SPN_J2_Xmas Exchange fic: The Cabin in the Woods
Title: The Cabin in the Woods
Author: mamapranayama
Recipient: purplehrdwonder
Genre: Gen
Category: Hurt!/sick!Sam, awesome!/protective!Dean, teen!chesters
Word Count: 6,945
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Being stuck in a cabin in the dead of winter with a sick brother while their dad went off on a hunt without them wasn't Dean's idea of a good time.
For purplehrdwonder: This fic may not fit in with your prompts, but I tried to include as many of the likes you listed such as brotherly banter, protective!Dean, hurt!Sam and general Winchester awesomeness. I hope this fits with what you were asking for this Christmas and I hope you have a wonderful holiday! :)
The Cabin in the Woods
Dad said three days, but Dean knew better than to believe he’d be back that soon. He watched the Impala pull away from the cabin, feeling a rush of guilt in not joining his father on the hunt, but Sam wasn’t feeling well and had a fever, so really … Dean had no choice but to stay behind and ply his sibling with Tylenol and chicken noodle soup until Dad got back.
He could only pray that Dad would be alright on his own.
Dean let go of the flimsy curtain that covered the frosted window, shutting out the bright white flakes of snow that had started falling that morning and the fading, red taillights of the black car.
With a sigh, Dean walked over to the cold fireplace and tossed in a couple of the logs sitting beside it. He pulled off a page of the newspaper sitting on the coffee table then crumpled it up and shoved the ball under the wood before pulling out his lighter and setting the paper alight. He watched it burn for a few moments until the wood also caught on fire and a healthy blaze was going. He might not get to snuff out any ghosts by setting their bones on fire with his father that weekend, but at least this fire would keep the cabin somewhat warm as the snow piled up outside.
Dean zipped up his winter coat before holding his hands up to the warmth of the fire. Even with the blaze eating up the wood in the fireplace, it was still chilly enough in the ramshackle cabin for Dean to worry about permanent shrinkage. There wasn’t exactly central heating in there -- Hell, there wasn’t even electricity since the place appeared to be abandoned since the Victorian era and running, hot water was only a fantasy Dean could only dream about. The place didn’t even have a bathroom, just an outhouse ‘round back that reeked worse than death and left splinters on his ass whenever he had to sit down on the simple wooden plank with a hole cut out of it. Everything else about the cabin was equally decrepit and miserable, but with funds running low and at least another week to go before they could pick up some new credit cards, they would have to make do with the crappy place.
They wouldn’t have had to stay in the cabin at all if Sam hadn’t gotten sick. They could have taken off with their father, given him some back-up on the hunt, and slept in the car if they couldn’t afford a place to stay, but noooo … Sammy’s got a tummy ache and Dad didn’t want him being a liability on the hunt.
So, there he sits … doing nothing but freezing his nuts off and cleaning up after his brother’s vomit.
Yippee … Thanks, Sam … Thanks oh so much!
Okay … to be fair, Sam was a veritable puke factory since last he got up that morning and he looked a bit like the grim reaper ran him over with a Mack truck. He felt a little sorry for the kid despite the fact that it was his fault they were stuck in this shack. Dean even tried to curb his bitching when Sam woke up a couple of hours later with a pitiful moan, sat up, then promptly up-chucked all over his sleeping bag.
So much for not bitching …
Sam gagged and heaved; the first round of puke apparently not enough to ease his ailing stomach. After an eternity, Sam finally sat shaking in his spot, pale-faced, hunched over with an arm wrapped around his middle, breathing heavily, and sweating despite the cold.
“Jesus, Sam -“Dean exclaimed at the stench of the mess covering his brother’s lap. He loved his brother - he really did … but that smell… God, it was hard not to gag and sympathetically vomit himself. Dean pushed aside his revulsion and came to his brother’s side, patting Sam’s back, “Ya done?”
Sam nodded miserably, his mouth open as he tried to catch his breath.
“C’mon … let’s get you out of that thing and clean ya up, huh?”
“S-sorry … waited too long. Should’ve gotten up sooner and gone to the bathroom.”
“You must be delirious … there’s no bathroom here, remember?”
