Dean's head was pounding. His brain felt like mush. His body seemed detached, as though it was floating. And his mind was blessedly blank.
He could sense consciousness within his reach, but was tempted to turn from it, not wanting to face the pain he could feel waiting for him on the other side. But a small sound that penetrated through his mind, changed everything. It was just a name, his name, but that way it was said – no, the way it was pleaded - brought his soul to life. His brain was unable to form a thought, but that didn't matter, because every instinct inside of him came alive and told him that he needed to get to that voice.
That voice mattered.
That voice needed him.
And he needed that voice.
Dean wasn't even sure who he was or what happened, but he knew enough to know – his body knew enough to know – that he needed to do anything to get to that voice. He pushed through the fog, forcing it away; and fighting to focus, to find consciousness.
The pain hit first.
His head felt as though it had played host to a Metallica concert. The thought of moving his skull so much as an inch made him nauseous. His spine was throbbing in time with his heartbeat. The rest of his body was tingling, from the tips of his fingers to his toes.
Dean wanted so desperately to retreat into the darkness, where he could hideaway to escape the pain. But he was unable to deny his body's need, its instinctive persistence, to get to the voice that he could still hear floating over him.
He fought to open his eyes, the task fifty-times more strenuous than it should have been. He felt icy fingers resting against his cheeks and a hand placing gentle pressure over his heart. The voice that had seemed so out-of-reach was growing in volume, and keeping in time with the warm air he could feel ghosting over the left side of his face.
"C'mon, Dean. Wake-up, man. Don't leave me alone down here. You know I always get myself into trouble without you around."
Even in his barely-conscious state, Dean could detect that those nonchalant words were failing miserably at disguising the pleading tone they were stated in.
"You've napped long enough. Time to wake up, Dean. C'mon, please."
The little brat knew his big brother couldn't resist that. The strained, desperate tone was bad enough, but the p-word did him in, the same way it always had.
Sam almost never used it, growing up he would ask for what he needed and Dean would do his best to give it to him – more often than not he never even had to ask – the kid certainly never had to beg, Dean always made sure of that. Sam thanked him a lot, even as a child, no matter how many times the older boy told him it was unnecessary, but please was a word they rarely ever had to resort to, especially when speaking to one another. Dean had used it a time or two on teenage Sam, when he could no longer take the fighting between him and their father, but seldom did he resort to such measures. Sam had almost always done as his big brother asked while they were growing up. The youngest Winchester would often make inquiries, but if it was Dean asking, he would do it. Now with John asking, well that was a very different story.
Either way, please was a word Sam and Dean only ever elected to utilize when it was truly vital.
The elder hunter released a louder than necessary groan as he worked to pry his eyelids open.
"Dean?" Sam's voice went up several octaves, his trembling hand palming his brother's cheek.
"M'here, Sammy." He mumbled, staring up at him through the slits of his eyes and clumsily bringing his hand up to pat the long arm.
"Oh, thank God." The younger man sighed, dropping his head down to rest on Dean's chest, taking in shaky breaths.
"S'okay, Sammy. I'm okay." He assured, putting in effort to clarify his speech. Dean dropped his hand on the back of the shaggy head, patting it briefly before moving to the back of his neck and giving it a reassuring squeeze.
Dean hissed at the pain that slammed into him when he fought to raise his head.
Sam's forehead lifted quickly from where it had been resting on his chest and the lean body leaned over him, a large hand sliding to cradle the back of Dean's skull.
"Whoah, easy there. You smacked your head pretty good, try not to move."
"It's my head, dude. I'm going to have to move it eventually." He dismissed, getting his hands beneath him and fighting to push himself up.
"You could've taken a minute." Sam grumbled, helping to pull his brother into a seated position.
"Hey man, you were the one bitching about me napping for too long." He argued, attempting to distract himself from the pain thundering in his noggin.
"Yeah, whatever, dude." Sam grunted. "Let's get you over to rest against the wall."
Dean did his best not to shift his head as he used his arms to slide his butt across the floor. The process was made much easier by the strong arms that were aiding him along the way, until suddenly they were gone.
"Fuck."
The curse was so soft, Dean barely heard it, but he did hear the thump that followed. He faltered, working to stay vertical as his support vanished.
"Sam?" He called out. He was fighting back the nausea, working to raise his head, when the sound of retching reached his ears. It took him a moment to realize that he wasn't the one tossing his cookies. He ignored the agony in his skull and forced his eyes up, searching for his little brother. Sam was kneeling on one leg, the other was stretched out at his side. His hands were on the ground, keeping him from toppling over into the vomit being expelled from his mouth.
It wasn't until that moment that Dean remembered what had happened. The house, the spirit, the cellar, Sam's leg, it all came rushing back. He cringed as the information flooded his pulsing head.
"Shit, Sammy!" He reached forward, his hand grazing his brother's broad trembling shoulders.
"S'okay. Give me a sec. Just stay still."
Dean snorted at the order, inching closer to his little brother, grabbing hold of his arm.
"Stop moving, Dean. You're gonna hurt yourself." Sam grit out between gags as he shook off his brother's grip.
"It's not me I'm worried about." Dean grumbled, grasping the younger man's arm once again.
"Never is." Sam rasped, spitting on the ground a couple more times before heaving in a few deep breaths.
The cellar spun as Dean worked to slide toward Sam. He watched as the kid dragged his hand across his mouth, before stumbling to his feet, or foot rather, seeing as how he appeared to be putting weight on only his good leg.
