Save 2 - 12 Saves of Christmas
The Holly and the Ivy
December 22nd - 6.15pm
"As I said, you were lucky, dude. Very lucky." Sam drawled quietly.
"It got me thinking, you know, it's not the first time you or dad have gone on about 'Mother Nature' or your Christmas Spirit having a hand in saving one of us."
He flicked his eyes up to an increasingly incredulous looking Sam.
"I just wish if something was gonna get involved in giving us a hand, that it'd do it without us getting half killed beforehand."
Sam raised a quizzical eyebrow, halting his progress to look back over a snow-spattered shoulder as his brother limped painfully towards him.
"Dean? Did you hit your head and not mention it to me? Cause you're kinda startin' to ramble here."
"Dude, if I mentioned every place I hit on the way down, we'd still be sitting in that damned bush! No, I mean it, Sam. Don't you remember that "camping" weekend dad took us on? Damn, when was it? Lemme think for a minute."
Dean chewed absentmindedly at his bruised lower lip as he struggled to remember the details. Wanting, needing, something to take his mind off the dull, throbbing ache that was beginning to nag remorselessly at his left knee, shooting pains streaking down his shin with rhythmic discomfort.
Sam waited patiently whilst his brother caught up, he knew without it being voiced that Dean was in far more pain than he was letting on, also knew that the more fuss he made the longer the resistance to his help would continue. So he hung back, silently observing the approaching figure for injuries he might have missed, highlighted as they both were by the distant moon against the cold gleam of the snow.
Dean looked up as he drew near; his breath coming in short measured puffs, a light sheen of sweat on his high cheekbones reflecting the moonlight, casting the rest of his face into deep shadows. He smiled, tiredly.
"Okay, so it's coming back to me now. It was over in Rocky Gap State Park, up in the Central Appalachians." He nodded for Sam to continue walking, shaking off his proffered hand. "Dad'd hired a cabin for a couple of months over the winter, he'd just cleared out a shapeshifter from along one of the lakes and it had gone pretty quiet up there. So he decided the best way for the Winchester's to spend the run-up to Christmas was out on a training exercise."
"It was just before my nineteenth birthday so you'da been about fourteen." He glanced up at Sam's unresponsive face. "Oh, come on, Sam. Tell me you remember!"
Sam's noncommittal shrug of the shoulders spurred Dean to continue, trying to enthuse Sam with his reminiscences.
"So, we left our warm, safe, comfortable cabin, full of provisions for Christmas and headed out into the hills for a five day hike with minimal survival provisions." He chuckled softly, "I remember now, Dad was totally pissed off with the pair of us. I was mad that he'd left me back at the cabin baby-sitting your sorry-ass whilst he'd gone hunting; so, before he came back, we took the car into town and went to the movies. We went to see, what was it? Scream 2." He shook his head, laughing.
"You gotta remember it, Sammy! You wanted to go see Titanic, but I got the tickets and made you go see Scream 2. Dude, that was one hot film, I loved that Buffy chick, even if she didn't know jackshit about hunting - man I could'a taught her a thing or two. You remember, I bought one of those masks at the end and wound you up the whole way back to the hut!"
Sam rolled his hazel eyes, grinning widely, Dean's easy memories driving away some of his worries. He glanced back and was heartened to see that Dean was managing to match his pace.
"Yeah, it's all coming back to me now! You were such a dick, trying to drive with that mask on… That's why you skidded the car in the snow and ended up creasing it up against a tree!" His eyes widened as the memories returned.
"Dude, there was black ice, it wasn't my fault!" Dean denied hotly.
Sam hid his smile behind his shaggy hair, relieved that his brother was picking up the pace a little.
"Anyway, Dean, I still don't get how Mother Nature saved us then. If I recall correctly, Dad'd gotten home early and was waiting there at the cabin when we got back. He was madder'n hell, that we'd gone into town and then when he found out about the car, he went ballistic, man!"
"Well if you'd shut up and let me finish."
Dean's lips pouted in annoyance at Sam's interruptions.