“Oh yeah … forgot this placed sucked ass there for a sec.”
Sam fumbled with the zipper of his soiled sleeping bag, but Dean jumped in and batted his hand away, zipping it down for him. Sam shimmied out from the warmth of the bag. Dressed in only a t-shirt and boxers, he sat shivering as the cold air in the cabin hit his bare skin.
Sam’s teeth chattered and Dean took a little pity on his freezing brother, pulling his own sleeping bag towards him, “Go on ... use mine.”
“Where will you sleep tonight?”
“Dad left his sleeping bag. I’ll just use his.”
Sam nodded gratefully and climbed into Dean’s bag, immediately curling into a ball and pulling the warmth of the bag around himself before closing his eyes with another groan of misery.
Without any running water or a Laundromat nearby, Dean decided it was best to just fold up the stinky sleeping bag and toss it outside so it wouldn’t stink up the cabin any further and make Sam’s nausea any worse. The last thing they needed was his brother to start puking again.
Dean opened the door and was hit by a blast of cold wind, blowing snow and a painful, bright white light that seared his retinas. He couldn’t see any of the trees he knew were surrounding them and it seemed as though the depth of the snow had grown exponentially in just the short time since his father drove away from them. Dean chucked the blanket outside then pushed the door shut against the wind.
He crossed the room and headed back to Sam who had his eyes closed, but was far from sleeping peacefully. Dean crouched and touched the back of his hand to Sam’s forehead. It really was an unnecessary gesture since Dean could already feel the heat coming off his brother just by being near him, but Sam leaned into the touch and opened his fever-blurred eyes, looking up into Dean’s face.
“So, Dad left already?” Sam asked.
“Yeah … he’ll be back in a few days.”
Sam sighed, closed his eyes and groused sarcastic, “Wonderful … three days stuck in here with you. How fun.”
“And you think watching you liberate your lunch is a blast for me?”
“M’sorry my stomach bug is cramping your style.”
Dean didn’t respond with the quip he had sitting on the tip of his tongue, instead he got up and headed for his pack and the bottle of Tylenol he had stashed in there. He also grabbed a bottle of water from the supplies their father had left for them and a rusty metal bucket that was probably as old as the cabin and walked back over to Sam. He shook out a couple of pills and handed them along with the water to his brother.
Sam looked forlornly at the water and pills, “I don’t think I can keep them down.” He informed Dean as he eyed the bucket with a slightly green faced frown.
“Just try … it’ll help you feel better and we can’t let you get dehydrated.”
Sam rolled over onto his elbow and sat up enough to take the pills and swallow a little water before handing the bottle back to Dean.
“There - that wasn’t so bad, was it?”
Sam rolled his eyes then lay back down, pulling the sleeping bag tight around his shoulders again, “You got your g-gun handy?” Sam asked while his teeth clattered together.
“Why?”
“So you can just sh-shoot me and put me out of my m-misery.”
“Hardy-har, Sam.” Dean snorted, letting a comforting hand rest on Sam’s shoulder, “Go back to sleep, bitch.”
Dean watched Sam shut his eyes and try to sleep, though he could tell that it wasn’t coming easily. He shifted and turned his back to Dean, curling into a tight ball with a rumbling moan and a visible shiver.
Sam suddenly sat up with that look on his face that warned Dean of what was going to happen next. At least this time he was prepared and had the bucket ready as Sam gracelessly hocked up the pills and water he had just choked down.
Shit … Sam was right about not being able to even keep the water down and this latest display of his stomach turning inside out had Dean worried that this might be something more than just the flu.
Sighing to himself, Dean ran a hand through his hair, feeling a little lost in the tiny cabin in which their father had left them. He had half a mind to call him and demand his return, but he knew what his Dad’s response would be: ‘people are in danger, Dean’ he would say, ‘they need me.’
Well … sometimes we need you too, Dean thought.
OoOoOoOo
Sam didn’t really sleep.
He was tired … oh so tired, but the pain was getting worse and not sleeping through it was getting considerably harder as day slid into night.
