The Cold Shoulder
Author's Note:
Prompt comes from Katlover98: Set in Season 8, after Episode 14 (Trial and Error). Sam goes to a bar after fighting with Dean. When Sam leaves, Dean goes to a different bar and finds a girl to hook up with for the night. Sam eventually returns to the motel room but does not have the keys to get inside and the front desk is abandoned. Sam decides to wait until Dean comes but it is an unusually cold night and he gets hypothermia.
"It was my job, Sam!" Dean growled angrily, "I was supposed to kill that Hellhound!"
Sam didn't know what to say anymore. He was tired of trying to justify himself to his brother. If he hadn't acted as he had, the hound could have seriously injured either of them and killed Ellie.
Besides, there was no point in arguing about it now. Sam had started these Trials and he was going to finish them, regardless of what Dean thought.
"I'm not getting into this again," Sam told his brother, his tone exasperated.
The younger man stood and headed towards the door.
"Where are you going?" Dean asked, irritated.
"Out," Sam told him, "I'll be back in a while. Don't wait up for me."
"Sam!" Dean shouted but his brother was out the door.
Sam sighed and raked a hand through his longish hair before turning and walking down the sidewalk. He could use a drink. Their motel wasn't too far from a bar and Sam began walking that way.
A chilly wind blew in from the North and Sam shivered a little, wishing he'd grabbed his jacket before leaving.
Oh well, the bar was within walking distance and he'd be inside and warm soon.
He just needed to get away from his brother for a little while.
Sam knew that it was just Dean being Dean; looking out for him like always, but sometimes it pissed him off that Dean thought he couldn't do things on his own, that he needed his big brother to do everything for him.
It wasn't only Sam's desire to do something on his own that had him completing the Trials… Sam had screwed up so much in the past that he wanted… no; he needed to do something right for a change.
If he could finish these Trials and lock the doors to Hell forever, that just might make up for every wrong he had done in the past.
But of course Sam wasn't going to tell Dean any of that. He'd just continue on and act as though he had been in the right place at the right time to kill that Hellhound and that was the end of it.
Sam felt better already at the sight of smokers standing in front of the bar, the red glow of their cigarettes illuminating their faces for a brief moment in the darkness.
Pulling open the door, Sam was buffeted with a blast of hot, sticky air and loud music. Although he didn't really like bars all that much- they were more Dean's scene than his- Sam looked forward to the prospect of a cold beer and time alone to think.
SPN
Dean stared after his brother as Sam walked out of the room.
Damn it! Why didn't Sam ever listen to him? He said he could take care of the Trials himself!
And now Sam was adamant he continue with them. Dean thought he was crazy. He was sure that if he killed a Hellhound he could do the Trials, despite what Kevin said but there were none to be found. Crowley certainly wasn't going to let any of his pets wander around with the Winchesters loose.
Dean guessed it didn't really matter. Once Kevin told them what the next Trial was, Dean was going to do it.
Deciding that he wanted some company for the night, Dean turned off the television he hadn't been watching and grabbed the Impala's keys. He slipped his leather jacket on and frowned, noticing that Sam had left his coat hanging off the back of the chair.
Oh well, Sam if wanted to act like a big boy, Dean was going to let him. He wasn't going to chase after his sibling just to make sure he had his coat on. Besides, it wasn't too cold out.
Dean locked the door to the motel room and crossed the short distance to the driver's side of the Impala. Sitting down, Dean sighed and turned on the stereo, Foreigner's 'Cold As Ice' blaring from the speakers.
Starting the old Chevy, Dean pulled out of the parking lot just as fat, wet flakes began to drift from the night sky.
Scowling slightly, Dean turned on the windshield wipers.
"Snow! Can you believe that Baby? And it's almost the end of April!" Dean grumped to his beloved car, and headed down the street, searching for a promising-looking bar.
SPN
Sam picked the label off his bottle of beer distractedly. He'd been sitting by himself at the bar for a few hours now; his demeanor telling the other patrons that he wanted to be left alone.
Sam glanced over at the Coors Light-themed clock across the bar and decided that he should head back to the motel room. He was tired of the loud music and raucous crowd around him.
Standing up, Sam left some money on the bar for his drink and headed towards the exit. Cold air chilled him almost instantly as the young man stepped outside, two inches of snow crunching underneath his shoes.
Sam pushed his bangs away from his face and glanced up at the snowflakes still falling. Stepping onto the sidewalk, Sam shivered a little bit, the cold especially noticeable after sitting the humid bar for a couple of hours.
Shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans and hunching his shoulders, Sam began to walk back to the motel.
SPN
Dean grinned at the blonde girl sitting a couple of seats down from him at the bar. She was wearing a silver dress covered in sequins and metallic silver pumps. Her low-cut dress showed off a pleasing amount of cleavage and the short hemline stopped halfway up her thigh.
Besides that, she had a sweet face that Dean found irresistible.
He motioned to the bartender and asked what the girl was drinking; when she finished her first drink, Dean ordered her another one on the sly before she had a chance to do so herself.
He watched from the corner of his eye, drinking a beer, as the young woman looked surprised that someone had bought her a drink before smiling and glancing around, searching for the would-be Don Juan.
Dean met her gaze and gave her his most charming smile. The girl returned the gesture, picked up her drink and daintily took a sip before motioning for him to join her.
Dean moved over; tonight was going to be a very good night.
SPN
Sam's breath plumed out in front of him as he crossed the motel parking lot. Glancing up, he frowned. The Impala was gone.
Sighing, Sam paused and felt around in his jeans' pockets for his room key even though he was sure it wouldn't be there. It wasn't. And neither was his phone. Both were still in his jacket, locked in the room.
He guessed he'd have to go to the front desk and ask for a spare key.
Turning towards the office, Sam frowned when he saw that the lights were dimmed and there was no visible movement from inside.
Picking up his speed, Sam trotted across the parking lot and peered through the glass window into the office.
Most of the lights were out and the desk was unoccupied.
"Hey!" Sam called, "Anybody there? I got locked out of my room!"
No one appeared. Sam reached down and tried the doorknob but it didn't move.
"Great," Sam sighed and turned around.
He had no idea where Dean was and no way of contacting him.
Sam walked slowly down the sidewalk to his room and tried the door there, just in case. Dean though, had made sure to lock it as he left incase the cleaning crew decided to come by.
Sam looked around for a moment. No one else was around. The few neighbours the Winchesters did have were either out themselves or in bed for the night.
Just wait, Sam thought, Dean won't be too long.
Sam leaned against the door; his arms crossed over his chest and stared out at the falling snow, eyes sharp for the familiar Chevy Impala rumbling down the road.
SPN
The blonde girl tugged Dean into her apartment by his wrist and giggled.
Honey- that was her real name- began removing her clothing as she led Dean deeper into her home.
First she kicked off her shoes.
Then her panties found their way onto the floor.
Her dress slithered off her lithe form to pool on the carpet like liquid mercury.
Her bra magically vanished somewhere in the kitchen.
Once they were in the bedroom, Honey turned to Dean, released his wrist and grabbed the hem of his shirt.
The girl made a pleased sound as Dean's clothes hit the floor. She climbed onto her bed and laid a hand on the back of the man's neck, pulling him down towards her.
SPN
Sam shivered and rubbed his arms.
Where the hell was Dean?
Sam stomped his feet, frowning when he realized that he couldn't feel his toes.
How cold was it out here anyway?
Sam sighed, his breath condensing in the chilly air and slid down the door until he was sitting.
When was Dean coming back?
Sam's teeth chattered and he clenched his jaw.
What time was it? Surely it couldn't be that late.
Sam tried to flex his fingers and his eyebrows knitted together in confusion when the digits didn't react. He shoved his hands into his armpits to try and warm them up.
Closing his eyes, Sam leaned his head back against the door.
Dean shouldn't be long now. He'd be back soon.
SPN
Honey grinned up at Dean, her blonde hair fanned out around her head.
Dean glanced at the girl's alarm clock and saw that it was growing late.
Sam probably wouldn't stay long at the bar- Dean was sure he was there because everything else was closed this time of night- and might return to the motel any time now.
Before Dean could cut and run, Honey spoke up, "All that exercise has made me hungry, how about you?"
Dean gave the young woman a reassuring smile, "It did. But it's late and I've really gotta go. My kid brother-"
Honey sat up abruptly, "It's not that late. Please stay, just for a little while longer."
Dean shook his head, "It's been great but I-"
Again he was interrupted, "I have pie."
The girl certainly knew how to give a guy a good time, Dean would give her that and apparently she also knew the way to a man's heart, his especially.
"Alright," Dean said and Honey jumped up, grabbing a long nightshirt from her dresser and slipping it on.
Dean stood and grabbed his boxers and his pants, pulling them on as the girl practically hopped from foot to foot impatiently.
