Thank you so much for everyone who reviewed! I was not expecting such great feedback! I love you guys so much :D Now, because, as I already said, I HAVE to respond to ALL reviews, and still some people continue to not just go and get themselves a FanFiction account *hem-hem* I must hereby respond to all you pesky guests who send me such lovely reviews ;)
Sarah: Thank you so much! I thought it was awesome too! Haha keep reviewing!
PS: sorry for the cliffhangers, guys. I know I frustrate you all, but it's my style!
The lake was black. The water grabbed at Dean's clothing, pulling him under. He fought desperately to climb back to the surface, but already, the cold numbed his limbs and assaulted his senses.
Oh, how it was cold.
The water stabbed at him like a thousand knives, burrowing deep into his skin. He gasped from the agony and shock, only to have the frigid waters invade his mouth. Dean thrashed wildly in the lake, unable to tell up from down. The pain was blinding, and his heavy coat weighed him down, but still he scrambled in every direction, searching desperately for the hole in the ice.
When Dean had fallen through the surface, the jagged ice had ripped long cuts in his legs and arms. The dark red of his blood only further added to the midnight hue of Dean's surroundings. The wounds stung and throbbed as they were flooded with the cold lake water, but Dean was too focused on finding the surface.
"Air!" his body screamed. "Need…AIR!" his lungs were burning, and they were spasming from lack of oxygen. Dean's heartbeat was deathly slow, and his eyes flitted desperately in every direction, looking helplessly for the ice. He paddled and thrashed, kicking towards what the hoped to be the surface.
"AIR!" Dean's frozen hands stopped thrashing, and instead reached for his throat, begging himself to hold on just a few more seconds. He knew the moments he inhaled it would be over.
"Just a few more feet, Dean, just a few more feet and then you'll find the ice." Dean kicked as hard and fast as he could and felt his oxygen starved heart flutter when he made contact with something hard.
"Ice? Is it the ice?"
Dean swept his hands around, trying to feel for the ice. Instead, his fingers sunk into thick mud and Lake Weed.
It was a rock.
He was upside down.
Dean couldn't take it anymore. He had to breathe; he had to open his lungs. Dean felt his throat convulse once more, before unclenching and desperately inhaling, searching for the air it craved. The subzero water rushed into his lungs, filling his chest with its icy tendrils. Dean thrashed and spasmed in a last few valiant attempts, and then went completely still. Dean was simply suspended in the lake. He watched through unfocused eyes as the last few bubbles escaped his mouth. They danced towards the surface.
"Those assholes," he cursed at the little pockets of air floating nonchalantly towards the surface that Dean so desperately craved. But, he really didn't crave it anymore. He didn't crave anything anymore. He didn't feel cold, nor did he feel afraid. There was nothing to be afraid about.
Dean sank in the water, feeling himself settle at the bottom. The mud was soft and comfortable, and he felt himself smile when a small fish swam by. The water didn't seem so cold now. Matter of fact, it was practically warm. Everything around him was beautifully still in the winter, and so quiet. The undercurrent at the bottom was like a mother rocking her babe to seep. The weeds caressed his cheeks, and the minnows swam between the rocks around him. Everything was slow and steady, nothing was frightening. There was an order to things here- a natural order that made everything work together, but no one was in a hurry. The calm was astounding, and Dean felt himself relax. He could stay here for a long time. It wouldn't be so bad. Dean's eyes closed as the upheaved soil settled around him. Dying? No, he wasn't dying. It felt more like falling asleep…
"D-n?" Tears trailed down Sam's frozen cheeks as he watched the water settle. Merely seconds ago, his brother had been standing there, surefire and gung-ho, and now…
Now he was gone.
The lake had eaten him-him and the beast. Sam had somehow willed his meek and useless body to move, and now he lay, beaten, on the edge of the hole in the ice. It had been over a minute, now. Dean couldn't last much longer, Sam knew.
Twenty more seconds passed.
Sam scooted closer to the edge. How easy would it be to just fling over the edge and settle into the murky waters? The pain would stop. He would be with Dean.
Sam took a deep breath, and closed his eyes.
"No, you know you can't. You can't give up on Dean. He didn't give up on you."
There was that pesky internal voice of his again.
"But…he's gone. He's dead, he has to be."
"Is that what your minds tells you?"
Sam squeezed his eyes shut and grimaced, tears increasing. It was a silent yes. He begged for the voice to just let him sit here and wallow, and not feel so guilty, but it continued.
