A CHILL IN THE AIR

Chapter 11

xxxxx

Sam reached out and grasped the hand; like his own it was soaking wet and as cold as ice, but the stiff, grey fingers curled around his wrist in a desperately grateful, bone-crushing grip.

"Dean," Sam gasped, looking across at Bobby who crouched beside him, a quietly supportive presence soaked through with melting snow and shivering miserably, as continued to plough through the slushy, melting snow with his bare hands.

It took only seconds for them to scoop away enough of the icy slush to enable Sam to tug Dean upwards by the arm, half pulling, half lifting him from the sucking icy cold soup that held him fast.

Soaked through to the skin, Dean slumped in Sam's arms, sinking on boneless legs and trembling as he gasped, coughing wetly into Sam's shoulder.

"Sa-am … w'appened? … s'just … di-diggin' …"

"Hey, save your breath, dude," Sam muttered reassurances as he slapped Dean's back in response to the ragged wet choking borne of near-drowning under the wet snow; "nothing' to say; s'all over now."

Bobby smiled as he watched the reconciliation. His boys were both safe; for a moment he was able to forget how cold and wet and thoroughly uncomfortable he was.

xxxxx

The huge drift was all but gone now, gushing away in a silvery ribbon of meltwater that splashed around the feet of the three men, becoming a torrent as more and more melted ice and snow poured down the hillsides, raining off the bare tree canopies and running down the contours of the Impala's newly-revealed bodywork like veins of liquid crystal. The chilling monochrome of snow and ice was gradually being replaced by the emerging colours of fresh new grass; soft, fat buds exploding all over bare branches and the tiny heads of bluebells and daisies which peeked through the softening soil, bleary from their early awakening.

As Dean's harsh coughing gradually calmed into deep gulping breaths, Sam realised that he could hear the piping trill of birdsong; he realised that the bitter sting of winter had been replaced by a mild breeze which carried the loamy scents of newborn grass and the fragrance of spring flowers.

He also realised that he, Dean and Bobby were all standing there like three spare parts, all dripping wet and, despite the jaw-droppingly rapid thaw, freezing cold.

"C'mon Dean, let's get warmed up," he coaxed, eliciting a nod of agreement from Dean. He glanced back at Bobby, who had seemingly read his mind and already stood, holding open the Impala's door. Climbing inside, Bobby fired up her engine and cranked her heating up to full as Sam rummaged through the duffels to excavate a bundle of towels liberated from their recent motel stays, and helped Dean to slip out of his soaked T shirt. Together Sam and Bobby overcame their own shivering to wrap the largest of the towels around Dean's icy shoulders before dividing the remaining towels between themselves.

The three towel-wrapped figures sat in Impala, relishing her soothing heat as it massaged the icy stiffness from their bones, and stared in bemused silence through her windows out at the verdant springtime that was unrolling like a carpet around them.

Bobby leaned on the Impala's steering wheel and opened his mouth to speak but no words came out. There was nothing he could say; what do you say when Winter thaws and Spring - well - springs in the time it takes to eat a taco? In the end, he settled for saying the only thing that could make sense to him.

"You boys okay, back there?"

Watching a fat, sleek rabbit lope casually past the parked car, Sam felt Dean subside heavily into him. "Yeah;" he replied, hesitating around a yawn, "we're both warmin' up nicely," he added; "I think Dean's fallen asleep … well, unless he's started snoring when he's awake."

Bobby grinned; "I'm not surprised, after everything that's gone on; who knows what ungodly time this morning that idjit was out in all that snow and ice crap fixin' the car!"

It wasn't long before a combination of the Impala's comforting warmth and the relaxation after their ordeal began to drag Sam's eyelids closed too, and he gradually sunk into his own rest.

xxxxx

When Sam eventually opened his eyes, it was to the soothing thrum of the Impala's engine. Sitting in the driver's seat as she powered effortlessly along, Bobby noticed the movement behind him through the rear-view mirror.

"Hey there Dozy, how nice of you to join me."

Sam rubbed his eyes; "uh, sorry, musta jus' dropped off … where we goin?"

Bobby shrugged. "Jus' headin south," he replied absently; "you an' sleepin' beauty there were gonna go down to Florida for his birthday. Seein' as that's tomorrow, I guessed I could give you a head start – ya might only be a coupla days late."

"Yeah; great idea Bobby," Sam yawned, his eyes still flicking across to Dean, burrowed into the corner of the Impala's seat, still deeply asleep.

"'Course it was," scolded Bobby; "they're the only kind I have!"

Sitting back, Sam folded his arms and smiled as he watched banks of daffodils and primroses sway and nod in the Impala's wake.

xxxxx

The following morning saw the brothers sitting in a fresh and cheerful diner attached to an equally agreeable Philadelphia motel that Bobby had managed to find on their journey. The older man had mysteriously disappeared early that morning; 'things to sort out' he'd mumbled gruffly down the phone; "catch ya later."

They relaxed over breakfast as a hazy morning sunlight filtered through the sky blue curtains behind them and Sam grinned as Dean tucked voraciously into the biggest slice of apple pie he'd ever seen.

"Hey, mind your fingers dude," he chuckled as Dean snarfed down a generous slab of golden pastry.

Dean scarcely looked up; "s'my birthday," he snorted; "m'allowed to have pie for breakfast on my birthday!"

"I guess so," Sam looked down and sighed; he had to admit, his bowl of muesli looked pretty paltry by comparison.