"Sam. Get off your feet! What the fuck are you doing?" Dean scolded, trying and failing to shake off the iron grip that wrapped around his biceps and tugged him backwards until, suddenly, he was resting against the wall. He was about to order his brother to take a seat, when Sam crumpled unceremoniously to the ground by his side.
"You should have stayed sitting. What the fuck were you doing moving around?"
"I'm okay." Sam dismissed, his long fingers sifting through the shorter hair. Dean winced when the searching touch grazed the bump he could feel swelling at the back of his skull, but he didn't let the pain distract him.
"You just harfed all over the place. You're not okay." He argued, groaning when Sam angled his head forward, so he could get a better look.
"That was just from pain. I'm fine." The younger man grumbled, whispering a soft apology as he deftly examined the lump on the back of Dean's noggin.
"Oh yeah, you were in so much pain that you vomited. You're totally fucking fine."
Sam's fingers were shaking as they leaned Dean further over his legs and traced their way down his back.
"It was bad, but it's better now."
"You have a bone skewering your goddamn leg, Sam." He snapped.
"Oh really? I forgot." The younger hunter quipped, his fingers trailing his brother's spine. Dean flinched a Sam placed pressure on a sensitive spot. His shirt was pulled up and he shivered as his bare skin was exposed to the chill.
"Fuck, Sammy. Your fingers are frozen." He exclaimed, wincing the brat probed the sore spot on his spine.
My little brother tugged his clothing back into place. "You've got a giant bump on the back of your head, and the makings of a hell of a bruise blanketing most of your back."
Dean grunted in response and allowed himself to rest against the wall, now that he wasn't being poked and prodded.
"How's your head feel? You seeing okay? Dizziness? Nausea?"
"Fine. Yes, yes, and yes. But the spinning is stopping, and I managed to keep my cookies down, which is more than you can claim."
"This is your second concussion in a week. I don't like that." Sam declared, his voice oozing concern.
"Really? I'm loving it." Dean joked, attempting to get the kid to relax a little.
No luck.
Sam's face remained scrunched in fear and concern as he stared at his brother.
"Stop looking at me like that."
"Like what?"
"Like, I'm worse off than you are." Dean grumbled.
Sam hissed as he sat back against the wall and straightened his injured leg.
"What the fuck were you doing moving around?"
"Helping my moronic big brother." Sam declared, his tone was flat, but a small smirk betrayed his amusement.
"Oh really?" Dean shot back, maintaining a levity in his voice as he leaned forward to get a better look at his kid brother's mess of a limb.
"Yeah. He thought it would be a good idea to build a corpse tower—
"Mountain of Death." Dean corrected offhandedly, reaching down and grazing his hand over the wound on Sam's lower leg. It had been bleeding again, probably because the idiot had been marching around on it, but it was a slow trickle now. Thankfully, the bone hadn't shifted or come loose, if it had blood would be pouring out. Dean cringed at the mental image, and shifted his gaze, looking over the lanky young man at his side.
"My apologies. After the construction of Death Mountain, my dumbass brother decided to climb the damn thing."
"Sounds like a real loon."
"You have no idea." Sam scoffed.
"Handsome though." Dean added.
Sam twitched a smiled, which rapidly morphed into a grimace as an aggressive shutter tore through his thin frame.
"Is it the pain or the cold?" Dean questioned sombrely, wondering which was to blame for his brother's violent shaking.
Sam opened and closed his mouth a few times, before turning to give him a hopeless look with the saddest goddamn smile he'd ever seen. Because the kid didn't fucking know. He was in so much pain and so bloody cold that he couldn't even be sure which ailment was causing the incessant trembling.
"You shouldn't have been moving around." Dean growled.
"Yeah, okay. Next time I'll just leave you lying unconscious on the ground." Sam spat back sarcastically.
"Good."
The younger man gave him an exasperated look, anger flashing through his hazel eyes. "You are un-fucking-believable."
Dean waited for the remainder of the lecture. He could tell by the frustrated edge in his brother's voice that it was on its way.
"If it had been me who had fallen and gotten myself knocked out, nothing would have stopped you from helping me. Nothing. Sure as shit not a cut."
"It's not a cut, Sam. You have a fucking bone shishkabobing your leg."
"A gaping laceration, a stab wound, a broken bone, a fucking amputation, none of that would stop you from getting to me if I was hurt."
Only Dean's little brother could manage a tone that was equal parts admiration and indignation.
"You would have done anything to come to get to me. You wouldn't care if you aggravated an injury or got yourself hurt in the process. But I walk on an injured leg for a few damn minutes, and that is completely unacceptable. How come you expect so little from me?"
The came flying out of left fucking field and knocked Dean on his ass – metaphorically ofcourse because he hadn't yet managed to get off his ass.
"Sam, that's not—
"That's it, isn't it? You can risk anything for me. Pain, endangerment, death, you can chance any of that for me. Hell, you've done it a million times before. But I am never expected to do the same for you. I'm your brother, I would do anything for you. How can you not understand that?"
Sam wasn't angry anymore. The kid was hurt. And that was so much worse. Dean opened his mouth to correct his deeply mistaken little brother, but before he could get a word out, Sam continued.
"Then again, why would you? It's not like there's any evidence to back-up my claim." He stated with a shrug, his hair falling to cover his face as his gaze was directed to the floor.