Talk about an eager beaver, Dean thought and grinned as he followed the girl to her kitchen.
SPN
Why was he outside?
Oh, yeah, Dean wasn't here and the door was locked.
Sam peered up at the door handle.
He didn't even have anything to jimmy the lock with. No paperclips or safety pins.
Sam sighed and rubbed a hand over his face.
He glanced down at his shoes. He still couldn't feel his feet and he knew that was a bad thing.
Leaning forward, Sam unlaced his shoes and pulled them off. Reaching out, Sam rubbed his chilly feet, trying to get some warmth into them again.
SPN
"Do you like it?" Honey asked as Dean ate his first slice of pie.
It was peach and very sweet. Perfect.
"This is the best pie I've ever had," Dean told her and the girl blushed, "I made it myself."
Dean quickly polished off his slice and stared longingly at the remaining pie, "Could I have another?"
"Of course!" Honey exclaimed and cut him a generous piece.
One more and then I'll go back to the motel room, Dean told himself.
SPN
Sam's chin rested against his chest.
He was just so tired. He could barely keep his eyes open. It must be pretty late at night.
Why was he out here?
Where was Dean?
Sam sucked in a shallow breath and let it out, the condensation from its heat reminding him of the smokers out in front of the bar.
He wondered what the next Trial was going to be.
He hoped Kevin figured it out soon.
He needed to show Dean he didn't always need his help.
He needed to make amends for all his mistakes.
Sam lifted his head and blinked slowly.
Where was everyone? Why was it so quiet?
Maybe he should see if anyone was in the office.
Sam reached up and grabbed the door handle, pulling himself to his feet.
He swayed slightly and rubbed his eyes with his fists for a moment before turning towards the office.
Headlights suddenly illuminated the glass walls of the office area and Sam took a step forward.
Someone was there! They'd be able to give him a key!
"Hey!" Sam called as the person- an elderly man- stepped out of the car and unlocked the door to the office.
"Hey!" he called again as the man opened the door and stepped inside.
Sam frowned. The man hadn't heard him.
Sam took another step forward and faltered.
He should wait for Dean.
Yeah, that sounded good.
His brother might worry if he came back and didn't see him.
Sam turned away shuffled the short distance back to the door of the motel room, sitting down heavily.
SPN
"It's been great," Dean told Honey, "You're an awesome girl. But really, I have to go."
The blonde sighed but nodded, "I know."
Dean frowned. He felt bad for her. It was clear that she was lonely. But right now he could only deal with one clingy person in his life.
Dean smiled encouragingly at her, "I'm sure you'll meet a real nice guy."
Honey chuckled, "It was nice spending the night with you, Dean."
He nodded once, checking his pockets to make sure he had everything.
"Look me up next time you're in town?" she asked and Dean said he would even though he probably wouldn't.
He walked down the hallway, hearing Honey's door close softly behind him and took the elevator to the first floor.
He hoped that his brother had gotten over his hissy fit from earlier because he really didn't want Sam to give him the silent treatment for the rest of the night; he really hated that.
As Dean stepped out into the parking lot of the apartment building he when he saw snow covering the Impala.
This was ridiculous! Really, it was! Snow when it was nearly May for Pete's sake!
Unlocking the trunk, Dean pulled the snowbrush out and wiped off the car.
Once he was satisfied, Dean tossed the brush into the backseat and sat down behind the wheel.
W
It didn't take long to drive back to the motel- only about ten minutes- and for that Dean was glad.
As he entered the parking lot though, he frowned.
Was that a person sitting outside his motel room?
Who could that-
Oh no… Sam!
Dean pressed his foot down on the gas and hurried towards the room, the Impala jerking to a halt in the parking space.
Dean flung open his door and stepped out, hurrying to his sibling's side.
"Sam! Sammy!"
The younger man was sitting with his back to the door and his legs out in front of him; his chin was resting on his chest and his hair obscured his eyes.
Dean reached out and lifted his brother's head, one hand against a chilly cheek.
"Sam? SAM? Can you hear me?" Dean asked frantically.
"Shit," he swore as slowly Sam opened his eyes.
"D'," Sam muttered, his teeth chattering.
"How long have you been sitting out here?" Dean asked but didn't even bother waiting for an answer.
Sam needed to get inside and warmed up.
"Can you stand?" Dean asked and Sam's eyes slipped closed again.
"I guess that's a no," the older brother said and pulled his keys from his jacket pocket and unlocked the door but didn't open it yet.
