SAM

Sam shivered. The insulation in this backwoods cabin was thin and the chill of fall was beginning to permeate the walls. Dean and John were gone on a hunting trip, but Sam was trapped at base camp because of school. Sam argued that he had a long weekend, he could help, please let him come, but the begging was only met with sharp words from John. Dean's lips curled into a frown, but he said nothing. Sometimes Sam got sick of Dean's constant fence-walking. He wished his brother would snap at his father like he did, but it seemed like Dean dealt with him with much more ease.

So here he was, alone, cold, and hungry because none of the food in this place appealed to him and John refused to go shopping or so much as spot him a ten to go to the store himself. "So freaking cold," Sam muttered as he climbed into bed with his book and tugged the blankets to his chin.

He didn't intend to fall asleep, but by the time he woke up, it was dark outside. There was a tap on the window. Sam jumped. A dozen more taps followed behind and Sam realized that it was hailing. He groaned and hugged himself. It was even colder than when he went to sleep and this blanket was not helping. He retrieved Dean's blanket from the bed on the other side of the room, found a sweatshirt to wear over his jacket, and pulled on a second pair of socks. He tried to pretend he wasn't still shivering under all the layers.

He hid his face beneath the blankets and thought of warm things: Florida summers on the beach or hot chocolate in front of the fire. It didn't help.

He resented John for this. If he had taken Sam on this hunting trip, he wouldn't be in this situation.

The hail quieted and when Sam peered out from beneath the covers, he could see snow falling. His entire body was trembling. His teeth chattered, and he clamped his mouth shut. His mind was starting to wander, but even in this feeble state, he knew he should do something. He could get frostbite, fall asleep and not wake up, and then would John be pissed. He fumbled to take his phone out of his pocket and dialed his father.

"What is it?" John answered coldly. Apparently Sam's pleading for a few dollars for food had not yet been forgiven.

"It-It's really c-cold," Sam cringed at his own stuttering.

"Put on a jacket," John snapped.

"I d-did, but-"

"I don't have time for this."

"Please, D-dad. I wouldn't call if I didn't have t-to."

John paused. "We're almost done here."

"Dad-"

"You can wait until tomorrow," he said firmly, "We'll get the heater fixed."

Sam opened his mouth to protest further, but John simply said, "Don't call me if it's not an emergency," and hung up.

Sam cried quietly for a moment, as he often did after phone calls with his father, and allowed the cold to lull him to sleep.

DEAN

Dean didn't like the sound of that phone call. He pretended not to listen as he drank his soda in the passenger seat.

"What is it?" John snapped as soon as he answered the phone. Dean rolled his eyes. He was so over-the-top when it came to Sam. "Put on a jacket," Dean straightened up. Sam was calling about the weather? He looked out the window at the gray sky threatening snow. "I don't have time for this," John was so harsh with Sam, and Sam was so sensitive to it. It was a horrible combination. "We're almost done here. You can wait until tomorrow. We'll get the heater fixed. Don't call me if it's not an emergency," the last sentence dripped with venom.

"What did he say?" Dean asked instantly.

"Complaining," John grumbled, ready to move on.

"About the cold?" Dean pressed. When John ignored him, he took it as a yes. "It's freezing and the heater's out."

"I know that."

"He could get hypothermia."

"Your brother's fine, Dean," John's tone indicated that this was the end of the conversation. Normally, Dean would take the cue, but this was Sam and he wouldn't bother John without reason. "Dad, Sam's in danger. I know it's not monsters, but still."

John stared daggers into him before answering, "We're almost done with this hunt."

"We won't be back until tomorrow. Sam doesn't have a car and the cabin's out in the mountains. What's he supposed to do?"

"He's supposed to manage by himself for a couple nights."

Dean shook his head. "We have to go back."

"We're finishing the hunt and that's final."

"Dad!" Dean rarely raised his voice to John, "Please. We can come back tomorrow."

John was silent as he drove. There was no arguing with him. Dean would take matters into his own hands.

When he parked outside the house they were staking out, Dean didn't hesitate to get out of the car. He ignored John's orders and curses as he walked. It was freezing cold. He zipped up his jacket and tucked his head down until he found a parking lot facing away from the road with a few jalopies on their last legs. He hotwired the one that looked least likely to fall apart and then he was gone.

It was always this shit with John. He acted like he didn't even care about Sam. But Dean would do whatever he had to do, even if that resulted in severe punishment from John, and it surely would. He thought about Sam alone and shivering in the cabin, turned away by his father and not knowing if he would live through the night. Dean called him, but the phone rang to voicemail. "Shit."

The three hour ride felt doubly long and the radio was missing so all Dean had to accompany him was his thoughts. He breathed a sigh of relief when he finally pulled up to the cabin.

"Sam!" he called as he walked in, "God damn. It's a fucking ice box in here," he stomped through the cabin to Sam's room, not bothering to so much as shake the snow off of his boots. When he opened the door to Sam's room, he saw only a lump under blankets. "Sam," he said. Sam didn't move. Panic jumped up his throat. "Sammy!" he raced to the bed, throwing off the covers and found his brother pale and still. He grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled him into his arms, wrapping him fully. "Please, please…" he was breathing. He emitted no body heat, but he was breathing and that was something. "Wake up, Sammy."

A small whimper escaped Sam and Dean could have cried. "It's cold," Sam mumbled.

"I know it is. I'm here now. It's okay. We're gonna get you somewhere warm. Can you hold on?"

Sam slowly nodded.

"Good kid," he picked Sam up in his arms and carried him to the car. It was still idling and even though the car was beat to hell, the heater still worked. He set Sam carefully down like he was glass that might shatter and sat in the driver's seat beside him. His brother sighed softly. "Better?" Dean asked.

"Mhm."

Dean ran a hand through Sam's hair. He looked so small right now. His little brother. He'd do anything to protect him.

"Dean?" Sam said, voice so quiet Dean wouldn't have heard if he weren't listening for the slightest sound.

"What's up?"

"I love you," he said drowsily and smiled.

"I love you too, kiddo."