"What the hell are you talking about?" The older man balked. Lawyer-Sam was making an appearance, and Dean was left scrambling to understand how he arrived at such a bullshit conclusion.
"It's nothing." He dismissed with a despondent shake of his head.
"Are you saying that you've never put yourself at risk for me?" Dean questioned in disbelief, after taking a moment to collect his thoughts.
Sam's evasive shrug was a clear answer.
"You seriously think that?"
"I watch your back when we hunt. I do what he can. But it's not the same." Sam whispered to the concrete floor.
"You don't think you've ever put yourself in danger - put your life on the line - to help me?"
The young man glanced over at Dean, his eyes drowning in shame as he shook his head.
Dean was baffled. How could his brilliant little brother be such an absolute moron?
"So, that time we were hunting that werewolf and the damn thing was breathing down my neck, you distracted it because you wanted some one-on-one time with its claws? Not because you were trying to save my sorry ass?"
"That's different."
"How?"
"It only got so close to you because I fucked-up and didn't take it out."
"You didn't do anything wrong! You lost the feeling in your hands. There was nothing you could have done."
"Either way, it was my fault that it almost got to you."
"That doesn't mean you didn't then risk your life to save mine."
"It doesn't count if I'm the reason you're in danger." Sam stated.
"Oh, so now there are rules to this dumb-ass game of yours."
The younger hunter shook his head and looked away, glancing aimlessly around the cellar, looking at everything but his brother.
Dean huffed, rolling his eyes as he realized that if he wanted to get his point across to his little brother, he was going to have to accommodate his stupid rules.
"Fine. The Christmas break of 1999."
Sam squinted at the date, the hazel gaze finally moving to meet the green one.
"You remember it?"
"I think so. We were at Bobby's?"
Dean nodded.
"Dad spent the day with us, before taking off on a hunt. He said we could stay with Bobby until school started-up again in January."
"Yeah, he figured he might as well wait to move us to a new town until you had to be back in school. So, he left us for a mini-vacation at the salvage yard, which gave him the freedom to run all over the country on a hunting spree."
Sam smirked at that.
It had been nice. They both got some solid downtime to just hang around and be brothers for a bit. they had a couple weeks of freedom from hunting or training, and they spent them joking around, going to movies, and having some fun. All that, accompanied by Bobby's cooking, made it the best vacation either of them had ever had.
"You remember what happened that New Year's Eve?" Dean inquired, directing the conversation back to its purpose.
Sam frowned, his forehead wrinkling as he pondered. It wasn't long before his eyebrows rose and comprehension dawned on his young face.
Dean watched as Sam got lost in the memory, and allowed himself to do the same.
"You didn't have to come." Dean declared, looking down to the teen trudging through the snow at his side.
"Neither did you."
"I'm just helping out Bobby. It would have been okay if you wanted to stay back at the house." He assured.
"I don't mind helping." Sam stated with a shrug.
"You'll tell me if you get too cold?"
The teenager rolled his eyes. "Yes, Dean. Although I doubt that will be possible with all the layers you've got me wearing." He responded, gesturing down at himself.
Dean smirked. He did have the kid in a lot of layers. He had sweatpants on over his jeans. He was wearing a long-sleeve shirt, button-up shirt, sweatshirt, and his winter coat. He also had thick thermal gloves on his hands, that were in no way inhibiting his grip on the shotgun.
"Good." The older boy nodded.
They continued their way through the snow, searching for tracks left behind by the monster allegedly residing in the woods.
The brother's had been at Bobby's for a few weeks now. Dad had sent them to their surrogate uncle's place as soon as the holiday break began. John showed up in time for Christmas Day and was gone again by the next morning. They didn't mind though, Sam and him, they enjoyed hanging out at the salvage yard. Sam got to geek out all he wanted in Bobby's eclectic library and Dean got to spend some quality time pampering the Impala. His brother and he had been able to spend time together that didn't involve training or hunting. They didn't have to worry about food or shelter or how much cash they had left. They just got to hang out and be brothers; that was how things worked when they stayed with Bobby. It was great.
The older hunter had received a call that morning from a friend of his who had a lead on some supernatural beast that was supposed to be holed-up just outside of Sioux Falls. Bobby had said he was going to check it out, and Dean had offered to go with him. It was always good to have someone at your back when you were hunting, and besides, Dean owed the old man. Bobby had made it possible for Dean's little brother to have a slice of 'normal' something the kid was always craving, it was only fair that he do a little leg work to return the favor. Sam had quickly declared that he would be coming along as well. Dean had tried to talk him out of it, proclaiming his displeasure to the kid exposing himself to the cold elements. But Sam had been stubborn as ever and insisted he would be fine and promised to wear as many layers as he requested. Bobby hadn't argued, but a twitch of his lips had divulged his appreciation for the back-up.
So, there they were, trudging through the snow, trying to track down some mythological fugly. It was a shitty way to spend New Year's Eve. Not that it was the first one they had spent hunting, but it still sucked.
"When we're finished here we'll grab some dinner, rent a couple good movies, and pick-up some junk-food. We'll make a night of it." Dean offered.
"We don't have to." Sam shrugged.
"We'll get pizza. You can choose whatever toppings you want."
"It's okay, Dean. I don't mind helping Bobby.
"I know. Neither do I. But it's still New Year's Eve. I've got to make sure you have a little bit of fun."
"You don't have to." Sam repeated honestly, glancing up at the taller boy.