"Sam?" Sam gasped and tears fell faster. It was Dean's voice again, just as it had been in the woods. "What does your heart tell you?"
Sam paused, and then wiped away the tears with his shaky hand.
He swallowed.
He took a deep breath.
And he rolled.
Sam's eyes shot open as the lake enfolded his body. The cold was overpowering, and completely cruel. He had thought he couldn't be any colder- He was wrong. Sam pushed away his own thermal shock and gazed frantically around the lake for Dean. The light passing through the ice was pathetic and barely illuminated ten feet past the surface, but it was better than nothing. Sam swam away from the only clear beacon of light beneath the hole. He ignored the horrific grinding of his pelvis as he searched. Dean couldn't be far away, and the lake at its deepest was thirty feet. Sam paused every few yards, suspended in the frigid water, and glanced around. He had only been under the water for about twenty seconds, but he knew that was another twenty seconds Dean was without air.
Sam paused again and swept the area with his eyes. Every passing second, he grew less hopeful. He was about to continue on when a fleck of something silver caught his eye. Sam tentatively swam closer. He reminded himself that the beast was down here too, somewhere. The thought of silver made Sam shuddered as he recalled the shining fur of the animal while it ripped apart his flesh and bones.
The silver, however, was small. And as Sam approached it, he became less wary. It was a small silver band settled on the bottom. He reached for it.
When his long outstretched fingers brushed against the shiny metal, a very thin layer of sediment resting on top of it brushed away from the current. Sam almost gasped, remembering in the nick of time that he was underwater.
The silver was a ring. And that ring was attached to a finger, which was attached to a hand. Sam flipped, bringing his good leg closer to the hand. He gave a powerful kick, sending a huge current of water sweeping over the rest of the bottom. Sediment went flying, revealing a frozen and unconscious Dean.
"DEAN!" Sam screamed into the lake. Bubbles erupted from his mouth, and Sam silently cursed himself for wasting precious oxygen, but Sam was too busy yanking his brother up off the ground to care. Dean was like a rag doll, fully suspended and unmoving. Tears welled in Sam's eyes and immediately dissipated into the water. He could save him. He just needed to get him out of here.
Sam grabbed his brother by the torso and kicked off a nearby rock with his good leg, sending them both shooting up towards the surface. Sam pulled Dean's body towards the faint column of light-which was almost impossible to see for those who didn't know it was there. Sam was kicking and swimming with a fierce passion, but he was starting to feel the effects of his submersion. Sam's limbs were not cooperating in the water, and his brain was going fuzzy. His lungs were in pain, and his throat was clenching from the effort of not opening. But he kept one thought and one though only in the forefront of his mind: Save Dean. And that was enough.
Kick after kick, Sam neared the hole in the ice. He was determined, and the blood flow in his muscles actually felt good. Swimming was much less painful than walking, he decided, and he was thankful that Dan hadn't fallen off a cliff or something like that. Sam watched with screaming lungs and blackened vision as he neared the ice. Yards…Feet….inches…
"HUUUUUUUUUUUHHHHHHHHHHHH! GAAAASSSSPPP!" Sam burst through the hole, sucking in air like there was no tomorrow. He coughed and sputtered and just breathed. He could have rested there forever, his head against the ice, just taking in sweet oxygen, but he knew that there was one person who needed it more than he did.
"Dean!" He coughed out, yelling into the blue and unconscious face of his still silent brother. Sam shook him and slapped his back, trying desperately to get him breathing again from their current position, but when it became apparent that wasn't going to work, Sam wasted no time. Using his massive arms, Sam hauled himself out of the water and Slid Dean out behind him. It was fucking freezing up here, but there must be a God, because the biting wind had stopped.
At least they had that going for them.
Sam had been drilled in CPR since before he could walk, and immediately had Dean on his back and his airway opened. Sam checked for a heartbeat, and let out a small whimper when he found nothing.
"Damnit, Dean. You are one stupid son of a bitch!" Sam yelled. He placed his massive hands one on top of each other and found Dean's sternum beneath his button down. He started chest compression, barely even flinching at the pain and weariness of his own body.
"You-"compression, "Are such," compression, "an ASSHOLE!" compression.
Sam finished the round of thirty and went in for two breaths.
Sam did CPR for about two minutes, alternating between chest compressions and breaths. He was losing hope, but knew that he couldn't stop. Sam was about to slap his brother.
"Wake up, damn you!" Sam screamed into the night. He gave compressions harder and faster, not caring at the bruising his brother was going to have when he woke up...if he woke up.
