So here is the first part of the epilogue...okay we know technically we are pushing our luck with a two part epilogue but see Sam and Dean just don't seem to wanna stop talking!
We've given them a bit of nice R&R at last, Charles is such a giver!
So final (yes we promise final!) part of epilogue tomorrow. Thanks for sticking with us!
Hey C1...we can't reply to you so just wanted to say thanks for the lovely lovely reviews and yes we will most likely post the new story on DeansBabyBird on . You can also find Jane and Bev as Janger and Birdie on UnGen.
The Twelve Saves of Christmas
Epilogue
Christmas Morning 4.13am
"Just pull her in round the back there, Sam! I have a reserved parking space, right by the service entrance."
The diminutive man leant both elbows on the wide bench seat in front of him and gestured towards a snow topped parking bay, well lit by the hotel security lights that flooded the backlot with their golden glow.
"I'll square it with security so they know that you're here otherwise they might be surprised that my Aston isn't here."
"Astn ...Mrtn?"
Dean's barely awake question whispered into the Impala's cabin. Charles leaned forward so he could look at the drowsy hunter where he leaned snuggled in his sheepskin in the front passenger seat.
"Yes, Dean. I have a Vantage. She's old but so pretty."
Dean lifted his head a tad and smiled sleepily.
"Nice...classy car. Jmes Bond hd...Vantage..."
Charles' face lit up and he wriggled a little further forward so Dean could see him more clearly.
"When you feel a little better, I'll take you for a ride in her, Dean, if you like?"
"Umm...sure, Charles...like that..."
Dean mumbled as his eyes closed again. Sam rolled his eyes wondering how Dean would react to his 'date' with his admirer when he reminded him of it, when lucidity returned.
"That the space there?"
Sam tipped his chin towards the snow-covered gap near the door and Charles nodded. He cruised the old Chevy forward toward the space.
"Gosh, it's been a while since I had a muscle car parked up the back here!"
Charles quipped and Sam snorted softly, shaking his head at his companion's dubious humour. Gently, he eased his foot onto the brake and brought the purring black beast to a halt, slipped her into park and shut down the engine. Resting his shaggy head back against the black leather seat for a moment, he rolled his shoulders trying to ease the nagging ache he felt, his every movement an indication of the exhaustion that he was now feeling.
"Which way, Charles?" Sam managed sleepily, as he rubbed his bloodshot eyes.
"Well, I've got the keys to the service lift, so we won't have to manhandle your brother too far, before I get him tucked up in a nice warm bed!"
He reached over and patted the shoulder of the spiky haired figure, slumped against the passenger's door. Dean mumbled a little but didn't move.
"Don't you worry about any of the paperwork. I'll sort out everything and then I'll pop up to your room with it later today. I never work Christmas Day; Evelyn and I always spend the day together."
Sam half turned in his seat, and smiled warmly at the bright-eyed, chef-cum-hotel manager.
"Thanks, Charles. We owe you big time for this."
Charles simply reached up and adjusted his merry Santa hat to a more respectable angle, before sliding across the seat and reaching for the door handle.
"Aah, Sam! Believe me, the pleasure is all mine. It'd be worth it just to see Evie's face tonight, but to help you boys too is an extra bonus. Anyway, I think we'd better get Dean safely inside and into the warm. Just wait here for two minutes, okay? I'll turn off the alarms and get the service door unlocked."
He shouldered the heavy car door open and stepped out, surefooted onto the crisp snow, giving Sam a small wave as he disappeared into the shadows.
Sam shivered at the sudden draft from the door and then reached across to gently shake the arm of his barely conscious sibling.
"Hey, Dean? You still with me, bro? Charles has gone to open up. I'll get you inside and settled then I'll come down for the bags. Okay?"
A slow blink of emerald green and a slight nod were the only acknowledgement he received.
A worried frown crossed the younger man's pale face as he reached up and felt his big brother's bruised brow, pushing Dean's head lightly back to rest against the cracked leather. There was a vague heat from his forehead that was worrying and thoughts of fever crossed Sam's mind. Dean didn't do so well when he got a high temperature and Sam's anxiety level's for his strangely quiet brother raised a notch or two.
"Dean, seriously, how're you feeling? You want some painkillers?"
"'M okay, Sammy…Get offa me, man!"
The elder Winchester swatted feebly at the cool hand on his forehead, rallying a little as Sam chatted to him.
"Just don't take too long getting' the bags, ya hear me! Oh, and Sam. Will ya pass me my charger from the glove box?"
Dean struggled to sit up straighter, before shuddering with the pain and bone chilling cold that seemed to have seeped right through him. He hunched his shoulders, sagging deeper into the wide seat as he pulled the pliant suede more tightly around himself.
"My phone's outta battery and I don't wanna miss it if dad calls."