"I want to." He replied simply, intentionally avoiding the gaze he could feel Sam pinning him with, because he knew it would be one oozing with unnecessary gratefulness. Like he was doing something great by giving the kid a half-decent holiday.
"Can I really choose the toppings?"
Dean smirked at the question, glancing down to his left at his little brother.
"Sure, dude. You can even put that pineapple shit on it if you want to, Samantha. A girl has got to get her fruit fix." He chuckled, nudging against the small teen.
Sam smiled, his dimples making a brilliant appearance as he elbowed Dean away.
"There's nothing feminine about fruit, Dean." He argued light-heartedly.
"Whatever you say, Sammy."
The younger boy's lips were still pulled up as he shook his head in fond exasperation.
They continued their walk in companionable silence, until they arrived at a divergence in their path. There was an incline to the left and a clearing to the right.
"Right or left?"
Dean frowned at the question. He didn't want to split-up. He never liked separating from his little brother. But Sam was old enough and skilled enough to look after himself. He was past the age of his big brother being able to dictate his every move, and if he didn't allow the stubborn boy some level of independence, Sam was going to resent him. That was something Dean had learned once his kid had entered his teenage years.
Besides, this hunt wasn't particularly dangerous; there didn't even seem to be any creature in the woods.
"I'll take right, you go left." He responded reluctantly. It was better that Sam remain sheltered by trees on elevated ground, then be vulnerable in the clearing.
Sam gave the older hunter a knowing look, as though he could read the thoughts running through his mind – which would not surprise Dean in the least – and rolled his eyes before trekking off to the left.
Dean smirked, watching the slim frame disappear up the hill and ruefully shook his head as he marched toward the clearing. The defoliated area was vast, it was more than a simple clearing, it was acres of open space. He instinctively raised his shotgun, feeling exposed as he stepped out from the coverage provided by the trees. He made his way across the ground, moving quickly, as his eyes scanned for danger. It wasn't until he heard the crack, that he realized the clearing wasn't what it seemed. It wasn't an open field.
It was a frozen lake.
Dean cried out in shock as the ground shattered beneath his feet and he abruptly plunged into the freezing cold water. He felt his left foot break through something and tried to kick it loose as he swam in the direction he thought to be up. he broke the surface with a desperate gasp, coughing and gagging, as he struggled to tread water with one leg. He blinked the moisture from his eyes and reached forward, latching onto the edge of the ice and tugging his body over to it. He attempted to pull himself up, only to have the frozen element breakaway under the pressure. He went under again, and popped back up a moment later hacking out water as he blindly reached forward and found the edge of the ice once again. he placed his arms up onto the solidified surface; his hands, forearms, and elbows out of the lake and helping to keep his head up. He was breathing heavily, still coughing up liquid that had flooded his mouth and forced its way down his gullet.
"Dean!"
His head shot up at the shout, his eyes blinking away the remaining moisture as he searched for young teen he knew to be the owner of that frightened voice. He found Sam at the edge of the clearing, making his way out onto the ice.
"No! Sammy, stop!"
His little brother paused, but only for a moment.
"It's Ice!" He warned.
"I know." The younger hunter declared loud enough for it to reach his brother's ears, but not nearly at the volume Dean was. Sam wasn't panicked, but his face was pinched in concern as he inched his way toward his brother.
"Stop moving, Sam! It's too dangerous!"
"It's okay, Dean. I can do it. I'm not as fat as you." He responded with a smirk.
Dean wasn't amused and he would have expressed that if he hadn't been shivering and struggling to maintain his grip on the ice, without putting too much pressure on it. He didn't want to go under again. It was too cold and it was hard to swim when there was something trapping one of his feet and weighing him down.
"I'm serious, Sam. Go get Bobby."
The young hunter frowned as he cautiously took another step. "I have no idea where he is. I'm not going to leave you here while I go wonder the whole damn forest."
Dean scowled, shivering. The kid had a point.
"Guess I should have brought my cell." Sam muttered, inching closer.
Dean grimaced. The kid had misplaced his phone and had been looking for it, but they were leaving for the hunt and Dean had told him not to worry about it, because he had his - the cellular device that was currently in his jean pocket, submerged in the water. Dean lifted one of his arms off the ice, nervous about losing his grip in the process to reach down and fish out his phone.
"I could- it might—
"Just leave it, Dean. That piece of crap barely worked before, there's no way it's going to do any good now."
That was the truth. Dean mumbled a curse and returned his arm to where it had been resting on the ice. A crack resounded through the air, and Sam froze. Fear ricocheted through the older boy's body. The terrifying possibility of his little brother disappearing beneath the ice, filling him with dread.
The frozen surface cracked, but it didn't break. Sam released a breath he must have been holding at the same time Dean did, before sliding tentatively closer.
"Sam. Stop! You need to go back. Go to the truck and wait for Bobby."
The teen shook his head before his brother even finished speaking. "I'm not leaving you." He declared, confidently, even as another crack resonated from beneath his boots.
"Don't be an idiot, Sam!"
"Sure, Dean. I'll get right on that." The younger boy muttered as he hesitantly continued his cautious approach.
"This isn't a fucking joke!" Dean snapped.
Sam glanced up at him, tearing his eyes momentarily from the perilous situation at his feet. "I'm. Not. Leaving. You." He repeated, his tone lethal as he annunciated each word with an intensity Dean had never heard him exude before.
"You're not. You are just going for help." He reasoned, his teeth chattering as the arctic temperature began to seep through his bones.