"That was why he took us out 'training' four days before Christmas, he was so mad he said the only way we'd get a Christmas that year was if we hauled our worthless hides back there ourselves. He drove us out about 40 miles into the mountains, gave us a six hour head start and then we were supposed to practise Escape and Evasion techniques, so he didn't catch up to us."
Recovering his good humour, he gently punched Sam on the arm.
"You moaned from the time we got in the car, to the time we eventually got back to that damned cabin. I'm surprised I didn't tie you to a damned tree and leave you out there!"
"Well, it was you that crashed the car, not me!" Sam returned, voice rising in frustration.
"Oh, quit your bitchin', Sammy. There's no need to go into one of your hissy fits, Princess, it was a long time ago!"
Sam's mumbled curses brought a grin to Dean's pale, scratched-up face as they reached the shallow, slow-moving stream at the base of the cliff.
Sam searched along the gentle banks for his crossing point, easily locating the footstep disturbed snow casting harsh shadows against the moonlit white carpet.
"Oh, man, tell me I don't gotta get any wetter'n I already am?"
"Well, unless you can fly your 'worthless hide' back up there with the aid of your dancing partner, this time you gotta try slightly more conventional means!"
Sam's browed furrowed in concentration.
"Hey, you know, that could be why it didn't follow us down, there's a lot of lore about it, and certain types of spirits can't cross open water."
"Way to go, Einstein. Mind you, the way I feel, I almost wish the freaky sonofabitch would get down here and haul my priceless tail back up there. Come on; let's get this over with. Get your boots and socks off, Sammy. You don't wanna be walking with wet feet in this snow."
"I'm not a kid anymore, Dean. Remember who just saved who from that bush, for God's sake! Come on, there's some rocks over there, I used them on the way over as stepping-stones, you can keep your boots on."
Sam lead the way to where the moss-slippery rocks stuck out of the frigid water. He turned in time to catch Dean's dubious glare.
"You gonna be okay on these, dude? Wait, I'll take my boots off and give you a hand."
"Like hell you will, Sam. Quit fussin' over me. I'm fine!"
Gritting his teeth and scowling in concentration, Dean edged out gingerly onto the first of the slippery rocks. Arms spread out loosely to the sides like a practised tightrope walker; he balanced his way towards the now seemingly distant shore, steadfastly ignoring the shards of pain that rocketed through him every time he placed his full weight upon his damaged left leg.
By the time he reached the last stone, sweat had beaded upon his upper lip and his breath hitched as he sought to control trembling muscles and the black spots dancing before his eyes.
Sam followed one step behind, glancing up just in time to see his brother sway dangerously over to the side. He leapt across to steady him as he stumbled from the rock, knee buckling beneath him as it twisted on the uneven footing.
"Aaarrgghh! Dammit!" He yelped, as Sam's strong arm caught him around his waist. Clutching tightly to Sam's shoulder they struggled the last few steps to shore. Curses filled the frosty air as the shingle shifted below his sturdy boots, twisting his already abused patella.
"Motherfu…" Dean gasped, eyes clenched tightly shut as Sam lowered him carefully on to the snow-topped trunk of a fallen tree. Leaning forwards, both hands clasped around his failing knee, he rocked silently against the pain.
"Okay, Dean. Little something you're not telling me here? Come on, lemme take a look." Sam knelt before his grimacing brother, torch in hand, carefully avoiding the dark slush at the rivers edge. He reached for the ice cold, wet denim covering his brothers left leg and carefully raised it above the knee, swatting at Dean's clutching hands as he did so.
Dean leant back, growling softly as Sam's long fingers probed his wounded knee, poking gently at the lividly bruised and swollen flesh. Huffing in pain as Sam lifted his ankle and gradually straightened the limb.
"Leave it, Sam. 'M fine. Just get me on my feet and let's get up this damned hill!"
"Don't think so, Dean. Here, sit still. I got some bandages in my backpack, I'm gonna strap it up tight and get you a stick to lean on. Nothin's broken, I think it's just badly bruised and maybe twisted a little."
Sam swung the daypack from his broad back and rummaged inside for the first aid kit. "Here, swallow a couple of these. They'll help." He thrust the Ibuprofen bottle towards his shivering, pale-faced sibling.