He whispered, head pounding savagely as his eyes blinked owlishly in the glare from the lights.
"Yeah, cause that's so likely to happen!"
Sam hissed softly, under his breath as he leant across and rooted in the crowded compartment, before continuing in a louder voice.
"Well, at least yours is still working. Mine's been totalled since I fell in that damned river! Man, that was just so…so freakin' cold, I didn't think we were getting out of that one alive, dude!"
Dean was unable to suppress the shiver that ran through him at the memory of what now seemed like it had happened a month ago.
"Getyanuthaone." He sniffed, miserably. "Jeeze...'m tired, Sammy. And it's so damned cold."
Sam slipped the phone charger into his own deep outer pocket and then turned to regard the now visibly trembling figure beside him. Huddled in the overly large sheepskin, his normally invincible brother, suddenly, looked so young and vulnerable, dark shadows accentuating the lean contours of his bruised face.
Movement from the building caught Sam's eye and he unconsciously sighed in relief as he glanced from their re- emerging companion, back to Dean.
"Hey, come on, bro. Last part of the journey, here's Charles. Let's get you… Oh, no! You're just gonna love this, Dean"
Sam chuckled, watching as the elegant figure backed from the building, glancing over his shoulder as he swung in a wide arc, now pushing a wheelchair before him through the deep snow.
"Love what?"
Dean croaked to the closing door, as, pulling up his collar against the night's chill, the longhaired hunter, stepped carefully from the car, his gait none too steady. With one hand balancing on the hood, he made his way around to the passengers' side door, ready to assist his ailing brother from the car.
"Nice set of wheels." Sam observed, smiling broadly.
"Well, I thought the poor boy had maybe had enough rough treatment for one night. Thought we could persuade him to come for a little ride in our courtesy chair!"
"Well, normally with Dean, I'd have said 'no chance', but he's pretty beat tonight. It's been a hell of a couple of days!"
They both peered through the side window at the pale face pressed, seemingly fast asleep, against the glass.
"Besides, he's not got much choice, 'cause, he can't walk and I don't think I can carry him!"
Sam admitted wearily, a half smile on his face.
"Come along then, let's waste no further time. I need to get the pair of you safely ensconced in the warm. I do hope you like the room; it's the only one we've got available. We had a last minute cancellation this afternoon, well, yesterday afternoon. Otherwise there would still be 'no room at the inn!"
As Charles chatted merrily on, Sam eased open the heavy door, hunkering down to catch his brother with practised ease as he withdrew the support the door offered. Charles raised an inquisitive eyebrow knowing that this was not the first time these boys had been dealt harshly with by their lifestyle!
"Hey, bro. Come on. Let's get you out of there, Dean."
Sam supported his groggy brother's head and upper body, easing him up against his own chest.
"Nnnhh!"
The soft groan was almost inaudible.
"Hey, it's okay. Come on! We're nearly there. Look, got you a ride into the hotel, save your having to try and walk."
Sam turned Dean a little so he could focus on the wheelchair and as expected he could see the look of horror in his brother's eyes.
"No, Sam...can...walk!"
"I know you can, Dean."
Sam's voice resonated with the pride he felt for his courageous sibling.
"But this'll be a lot easier on me. I'm tired and I don't know if I can help hold ya up. Don't wanna fall on my ass in front of Charles, Bro."
Dean's wavering gaze struggled to find Sam's face and behind the exhaustion was understanding. He knew this was a ploy on the part of the younger man but he was grateful for Sam giving him a face saving opportunity. The green eyes held Sam's hazel ones for a heartbeat, before fluttering twice and falling shut.
"'Kay, dude, but only 'cause you are too much of a girl to manage. Understand?"
Sam and Charles both affirmed the capitulating hunter's statement with relieved nods, their brief glance at each other saying they both understood Dean's position as Sam pressed forward.
"I'm just gonna move your legs, Dean. Ready?"
Sam's familiar voice filtered into the dazed hunter's mind, calming him as he sought their meaning, the thoughts and words slipping through his fingers like mist through a veil.
Sam shuffled round, edging his right arm under Dean's legs as gently as he could. Rising, he eased his brother from the car, staggering backwards as he lifted him clear.
Dean fought in vain, to suppress the groans that tore from his throat, only to be muffled, as he buried his face into his brother's wide shoulder. Wave after wave of pain buffeted him, assaulting him viciously with their intensity. Panting, weakly, head spinning alarmingly, he fell gratefully towards the welcoming arms of darkness.
"Sshhh, sshhh! I gotcha, its okay. Nearly there." Sam whispered, soothingly, breathing out a sigh of relief as he felt his brother go limp in his arms.
"You've done that a few times before, Sam, by the look of things?" Charles observed, sympathetically.
Sam just bobbed his head in reply, chewing on his lip, as Charles re-positioned the chair, giving Sam room to manoeuvre his brother onto the thickly padded seat.
