I KNOW THE UNDERLINES ARE ANNOYING! MY COMPUTER AUTOMATICALLY ADDS THEM FOR SOME REASON! I'VE TRIED TO REMOVE THEM! DOESN'T WORK!
*Here is chapter two as promised, Please Read and Review! Enjoy! The "memory" flashback was actually a story written by Sweetysmart0505, it is being used with her permission!
Disclaimer: The song at the end of this story is not my property, nor are Dean and Sam Winchester, the only thing I'll take credit for is the plot to this particular story, I promise to put'em all back when I'm done!
Enjoy!
"At last" thought Dean Winchester as he pulled into the "Pine Wood Motel". After driving for 16 hours straight Dean was absolutely exhausted he barely had the energy to lug his suitcases into the room. Once he made it into the room he looked around wearily, he had stayed in enough hotels in his lifetime and most of them were, to say the least not very nice. This place wasn't the Ritz-Carlton but it was clean and to be honest comfort was the last thing on his mind as he drifted into a sleep of memories from his past.
"Flashback"
"Dean, I'm cold."
"I know Sammy. Hold on." Dean scurried around the room, worrying constantly that his little brother would freeze.
About two days ago, John had left 12-year-old Dean and 8-year-old Sam behind at a makeshift house in the middle of nowhere to go hunt a potential poltergeist with hunter, and family friend, Bobby Singer. Being in the middle of winter, Dean was worried that the house wouldn't be warm enough, especially since the place had no heater.
It was about 30 years with no one living in it for the last 15. But John had insisted that he would be back soon and had left the brothers standing on the front porch, Sam clutching his brother's hand, wondering where their father was going. Surprisingly, the first night had not been that bad. They had managed to keep warm enough and Dean had kept Sam entertained so he wouldn't get cabin fever. It was the second night that was the trouble.
An hour ago the wind had picked up and the snow had begun to fall, but only 5 minutes ago had it turned into a full-out storm, the worst Dean had ever felt. It was then that Dean really noticed how old the house was. At that point in time, Sammy was huddled, shivering fiercely, under the living room's blankets while Dean did everything he could to keep the cold out. This was the only part of the house that wasn't missing a part of the roof nor had a broken window. But now Dean was using old pieces of wood and torn towels to plug the holes that littered the walls.
"Dean," Sam murmured through clenched teeth.
"Hold on," Dean whispered, shoving a worn yellow towel in the crack under the windowsill. The wind outside was rocking the house, and sleet was covering it, and making it's way into any crevice it could find and breaking its way through any place Dean had already fixed. Finally Dean had to use his own jacket to cover a hold on the wall, only two feet from Sam's head, which had been spraying him with sheets of snow. Dean was left with nothing else, so he joined Sam on the small couch.
"Better?" Dean asked.
Sam shook his frozen head. Dean's protective instincts then reared its head. Lying down, Dean clutched Sam's body close to his own and tucked Sam's head under his chin. Wrapping his legs around Sam, Dean finally pushes Sam forward so he is entirely enveloped between Dean and the couch. His shivering finally quieted before he fell asleep. Dean wasn't so lucky...
The next morning, Sam woke up, began to move around, and noticed his was covered with something. His mind was sluggish, but he finally remembered the night before. Dean was on top of him.
Sam shoved. "Dean, wake up. Ger'off me." Finally getting his arms free, Sam pushes on Dean's chest. Instead of a familiar grunt or a wave of the hand, Dean actually only fell off the couch, making no attempt on his way down to stop himself. "Dean?"
Dean hit the ground, his head smacking against the... snow? Sam looked around the room and noticed that almost everything was covered in a moderate to thick layer of snow. Then looking at Dean, Sam saw his big brother's own body layered with frozen icicles.
"Dean!"
Sam jumped off the couch, feet hitting the snow, and attempted to shake his brother awake. Upon touching Dean's skin, Sam noticed Dean's body felt ice cold. "Dean! Wake up! Please, wake up! Deanie!"
The ground rumbled. Sam took off out the door and encountered John exiting the Impala. "Daddy! Daddy!"
"Sammy? What's wrong? Where's Dean?" John growled, panic filling his chest at his youngest son's tear-stained face.
