Author's Note: Our next prompt comes from reannablue who asked for, "Wondering if Sam hits the ditch on the icy roads while out doing something profoundly Christmasy for he and Dean." Wonder no more! Thank you so much for this awesome prompt. Let's set this in season eight. I hope you enjoy!
"I'm dreaming of a white Christmas
Just like the ones I used to know
Where the treetops glisten and children listen
To hear sleigh bells in the snow."
—Bing Crosby, "White Christmas"
In hindsight, Sam probably shouldn't have done this.
"Dean is going to kill you," Charlie whispers from her shotgun seat, her eyes widen and tinged with fear. "And then he'll totally kill me next. For lending you the car. And you know, lying." She winces. "And letting you drive, are you sure you want to drive because I can—"
Sam manages a shaky smile for the panicked redhead, despite the fact that he feels like he's burning up in this car even though it's below freezing outside. It's taking all his strength not to turn on the air conditioner.
"I'm good, Charlie." He tells her because he does actually feel good. Sure, he's not healthy—not by a long shot—but his grip on the wheel is steady and his vision is clear. That's pretty close to healthy, right?
"Okay, good, because I'm letting Dean get you first while I run away." She chuckles darkly and Sam finds himself laughing along.
Dean will be pissed, no doubt about that. In fact, Sam is expecting an angry phone call from said pissed off older brother any second now. Dean will be back at the bunker soon and he will notice that Sam is gone, along with Charlie's car and he would put the pieces together pretty quickly.
"He's going to kill me." Charlie repeats. "Probably painfully. No, most definitely painfully." She turns to look at him, lips pouting. "This is a really bad idea. We should turn around."
"You said you needed to get Dean a Christmas present too." Sam reminds her calmly.
"Hello, have you met the internet? Amazon Prime is my best friend—"
"What I want you can't get on Amazon." Sam explains calmly.
"Then, what is it?" She presses and he laughs again. She's so much like a child, pestering him with questions, and singing along with the music after she hijacks the radio—she's the little sister he didn't even know he wanted.
"You'll see," He winks at her. "Now, just relax."
"Sure," She murmured, shaking her head. "Easy for you to say. He's probably not going to kill you right away cause you're still sick—"
As soon as the words are out of her mouth, Sam can tell that she wishes she could take them.
"It's okay," He tells her quickly, "I know you didn't mean anything by it."
The fact of the matter is that he is sick. Sure, his illness is supernatural in nature, but that doesn't mean that he isn't affected by the illness. He can barely shoot straight sometimes and when his fever spikes, Sam sees things—bad things—and through it all, Dean is by his side.
Dean needs a break.
Hence the present.
"So, what are you getting?" Charlie changes topics and Sam grins.
"Well, it's actually food. This town makes the best—"
In hindsight, he'll recall the exact moment when the wheels loose traction and the car begins to skid. He'll remember Charlie's shriek and the way she grips his shoulder, trying to shield him from the impact that comes right after.
In hindsight, Sam probably shouldn't have done this.
"Sam?"
He blinks awake and immediately is overwhelmed by a sharp pain exploding in his temple. He groans and shuts his eyes.
"Sam, please, get up."
It's the fear and urgency in Charlie's voice that stirs something within him. With a groan, he opens his eyes once more and pushes himself up, wincing as his breath leaves him from what must be a cracked rib.
Charlie is bleeding from her head and that springs Sam into action. He reaches for her and she shakes her head instead and insists, "It's nothing. Can you walk?"
"You're bleeding." He feels the need to point out and Charlie huffs out a dark chuckle.
"You're the one who got thrown through the windshield." She points out and Sam follows her gaze towards the totaled car and he sees the shattered glass on the snow. "Can you get up? Help should, I hope, be coming."
"Dean will come." Sam reassures her because he knows his brother, knows that Dean will have already tracked his GPS signal and it's only a matter of time until he's here.
"Sam, open your eyes!" Charlie interjects and Sam does so.
Funny, he hadn't even known that he had shut them.