"Dean, it's okay, now. Sit back relax! We'll be in the warm in just a minute."
He glanced up at the compassion clearly visible on the small man's face.
"He's out of it, for now. Let's try and get him upstairs and outta the chair before he comes round again? That knee has gotta be killing him and I don't want him hurt anymore tonight if we can help it."
Charles nodded gravely as Sam moved behind to take the wheelchair's handles, allowing Charles to move ahead and open the doors.
Five minutes and a lift journey to the very top floor of the Holy Night Inn, found the three weary travellers standing outside the wide double doors of The Presidential Suite. Charles swiped his master key card and the doors open smoothly with a soft click.
Sam's jaw dropped as he wheeled his unconscious brother into the enormous lounge area. Beautifully decorated in understated splendour, the aroma of leather and wood polish drifted from the door to greet them. Two oversized leather settees with numerous scatter cushions lined either side of a low oak coffee table, positioned to enjoy the best panoramic views that the floor to ceiling windows could offer.
"Charles, what is this? We can't possibly afford to stay here, man!"
"I'm afraid it's all we have available at the moment, so it'll just have to do."
Charles spoke apologetically, though the joyous glint in his eyes belied his delight at Sam's startled reaction.
"Come along now, let's get the pair of you settled, we all need to get some sleep if we're going to be in any state for dinner later on."
He ushered the wide-eyed hunter through the luxurious lounge, under a wide arch and into a separate study, pausing to press buttons on a discreet wall panel, which immediately ignited a freestanding, low mounted, log fire beneath a marble clad flue. He raised an amused eyebrow in answer to Sam's questioning look.
"Anyway, don't worry about the room, I still have your brother's deposit on file from the overbooking, so I can just write this off as a complimentary room upgrade. The hotel management will see it as a goodwill gesture, seeing as I am the management! I may have to register you under the original booking name though! However, that's rather appropriate today isn't it?"
"The guest restroom's through that door over there and the master bedroom, with luxury en suite, is in here. Then another en suite room through the door over there."
Charles opened the heavy panelled door, proudly displaying the oversized four-poster, festooned with pillows, and cushions that held centre stage in the enormous, plushly furnished bedroom. The top sheet was turned down, revealing dark red, silk sheets under a white silken eiderdown.
"That bed's bigger than most of the motel rooms we normally stay in! Wow, red silk? Dean'll love those."
Sam exclaimed, slipping out of the thick sheepskin coat and draping it over a white chaise longue, as he looked round the room with obvious unease, wondering idly if there was enough salt in the whole of Bethlehem to protect all the windows and doors.
His slow appraisal of the splendour of the room was interrupted by a low groan emanating from the slumped figure in the wheelchair. He glanced up quickly, a frown of worry upon his face.
"Charles, I need to get him into bed, before he wakes up fully. Can you give me a hand with him?"
"Sure, Sam. I'd be delighted to help. Lean him forwards and I'll get his coat and jackets off. The jeans? Well, it might be easier to just cut them off. I don't think his knee will appreciate much more pulling about tonight."
Together, they eased the slowly stirring hunter from his filthy outer clothes, discarding the ruined jeans and throwing everything else onto a pile on the dark oak flooring. With a discreetness borne of years of working in the hotel business, the small man did no more than raise an eyebrow at the array of weapons secreted about Dean's person, as his layers of clothing were removed.
Dean's pale, scratched face was hidden in dark shadow as his head lolled drunkenly towards his chest. Flickers of pain ghosted across his countenance, the tightly clenched teeth and muscle ticking above his jaw line, testimony to his rising state of awareness.
Sam gently prised his now mumbling, semi conscious sibling from the support of the chair, Charles, rearranged the pillows and cushions that covered the enormous bed, pulled down the sheets and stood back allowing Sam unhindered access.
Sighing deeply, Sam laid his brother upon the cold silk sheets, supporting the bandaged knee whilst the small desk clerk slid a pillow underneath the swollen joint. Moving quickly, the little medic placed a further two pillows around the injured, right foot forming a canopy to protect the broken toes.
Through it all, Dean lay stirring restlessly, shivering with the now constant tremors that wracked his muscular frame. Panting, short breaths, hitching gasps interspersed with incoherent, half formed, words that whispered from his cracked lips. His head twisting weakly from side to side as the agony that was his left leg, filtered through the layers of his sub-conscious as his wounded knee was guided down onto the bed.
Sam placed his dried, chapped hand upon Dean's brow, alarmed at the increase in temperature in such a short time.
"Dammit, that's the last thing he needs!"
"His temperature's coming up, huh?"
Worried hazel eyes raised in confirmation as Sam scratched absentmindedly, with his free hand at the itchy stubble on his chin.