"Dean's hurt! Daddy!"
"Sam, show me. Now!"
Sam didn't hesitate. He turned around and barreled back into the house. "Deanie!" he shouted on the way.
When John's eyes fell on his oldest boy's face, John literally stopped in his tracks. Dean's skin was actually blue in the morning light. His lips were a pale white, and his skin was sparkling with ice.
"Dean!" Sam shouted again, crying hysterically. This snapped John out of his stupor.
Rushing over to Dean's side, John tried to shake him awake while whispering for a miracle. Dean had a pulse but it was very sluggish.
"Dean, wake up. Son?"
Dean finally moved. His eyelids twitched. "Dean?" Sam whined.
"S- Sammmm." Dean couldn't get his lips to move properly. "Smmmm."
John sighed in relief and began wrapping Dean in his leather jacket before pulling out his phone and dialing the hospital number, which he had made sure to memorize. "My son's in trouble. I'm bringing him to the hospital now. Be ready with warm blankets!" The receptionist on the phone tried to ask him some questions before John slammed the phone shut.
He then picked up Dean, and, with Sam in tow, ran to the car. On the way to the hospital, which John knew its location, he asked, "What happened?"
Sam had been quiet since entering the car, but when John spoke to him, his eyes widen in horror and he began to stammer. "He... I... It was storming. Dean... Dad, it's all my fault!" And that was all Sam would say. John prodded him for more answers, but Sam kept his mouth shut and his eyes on Dean.
Finally they reached the hospital, and John rushed his son inside. "Help! Please help!"
Dean had fallen asleep once more, so he didn't protest when a gurney was brought over and he was rolled away with his family on hit pursuit.
"Sir, what happened?" a doctor tried to ask.
John couldn't get words out. Then Dean was rolled into a room and another doctor announced, "This boy has hypothermia. Let's get him warmed up!"
John almost ran away right then and there. He had been away for two day and his son had gotten hypothermia! He knew it wasn't good. He's heard stories about people dying from hypothermia. Maybe, this wasn't that bad...
Dean was shoved onto a bed in a room. "Get some electric blankets and heat packs!"
Then John was ushered out of the room. John was too speechless to protest. Sammy had followed his father quietly with tears running down his face. He still refused to talk. After ten minutes, the doctor finally came to the pacing John. "Your son had stage 3 hypothermia."
"What does that mean?"
"It means his core body temperature has gone below 89.6 degrees Fahrenheit."
"He's not even shivering!" John barks.
The doctor nods his head, trying to calm down the frantic man in front of him. "When the body reaches that temperature it stops shivering. But he woke up at one point. His speech was slurred and he couldn't make a full sentence. He couldn't move his arms or clench his fist. He also didn't know what happened."
"Amnesia?"
"A sign of stage 3 hypothermia."
"What now," John breathes.
"Well," the doctor began, sweeping a hand over his face. "We start by gradually warm up his body. We'll begin with the electric blankets, but if he doesn't warm up we'll have to inject warmed intravenous right into his body to warm him from the inside."
John nodded. He knew he would need a little time to absorb all this. "Can we see him?" John finally asks.
"He's resting right now. But I can get a nurse to escort you to his room. Nurses will be in there monitoring him 24-7. Please do not jostle him. We hope to avoid an arrhythmia, irregular heart beats, which I'm surprised he hasn't sustained already."
John nodded again and followed a nurse in yellow down the hallway and back to the room where his son had first been sent. When the nurse opened the door, John was struck speechless again. Dean lay there, so small on such a big bed, covered on all sides with blankets, and nurses hovering over him constantly. He felt Sam let go on his hand and move to his brother's side. Finally John joined his son in silence.
John had no essence of time. Everything whirred around him. Nurses came and went.
Dean was prodded and monitored. But there was no change. All John could see was the sun slowly setting out the window. Time moved fast. Then Dean stirred.
"Dean?" Sam whispered, voice hoarse from silence. "Deanie?"
Dean blinked a couple times and tried to turn his head toward his brother's voice, when a nurse stole his attention.
"How are you feeling?" the nurse asked.