"If you don't get up right now and call me a bitch, or a sasquatch, or tell me to quit my whining or stop eating rabbit food, I'll…I'll…" Sam sat back on his heels.
What was he going to do?
Kill him?
Sam started to cry. Not little tears of helplessness, or of pain, like he had been since he'd gotten into this whole mess. Real, raindrop tears. They rolled down his face and the last small flame of hope in his body extinguished.
"DEAN!" He cried out, and he slumped forward, wracking sobs coursing through his broken body. In a flash, his pain turned to rage. Rage at the monster, rage at the world, and rage at himself. Sam clenched his hands so tight that his fingernails cut into his palms. With a quick, powerful motion, he brought one first down onto Dean's still chest, pounding with all the force he had. Then, he whacked him with the other.
"DAMMIT!" Sam slumped fully onto the ground, wanting nothing more than to die. His brother was gone, and it was his fault. Sam closed his eyes and spread his arms. He wanted the cold to take him; he wanted to die here with his brother's corpse. He wanted nothing more than to end it all, and give a big Fuck You to Destiny. He didn't care anymore…nothing mattered.
That's when he heard the spluttering coughing and vomiting next to him, a forceful gagging followed by rapid, wheezing breaths. Sam shot up, letting out a hiss when he jarred his hip. He'd almost forgotten about that…
Sam's eyes were round as saucers, despite the red puffiness from crying. "D-Dean?" Sam stared at this older brother, now sitting upright, and coughing up water from his chest cavity. "DEAN?!" Sam grabbed the other cold man's torso, clinging to him for dear life.
"Oh my god, Dean." Sam smiled into his brother's shirt, unable to let go of him despite the older man's protests.
"Jesus H. Christ, Sammy. I'm fine, will you relax? No chick flick moments," Dean sputtered. He gave a few more coughs then winced. His chest was killing him-it felt like he had a broken rib or something. "Hey, Sam?"
"Yah, Dean?" Sam still hadn't lifted his head out of his brother's shoulder.
"I…I thought I heard you…," Dean pulled Sam off to look into his eyes, now puffy from tears of relief. "Did you call me an asshole?"
Sam just laughed.
Dean checked the rearview mirror for the hundredth time that minute and smiled. His brother was sleeping behind him, curled up in the mountain of fleece blankets and hot water bottles. The heat was up to full blast, and thank God Dean had left the car running, or else they both would have frozen to death.
Dean remembered waking up on the ice. It had been cold, dammit. Beyond cold, and water was spewing up his throat. Sam had just stared like an idiot. Recalling the look on Sam's face made Dean chuckle.
Soon after, Sam had passed out. Simply fainted, right there on the ice. Dean couldn't blame the kid. He had obviously been on Death's door when Dean got there, never mind after he jumped into a frozen lake with a broken hip, concussion, and severe blood loss to save his drowned brother. Dean shook his head and sighed. Sam was stupid to jump into the water like that. He could have gotten himself killed.
Dean checked the rearview mirror one more time.
But, then again, Dean was glad he had.
After Sam had swooned like a little girl, Dean had to carry him back up the bank, which was no small feat. Sam isn't exactly a light weight.
Dean couldn't put him in a fireman's carry because of his hip, so he had had to carry him damsel-in-distress style, like a husband carrying his wife over the threshold. Dean had scoffed, but figured that Sam had put aside his heterosexuality to give him mouth-to-mouth; Dean might as well carry him.
Dean, of course, wouldn't admit how absolutely terrified he had been when Sam had swooned and collapsed onto the ice like a bag of potatoes. Dean had pulled himself over, shaking his brother's shoulder, begging him to get up. Dean had been so afraid-afraid that his brother's final act to save Dean would be the death of him. Dean would never recover from the guilt if that had happened.
So instead, Dean had hauled his ass off the ice and carried him the football field's length up rocky terrain to the waiting Impala. True to his word, Dean warmed him up. He stripped them both of the wet clothes and got fresh laundry from their duffels in the backseat. Dean had stood outside of the car, freezing his naked ass off, while he bundled Sam into all the winter clothes they had. Boxers, pants, sweat pants, two layers of socks, mittens, beanies, undershirt, T-Shirt, over shirt, button up, Fleece Sweater, winter coat- Literally, everything. Dean only wore the necessities. He had on Dry socks, mittens, jeans, and a very warm shirt and sweater. He had left the duffels under the heat vent in the car, a very smart move on his part. All the clothes felt fresh out of the dryer.