"It was bound to, after everything you boys have been through in the last couple of days. He's probably been fighting it off since all this started, but now he's had a chance to relax and something to eat, it's all catching up with him."
Charles smiled reassuringly at the exhausted hunter, who stood towering above him, flagging before his eyes.
"Uh, Charles? I just need to go get our bags up from the car. Would you stay with him while I go, I'll only be a few minutes?"
"Sam, you need to get some rest, before you collapse, too! I can get the bell hop to collect your bags."
"No, 'm fine, Dean get's real twitchy about anyone going near his baby! I'll be back up in a couple of minutes. Are the door still unlocked, will I be able to come up the same way?"
Sam reached out to take the proffered key card from Charles as he continued to fuss with the covers.
"Should still be unlocked, but if not, that will get you in anywhere."
Charles asserted, before continuing. "If the security guards stop you, you just send them up here to me!"
Yawning, Sam retraced his steps down to the patiently waiting Impala, retrieved both grips and the smaller weapons bag, stuffing in the first aid kit to be on the safe side. Then he hurried back up to the limited access VIP floor on the ninth level, and swiped his way in to The Presidential Suite.
Shaking his shaggy head, incredulously, as he dwelt on their pendulous fortunes.
Wearily, he dropped their gear onto one of the soft leather couches, and mooched through into the master bedroom, where his big brother lay tossing fitfully, as he struggled to fight off the effects of the fever.
Charles entered from the opposite side of the room, carrying a cold glass of water and bottle of painkillers.
"Um, Charles? The anti-biotic, you gave me earlier this morning. Four times a day either half hour before meals or a couple of hours after, yeah?"
Charles smiled, nodding slowly at the pale, care worn face before him.
"These will help settle him, bring his temperature down, too. We really need to get a dose inside him now, if we can."
He placed the glass and tablets beside the bed, talking quietly, as he continued.
"It might be as well to give him a second dose of the antibiotics too, when you wake him. You don't want to have to disturb him again in a couple of hours. Once he goes off, try to let him sleep for as long as possible, he needs rest as much as anything. Just make sure he takes them again, as soon as he wakes up, 'cause, we must get them into his system. We don't want that infection getting a proper hold on him!"
Sam crossed the room to retrieve the tablets from his outer coat; the tangled wire of the phone charger came out wrapped around the small bottle.
"That's lucky, I'd've forgotten to charge his phone and he'd have hit the roof, when he comes round."
"Waiting for any calls in particular?"
Charles probed gently.
"Dean seems to think he might get a call from our dad. We haven't heard from him in months though, so I don't see why the hell he'd suddenly start to care where we are now?"
Sam stated harshly, vaguely surprised at the rising tide of anger he still felt towards the absent man.
"Well, it is Christmas, Sam, after all."
Charles spoke quietly, looking down fondly at the restlessly sleeping hunter as his brother routed through Dean's pile of clothing, searching for his phone.
"It's the time of year for forgiving. Try not to be too angry with your brother for hoping, or with your father either. I assume he's in the same line of business as you boys?
Sam nodded absently.
"Then maybe he has a lot on his plate too, Sam?"
The older man's astutely knowing gaze held Sam's and the hunter felt his face colour slightly.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to snap. It's…nothing, I'm just tired is all and I hate to see Dean disappointed when dad doesn't phone – yet again!"
"As I said, Sam. It's Christmas, the time for miracles. You two worked one for Evie, just this morning. Try to have a little faith!"
Sam connected the mobile, placing it within reach of his brother's hand and then sat on the side of the wide bed, shaking two of the small yellow tablets into his unsteady hand.
'Dammit, I'm so tired, I could sleep for a week, let alone get up for a Christmas barbeque.' Sam thought raggedly.
"Right, well I'll leave you two to it. I'm off for a quick shower and a very long sleep."
Charles made to excuse himself, sensing the weary hunters need for rest.
"Thank you, Charles. For everything!"
Sam made to rise.
"No, stay where you are, I know my way out. Give him the meds and then get some sleep, both of you and I'll be back later on to pick you up, if you feel up to it. Don't worry if you don't though, I'll bring Evie and some food over for a visit tomorrow."
"One last question, Charles, I swear. When he wakes up, he's gonna want a shower, but everything's bandaged and stitched. Should I let him take one?"
"Certainly, it'll make him feel much better! I'll come and re-wrap him when I come for you this afternoon, about 2pm. Don't want to miss out on another opportunity to get my hands on the dear boy, now, do I?"
Charles laughed softly, straightened his Santa hat and called over his shoulder as he headed for the door.
"Now, off to bed with you. Dean'll be just fine, after you get those meds inside him. There're complimentary towelling robes, slippers and toiletries in all the bathrooms. Help yourselves. And now, I'm off to bed! Goodnight and sweet dreams!"
"Goodnight, Charles. We'll see you later. Thanks again, for everything."