"'M l'right," Dean slurs.
"Are you feeling cold?"
"Nnn... I d'know..." Dean crunches his face as he struggles to remember what happened, where he was, and why he was here.
"Can you lift your arm for me?"
Dean's eyes wanders down his body, as if he is trying to find his arm. His eyes then land on his hand and his fingers twitch. After a few moments though he shakes his head weakly and gives up, looking sadly at the nurse.
"It's okay." Briefly addressing John, the nurse said, "I'm going to get the doctor." She was then gone and the family was momentarily alone.
Silence ensued before Sam suddenly whispers. "I'm sorry Dean."
Dean weakly moves his head toward Sam and shakes it. But his brow creases in confusion.
"Dean, do you know what happened?" John asks his son.
"I-" But he couldn't remember.
"Dean, it's my fault!" Sam cries. "I was so cold, and you warmed me up. I'm sorry!"
Finally Dean relaxes, seeming to remember. "No' yer fault, Sm."
"Yes it was!"
"You din't make the strm come. 'S okay Smmy."
Then Dean turns his eyes to John. John knows exactly what his son is saying. He's yelling at him. Screaming at him for being so reckless and leaving Sam and him in a vulnerable position. Dean really was too. He couldn't figure why his dad would leave Sam so unprotected. His brother could have died from the cold. Dean didn't blame his father for his own misfortune, but only that he had put Sam in danger.
John readied for a verbal assault when the doctor walked in.
The doctor looked at the monitor, checked Dean's pulse and temperature, then said, "We'll need to inject him with some warm liquids. He's not warming up fast enough. If he doesn't warm up soon his organs could fail... Nurse go get it, plus get him a warm, sweet drink."
Dean's eyes began to droop and his memory blanks. His body was so numb and Dean desperately wanted his mind to numb as well. But the doctor's gentle shaking woke him again.
"Son, I need you to stay awake to get something to drink." Getting him into an almost sitting position, the doctor tipped a glass to Dean's mouth. He reacted instinctively, slowly swallowing the liquid and allowing it to enter his throat. Suddenly he could feel something. A tiny hand was in his own. Only one person had a hand like that. Drinking about half the sweet drink Dean finally gave Sam's hand a squeeze before he couldn't take it anymore, and he fell back asleep.
The two remaining Winchesters watched Dean sleep. It was only an hour after the IV had been injected right into Dean's body when he began to jerk around. The nurse in the room called the doctor. "It's okay," he assured. "It's a good sign. He's shivering. It means he's getting some feeling back."
It comforted John only a little as the night wore on and Dean's shivering got worse. Sam cried once when Dean yelled in pain. The numbness was slowly subsiding and the frostbitten coldness he had felt began to seep in. Sam's heart broke. Even at the age of 8, Sam knew his brother was in trouble, and he knew there was a possibility Dean wouldn't make it. Somehow he knew the possibilities.
As sunlight broke threw the window, Dean body finally collapsed in exhaustion. He had shivered his way through 6 hours, waking up in intervals. The doctor was there the whole time. Sometimes he gave Dean some IV or a warm drink, constantly checking and recording his progress.
After collapsing, Sam squeezed Dean's hand, unsure if he was even alive now. Dean reacts to the warmth in his hand and his eyes open. "Sam?" Dean asks quite clearly.
The doctor smiled. "Your brother's going to be just fine," he finally announced. Relief flooded the room.
The whole time that Dean was in the hospital for recovery, Sam never left his side, and he adamantly refused to let go of his brother's hand. Dean had assured the whole time that it wasn't Sam's fault. "I would have done it regardless," Dean says. "I wouldn't have let you freeze, Sammy. I promise."
Finally, two days later, he was released. The small family exits the hospital, Dean gripping his brother's hand tighter than ever. John had previously packed all their stuff, so when they entered the car, they quickly put the town in their rearview mirror, pushing that awful memory to the back of their mind.
But Dean was consistent. Over the years, Dean kept his promise. Time and time again Dean protected Sam from the ailments of life, and doing so with a smile on his face. Nothing was going to get his baby brother. Not while Dean Winchester was around. Not even the harsh cold of the wilderness. He would forever make sure of it... even at his own expense, or so he had thought, life had become just too complicated for Dean.