"Sammy, please? Quit fussing and let's get a move on. I'm starting to freeze my ass off here." Dean complained, but swallowed the proffered tablets as Sam began to wind the elasticated bandage securely round his knee.
"Anyway, Dean. You were telling me about this survival trip with dad." Sam prompted, attempting to turn Dean's thoughts away from their present predicament.
Dean shook his head, as if coming out of a daze.
"Right, yeah, where was I? Okay, so dad had dumped us in the middle of nowhere. It was snowing; damn it was cold up there. We set off at a real good pace; we knew if we made good time we could still get back to the cabin in time for some sorta Christmas. Should'a known things weren't gonna go according to plan."
His brow furrowed as he watched his baby brother finish off the bandaging and stand, towering above him.
"Stay here. I'll be right back." Sam disappeared into the heavily wooded tree line, returning several minutes later with a selection of sturdy sticks. "Well, there's plenty to choose from, dude! Take your pick."
He helped Dean to rise unsteadily to his feet, gingerly testing his weight on the strapped joint.
"Dammit!" He hissed, "Okay, pass me one of those damned things. Come on, let's get outta here."
Together, they began the long and arduous trek up the steep, slippery track leading to the cliff top.
"So, we'd only been out for a couple of hours, trying to make for lower ground so we could cover our tracks, when you slipped and got your foot stuck down a rabbit hole. Man, you were so damn clumsy at that age, Sammy. You'd fall over everything, even stuff that wasn't there!" Dean chuckled softly at the memory.
Sam huffed a denial, making Dean laugh even harder.
"Seriously, dude. That was the year you grew about a foot in three weeks and your head hadn't caught up with the rest of you and thought you could still fit through gaps you could fit through before. You used to hit your head on everything, trip over nothing, and bump into things in a different room. You were like a one man destruction unit."
Sam scowled through his frosting breath. "How times change, huh? Cause it was me pulling your raggedy-ass out from under that bush just now."
"That was so not the same thing, Sam."
Dean raised a dismissive eyebrow in Sam's general direction before continuing.
"Anyhow, I slid on down next to you, to try and pull you out. Ended up digging you out with my bare hands and got covered in poison ivy in the process. Course, we didn't know it then cause all the leaves were dead, but I got it all over my hands, arms and neck where I was digging around in the snow. We got you out, eventually, and didn't think anymore of it. You were still bitchin' cause it was cold, wet and getting dark and you couldn't watch your 90210 or Melrose or whatever it was you were missing."
"Dude, I never watched any of that!" Sam denied hotly.
"Yeah, whatever you say, dude."
Dean stumbled, jarring his leg on the slippery slope, "Ah, Jeez!" He panted breathlessly, sinking awkwardly to the ground, half lying on his side, clutching at his throbbing knee, face screwed up in pain.
Sam was instantly at his side, "Hey, easy there, Dean, you okay?"
"Awesome, just awesome." Dean managed to grit through the pain.
"Well, it's about time we stopped for a rest anyway. You wanna rest here for a while?"
Dean shook his head, ripples of pain ghosting across his wan features, "No."
Damn, not good. One word answers from Dean, always a bad sign. Sam hovered, knowing his brother needed time to compose himself.
"Hey, come on, there's no rush, we got all night. Take your time, bro'."
"Just give me a minute, Sam. Just need to catch my breath."
Dean looked up, disorientated, at the dark silhouette of his younger brother that refused to stop swaying against the moonlit sky. Blinking to clear his swimming vision, he held his hand out.
"Hey, Sammy, any chance of a hand up here?"
Sam squatted in front of the recumbent form and reached out with his own chilled hand to tilt Dean's chin up towards the moonlight. Fully expecting, and ready to counter, Dean's stubborn resistance, he again pulled the slim Maglite torch from his inner pocket.
"Dean, look at me. Just sit tight for a while and let me look at your eyes." He shone the bright beam into his brother's rolling eyes.
"Dammit, Sammy! There goes my friggin' night vision. What the hell's the matter with you?" Dean flinched back from the fierce beam.
"Hey! Just calm down there, Captain Concussion! Okay, Dean, so I think maybe we need to have a five-minute sit down. I don't know about you but I really could do with a break." Sam used the one argument he knew Dean would succumb to.