"Absolutely my pleasure." The disembodied voice drifted from the other room, followed by the soft swishes and click as the double doors closed behind him.
Sam looked down on his fitfully sleeping brother, hating to wake him but determined to get the med into him and stave off the fever. Dean didn't do well with fevers and the last thing Sam needed was to be up with him while he tossed and turned.
"Dean, can you hear me? I need to you to take some meds, dude. Please, just open your eyes for me, okay? "
Dean started at the light touch of a rough hand upon his aching head. His fever-induced thoughts were disjointed, fragmented into brief snapshots of unrelated times and events, people and places. He could hear a quiet voice, calling to him as if from a vast distance, focusing him, levelling him. Allowing him to follow it through the confusing maze, back to the present, back to the light, back to…
"Sam?" The word ghosted from his cracked lips. "Sammy, where a…? Wha...? You okay?"
His eyelids fluttered open a crack, glazed eyes panicking, searching for the source of the voice. He felt the cool silk of smooth sheets against his sore back and chest, shivering as another tremor ran through him.
"Hey, Dean. It's okay, calm down. We're in the hotel. I just need you to take these tablets for me. They'll help with the pain. Can you swallow them for me?"
"'S cold, Sammy. 'M tired. Lemme sleep!" He mumbled, through teeth that chattered.
He felt a cold hand at the back of his head, raising his pounding head, making the room spin, sickeningly.
"Come on, open up and swallow these. Then I promise you can sleep some more."
"Go 'way, Sammy, 'M diz…"
The rest was lost as two tablets were placed on his tongue and he felt a glass of cold water pressed to his lips. Knowing he was too weak and tired to resist, and suddenly realising just how thirsty he was, he took a deep shuddering breath and a long sip of the water. Eyes clenched against the tight knot that gripped the back of his throat, he fought down the rising nausea and swallowed the pills. Then sank back heavily into the deep pillows.
"Satisfied?" He attempted to quirk an eyebrow, but nothing seemed to be working right.
"Nearly there, just two more." Sam encouraged, refusing to go leave him to die in peace.
"You gotta be kid… Please, Sam. 'M fine, jus' tired. Leave me be. Please?"
Resignedly, he repeated the action as his persistent little brother forced more of the pills onto his tongue. Coughing slightly, he winced as all his injuries awoke, sending lightening strikes to reacquaint themselves throughout his spent frame. Grimacing, he gasped as the tablets grated against his raw throat. Exhausted, he fell back to the silken headrest and was fast asleep within moments of his head touching the pillow.
Sam breathed a sigh of relief and looked sideways through the open bedroom door, across the wide expanse of the luxurious suite to the second bedroom on the other side of the apartment. He made to rise to go to his own, much needed bed, but something stopped him. A fierce discomfort with putting so much distance between himself and his fever-ridden brother churned at his gut. Knowing Dean was more than likely to go into a girlie hissy fit, if he awoke and couldn't immediately find him, Sam picked up his trusty sheepskin coat and moved around to the other side of the enormous bed.
He yawned widely, forcing his eyes open as he sat down on the elegant bedding and pulled off his scuffed and worn boots. With a final glance over at his debilitated brother he simply curled onto his side on top of the beautiful white counterpane, snuggled into the now familiar warmth of the coat and went to sleep to the sound of his brother's familiar gentle snores.
wWw
It was the soft click of the door as it swung smoothly open that brought Sam, startled, from his deep sleep. Beside him on the bed, Dean still snored gently, a light sheen of sweat beading upon his bruised forehead. Sam lay still, senses reaching out, trying to determine where they were and what had woken him.
The room spun a little as he warily raised his head, listening to the quiet rustle then a louder clink from the other room. His hand automatically reached for the gun in his inside pocket.
"Good afternoon boys."
A bright voice called chirpily from the other room. Sam slowly exhaled the breath he had unknowingly held, relaxing as he recognised Charles. He struggled to bring his watch face into focus. 2:05pm he read, disbelievingly.
"Hope you don't mind me letting myself in. There was no reply, so I thought you might still be asleep. I've taken the liberty of bringing you some breakfast, well, more of a brunch. Well more precisely afternoon tea! If you're feeling up to it?"
The door swung open and a gleaming, stainless steel trolley, laden with a huge coffee pot, mugs and several smaller servers entered on silent wheels, followed by a perfectly presented Charles, looking very dapper in his long, dark grey, wool overcoat.
Beside him, Sam watched as his brother stirred beneath the quilt. Startled by the unexpected arrival, with eyes blinking wildly he struggled to sit up as he lurched awake.
"Nnnhh!"
Pain hit him like and avalanche, from all directions and he fell back to the down-filled pillow, twitching as he waited for the pain to subside and his lungs to remember how to breathe.