"End Flashback"
Dean awoke in a cold sweat, he glanced at the bedside clock and groaned, it read "5:30 AM." "Well time to get a move on" he thought. He hopped out of bed, took a shower, then ran downstairs to grab a bagel from the continental breakfast. After all was accomplished it was 6 AM.
He ran the keys for the room back to the clerk, put his luggage in the impala and opened the map. In the 16 hours of driving he had done from Hague, Pennsylvania he had made it to Camisen, Iowa. He planned on making it to Wyoming by nightfall. "Well, better get a move on." he thought as he pulled out into the road.
Still in Hague, Pennsylvania
"Dad why would he leave us?" asked Sam Winchester, the reality of the situation only now beginning to come to light for the youngest Winchester, "More importantly" Sam thought "How could he leave me?" Sure the brother's have had their differences it was only natural that they argue, but this?
"I don't know son, I just don't know" replied John Winchester, he was sitting in the kitchen area of the motel they were staying at. He couldn't believe Dean would do this, he wasn't angry. Hell, there'd been times when he would've just liked to call it quits, but he couldn't too much depended on it. He feared for his sons' safety that's why he'd been making the training sessions more intense, he figured that Dean would understand and he was only now beginning to realize how wrong he was.
He was sitting with his head in his hands trying to figure out what to do next, huh who'd ever thought that John Winchester would be in this position, all of his life he'd been doing the leaving, he realized that his ignorance had cost him his son.
"Dad" Sam's Voice brought him out of his reverie. "What are we gonna do?"
It didn't take John more then 2 seconds to respond. "We're going to get your brother back Sam, I promise you." He hoped that he was telling Sam the truth, and it wasn't another one of his famous "never gonna happen" lies. He sat silently contemplating. He didn't even know where to start looking. "Well, suppose it's time to call Bobby, right Sam?"
He didn't even have to ask Sam to make the call, for when he looked over at his youngest son Sam already had the phone in his hand and he was dialing the number. "Bobby, it's Sam We need your help."
John listened to the rest of Sam and Bobby's phone call, well most of it. He was thinking, "if we find Dean, how do I convince him that we need him, … that I need him, I'd give up the hunt any day for that boy, I wish he'd realize that!"
Back With Dean:
Dean was driving down the interstate, tapping his fingers in tune to the music, he didn't even know the song but it was loud enough to try to drown out the sound of his thought's, he tried to focus on everything and anything that didn't revolve around his father or Sam. "Son of Bitch" he cursed aloud.
No matter how hard he tried to keep the thoughts out of his head they kept coming, the memories. He pulled to the side of the road, if he was to continue driving he would need to compose himself. He looked in the rear-view mirror half expecting to see Sam looking up expectantly at him from the back-seat "What's that matter Dean? Don't you love me anymore?" the image asked.
"This is so fucking ridiculous!" he punched the steering wheel in frustration. "It seems the farther I get away from them, the more it hurts, I don't know what's right anymore. Why!!! Why did you do this to me Dad?" he said aloud all the while knowing that as usual his father wasn't there to answer.
One thing, I don't know why
It doesn't even matter how hard you try
Keep that in mind , I designed this rhyme
To explain in due time
All I know
time is a valuable thing
Watch it fly by as the pendulum swings
Watch it count down to the end of the day
The clock ticks life away
It's so unreal
Didn't look out below
Watch the time go right out the window
Trying to hold on , but didn't even know
Wasted it all just to
Watch you go
I kept everything inside and even though I tried , it all fell apart
What it meant to me , will eventually , be a memory , of a time when I tried so hard
And got so far
But in the end
It doesn't even matter
I had to fall
To lose it all
But in the end
It doesn't even matter
One thing , I don't know why
It doesn't even matter how hard you try
Keep that in mind ,I designed this rhyme
To remind myself how
I tried so hard
In spite of the way you were mocking me
Acting like I was part of your property
Remembering all the times you fought with me
I'm surprised it got so far
Things aren't the way they were before
You wouldn't even recognize me anymore
Not that you knew me back then
But it all comes back to me
In the end