It hadn’t been that bad when he woke up that morning. I was just a bad stomach ache, probably brought on by the weird tacos Dad bought them for dinner the other day or a maybe stomach virus. Even after his first bout of nausea and vomiting, it hadn’t been too bad, but steadily throughout the day, his stomach felt like it was twisting inside out while a sharp, stabbing pain ripped through his abdomen, boring through his gut all the way down to his spine like a power auger digging a hole into concrete.
Sam opened his eyes to darkness. The faint crackle and pop of the fire burning across the room mingled with the sounds of Dean’s even, yet snoring breath next to him. Even though he and Dean had moved their sleeping bags closer to the fire to keep warm, he shivered as electric chills zapped through his muscles and forced him to curl in further into the bag, pulling it across his shoulders as tightly as possible.
The simple act of rolling over sent his stomach into spins and turns once more and nausea assailed him, causing his mouth to fill with saliva. He tried to breathe through it, to push it away, to not give into to another session of heaving.
God … he was so suck of puking.
He was pretty sure that Dean was getting annoyed by all of his upheavals as well since he was saddled the task of cleaning up after him. And he really felt bad for Dean - having to watch over a vomiting brother when he would rather be hunting with Dad probably wasn’t what he had been expecting to do for fun that week, but Sam really couldn’t help it and he certainly wouldn’t mind it if he didn’t have to gack anymore either.
Breathing wasn’t helping to quell the riot in his stomach into submission and he was hit again by a wave of nausea that left him hyperventilating as he squeezed his eyes shut and gripped the edge of his pillow tight with his fingers.
There was little he could do to hold it back anymore and he was gonna need that damned bucket again.
Sam used shaking fingers to unzip the sleeping bag enough for him to roll out of it and crawl over to the bucket on his hands and knees, making it the two feet just in time to feel his abdominal muscles clench and get sick into it. Bile and acid burned his throat and nose as it all come up in an uncontrollable burst and the smell did nothing but cause him to heave even harder.
The upheaval soon ended, but the pain only grew and became all encompassing. Sam folded in on himself, gripping the edges of the bucket tightly and bright, neon spots floated across his vision. It was only belatedly that he realized that he was holding his breath, but as he sucked in some much needed air, the sensation of having a knife driven into his gut and twisting stole it away again.
Sam slid to the floor and curled up fetal style, shaking and quivering. His attention narrowed. All that mattered was making the pain go away, but no matter what he did, no matter how hard his arms wrapped around his stomach or how much he cried and let the tears flow from his eyes, or groaned out loud, the agony was unrelenting and would never let him go. This had to stop …
Make it go away.
Stop, stop, stop!
“Dean -“Sam choked out, his voice coming out in pitiful whimper as he called out to his sleeping brother for help.
Make it stop, make it stop …
OoOoOoOo
Rhonda hitched up her short skirt and reached underneath, bending a little as she pulled her bright, hot pink, satin panties down, lifting one leg and then the other to free them completely from her legs.
She held them up with a seductive smile then twirled them on her finger, “You like?” She asked.
“Oh yeaahh…” He grinned widely in anticipation.
She raised an eyebrow, a devilish, coy smile spreading across her face, “If you really like them, why don’t you try them on?”
He stopped short and gaped at her, unprepared for her suggestion. She walked towards him with the panties still dangling from her fingers before she pulled at the elastic band with both hands, “Don’t worry … they stretch.”
“Uh …”
“C’mon … just -“Suddenly Rhonda froze and she sniffed the air, “Oh God … what is that smell?”
Dean smelled it too and it definitely did nothing to enhance the mood.
“Shit … is that … you?” She asked.
“What? … no … it’s not me …”
“Uck …gross ” She exclaimed while making a thoroughly disgusted face and sharply turning on her four inch heels. She swiftly began to walk away without looking back.
“Wait … it’s not me …” She watched her disappear into a misty fog, “I’ll wear the panties,” he added weakly, even though she was too far away to hear him.
His shoulders sagged.
Sonofabitch …
“Dean -“
“Rhonda?”
“Dean -“
Definitely not Rhonda … she never moaned like that and she sounded and awful lot like …
“Sam?”
Dean opened his eyes, the last vestiges of his dream floating away with the cobwebs in his head. He turned towards the sound of the moaning and was hit with the smell of sickness that had been powerful enough to invade his dream. He didn’t hear an answer, but he didn’t need one either as his eyes adjusted to the dark and made out the shape of his little brother huddled on the floor, his face a mask of pain.