"Hey, take it easy, Dean. It's okay; it's just Charles and some breakfast. Afternoon, Charles." Sam leant over and patted sympathetically on his obviously distressed sibling's shoulder. "I'm sorry we musta just slept right through."
Groaning quietly, Sam pushed himself up to lean against the plush headboard, catching his breath before he turned and eased his long legs onto the floor. Stretching his back, he rolled his stiff shoulder muscles, grimacing at the cracks and clicks that accompanied his movements.
"Not a problem, Sam. I was wondering if I'd catch the pair of you still in bed! Sweet dreams?"
He asked the question with a cheeky glint in his eyes.
"Nah, Charles. I don't know about Dean, but I slept like the dead!"
"Sammy?"
A weak voice croaked from the far side of the bed.
"Hey, Dean. How you feeling, bro?"
"Feel great, Sam. Morn'n, Charles." His stilted reassurance was somewhat less than convincing, his flushed face crumpling in pain as he tried to roll onto his side.
"Holy Crap! That hurts." He hissed breathlessly, falling back and pressing the side of his face into the crimson pillow. "Sonofabitch!"
"Stiffened up while you slept, huh? Come on; let's get those meds inside you, they'll help ease it off. Think you can sit up, if I help you?"
Charles made to move to the stricken hunter's side.
Dean nodded, but cast a frantic look in his brother's direction, his pained, bloodshot eyes telling another story.
'Oh, god! Please don't touch me yet! Just gimme a freakin' minute here, I gotta get my gameface back on!'
Sam read the panicked glance and rose, with the speed and agility of an arthritic octogenarian, to the rescue.
"Hey, Charles, how about we grab a cup of that Java first?" Sam limped, as swiftly as his aching limbs would carry him, around the bed; he tipped a nod in Dean's direction. "Give Sleepy here a chance to wake up, first? Here…"
He sat on the bed and sorted out the tablets, shaking out the correct dosages. Carefully he placed the pills in the trembling man's hand, allowing him time to settle.
"You ready?"
He asked quietly, easing his hand behind his brother's neck at the minute nod he received. Gently, he lifted the shaky head and raised the glass to his bruised lips.
Concentrating on forcing the assorted pills past the shards of broken glass that appeared to have made his throat their home, Dean missed the look of apology and understanding that passed between his brother and the elegantly dressed medic.
Dean shivered as he looked blearily around the room, his eyes fixing on Charles as he poured three large mugs of coffee over by the trolley. Sniffing appreciatively, he managed a lopsided grin and rasped.
"Smells good, Charles."
The small man grinned back as he carried two of the steaming mugs over to the bedside unit.
"Well, I aim to please!" He raised an eyebrow suggestively, "Now, let's have a look at those dressings. We'll get you unwrapped, you can have a quick shower… no; a bath would be a lot safer. Then I'll redress any that need replacing. Okay? Then we'll see if you feel up to a visit to Evie's?"
Dean's face coloured as he chewed unhappily on his lower lip, he squirmed a little in discomfort.
"Uh, Charles? Could you just unwrap my hands first? I, uh, need to use the restroom, real bad."
His embarrassed eyes tracked back to aim daggers at Sam's gently smiling face.
"Ah, yes. Nature calls. Let us liberate your hands and then we can wheel you over there and then you can take it from there."
"Wheel? No freakin' way. Just gimme a hand up and I'll be fine!"
"Well, if that's how you feel. I guess one of us could lend you a hand in there, just in case you come over a little dizzy?"
Sam snorted as Charles good-naturedly ribbed his blushing sibling. Charles swiftly removed his overcoat, and draped it over the end of the wide bed.
"Come on then, let's get them off of you. Give them here."
With impressive speed and ability, Charles removed the old dressings from his hands, inspected the cracked and still oozing palms briefly and then noticing the increasing discomfort of the man before him, he stepped back, smiling.
"Come on, let's get you in that chair. No arguments!" Charles spoke sternly, smoothly sidestepping, to give Sam all the room he needed.
Suddenly nervous of the pain to come, but more so, of allowing the outrageously flirtaceous hotel manager to see him helpless, Dean struggled to hide his fears. Swallowing thickly against the rise of bile at the back of his throat, he looked deep into his brother's liquid brown eyes.
Sam pulled back the covers and prepared to help the stricken man from the bed as Charles brought the wheelchair round to the bedside, smiling gently.
"It'll be a lot quicker in this and I don't think Sam's quite up to carrying you all the way, yet."
"Okay, Sam. Just put me in the damned chair. If I'm here much longer you won't need to worry about me making it to the bathroom, at all!"
Dean growled, glaring up from one to the other.
Sam hid his amused grin at his brother's altercation with the manipulating medic. Bracing himself, he lifted Dean swiftly into the waiting chair, ignoring the hand that bit so deeply into the side of his neck that it would later leave bruise marks.