"I'm already closer to you than I am to solid ground. I'm not going back. Not without you. So, shut up about it already."
Dean was equal parts proud and infuriated by his little brother's assertive declaration. Sam's stern and authoritative voice sounding so much like John's, save that it was a few octaves higher.
Dean wanted to yell and scream, demand and order that the kid back the hell up and return to safety. But he knew Sam. He was stubborn and headstrong and once he set his mind to something, there was nothing that could be done to change it. Dean knew that his cursing and hollering would only distract the teen; and as the teen inched his way across the hazardous surface, each step further cracking the ice and promising an impending shatter, he needed all the focus he could get. So instead, Dean clung nervously to the frozen lake and anxiously observed his little brother's cautious approach.
"Careful, Sammy." He cautioned uselessly, ignoring the frigid temperature of his body by placing every ounce of his attention on Sam.
The teen was nearly in reach now, and Dean wanted nothing more than to grab hold of him, but he didn't want to cause him to lose his balance.
"What the hell are you doing?" He barked, as Sam removed his coat.
His little brother did not grace the inquiry with a response, he simply spread his jacket on top of the ice to Dean's right.
"Put your arms on there and hold onto it." He instructed.
Dean frowned, but did as was requested. He lethargically lifted his shivering limbs and moved them onto the winter coat, gripping one of the sleeves once he was situated.
"I'm going to pull the jacket. You need to hold on tight." Sam explained, his gaze steady and earnest.
"It's not going to work. I tried to get out already and the ice broke." Dean warned.
"That's because you were placing too much pressure on one spot, this way your weight should spread more evenly across the ice and keep it from giving away."
Dean nodded his understanding, clenching his jaw in an effort to prevent his teeth from chattering. Sam began to carefully pull on the clothing and as the older boy held on tight, he was lifted a little further onto the ice. His shoulders were out and his chest was beginning to rise from the water, when the weight on his foot pulled him backwards. Sam's arms shook as he held the coat and fought to keep his brother from slipping back beneath the surface.
"Dean? What's wrong? What's happening?"
Dean was back to where he had been, still holding onto the jacket, but returned to his position at the edge of the ice. Only his arms and his head were out of the freezing liquid.
"There's some-something on my f-f-foot." He chattered.
"Can you get it off?" Sam inquired, with all the patience in the world, trying too look down into the water without shifting his balance.
Dean concentrated kicking loose the offending object, but had as much luck as he had the last time he had attempted that same task. He tried to bring his leg up, as he forced one arm into the water, hoping to reach his foot and whatever was encasing it. His body wasn't cooperating. The cold had gotten to his muscles, and nothing was working the way he wanted it to. In the effort to reach his foot, he unintentionally released his hold on the coat and in the next second he was submerged back into the lake.
"Dean!"
The cry was muffled through the water, but he heard it just the same.
Dean knew he needed to get to it. He needed to swim back up. He needed air, and warmth, but more than anything he needed to get to that voice. But his limbs didn't agree, as they refused to function properly and do as his muddled mind was telling them to. His brain felt as though it had morphed into sludge, and his arms and legs felt heavy and numb. Just as panic began to take hold and he started to think he would never again see the light of day, or his kid brother's smile, something was tugging at Dean's collar. A moment later he broke back through the surface, greedily sucking in gulps of air, while simultaneously ejecting lake water that had stolen its way into his lungs.
"Grab the edge, Dean. Grab it."
The older boy struggled to orient himself and reached out for the ice that was bound to be somewhere in front of him. His lead limbs flopped forward and found the frozen surface. He clumsily latched onto it, his fingers stinging from the cold as he pulled his body closer to the edge. His arms were manipulated until they were resting back where they had been, up onto the ice. He continued to breathe, inhaling oxygen he hadn't known he was being starved of, until finally his mind began to function, the sludge dissipating as his mental gears and cylinders began to fire once again. It was then that he realized whose hands had rescued him and were holding him steady.
"Sam!" He called out, his voice raspy as he whipped his head around.
"You're okay, Dean. It's alright. I got you. Just breathe." The tone was strong and steady and so goddamn sure that Dean almost forgot why he was upset.
Almost.
"What the hell are you doing? Get out of here." He snapped, his fury understated by the chattering of his teeth.
"Just relax and hold on. I'm going to get that thing off your foot." Sam assured.
"No." He growled, moving quicker than he had since being submerged in the chilled water, and clamping his trembling fingers around one of the teen's thin wrists.
"Dean, don't do that. You've got to keep both your hands on the ice. I don't want you falling in again." His little brother instructed.
"Sam, you've got to get out. Your hands, your—
"I know, Dean. So, just let go of me, so that I can get us out of here."
He shook his head. The water was frigid for him, but with Sam's history it would be so much worse and a hell of a lot more dangerous. He needed to get out.
He needed to get out right fucking now.
"Get out, Sam."
The younger boy proceeded to tread water as he shook his head.
"I'm not going anywhere until I get your leg free. The longer we argue, the longer we are both stuck here. So, shut up already and let go of my arm." Sam argued.
Dean glared at his little brother, before reluctantly relenting and releasing his grip.
"Hold onto the ice." Sam ordered, patting the older boy's arm before sucking in a deep breath and disappearing under water.