Reaching down, Dean grabbed his brother under the armpits and heaved him up. Luckily their father had been adamant about their learning survival skills and had taught his sons what to do in case of hypothermia (among other things).
Sam groaned in protest but Dean ignored him and kicked open the door.
As carefully as possible, Dean half-carried half-dragged his brother over to the bed nearest the door- because right now he didn't have time to be particular about such things) and laid him on his back.
Dean hadn't bothered making his bed up earlier that day and the duvet lay crumpled on the floor at the end of the bed.
He took Sam's wrist, feeling his brother's pulse; it was there but it was weak and slow.
He needed to get Sam warm now.
"D'," Sam called out.
"Shut up, Sam," Dean ground out.
His sibling's clothes were wet from walking home in the snow and then sitting on the cement in front of the room.
Dean knew he should not be moving his brother around too much so he went to his duffel bag and pulled out a hunting knife.
Careful so as not to accidently nick his brother, Dean took hold of the hem of one leg of Sam's jeans and cut it right up the middle, doing the same to the other leg.
Next he carefully peeled Sam's socks off, grimacing at the blue toes.
"God I hope you didn't get frostbite," Dean muttered to his sibling as he tugged Sam's ruined pants out from under him.
Sam had been wearing a button-up shirt so Dean ripped it open before cutting the sleeves lengthwise and pulled the garment away from his sibling, dropping it on the floor. Sam's t-shirt went the same way as his trousers and button-up.
Dean set the knife aside and took his jacket off, draping it on the end of the bed.
Without even thinking about it, Dean quickly undressed until he was only wearing his boxers, just like Sam.
Grabbing the blanket from his brother's bed, Dean climbed onto the mattress beside his brother and lay down next to him. Gathering his duvet and jacket, Dean settled them over both himself and Sam.
It was dark beneath the blankets but Dean knew what to do. He shifted over until he was laying on his side, reaching out to roll Sam over so that he was in the same position and inched closer until his chest was against his sibling's icy back.
Dean resisted the urge to rub his brother's arm, knowing that the movement could cause a heart attack. He draped one leg over his brother's, trying to share as much of his body heat as possible.
Dean closed his eyes, mentally kicking himself for not returning earlier as he had meant to.
"C'mon Sammy," he whispered, "You're gonna be okay. I've got ya. It'll be alright."
The minutes seemed to drag on as Dean waited for Sam's internal body temperature to rise. He pressed two fingers against his sibling's neck every so often to check his pulse and slowly it began to beat stronger and more regular, a good sign.
After an hour, Dean poked his head out from underneath the covers; he was sweating.
Quickly, so as to conserve as much warmth beneath the blankets for Sam as possible, Dean got off the bed.
Sam would be okay as long as he remained underneath the duvets. Dean pulled the blankets down so that Sam's face was exposed but nothing else.
Where Sam's face had been chalk-white and his lips blue, they were now a healthier hue pink with the warm blood now flowing through his veins.
Dean sighed deeply and ran a hand through his short hair.
What a night.
He gathered his discarded clothes and shoved them into his duffel, piling his brother's ruined garments in a corner to be thrown out later.
Dean then sat down on the edge of his brother's bed and peered down at the younger man.
Sam may have thought he was an adult and as such he should be able to take care of himself and make his own decisions but for Dean, he would always be his baby brother.
Dean reached down and brushed his sibling's bangs away from his brow.
To Dean's surprise, Sam's eyes opened.
"D'n," Sam whispered.
"Hi, Sammy," Dean replied.
"You came back," Sam said.
Dean smiled, "I always do."
Author's Note:
Thanks to BranchSuper, sandycub, Lisa Boon, mb64, reannablue, WhitR, jo1966, Shanannigans, Mistycat for reviewing.
Thanks to everyone who alerted, followed and favourited.
The symptoms of hypothermia are shivering, clumsiness or lack of coordination, slurred speech or mumbling, stumbling, difficulty thinking and confusion, poor decision making, drowsiness, loss of consciousness and slow, shallow breathing. I got the list from the Mayo Clinic's website.
If you are familiar with my other fanfics, you'll know that I do not do slash (and Wincest in particular). One of the ways to help a person suffering from hypothermia is to remove your own clothes- along with the victim's- and warm them with your own body heat. I did not intend for that scene to be suggestive or anything like that. Dean is simply trying to bring Sam's temperature up.
Thanks for reading and as always, please leave a review.