Five minutes later, Dean wheeled himself back into the room, rejuvenated, with a look of amazed delight plastered across his face.
"Dude, did you see that place?"
He looked around in wonder, as if seeing the exquisitely decorated master bedroom and elaborate four-poster bed for the first time.
"Man, this is some kinda room, Sammy! We've stayed in motels smaller than this!"
Charles laughed delightedly.
"I guess you were a little out of it this morning when we arrived? Would you like to see the rest of it while you have a coffee? Come on I'll give you the guided tour!"
"What do you mean, the rest of it? The rest of the hotel? I'd love to, Charles but I really need to grab a shower and get some clothes on before I'm seen in public."
"No, the rest of your suite!"
Stopping to pick up their coffees, Charles wheeled the bemused hunter through into the softly lit study, where the open fire still glowed, Charles having adjusted it as he left earlier that day. Out into the lounge where Dean nearly leapt from the chair as he spotted the 52" wide screen television that graced one of the walls
Charles gave a running commentary as they continued through into the second bedroom and walk in changing annex. Each room decorated in its own style but the overlying impression of marble, gleaming chrome, leather and antique oak flooring. Original works of art and unique antiques completed the subdued splendour.
Dean's chagrin at being confined to a wheelchair was completely forgotten as he gaped in delight at their surroundings.
"Hell, Charles." He breathed softly.
"This isn't a room, it's a small village! What's the going rate for this per night?"
"Well, as it was all I had available last night, and there was the unfortunate mix up when you first tried to book in, I've arranged it as a complimentary room upgrade for you! So, sit back and enjoy. It's all yours for the next three nights!"
Dean looked up at this broadly grinning brother who had accompanied them on the tour with an 'I've died and gone to heaven' expression on his face.
"However, we're due at Evie's at 4:00pm, so if we're going to get you both cleaned up and decent."
He raised an eyebrow at Dean's boxers and T shirt, "We need to think about getting ready."
wWw
Preparation for the trip to Evie's were going well and whilst Dean languished in the steaming Jacuzzi, groaning in pleasure as the effervescent bubbles eased away some of his pain, Charles decided to bring a little festive cheer to the occasion. Raiding the numerous swaths of tinsel, holly and fir garlands that bedecked the lounge, he took it upon himself to decorate the wheelchair in a typically understated and refined manner.
By the time he had finished, silver tinsel snaked its way up the straight supports and sprigs of holly intertwined with the wheel spokes, twirling in eye-catching splendour as the wheels revolved. A set of battery operated Christmas lights flashed their yuletide joy to the world and a sprig of mistletoe dangled enticingly from each of the padded handles.
"What do you think, boys?"
Sam studiously avoided his brother's eyes as they perused the bedecked chariot as he was pretty sure that whilst Dean would feel compelled to avoid perpetrating actual physical violence on Charles, after all he had done for them, he would have no such qualms acting out his frustrations on Sam.
"Ermmm..."
Dean smiled weakly at the glowing medic as Sam risked a glance. The elder Winchester's face was a study in pained politeness.
"It's..."
Dean was choking on the words. He felt stupid enough having to ride in the god-awful pushchair but now it looked like a freaking Christmas tree! However, after several earlier determined but fruitless attempts to make it to his feet, it had quickly become apparent, even to the loudly complaining, injured hunter, that if they were to make it on time for the barbeque that evening, then the wheelchair was to be his only option.
Plus he really didn't want to offend Charles. The guy had just done a very professional and therefore only partially cringingly embarrassing job of re-bandaging his wounds.
Dean bit the bullet and to Sam's amazement, said.
"It's just great, Charles. Can't wait to test drive it. Thanks."
Charles proudly wheeled it over to the overstuffed settee, where the now flagging hunter had just finished dressing with the aid of his younger brother.
"Come along, hop aboard! Your chariot awaits, Sir!"
Dean swatted away Sam's proffered arm, reaching out instead and levering himself gingerly across and into the Yuletide edition of Pimp My Ride. He raised his eyebrows to the beaming designer in appreciation.
Sam barely managed to hold back his snigger, raising one hand to cover his mouth whilst he reached for his camera phone with the other, ready to record the festive event. As he pulled it from his pocket, along with a selection of leaves and fir needles, he swore softly under his breath as he realised it was no longer working.
Dean caught his actions out of the corner of his eye and turned his head, threatening in his best big brother 'you dare take a photo of this, and I'll end you!' glare.
Sam chuckled, holding out his phone in surrender.
"Don't worry, dude. The darn things not working anyway, though I'd love to record this moment for posterity!"
"Hell, Sammy! I almost forgot, where's my phone?"
Dean exclaimed, patting the pockets of his jacket with his freshly bandaged hands.
"Did you bring up the charger for me? I need to check, see if dad's been trying to get through!"
