Supernatural does not belong to me, although I wish it did. I am simply playing in Kripke's sandbox for a bit. All rights and ownership are the property of Kripke and the CW network. I am not making any money from this; it is for my own personal pleasure. No copyright infringement intended.

Synopsis: Sam Wesson is trying desperately to get home to his not so perfect life for the holidays, but when a freak snowstorm stands him in a tiny airport in Jackson Hole, Wyoming he may find a new reason to celebrate the season. Dean Winchester doesn't believe in miracles and he has never stayed in one place for more than a few months. But when he meets Sam Wesson during the most festive time of the year, he might just have found something worth believing in.

NOTE: This story focuses on un-related Sam and Dean as they find one another on a blustery Christmas night. It is a romantic Christmas story. Very light on the SLASH action, but it is there.

Rated T.

Don't like? Don't read it. SLASH M/M relationship!

Please keep in mind that I do not have a Beta, all grammatical errors are my own.

Please Review: So I know there's interest

Chapter 13

Desperate Search

The loud howling winds sent icy tendrils of a very real fear scurrying along Dean's back, his muscles bunching with the increased tension. He ground his teeth together in frustration at his current situation and then regretted the action when his teeth chattered painfully in response. He was currently lying in a tangled mess of his own limbs. To make matters worse, his general confusion was completed by a dense fog of confusion ringed in frustration. None of these things were doing anything to help his current mood.

He was fairly sure that he'd heard something, or someone, moving on the upper levels and yet he was still very much alone. Dena's life had been a miasma of disappointing decisions, relationships, and painful realizations. His current situation not withstanding, he had thought that Sam might be the key to unlocking himself. Seeing that man with his son had been an eye-opening experience. The unconditional love that bound those two together was awe-inspiring and Dean had desperately wanted to be a part of that.

Allowing his mind to wander, he reflected on how he had thought that his life would end. Dean had always known that his was a life destined to end early and more than likely, painfully. And he had accepted that long ago. He wasn't afraid to die, never had been, but he was damn angry about how it was happening now. The idea of dying at the hands of a bastard like Crowley was fucking tragic, in his opinion. And knowing that there was nothing that he could do about it, made it doubly so.

With a groan, he allowed his eyelids to drift down before taking a long slow breath to ease the rampart spinning of his fractious mind. In his current condition losing his ability to think strategically would be the end of him. And in the deep dark corners of his mind, places he wouldn't admit existed, he was desperately hoping for a 'Hail Mary' play of some kind.

If or when that pompous asshat, and his ragtag group of pea-brained minions found their way back to him, it wouldn't do Dean any good to be out of his head due to pain or the frigid reality of his cement prison. Or burial ground…however he wanted to look at it. He wanted to believe that wasn't true, he really did.

Jesus, what the hell is wrong with me that I keep hoping for damned miracles? I know better than that.

In keeping with his newly acquired optimism, there was a teeny tiny possibility that he might figure out a way to escape if he could keep his wandering thoughts present and accounted for. The problem was, it was starting to feel a bit like trying to grasp wisps of smoke, the more he focused the faster his thoughts slipped away into the dark nothingness.

For the first time he wanted something more than the life he'd been born into. That was a new and slightly uncomfortable realization for him, one that he'd never dared to hope for before. And the only thing that was new in his life, was Sam.

The crystal-clear mental image of the tall lithe brunette sent a burst of warmth spreading through him starting in the vicinity of his heart. The very thought of the lanky devastatingly handsome lawyer caused various disconnects between his brain and the reality of his current situation.

Why now…why the hell had Dean found the one thing that could make him regret every one of the shitty life choices he'd ever made now?

He'd been, well not happy per say, but he'd been coping just fine with his lonely vapid lifestyle. There was a new sexual partner every night, no strings, no commitments, just pure unadulterated fun. And he'd managed to stay as far from Chicago as geographically possible.

So why the hell had Sam stumbled into Dean's world and rocked it in ways that no person ever had? What was it about that wonderful man that made him so thoroughly intriguing?Dean had no freaking clue.

Without meaning to the blonde had fallen head over heels in love with the lawyer. But now Dean didn't know what any of that meant, if it means anything at all.

Shit. He hadn't meant for that poisonous little thought to materialize inside his head and yet he still couldn't deny how much he'd hoped it did mean something. That he meant something to Sam.