"Charlie, s'okay." His words are slurring now and he should be worried, but he's tired and he wants to sleep. Charlie is a big girl, right? She could take care of herself, just for a little bit, right?
"Sam, please—"
But he can't hear anymore after that.
Just darkness.
When he wakes up the second time, it's the to the steady beeping of monitors and to the smell of sterile sanitizers. The bright fluorescent lights buzz above him, blinding him as he blinks a few times, trying to clear his vision.
"Sammy?"
He turns his head to the side and meet's those familiar green eyes.
"Hey, Dean."
Dean chuckles a bit, his voice hoarse.
"Sam, I . . ." He swallows a bit, trying to gather his thoughts in order.
That's when Sam remembers—the wreck, the pain and Charlie!
"Charlie!" He sits up quickly and Dean is up and by his side, easing him back down.
"She's fine, Sam," Dean assures him. "Banged her head up a bit, but the doc gave her a bandage and says she's all good."
"She was bleeding," Sam continues urgently. "You have to make sure she gets a CT scan or—"
"Sammy, breathe," Dean soothes in a calm, steady voice. "You're going to make the monitor go nuts and get the nurses in here." Dean places a hand on Sam's chest, directly over his heart. "Breathe."
Sam does so, forces himself to take deliberately slow breaths, trying to calm his racing mind.
"Focus on you." Dean orders quietly. "You cracked three ribs, had to get stiches for two bad cuts on your arms—"
"I'm fine." Sam replies through gritted teeth.
"You took off on me, Sammy," Dean continues. "You wrecked Charlie's car—"
"It was an ice patch. I didn't—"
"React fast enough." His brother completes softly. "Sam, look, I know you don't want to admit it, but you're sick man and being sick doesn't mean you're—"
"I'm useless." Sam completes.
Dean's eyebrows raise, "I didn't say that."
"You implied it."
There's silence for a few minutes.
"Sam," Dean takes a seat in the chair and grins at his brother. "When you were a kid, like three or something, you got the flu, really bad." He runs a hand through his hair. "Dad was on a hunt so we were with Bobby and he didn't realize you were sick until you collapsed." Dean beams. "You were so determined to be fine that you played twice as hard, ran around twice as fast and basically, exhausted yourself."
Sam's brows furrow as he tries to recall this too distant memory. Everything is hazy though and he can't remember anything. It sounds like him though, he'll begrudgingly admit.
"You were in bed for three days, absolutely miserable." Dean continues. "But you got better."
"So, what?" Sam ventures. "I need to stay in bed and I'll get better? Dean, until the Trials are done—"
"You're stubborn, Sam," Dean interjects. "You've always been like that, but I need you to not fight me on this anymore. You're sick, okay? You're not useless. Just let me take care of you until we figure out the next trial—"
"I just want things to be like they were." Sam confesses softly.
The words hang in the air for a few moments.
"I know, Sammy."
But things aren't like they were.
Sam is sick, Dean is running himself ragged, and Charlie was almost collateral damage.
"Knock knock?" Charlie stands in the doorway, a bandage wrapped around her forehead. "Can I come in?"
"Of course." Sam tells her and the redhead enters the room, a tired grin on her lips. "Are you—?"
"Merry Christmas, bitches." She smirks, revealing a small, carefully wrapped present in her hands.
"Charlie, what—?"
"Just don't worry about it." She takes a seat on the edge of Sam's bed and grins. "It's almost Christmas."
"We'll open it back at the bunker." Dean announces and Sam nods his head.
They sit there in comfortable silence, the trio of siblings, this makeshift family. Sure, they have problems to face—fixing Charlie's car, figuring out the Trials, stopping the bad guys.
But in this moment, all that matters is Dean's hand on his wrist, is Charlie's steady voice as she recounts the pitfalls of finding a good gift in a hospital.
They're family, Sam realizes.
And together, they'll get through this.
Author's Note: I love writing family feels a bit too much, I think. Anyways, I hope you guys enjoyed! Please review if you have a moment. Thanks!