"Calm down, Dean. It's over on the nightstand, been charging since we got here. Should be all ready to rock'n'roll. Let me fetch it for you."
Sam sauntered through the study and on into the softly lit bedroom, he unplugged the phone and brought it back to his now yawning brother.
"There you go."
He passed it over and Dean nodded, smiling his thanks.
"Listen, I'm gonna go down and warm up the car, the last thing you need with that temperature is to be sitting in the cold. I'll be back up in ten okay?"
"Oh, hold on! I'll come down with you, Sam."
Charles added merrily.
"I need to pop into the office and wish the staff a Happy Christmas. I'll meet you down in reception in fifteen minutes and then we'll head off for Evie's, I hope she's got the barbie nicely warmed up for me!"
"Kay, guys. I'll see you in ten. Sammy, you be careful of my baby, don't leave her unlocked or with the engine running."
"Okay, I promise to look after it." Sam turned to leave.
"You'll be okay?"
"Get outta here, Sam. I'm fine. Go on, or we'll be late for dinner."
Dean waited until he was sure he was alone, and then flipped the lid on his phone and stared at the dark screen with distant eyes, his thoughts turning to the father he had neither heard from nor seen for over a month. He swallowed thickly around the lump in his throat, frowned and then pressed the button, activating the phone, chewing absentmindedly on his bottom lip as he waited for it to load up.
The screen lit up and the network signal flashed. Dean closed his eyes, the set of his shoulders and the muscles clenched in his cheeks, the only indication of the tension he was feeling. He simply sat there waiting, hoping to open his eyes and see the missed call notification. Hoping for a text or an answer phone message, telling him their dad was okay and maybe thinking of them on this Christmas Day.
After several long minutes he opened his eyes, now cloudy with disappointment, dull with the tiredness that descended upon him like a physical weight. Scowling, he pressed the speed dial, fumbling with the buttons through the lightweight bandages that now wrapped his hands.
With thumb tapping, nervously, against the tinsel sporting arm support, he waited for the call to connect, holding his breath as the ring tone echoed loudly in his ear. A click and a beep followed by the message he had heard so many times before.
"'This is John Winchester. I can't be reached. If this is an emergency, call my son, Dean. 7855 550179 He can help'
He waited for the familiar end of message beep, then clearing his throat nervously, rasped,
"Uh, hey, dad. It… It's me, Dean… I just wanted to uh, check you're okay and to wish you a Happy Christmas. Aah, I'm up in Bethlehem, Pennsylvania with Sammy. Yeah, Bethlehem! Uh, we just finished working a case up here. We're both fine and Sammy says hello."
Dean looked up as he heard the soft tread of footsteps outside.
"Uh, anyway, dad, I gotta go now. If you get a chance to call and maybe let us know where you are, or if you need our…"
The rest was cut off as a distant beep timed him out.
Dean hurriedly snapped the lid closed and returned the phone to his inner pocket, looking up nonchalantly, as his shaggy haired brother stepped through the wide double doors.
Sam crossed the wide expanse of the elaborate lounge and looked down at the defeated set of his big brothers shoulders; in a soft voice he asked the question he was certain he already knew the answer to.
"Well?"
"Well. What?"
"Well, did he call and leave a message?"
"Who, dad? Nah, Sam. I didn't really expect him to. He's probably busy on a hunt someplace. He'll phone when he gets a chance. You know dad!"
Dean answered with false brightness.
"Yeah. I do know, dad. The man's a dick! Stop making excuses for him, Dean! He can't even be bothered to phone his sons' on Christmas Day."
"Leave it, Sam."
Dean answered angrily. He was too tired and too sore to go through all this again with Sam right now.
"There're a hundred reasons he might not be able to get to the phone. Hell, this is why I waited till you were out of the room. Can't we just leave it? For once, couldn't we have a Christmas without any freaking arguments? Dad's not even here and you're mad at him!"
Dean's hands shook against the armrest and his breathing came in heavy rasps.
Sam bit back his bitter retort, taking note of the effect the angry altercation had already had upon his shattered sibling.
"Uh, look. I'm sorry, Dean. You're right. It's Christmas. Forget I said anything, Okay?"
Dean just nodded slowly, his eyes downcast.
Sam took the handles of the Christmas Chariot, avoiding the sprigs of mistletoe that hung so cheerily from the thick padding. Carefully, he manoeuvred the wheelchair out towards the doors.
"Still snowing?"
Dean asked casually.
"Yeah, not so heavy now though. The car's nice and toasty. Dean, you sure you feel well enough to go, you look beat, dude?"
"Nah, I'm fine, just tired. Maybe a little sore is all. Come on, let's make a move?"
"Okay, Dean. Let's go collect the Christmas Elf."
The End
Thanks to all who have read and especially those who reviewed. We \really enjoyed reading your kind words.