's sit you on those rocks. I'm only gonna go as far as the next bend, if I can't see anything I'm coming back to get you, okay? You ready?"
"'M fine, Sammy! Let's go!"
Sam hitched his brother's arm further over his broad shoulder, and, ignoring the grunts and groans, hauled the suffering figure towards the pile of sloping rocks. The dozen or so paces through the ankle deep snow left them both gasping for breath. Sam gratefully lowered Dean to the stone platform, settling his leg before him. He routed in the backpack and produced Dean's sawn-off, checking the rounds before handing it over to the trembling figure, sitting hunched on the cold stone.
"Dean? Dean, listen to me. I'll be two minutes. Watch my back, dude, okay?"
Sam waited till the weary head nodded in understanding. Smiling as he caught the quiet reply.
"I'll wait for you, dude. I ain't goin' nowhere, unless Santa himself swings by on his sleigh and offers me a ride!"
Dean watched as Sam checked his handgun before moving out, steadily, along the track, in the direction of the distant braying.
wWw
The Ghost watched with concern as the younger, and slightly less injured of the brother's moved away up the track. He could sense the vital connection these men had to each other and knew instinctively that they functioned best as a unit. He gathered the shabby tendrils that were his tattered form around him and rode the wind to flow towards the abandoned Winchester.
wWw
As Sam moved out of his eyeline, the elder hunter crumpled, curling up protectively around his throbbing knee, blinking to keep the black spots that danced before his eyes at bay.
'Crap, I hope to hell he can catch that donkey, 'cause this time we are so far up the freakin' creek, I don't even know if 10 freakin' paddles would help!'
His left hand snaked round to rub at the deep ache that had lodged at the small of his back, the constant cold doing little to help the sharp twinges that made themselves known every time his awkward gait forced him to lurch too far to the side.
'Why couldn't I have just completed the goddamn booking confirmation when I should'a done? We'd have been tucked up safe and warm in the Holy Night Inn's best suite, complete with Jacuzz,i having a great time. Would have been a Christmas that Sam could have remembered for all the right reasons for once. Crap, I am such a freakin' screw-up!'
Dean shivered, despite the lack of wind in the shelter of the trees the bitter cold seeped deep into his bones. He shrugged down into his jacket, turning up the collar as he hefted the shotgun with his right hand. As he peered into the shadows his hunter's instinct suddenly came to the fore, raising his hackles, as a shiver, that had no connection with the weather, ran down his spine.
wWw
The Ghost of the Christmas Hiker knew that this pain wracked man before him in the snow could sense his presence even before he left the shadows and allowed himself to be seen. He was unsurprised that he saw no real fear on the hunter's pale face, as he had the impression that this man had seen more in his relatively short lifetime than most people could ever contemplate. The dead ruin that had once been a handsome face contemplated the struggling figure before him, willing Dean to understand, to know what he must do.
wWw
Uncertainly, Dean lowered the shotgun, knowing without doubt that the ghostly form wavering between the trees had no ill intention towards him. He felt the sadness, loneliness and need that rolled in waves from the depths of the disembodied eyes.
"Dean!"
Sam's muffled voice, filtered through the trees. Dean watched as the ethereal form faded into the trees, his face turning to search out his brother in the darkness.
"Sam, you okay?" Dean shouted, shifting forwards, growling as he lowered his leg, painfully, to the ground. "Sammy, answer me!"
Injury all but forgotten, he swayed back, quickly gripping the boulder as his knee buckled beneath him. He raised the shotgun as heavy footsteps crashed along the path.
"Sammy?"
"Dean? Where are you?"
"Sammy, I'm here. You okay?"
"Yeah! Hell yeah!" Sam's laughter surprised the startled hunter. "Dean, look what I found!"
A rejuvenated Sam burst into view, Dean observed the noisy apparition lumbering down the path, dragging something behind him.
"Over here, Sam! What you so freakin' happy about?"
"Dude, this is awesome. You are so not gonna believe it!"
"Try me, Sammy! No, let me guess. You've found Santa's workshop and there's a pack of elves up there weaving a magic carpet to take us home!"
Dean snarked, hiding his grin at Sam's sudden enthusiasm.
"Ah…no!" Dean thought he detected a slight note of disappointment in his brother's tone.
"But look!" Sam approached, pulling out his torch as he turned to the object trailing behind him in the snow.
"Well, it sure ain't my donkey, dude!"
Sam's torch illuminated a small halo on the crisp white snow, gleaming yellow in the sudden torchlight. He moved it to play teasingly over the black and red sled that he pulled by two long leather straps.
"Climb aboard, dude! Your chariot awaits!" Sam chuckled.
"Okay, so what's this supposed to be, Santa's sleigh?"
"No, not quite! I'm keeping the best till last. Let me help you down there!"
Sam pulled the sled across, positioning it directly in front of Dean, all the time laughing quietly to himself.
Dean regarded him suspiciously.
"Dude, you find something to smoke on the way back from wherever you been? You're starting to worry me, here!"
Sam settled his incredulous brother onto the low back of the sled, gently straightening the wounded left leg as Dean hissed in pain through his clenched teeth. Beads of sweat forming on his forehead despite the cold.
"Hold on tight, here we go!" Sam laughed merrily.
"Okay, Bing! When you gonna start singing Winter friggin' Wonderland?"
Sam heaved on the straps, the sled jolted once, and then swished forward, running smoothly over the crisp layer of white.
"It's not far. Dude, this is just awesome! Here we are, stuck out in the woods, just lost our donkey, tired, hungry and in need of shelter when low and behold."
"Cut the low and behold, crap, dude! Unless, you've just morphed into the Angel Freakin' Gabriel!"
"When low and behold…" Sam paused as he turned in a wide circle, allowing Dean an uninterrupted view of the small, thatched, log building illuminated by a shaft of moonlight which broke through the roiling clouds above. The stable, 'cause that's undoubtedly what it looked like, nestled inside a small glade, the trees seemingly held back by the wooden railing that enclosed it on three sides, the fourth opening out onto what looked to be a small meadow.
The little grey donkey's head poked out of the half door and hee-hawed a bray of welcome as she recognised her erstwhile companions.
"Oh no, Sammy! Please! You gotta be kiddin' me! Tell me it's just a barn."
"Oh no, Dean. This is the real McCoy. A one hundred percent, bona fide stable in freakin' Bethlehem - stalls and manger and all! We've just been saved from exposure in the snow, by a stable, dude! A star of freakin' wonders stable!"
"Aw, hell! Just shoot me now, this is getting' beyond a joke, Sammy!"
Ends