As he looked up again he spied, over Dean's shoulder a fellow patron opening a newspaper; it's doom-laden headline screamed ... 'UNPRECEDENTED EARLY THAW ACROSS NEW ENGLAND PROMPTS GLOBAL WARMING FEARS.' Stifling a smile, Sam was suddenly glad he'd never have to explain that one away.

There was a deep and breathy sigh of pure unadulterated bliss, as Dean laid down his fork. He looked sublimely happy and contented; a look Sam saw all-too rarely on Dean's face, he couldn't help but reflect with a pang of regret.

Then the moment was ruined by a loud burp as Dean slumped back in his chair rubbing his belly.

"Sammy, that was awesome!"

"Was that a hint?" Sam asked, his own face brightening in response to Dean's infectious grin.

"Well, if you insist," Dean licked his fingers; "it is my birthday, after all ... did I mention it was my birthday?"

"Once or twice," snorted Sam, beckoning across the room to the waitress for another slice of pie.

xxxxx

They both heard a tinkle as the door opened behind them and Bobby marched into the diner carrying a colourful plastic bag, gesturing cheerfully across to the waitress for a coffee.

"Hey Bobby, where you been?" Dean muttered as he drained his own coffee.

"Like I said, jus' sortin' out some stuff," Bobby answered evasively and deposited the mysterious bag in front of Dean.

"Happy birthday, idjit."

Dean's eyes flickered excitedly between the bag and the second helping of pie that a sweetly pretty waitress placed on the table in front of him with a welcoming saccharine smile.

Eagerly grabbing the bag, Dean yanked it open without hesitation and fished around, pulling out two eye-wateringly colourful hawaiian shirts that had clearly been designed by someone enjoying the mother of all LSD trips.

"Wow Bobby, thanks; they're ... uh … spectacular!"

"You're welcome," chuckled Bobby; "figured you might want something' light cos' you said you were goin' on down to Florida."

"Ah well," Sam mumbled awkwardly; "we were talkin' about that this morning. We were gonna go for Dean's birthday, but seein' as we were held up by, uh, unforeseen circumstances …"

"Yeah, unforeseen blue faerie douchewad circumstances," Dean interrupted; wiping the back of a hand across his sugar-coated lips. "'An' we're down to our last card," he added; "couldn't afford much, so we'd be driving all that way jus' to sit in another crummy motel miles from anywhere interesting, jus' for the sake of going somewhere sunny for my birthday."

"So it all seemed a bit pointless, really," Sam finished up with a shrug.

"It'd be nice though," Bobby suggested.

"Yeah, nice," Dean grunted, "but not practical; stupid idea," he added, shovelling in another forkful of steaming apple chunks.

"So, yeah, we're not gonna bother now," Sam finished, colouring slightly with embarassment as he looked at the outrageous-verging-on-hideous shirts that Bobby had bought them.

"Oh well, that's a shame," Bobby sighed quietly.

"Well, I'm sure we can still wear the shirts," Dean added, not wanting to appear ungrateful; "they'd look awesome at, uh, a … um …" he shot a wide-eyed glance across at Sam for help.

"… a - a barbecue," Sam blurted out helplessly, trying to think back to the last time the brothers actually attended a barbecue, which had to have been sometime around, never, give or take a few months.

Bobby sniggered as he watched the brothers squirm; "you did say at a barbecue - not ON a barbecue?"

The Winchesters gave up their ingratiating pretence and dissolved into laughter.

"Still, it's a shame though," Bobby sighed, shaking his head in amusement; "I guess you won't be needing this now," he added, reaching into his pocket and drawing out an envelope.

"What's that?" Two pairs of enquiring eyes and a bulging mouthful of chewed apple pie looked up at him.

"Your other present," replied Bobby, offering the envelope to Dean.

Dean's eyes lit up; "gimme gimme," grabby hands reached out toward the mysterious little envelope. Ripping it open, he tipped the contents into the palm of his hand and stared at it.

One ordinary little silver key.

Dean looked up at Bobby; his face asked the question.

"I got a - let's say - contact," Bobby explained; "he's got a beachfront vacation apartment in Palm Beach. Owes me a favour."

The brothers stared open-mouthed at the key which lay in Dean's hand.

"So this is …" Sam looked up at Bobby.

"Yeah, but seeing as you're not going," Bobby reached across the table for the key; "I guess I'd better let him have it back …"

Dean snatched the key away, clutching it to his chest.

"Beachfront apartment, Palm Beach?" Dean's head swivelled between his two companions; "we're going!"

Sam grinned, "you comin' Bobby?"

"Nah, got stuff I gotta deal with," smiled Bobby, "an' anyway, you don't want me crampin' your style."

They both paused, looking around at Dean who had already pulled on one of the shirts and was busy posing, admiring himself in the window, despite the fact it almost reached his knees.

"Hey, Sasquatch, I think this one's yours."

Sam shook his head with a smile; "you sure Bobby? We'd like you to come."

"Nah," Bobby grinned; "you boys go enjoy yourself, have fun, get a suntan, get drunk; you need the break. It'll do you good to get a bit of sun on your backs."

Dean rolled the key in his hand; "thanks Bobby; wow, I don' know what to say. This is the best birthday ever!"

Bobby smiled; "and d'y know what the best thing of all is?"

The Winchesters answered in unison; "what's that?"

Bobby's smile widened.

"There ain't gonna be no goddamn snow!"

xxxxx

end