Dean was out of the sleeping bag and by Sam’s side in the next heartbeat. Sam was pale, shaking and crying unlike he had ever seen him before, and that was saying a lot given the number of times he had broken a bone or been tossed around by an angry spirit. Sweat matted his hair to his forehead, but he shivered as though he were freezing as he curled up into a small ball.
“Sammy … what’s going on?” Dean asked even though it was pretty obvious that Sam’s ‘flu’ had turned into something much more.
Sam grabbed Dean’s sleeve in a tight grip like a man hanging from a cliff, “God … make it stop … please. I can’t take this anymore.”
Dean didn’t have a clue what to do other than put his hand on Sam’s forehead. Shit … Sam was burning with fever. Dean ran through a list of things that could do this to his brother and none of them were good - appendicitis? E-coli … he just didn’t know, but one thing was certain - Sam was in pain and he couldn’t do a damn thing about it.
“Okay, Sammy. Listen, I’m gonna call Dad.” Dean assured Sam, desperate to hide the panic that was building in his chest from being expressed in his voice.
Sam opened his eyes and met Dean with a fever-glazed glare, gripping his sleeve even harder, “N-no … Dad’s too far … hos - hospital.” He gasped.
Dean could not remember a time his brother ever begged to go to a hospital and this sent his anxiety skyrocketing like the space shuttle at take- off. This was bad … very, very bad … worse than bad … this was life or dea -
Shut up Dean … call an ambulance already.
“Hold on, kiddo. I’m gonna get you some help. You just hold on, okay?”
Sam wasn’t really listening as his face twisted into a grimace and he moaned louder and tried to turn his body into an even tighter ball than it already was.
Dean reached into his pocket for his cell phone and flipped it open. He dialed 911 and held the phone up to his ear and waited for someone to pick up, but heard nothing.
He pulled the phone away from his ear and swore under his breath.
The display flashed ‘no service’.
Standing, Dean moved about the cabin, hoping for even one bar of service so he could make a call and get Sam some help, because God only knew that he didn’t know what else to do.
No matter where he went in the cabin, the phone remained stubbornly useless.
“Sammy?” Dean asked as he knelt next to his brother and pulled his sleeping blanket back towards him, “Think you can get back in the covers? I’m gonna go outside and see if I can get a signal, okay?”
Sam whimpered, but nodded, allowing Dean to help him back into the sleeping bag, nearly reduced to tears again as he curled up and Dean zipped him in.
Dean patted Sam’s shoulder, “Hang tight. I’ll be right back.”
Heading for the door, Dean heard the howl of the wind outside and he knew before he even opened the door that the weather had taken a drastic turn for the worse. Sure enough, the wind and snow nearly knocked him to his ass when he opened the door and he had to push hard to shove the pile of snow that had been blown against it.
The snow drift blocking his way had to be at least four feet deep and though it was dark, there was enough ambient light for him to see that they had been practically buried inside the cabin.
Dean ventured out with phone in hand. He had to climb out of the small clearing of snow he had made between the door and the outside world, but with the snow coming up to his knees at the lowest spots, he wasn’t able to venture very far. Yet still, Dean wandered around, continuing his search for a cell signal that was quickly becoming a lesson in futility. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that the snow storm must have knocked out the cell towers nearest to them. Not that there was really any near them to begin with and reception had been spotty at best.
Dean returned to the cabin to review what their options were. Without a working phone, he’d need a way to contact someone. Unfortunately, the closest thing to civilization was an old, gas station two miles out from the cabin, but with the snow storm quickly becoming a blizzard, getting there was going to be a problem.
His legs were nearly numb as the snow soaked into his jeans, but he paid the discomfort no mind as he stomped back into the cabin and headed to Sam.
Sam was pretty much in the same position he had left him, curled up in a fetal position and making noises of pain that cut through Dean like a dull knife.
No phone, miles from nowhere and his little brother in such pain that when Dean grabbed his hand, Sam squeezed back with crushing strength that spoke of just how bad off he was. What was he supposed to do?