"It's alright for you; you're not sitting down here in this friggin' cold snow, freezing your tushe off." Dean complained as he gratefully leant back trying to haul himself into a more comfortable position. "But, whatever. If your pansy-assed, college-boy legs need a break, Samantha, then don't let me be the one to stop you."
Dean leant forwards, clutching his pounding head in his hands, gently massaging the temples
"Anyway," Sam sat himself stiffly down next to the quietly suffering form of his big brother, folding his coltishly long legs before him. "Maybe, you can get to finish this damned story, if we sit still for a little while!"
"Yeah, I guess… Where the hell was I?"
"Well, according to you, you'd just dug me out of a rabbit hole and got covered in poison ivy. So far, I'm not seeing much seasonal saving goin' on, Dean."
"Right, we'd got down from the mountainside and it was maybe the second or third night out, we were making really good time and dad was nowhere in sight. God, it was so cold up there, why do I seem to have spent so much time freezin' my bits off, Sam?"
Dean glanced groggily at the huge form beside him.
"Dean, the story?" Sam prompted.
"Sorry. So, yeah. You were still bitchin'!"
Dean's face took on a far-away expression…
"Dean, dad's just a total jerk, what's the matter with the man? Most families are at home hanging up stockings and eating candy now. We get a raging psychopath for a father who thinks it's his duty to prepare us for…for god knows what!
"Sam, please? Give it a rest. Look we're out here now, there's no point moaning like a little girl. Let's just get going and see if we can't get back in time to do a little candy-cane action of our own?" Dean scratched absently at the side of his neck.
"Let's find somewhere to hole up for a couple of hours, you'll feel better after some sleep. There's loads of empty holiday cabins up here this time of year, we can bust into one and sleep someplace warm for a change. We carry on at this pace and we'll be back in plenty of time for Christmas Dinner!" He encouraged, pausing to scratch at the exposed skin of his hands and lower arms.
"Come on, Sammy. Dammit, I think I've been bitten, or something, I'm startin' to itch all over."
"Don't call me Sammy, it's Sam! Come on then, quit itching, you'll only make it worse."
Together they headed off towards the distant ridgeline, keeping to the shadowed tree lined roadside.
wWw
"Hey, Dean." Sam whispered. "I've had a look round the back and there's definitely no-one around, no car tracks, nothing! Stop scratching, Dean, what's the matter with you?"
"Sshhh! Come on. Let's just get inside outta this cold. You got your lock-pick, Sammy? Time to put all that training to good use!"
Sam stealthily approached the cabin door, stepping carefully along the boarded veranda, and then knelt briefly by the lock. His brother followed at a distance, keeping a wary eye on the surroundings, listening for any threats.
"And we're in!" Sam exclaimed gleefully after several minutes.
Dean flashed a tired grin at the kneeling figure, "Well done, Kiddo. That's the product of a misspent youth! Come on, let's get inside."
Warily they entered the silent building, swiftly checking all three rooms before closing the main door and heading for the kitchen.
"Sam, make sure all the curtains and blinds are shut before you put on any lights." Dean instructed, remembering the basic rules of breaking and entering he'd learnt so many years before. "Then get that stove on and see if we can warm this place up a little."
"What's up with you doing something?" Sam questioned.
"Nothing… Just let me wash my face and hands first. They're killing me, I musta' got stung or bitten or something out there." Dean paused scrubbing his hands on the rough fabric of his jeans.
Sam turned from checking the last window and reached for a switch.
"Here, let me take a look at them in the light."
Sam struggled to hide his gasp as harsh light flooded the small kitchen area. "Damn, Dean. Why didn't you say something earlier?"
Dean stood swaying as he stared mutely at the raw and weeping blister covered mess at the end of his arms. "Didn't know it was this bad, Sam. They were so damned cold, all I could feel was the itching." Grimacing he reached up to scratch savagely at the side of his neck.
"Hell, Dean. Stop it! Oh god, it's all over your neck too. Dude, it's disgusting, you've turned into some freakin' leper." Sam exclaimed, his face showing clearly the horror he felt at the sight.