The man he'd met in that cozy little inn had been desperate to get home; to his young son and his beautiful fiancé. None of what Sam had done had been for him and Dean needed to remember that. Everything Sam had risked so far had been for his boy and the life he already had. Not that that is a bad thing, that kid is pretty fucking awesome. He thought with a slight smile.

A groan worked up through his chest, lodging in his throat as he considered the fact that Sam was just about god dammed perfect in every single way. He was a loving and devoted father and Sam was kind and compassionate, even to a complete stranger during the one holiday traditionally reserved for family and loved ones.

Sam also happened to be the best 'lay' that Dean had ever had, considering just how many people he'd slept with over the course of his life, giving Sam the top spot really was 'saying something'.

A shudder of a feeling resembling shame rippled along the edges of his thoughts when he couldn't even remember just how many nameless people he'd fucked over the years. In his heart he knew that he didn't deserve Sam.

But he wanted the lawyer with a passion as strong as gravity and the moment that Dean had met Sam's son the picture of perfection had been complete.

A surge of raw emotion welled up causing his breathing to hitch setting off a cacophony of pain rippling through him. He pulled his lower lip between his teeth and then bit down hard enough to draw blood and force reset his errant thoughts. This wasn't the time or the place to reflect on the woulda, coulda, shoulda's. That could wait until he was dead…or rescued, whichever happened first. He had his suspicions as to which one it would be.

There was a whining buzz from above him, it caused an involuntary swirling sensation inside Dean's head. He couldn't see anything. A clank of metal on metal and the sudden blast of freezing air that hit him full in the face was unexpected and unwelcome. Wonderful, it was already colder than the frozen ass of a yeti outside, but now the icy air seemed to be venting directly into his basement prison.

He groaned when rue realization set in, Oh you son of a bitch. He thought bitterly.

Dean had known that Carmen's father hated him and that there was a good chance that the man would see him locked behind bars or dead before he left this world. But he hadn't thought the man this much credit, it was more inventive than he generally capable of. The air chilled significantly causing his eyebrows to furrow down with dawning realization. Judging by his situation it did not appear that "jail" would be in his future.

His thoughts drifted back to the stunningly handsome lawyer. Sammy, I'm sorry. I wish I'd had the chance to know you better, I think we really could have had something special. Just the three of us.

The cognitive thoughts seemed to recede from his mind as his extremities began to stiffen with the cold, starting with his fingers and working inward. When his teeth started to chatter hard enough Dean was sure his jaw would crack, he surrendered to the slowly advancing warmth of the silent darkness. He thought he heard someone screaming his name as he descended into oblivion, but he couldn't be sure.

XXXX

Sam swore at the severity of the weather when another car spun around in front him causing him to jerk the wheel to the left to avoid becoming part of another accident. The sudden jolt slammed him into his seatbelt as his tire collided with something previously hidden by the snow. There was a loud pop followed by a bone jarring 'thud' that drove Sam's heart into his throat. Instantly the internal accident alarm whined in protest as the sensors detected the rapidly deflating tire.

"Shit!" Sam cursed, slamming his palm into the leather wrapped steering wheel for emphasis. "I really need to a catch a break here." He begged, casting his eyes heavenward. Life had been absolute garbage lately, couldn't this one thing go right?

The young father hadn't realized just how unhappy he'd been until Dean had sauntered into his lonely life and turned it upside down with those gorgeous green eyes and snarky attitude. Sam didn't want go back to the way things had been. He'd floating through his life, not living it and Dean had cast a light into that bleak darkness; he had given Sam a gift. It had taken the lawyer more time than he'd like for him to figure that out, but he finally understood what that gift was. Love. Sam had solved the puzzle that was Dean Winchester. He was a man that needed to be needed. And damn…did Sam need him.

For whatever reason he'd homed in on Sam's life and then he'd tossed the slowly drowning man a lifeline. The lawyer knitted his sable eyebrows in frustration. He hadn't even realized just how miserable he'd been with Meg. Unfortunately, now he knew and Sam wanted more; no, he deserved more and so did Adam. They deserved more than "fine"; they deserved that flawed loyal love that made life worth living.

Not to mention Winchester is the best lover I've ever had. Not that Sam had had all that many partners over the course of his life. Oh sure, he'd certainly sowed his 'wild oats' when he'd been younger, but it have only been with a handful of women. But now? He didn't want just sex, he wanted a relationship and everything that came with that. Jessica had been the love of his life and he'd never dishonor her memory by comparing her to Dean. But until he'd met Dean, Sam had pretty much thought that he would marry Meg.