Dean clung to the edge of the frozen surface, and focussed on holding tight. The last thing Sam needed was to have to save his ass from drowning again. He felt slender fingers wrap around his left shin. He did his best to keep his legs still, as to not make things more difficult for the teen. The device entrapping his foot was shifting, but he couldn't tell if any progress was being made. He was having a difficult time keeping track of time, but after awhile he knew that Sam had been under too long. He could still feel fingers brushing against his jeans, but he knew the kid needed to take another breath. He shook his leg, pulling it from his brother's grasp, hoping Sam would take the hint. Luckily, he did. The teen popped up next to Dean, gasping for breath.
"I almost got it." He sputtered.
"What you almost did was fucking drown yourself." Dean accused, silently cursing his chattering teeth.
"That's not possible, my body would have forced me to come back up for air when I needed it." Sam bickered.
"Unless you were too damn cold to move." The older boy shot back.
His little brother had the audacity to roll his eyes. "It's a lobster trap. It has some sort of weight on the end of it pulling it down to the bottom. The lead must have gotten caught in the ice somehow, which is how it was high enough for you to put your foot through it. But once you broke the ice you freed the lead and now-
"We don't really have time for a speech right now, kiddo. And I'm having a hard time following you. So, could you headline-news it for me?"
"Do you have your knife?" Sam asked, skipping ahead to the point.
"Back pocket."
Sam nodded, giving his brother a tight reassuring smile before sucking in another lung full of air and vanishing beneath the surface once more.
Dean released an angry string of curses as he uselessly clung to the ice. He felt Sam's fingers struggle to free the switchblade from his pocket and knew that the kid was fighting to get his hands to cooperate with him.
The older boy was so cold. His shivering was endless and his insides were frozen. It felt like the ice had gotten into his veins and was being spread through his entire being, into every limb and organ. Even his brain was affected, it was sluggish and making it difficult for him to process things. What he had no trouble figuring out was that Sam had been spending far too much time submerged in the freezing water. Just as he was about to urge the teen back to the surface, the contraption weighing down his foot vanished, and his kid brother appeared at his side.
"I got it." He wheezed.
"Good. Now get out." Dean demanded.
"I can't—
"You can. I'll help you. C'mere." He reached out and grabbed the boy's narrow shoulder and pulled him closer.
"No, Dean. I'm going to help boost you out—
"You first."
"It has to be you."
"No! You have to get out, now." He insisted, tugging Sam toward him.
"Dean, listen to me!"
The hunter stalled at the shout, one hand still gripping tightly to the thin teen and another holding onto the ice.
"You have to go out first—
"No, you need—
"Listen, Dean! You have to go first and then help me out."
"Why don't you go fist and then help me?"
Sam was shaking his head before his brother finished speaking. "I can't. I won't be able to pull you up, not with my hands."
Fear slammed into Dean and shattered some of the ice that had frozen his insides.
"Fuck, S-Sammy, you nee-need to g-get out o-of he-here." He stammered, watching his little brother shiver as intensely as he was.
"Then let me help you."
Dean scowled. He didn't like this. He never went first. He was the big brother. He put Sam first. That was how it worked.
"Dean. Please. I know you don't like this, but you've got to go first. That's the only way this is going to work."
He wanted to argue, he wanted to come up with a better plan, but he didn't have one. His mind was as lethargic as the rest of him.
"Dean. I'll get us both out of here. Just trust me. Please."
Fuck.
H had no choice now. The damn kid was begging him to trust him and if that wasn't enough, he used the 'p' word. Dean's was fucked.
"What do you want me to do?" He stuttered out, his chattering teeth far beyond his control.
Sam smiled, like his big brother had just done something great. Which was bullshit. What would have been great was if he had concocted a better plan that didn't involve him escaping the arctic water before his kid.
"I'm going to boost you up, and then you'll need to climb onto the ice."
"It's going to break, Sammy."
"It won't as long as you use your body to army-crawl across it. Don't use your hands or create pressure points, keep your weight even across the surface." Sam explained, fighting to speak clearly through the aggressive tremors running through his body.
"Then I'll pull you out." Dean declared.
Sam nodded. "I'm going to push you up from underneath, that way you'll be able to get more of your body on the ice without putting too much weight on one area. I'll tap you on the knee and then on the count of three I'll boost you up."
Dean nodded, hating every moment of this, but submitting himself to what was necessary. He had to help Sam get out of the icy water, and if that meant allowing the teen to help him first, then that was what had to happen.
"Dean? You, okay?"
"Yeah, let's get to it."
"Okay, get ready."
Dean watched the shaggy head vanish back beneath the water, fighting every instinct he had to keep from reaching down and pulling his boy back up. Instead, he turned fully back toward the ice and prepared to cautiously pull his body up onto the precarious surface.
Dean felt Sam tap his knee in warning before gripping the bottom of his feet, his body between Dean's legs, the boney shoulders brushing his knees. On three Dean was boosted out of the water enough that he was able to get his arms and chest onto the ice. He wiggled as quickly as he dared across the frozen water, being careful not to place too much pressure on any specific area, but to spread his weight evenly - per Sammy's instructions. He heard and felt the ice cracking, but it remained intact as he slithered the distance on his stomach and slowly spun around to face the hole where he had been trapped.
Where Sam was currently clinging to the edge, his skinny arms up on the ice as his slim body shook violently.
"I'm right here, Sammy." Dean assured. He extended his arms, stretched out on his stomach, dispersing his weight the best that he could. The teen reached toward him, his hands a tense, discoloured, trembling mess. Dean distractedly wondered what happened to his gloves, as he clamped his fingers around Sam's forearms.
"Ready?" It was less of a question and more of a warning, but he waited for his little brother to nod nonetheless.