Dean gingerly pulled up his sleeves and turned his hands over inspecting them more closely. "Crap! I've had something like this before. Not as bad as this. Last time I crawled through a patch of poison ivy, but its winter, I thought you had to touch the leaves or something. Man this is killing me." Again he raked his nails over his inflamed skin.
"Hell, Dean. I remember it all now. Man you looked like an extra from the Thriller video. You were a total mess. I cleaned you up as best I could and made a huge pot of some sorta stew."
"Yeah, which I couldn't eat cause when my hands warmed up they were so bad I couldn't hold a spoon. I tell you, Sammy, I've been shot, stabbed, burnt and beaten but nothing was so damned irritating as that freakin' poison ivy. If I never touch that stuff again it'll be too soon."
"So, I still don't' get how poison ivy 'saved' you out there." Sam mused quietly.
"Well, as usual you gotta allow for just a little bit more of the Winchester Yuletide Luck coming into play!" Dean shivered, pulling further into his jacket.
"We eventually got outta the cabin, cause there was no sign of dad. I was pretty groggy by then, we'd found a load of painkillers and some other stuff, so I was fairly out of it. We forgot the Escape & Evasion tactics, in fact we were hoping dad'd come and find us by then."
"That man's got a lot to answer for." Sam grumbled under his breath.
Dean shook his head, "Leave it, Sam. Anyway, we decided to take a short cut through the lower slopes and somehow wandered into a hunting range where they were holding a Christmas Eve Venison drive. It was dusk and we crossed into the line of sight of some crazy-assed hunter who mistook me for a deer. He was very apologetic later and said he'd just fired when he'd seen a movement. Made me feel just so much better!"
Sam's face paled visibly even in the moonlight. "Oh, god! He shot you, I remember. You were lagging behind, I turned to wait and you just keeled over, I heard the shot and thought you were dead. How could I forget that, Dean?"
"It was a long time ago, Sammy. We've had so many crappy close calls; I guess the near misses get lost along the way. I was happily mooching along, so high on whatever painkillers I'd mixed with the half bottle of whisky I'd drunk – for medicinal purposes only, you understand – I just kinda blacked out as I walked along. I suppose the cold didn't help either. I collapsed at the same time he fired that shot, the bullet grazed me just along the hairline."
He reached up, tentatively rubbing cold fingers along the old scar.
"Knocked me for six, but if I hadn't gone down first it would have killed me for sure, straight through the heart they reckoned. At least we got a lift home out of it. Dad hit the roof when he came home and found us both there, I was laid up for about a week and a half with concussion, fever and the damned poison ivy."
"Yet another in a long line of Winchester Super Christmases. You wonder why it's not a time of year I relish, Dean!"
"Ah, come on, Sam. Don't go all Ebenezer on me, dude! We had some good ones, too. Anyway, it was dad, after he'd had a bottle of whiskey and got kinda maudlin', who pointed out that if it wasn't for the poison ivy, I wouldn't have still been there. I remember thinking at the time, if it wasn't for the poison ivy I probably wouldn't have got shot at all, but who knows, Sammy? Maybe there is some horribly warped Spirit of Christmas who wants to keep our asses in the game!"
"Well, Dean, that's the holly and the ivy. What's next the mistletoe? I think we should just avoid any more tacky representations of Christmas and just get back up to the top of the hill, smoke that crazy mother and get outta here."
"I'm with you there, bro! Let's get back to the motel, I'll make eggnog, we can watch a few re-runs on TV and open the spectacular present that I've got waiting for you back in the car!"
"Come on then, time to haul ass. Let's go reacquaint ourselves with the 'flying nun' up there."
Leaning heavily on the mould speckled stick, Dean pushed himself upright, concentrating on his breathing, bringing the pain back under control.
'Okay, I'm good. Let's just keep goin' to the top. If I stop I might never start again and I really don't wanna' spend another night out in the freakin' woods. It's just too damn cold!"
Wearily, he peered up into the deeply shadowed path ahead, sighing deeply. 'Dammit, why isn't anything ever simple? How much more of this goddamned hill can there be?'
"Sam, how much further is it? You need to get your shotgun out in case that sonofabitch is up there waiting for us. I am so not keen to fly over that ledge again, dude."
Ends