Of course, there was one problem with that. It warmed Sam up…and all the frozen tissue.
Dean, of course, had to hold Sam down so he didn't hurt himself when the feeling came back to his limbs. Dean knew that Sam had frostbite, though it wasn't as severe as it could have been. Putting the warm clothes on him was definitely good, but it had to hurt like a bitch. Sam had screamed and tried to strip himself, even in his unconsciousness, but Dean had held him firmly. Dean himself had had to put up with the horrible tingling and swelling sensation in his fingers and toes, but he was able to just ignore it. The same could not be said for Mr. Snow Miser in the backseat.
Dean checked the mirror again, smiling at the small snores escaping Sam's fort of blankets. He pulled over slightly and put the car in park. Reaching backwards, Dean pulled aside the edge of the blanket so he could see Sam's face. It was still obviously frozen, but the blue had given way for a bit more pink. Dean nodded, turned around and put the car in gear. About halfway back to town, Dean heard the chattering. Sam was shaking violently, to the point where his muscles were spasming. Dean clenched his teeth, hating the whimpers of his cold baby brother, but knowing that this was a good thing. He was shivering, his body was responding to the cold, and this was way healthier than just sitting there freezing.
Dean was right of course. After about ten more minutes of chattering, the noise died away. At first, Dean panicked, thinking that Sam had stopped breathing or had just died. He swung the car over to the guardrail and launched into the backseat, only to find Sam sleeping peacefully, an actual bright pink creeping into his cheeks from the warmth of the car. Dean calmed himself and continued driving. By the time they hit the motel, Sam was actually sweating from the heat blasting into his face. Dean ran inside, grabbed his emergency duffel, and slipped back into the driver's seat. He searched in the bag and found their fake ID's and health insurance, along with the credit cards.
Dean chuckled quietly to himself, picturing Sam's face when he woke up in a hospital bed. He wouldn't be happy, needless to say. Dean shrugged
"Oh well, Sammy," he murmured. "You need a doctor, and I don't care what you say. You're going to the hospital." Dean took the exit off the interstate, heading for the city. He saw the sign, and nodded. Three more miles to the hospital.
"They're gonna give you shitty food, brother. They probably won't even have any attractive nurses, either. And I'm not sneaking you any pie, either. Pie is for smart people who don't go and get themselves thrown into the middle of nowhere in a snowstorm and force their big brother to save their girly little ass." Dean nervously checked the rearview mirror.
"Those docs will dope you up, and this time I'm gonna get your morphine experience on camera, Sammy boy." Dean's laugh was forced, and he could feel himself waiting for a reply from Sam. He had given him a million opportunities to rip him one, or crack a snazzy comeback. But, of course, none came. There was nothing but the rattle of Legos in the vent and the highway beneath them.
Dean just drove faster.
Meanwhile:
The water dripped off his mangy fur, cascading into the snow. The beast licked at his wounds and snarled thinking of the two hunters. They would die. Soon. And painfully. The monster shook himself off once more, sending water sprinkling in every direction. He gazed back at the hole he had punched into the ice, clawing at the surface to get out of the water. It was a good thing he had stayed in this form, with these powerful muscles and razor sharp claws-otherwise, getting out of the lake would not have been so easy.
The beast clenched his eyes shut and bared its teeth as its skin dripped off, dropping in steaming liquid piles to the snow. He fur and blood oozed off of the form, and bones and muscles began to realign as the monstrosity adapted into another shape.
Only minutes later, a man, naked and feral looking, emerged from the pile of animal flesh that lay melting and moist on the frozen tundra.
He glanced back to the road as he heard the infamous Impala rumble away, no doubt carrying the duo to safety.
His vision went red as he thought of the other human -the one with the spiky hair and funny jacket…Dean, yes, that was his name. He had never met the Winchesters in person, but he could only assume which was which. This Dean had ruined everything. Sam had been his for the taking: wounded, frozen, so beautifully terrified- and then the short one got in the way.
This was not part of the game.
And he NEVER lost the game.
I'm trying to think of a name for our beastie/man, here. Any suggestions? Let me know, and please don't say Larry or something. By the way, yes, he is a shifter, but a special kind. I will elaborate in the next chapter (and also give him/it a name)
PLEASE REVIEW! Did you guys like it? Do you like where I'm going with this? Let me know.! Oh, and MERRY CHRISTMAS! Hopefully, a murdering Santa clause won't come down your chimney like that one time on Supernatural…. ;) Have a great break, everyone! Signing off for now! See you in 2013! 3