Once he did, Dean began to pull. He shimmied backwards as he dragged Sam out of the water.
"Keep crawling." He rasped as he tugged the boy fully up onto the ice and continued to worm backwards across the lake, maintaining a hold on Sam's wrist as kid followed him in an army crawl.
The ice groaned and cracked beneath them as they made their way across it, but it remained intact. It felt like hours had passed before Dean's feet brushed against solid ground. He nearly sobbed in relief, but instead he climbed onto his knees and hauled his little brother forward, off the lake, and into his arms.
"I got you, Sammy." Dean vowed through perpetually chattering teeth. Sam shifted against him, and Dean thought for a moment he was going to pull away, but instead he pressed closer, melting into the larger frame. The older boy held on tight, doing his best to absorb each vicious shiver that ripped through his kid's thin frame.
"I've got you, little brother."
The younger boy curled up against him and nuzzled his head into the crook of Dean's neck, his hands trapped between their chests, as he trembled from the cold.
"What were you thinking? Jumping into that water." The hunter muttered, unsure of whether it was his shaking or Sam's that was making his voice tremble.
"I saved your ass." The teen whispered against Dean's neck.
A surprised laugh burst from his mouth, as he wrapped his stiff limbs around the slender body in his arms and tugged it impossibly closer.
"You sure did, kiddo. You sure as hell did." He praised. A fond smile pulling at his lips despite their unfortunate situation.
Bobby found them in that same position a short while later; thankfully, because neither of them could find the strength to move. With no delay or thought to the creature they had been intending to hunt, the hunter helped them back to his truck and rushed them back to his house where he warmed them up. Dean regained his lost body-heat much sooner than Sam, despite the fact that he had spent a longer period of time in the icy lake water. The young teen had shivered for days, but he avoided hypothermia and though his hands trembled for weeks, no additional damage had been done.
They had spent New Year's Eve and the remainder of the week, camped out on the couch together. They were covered in blankets, surrounded by junk-food, with stacks of movies to watch, and all the pizza they could eat. They spent their holiday joking around and having a blast.
They had no hunts to go out on, no training to do, no responsibilities, and no worries. They had been able to spend all their time just enjoying each other.
Just being brothers.
It had been perfect.
And everything Dean ever wanted out of a holiday, or any day.
"You saved my ass that day, Sam." Dean surmised as the memory faded from his mind.
The younger man chewed his bottom lip.
"You weren't the reason I was in danger; my own stupidity was. And when I fell through that ice, you could have gone to find Bobby, you could have run back to the truck for supplies, but you didn't. You saved my ass. You jumped in that goddamn lake without a second thought of the danger to yourself. You did that for me, Sam. You risked your health, and your hands, and your life to save me."
Sam quirked a smile, glancing over at his brother.
"That wasn't the first time you did that, and it sure as hell wasn't the last. So, I don't want to hear anymore of this bullshit about how you don't take any risks or give anything up for me. You got that?"
His little brother thought for a moment longer, before nodding his head. "Okay." He agreed softly.
Satisfied, Dean relaxed back against the wall, closing his eyes and inwardly pleading for the pounding reverberating through his skull to ease off. Sam sat shivering next to him, his hands tucked up inside the sleeves of Dean's leather jacket.
"Why don't we burn her body?" He questioned, after a short period of silence.
Dean cracked his eyes open and followed the calculating gaze to the corpses stacked up in the center of the cellar.
"We could, if we knew which one it was. I checked when I was piling them, most of them don't have any identification on them. Two of them had ID and a couple others had phones that have long been dead, but that's about it. There are a few dudes, and then there are the two most recent teenagers that I could recognize from their pictures, but that still leaves almost a dozen bodies. She could be any of them." He elaborated in a low voice, having no desire to escalate the agony pulsing through his skull.
"We could burn them all." Sam suggested, his soft tone making it apparent he knew the pain Dean's head was in.
"I'm not thrilled at the idea of starting a fire when we have no way of escape."
"The floor is dirt and the walls are brick, it might not catch." Sam pointed out.
"Yeah, but the ceiling is wood, and if it goes up in flames it's going to come down on us. Besides, what's the point? It's not like getting rid of her will get us out of here."
"No, but it will keep her from getting Bobby, when he shows. If he shows."
"Well, unless you've got about a pound of salt in your pocket, there's not point in burning the bodies."
"I threw what I had at her when she brought him down here." Sam reported.
Dean nodded, because he had known as much. One look at his little brother showed him how worried the younger man was, not just for their sakes, but their surrogate uncle's as well."
"She might not grab him. She doesn't grab everybody that goes in the house." He suggested.
"She has been lately. She snatched those two teens earlier this week, and both of us."
Dean shouldn't have stalled.
But he did.
His mouth opened and closed for a second too long before he snapped it shut. A second was long enough for Sam to detect that something was up.
"Dean." He said, anger edging his voice as his squinty accusing eyes zeroed in on the older man.
"What?" Dean cringed at how defensive he sounded to his own ears. If Sam hadn't already figured out that something was up, that would have been enough to alert him.
"She did take you, didn't she?"
"I'm here, aren't I?"
Sam's piercing stare analyzed the freckled face. Dean did his best to maintain a neutral expression, but inside he knew that Sam would see right through it. His little brother had always been the only one who could see through any charade Dean enacted or any lie he told.
His kid knew him too well.
"What aren't you telling me?" Sam questioned, his tone deep and serious.