He'd hoped that eventually their marriage would settle into something similar to what he'd shared with Jessica. Then Dean happened and now Sam wasn't entirely sure that he could be happy with anyone but the irritatingly handsome blonde. Which was certainly a new one for him. Life with a man would be more difficult in the circles he operated, but he had faith that it would be worth it.

Hauling his rampaging thoughts back to his present problem, Sam grabbed his coat from the back seat and slammed his arms through the sleeves before he killed the engine. His blue-green eyes shifted to the window taking in the near whiteout conditions outside his warm safe vehicle. Well it isn't going to get any better, Sam. Just suck it up and get your ass off this heated leather seat.

The thought that Dean could be out in that icy cold propelled him from the safety of his car and into raging blizzard conditions. Snow was falling in thick sheets of white reducing visibility to virtually nothing. Wind whipped past him causing Sam to reach up and pulled his collar tighter around his exposed throat. The quickly deteriorating conditions meant he couldn't see a damn thing. Anything more than 4-6 feet in front of him was completely blanked out by the sheer volume of the side-ways snow. Moving around the car he kept his fingers in contact with the hood in order to orient himself.

Sam squatted down next to the front right tire; a breath of frustration burst from him at what he saw there. A very flat tire and bent rim. "Fuck!" he bit out angrily before yanking his phone from his pocket and looking at the tiny blinking dot on the map. Sam's destination was only three blocks away. Without another thought he trudged off in the falling snow.

By the time he rounded the last corner, everything including his eyelashes were frozen stiff. He'd lost the feeling in his toes by block two; the temperature had dropped phenomenally fast as the storm continued to gain in intensity. Snow whipped past him in flurries that felt like icy daggers trying to tear through his flesh. Only the fact that his coat was nearly seventy percent wool saved him from being filet apart by the driving ice.

Okay, that's a bit of an exaggeration, but seriously? This weather is not helping me find Dean. He thought with a groan as he pulled the collar tighter around his neck. He hadn't realized just how close he was to his destination when he stubbed his toe against the edge of a raised platform. Somewhere in the back of his head he hoped that it wasn't broken. Because seriously, how would he even know? He was frozen from his knees down.

He knelt in the snow and slid his hands along the raised cement until they finally pressed against something even colder than the cement. "Metal." He grunted as he forced his fingers to slip under the cover. Based on Carmen's description, he had to believe that this was the outer door that led to the basement level. Inch by painful inch Sam worked his frozen fingers under the cover until he grasp it fully and pull upward.

The shear amount of snow made the damn thing at least two hundred pounds and for once he was grateful that he'd spent the last few years at a local cross fit gym. With a grunt, Sam hauled the cover up and pulled it to the side. It was pitch black and he gulped back the sliver of fear that caused him to pause momentarily. With a shake of his head, Sam slipped cautiously into the darkness.

The wind must have caught it because no sooner had he stepped foot onto the main level than the door slammed back into place. Sam couldn't stop the nervous energy that nearly sung at the edges of his senses as tendrils of fear marched up and down his spine.

Calm down Sam. It's abandoned; remember?

He didn't know whom he was trying to convince, because he sure as hell wasn't convincing himself of one damn thing. The bitter howling of the winds echoed from just above him, it sounded like a scorned lover and sent new shivers careening through the lawyer as he flicked at the small flashlight app on his phone.

Snow littered the floor in areas where the outer walls had deteriorated, leaving the inside vulnerable to the ever-changing weather of a Chicago winter. Lifting his hands to his lips, Sam tried to warm them up by blowing on the thin material of his knit gloves. It didn't work. By the time he reached the bottom of several sets of staircases, he was having a hard time gripping the cell phone as the frigid cold seeped into every muscle and nerve.

Another vengeful growl from the rising winds caused him to jump and press his back against the wall with his heart hammering inside his chest. He wasn't used to this sort of thing. On a normal day, Sam spent most of his time in court or stuck behind his desk. On a normal day, he would not go traipsing through Chicago's underbelly, searching abandoned buildings for lost persons. But Dean wasn't just another "missing person" for him, he was "the one" missing person that Sam couldn't abandon.