"It's nothing." He evaded, with no success.
"Tell me. Now."
Dean rolled his eyes at the John-Winchester-like order, but spoke up anyways; because he knew Sam just as well as Sam knew him, and he knew the stubborn brat wouldn't drop the matter until he received the truth.
"She may have offered me an out." He confessed with a shrug, like it was no big deal. It quite honestly wasn't to Dean, but Sam thought the opposite.
"What?" He bellowed.
Dean cringed at the volume of the exclamation. Sympathy trickled into the younger man's features, but it did not erase the lines of fury.
"What do you mean she offered you an out?" Sam inquired again, in a much softer tone.
Dean sent him an appreciative smile before sucking in a deep breath and giving the young hunter the demanded explanation. "She said I could leave, but when I wouldn't she gave me the option to go to you. That's what I chose." He declared with conviction, because he knew full-well that he had made the right decision, the only one he could live with.
Sam scowled. "So, instead of escaping, you just let her drag you down here?" He growled.
"It was more of a teleportation than a drag—
"Dean." Sam snapped, clearly not having any interest in the logistics of the matter.
"Yeah." He replied simply.
"Why the hell did you do that?" His brother was managing to keep his voice hushed, but only just. Dean knew that if his head had not been pounding, Sam would not be restraining himself in the least.
The kid was furious.
"Because I wasn't going to leave you." Dean stated matter-of-factly.
"You could have gone to get help." The youngest Winchester declared.
"Help for what? Finding her body? Cause it's down here, Sam." He said, gesturing over to the mound of bodies.
"You didn't know she would take you to her remains. You could have called Bobby and had him help you."
"The man is like five hours away. I wasn't going to leave you alone with the pyscho bitch for another minute, let alone hours. Get your head out of your ass." Dean tossed back.
"So, you thought it would be a better idea to be trapped with me?" Sam spat sarcastically.
"Well, if I had known you were going to be such shitty company, I might have given it a second thought." He grumbled.
"This isn't a fucking joke, Dean."
Dean rolled his eyes. The kid was stealing his lines again.
"What did you want me to do, Sam? Just take off? Go on a wild goose chase for the bitch's bones and leave you to rot?"
Sam's pinched expression didn't change as he glared.
Dean knew how he felt, really, he did. Sam wanted him to be safe. Dean knew exactly how it felt to want you brother to be safe. To want him to turn and run for safety, instead of risk his life to save yours, like you knew he was going to do. He knew how frustrating and terrifying it was when someone you loved threw themselves thoughtlessly into a life-threatening situation to rescue your sorry-backside.
Dean understood that.
But he also understood that you don't give a shit about your own security when your brother is in danger. He never gave a second thought to his own well-being when Sammy was on the line. And he knew that – no matter how much it scared him – his little brother felt the exact same way when the roles were reveres.
"Is that what you would have done?" He asked, not surprised when the sharp inquiry lit a fire in the hazel eyes.
"Of course not! You think I could do that? You think that I would just leave you here?"
The outrage had been expected, but the blatant hurt he could hear in his brother's broken voice and see in his wide eyes, had Dean feeing guilty for intentionally using those words to prompt a reaction.
"I know you wouldn't, Sammy." He admitted, his tone softening with his expression.
Sam twitched his head, likely thrown off by the rapidly altered demeanor.
"You wouldn't leave me alone in that lake, any more than I would leave you alone in this house. So, can we stop fighting about something so ridiculous?"
Comprehension dawned on the young face and his little brother slowly nodded his agreement. Sam released a soft sigh and rested his head back against the wall, his body shivering as he wrapped his arms around himself. Dean was tempted to close his eyes and give his aching skull a break, but his mind was nagging at him to say one more thing.
"Sam." He called softly, waiting for the taller man to turn his head in his direction, before continuing.
"That thing you said earlier, about how we're brothers and you would do anything for me."
Sam nodded in earnest, his hazel orbs oozing love and sincerity.
"I know that you would. Okay? I've always known that. I might not always like it. But I have always known." He admitted in all honesty.
Well, in almost all honesty. The truth was he didn't just not like it, sometimes the things that Sam was willing to do for him, fucking terrified him. He didn't want his little brother to ever have to give-up anything for him. Not his happiness, not his health, and definitely not his life. The thought of Sam ever sacrificing himself to save Dean, filled his heart with fear. The knowledge that there was nothing his kid wouldn't do for him, scared the shit out of the big brother. But that didn't mean that he didn't know it to be the truth.
And while that truth frightened him more than any supernatural nasty ever could, it also made him feel so fucking loved.
Sam's willingness to die for Dean, gave him more worth than he ever imagined he could possess.
"Good." The soft affirmation was packed with emotion as it floated off Sam's lips.
Dean found relief on the kid's expression and a glimmer of joy in the gaze that stared into his. The dimples appeared as the corners of Sam's mouth pulled up into a small smile.
Nothing had really changed. They were still trapped in the cellar with no way to escape. If anything, they were worse of now than when they arrived. Dean was suffering from new injuries, and Sam's were becoming more severe with each passing second.
No, their situation had not improved in the least. And yet, as he held his little brother's gaze, he felt peace settle inside of him, nesting into his soul. Because Sam and Dean, they were together. And as long as they had each other, nothing could touch them.
Not the supernatural. Not the cold. Not fear. Not a goddamn thing.
They had proved it before. And they would prove it again.
Every fucking day.
For the rest of their lives.