Sam considered that thought wondering if there were anyone else he would do something this insane for…Adam obviously. A few other people came to mind, but the list was shockingly short. Taking a long breath, he pushed away from the wall and started down the scary-ass dark corridor…and apparently Dean Winchester.

A high-pitched wail in the distance barely registered as he continued trudging further into the catacombs of the old building. The cold was biting and Sam knew that Dean's time was running out.

He forced himself to put one foot in front of the other as the light from his phone flickered in the encroaching darkness. Glancing down he realized that his hands were shaking so badly he had nearly dropped his phone. The shaking could have been from the cold or the fear, he wasn't sure which was worse. He forced one foot in front of the other as skittering sounds disappeared just in front of his light. It was the most disconcerting thing that he'd ever experienced.

Just as he was wondering if he'd royally screwed up this 'rescue', Sam saw a door with a shiny silver chain twined through two old rusted handles effectively making impossible to open from the other side. He squinted, trying to get a closer look, because what he thought he was seeing couldn't possibly be right. Moments like this reaffirmed his faith in the general stupidity of thieves and liars.

That damn chain wasn't secured with a padlock or anything, just a cobalt blue carabineer. It had been slipped between two links effectively 'locking' the doors. While it would be easy to remove on this side, it would be impossible to break open from the other side of those doors.

The small puffs of white slipping between his lips, as his breathing increased ten-fold seemed to disappear into the darkness. Desperately Sam grappled with the cold metal before finally managing to unclip the chain. His fingers were so cold it was like trying to use fine motor skills while wearing thick mittens. The clasp dropped to the floor, the ringing sound of metal disrupting the silence. It resounded through the darkness like an echo disappearing into the distance of a canyon.

Sam wasn't sure how far down he'd gone, he only knew that he couldn't hear the wind down here, which meant that he was at least several stories below ground. If he was going to find Dean he needed to do it quickly or else the police would be searching for two bodies, because he was fairly certain he was only hours away from hypothermia. The icy air was taking a toll on his rational thoughts, plus he knew that he wasn't nearly as cold as he should be.

Which means hypothermia is already setting in. His overly active brain supplied logically, though not very helpful at the moment. He listened for any sounds which might indicate he wasn't alone.

He heard nothing. Sam kept his shoulder to the wall and slipped through the darkness toward an unknown destination. The light of his cell phone barely illuminated the space directly in front of him. Distant sirens sent the first tendrils of hope creeping through him. The corridor turned just ahead of him, taking a deep breath Sam hurried around it. Stumbling to a halt, he stared at an open doorway just ahead of him. He didn't stop to think before he scrambled forward, shouldering the small double doors open. Steps he hadn't been expecting sent him tripping forward and he landed hard on his knees.

Sam's phone slid across the cold floor and thumped against something before stopping with the light pointed straight up. He blinked and rolled back onto his feet; both his knees protested as he slowly rose to his feet. Only then did his eyes land on the lump of flesh near his phone.

"Dean…" he breathed before dropping down and gathering the unconscious man against his chest. His body was freezing, but it wasn't stiff with death. Releasing a breath, he hadn't known he'd been holding, Sam's eyes burned as he hugged the other man. He carefully slipped out of his wool coat and wrapped it around Dean's frigid flesh. Bouncing lights and the chatter of patrol belts could be heard coming down the hall.

"We're in here!" he called out. Less than two minutes later four patrolmen and two detectives barreled into the room, guns drawn and lights flashing.

"Mr. Wesson?" A young blonde-haired woman called from her position near the doorway. He nodded. She gestured into the corridor and two paramedics hurried in, extracting Dean from his arms. "Chief O'Malley sent us."

One paramedic handed him his coat as he wrapped Dean in a white blanket, and they worked to stabilize him. He looked back at the woman. "Detective Harvell, he needs more advanced care than we can give him here. He's severely hypothermic."

She pressed her lips together in frustration, "Do what you do, Roger."

Sam started to protest, but she lifted her hand to stop his outburst. "Roger's the best paramedic at Mercy General. Your friend is in good hands." She laid a gentle hand on his arm. "You can ride with me."

TBC…

Author's Note: If you thought I'd abandoned this story…surprise, I hadn't. But two moves and two job changes had left me with little time to write and I got stuck on where I wanted to go with this one. So it sat until I had a better idea of where to take it. I hope you enjoy the new chapter. Thanks for reading.

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