There was only one thing he could do and he didn’t like it one bit and he was sure Sam wouldn’t either.
“Sam … I’m gonna find help, okay?”
Sam turned onto his back and looked up at Dean with glazed eyes, “What? You’re leaving?”
“I can’t get the phone to work, but there’s a gas station on the highway that should have one.”
Sam shook his head, “But the storm … it’s bad, isn’t it?”
“Nah ... it’s just snowing some.” Dean lied and Sam didn’t look at all convinced. Even sick as he was, he wasn’t deaf and he was just as able to ear the walls of the cabin shake with the force of the wind.
“Bullshit. Don’t go … I’ll be okay until things clear up.” Sam insisted. Dean really wanted to believe that, but Sam’s pale, clammy skin, shaking hands, and lines of jaw-gritting pain on his face only reaffirmed his decision to find help.
“I promise I won’t be gone long. It’s only a couple of miles.”
Not willing to be mollified by Dean’s reassurances, Sam kept shaking his head, “Dean … don’t … don’t go out there.”
Dean met Sam’s eyes and saw the pleading, unspoken words behind his fear.
Please don’t leave me.
But Dean’s mind was set. He was getting help for his brother and a little snow wasn’t about to stop him.
Part 2
Author: mamapranayama
Recipient: purplehrdwonder
Genre: Gen
Category: Hurt!/sick!Sam, awesome!/protective!Dean, teen!chesters
Word Count: 6,945
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Being stuck in a cabin in the dead of winter with a sick brother while their dad went off on a hunt without them wasn't Dean's idea of a good time.
For purplehrdwonder: This fic may not fit in with your prompts, but I tried to include as many of the likes you listed such as brotherly banter, protective!Dean, hurt!Sam and general Winchester awesomeness. I hope this fits with what you were asking for this Christmas and I hope you have a wonderful holiday! :)
The Cabin in the Woods
Dad said three days, but Dean knew better than to believe he’d be back that soon. He watched the Impala pull away from the cabin, feeling a rush of guilt in not joining his father on the hunt, but Sam wasn’t feeling well and had a fever, so really … Dean had no choice but to stay behind and ply his sibling with Tylenol and chicken noodle soup until Dad got back.
He could only pray that Dad would be alright on his own.
Dean let go of the flimsy curtain that covered the frosted window, shutting out the bright white flakes of snow that had started falling that morning and the fading, red taillights of the black car.
With a sigh, Dean walked over to the cold fireplace and tossed in a couple of the logs sitting beside it. He pulled off a page of the newspaper sitting on the coffee table then crumpled it up and shoved the ball under the wood before pulling out his lighter and setting the paper alight. He watched it burn for a few moments until the wood also caught on fire and a healthy blaze was going. He might not get to snuff out any ghosts by setting their bones on fire with his father that weekend, but at least this fire would keep the cabin somewhat warm as the snow piled up outside.
Dean zipped up his winter coat before holding his hands up to the warmth of the fire. Even with the blaze eating up the wood in the fireplace, it was still chilly enough in the ramshackle cabin for Dean to worry about permanent shrinkage. There wasn’t exactly central heating in there -- Hell, there wasn’t even electricity since the place appeared to be abandoned since the Victorian era and running, hot water was only a fantasy Dean could only dream about. The place didn’t even have a bathroom, just an outhouse ‘round back that reeked worse than death and left splinters on his ass whenever he had to sit down on the simple wooden plank with a hole cut out of it. Everything else about the cabin was equally decrepit and miserable, but with funds running low and at least another week to go before they could pick up some new credit cards, they would have to make do with the crappy place.
They wouldn’t have had to stay in the cabin at all if Sam hadn’t gotten sick. They could have taken off with their father, given him some back-up on the hunt, and slept in the car if they couldn’t afford a place to stay, but noooo … Sammy’s got a tummy ache and Dad didn’t want him being a liability on the hunt.
So, there he sits … doing nothing but freezing his nuts off and cleaning up after his brother’s vomit.
Yippee … Thanks, Sam … Thanks oh so much!
Okay … to be fair, Sam was a veritable puke factory since last he got up that morning and he looked a bit like the grim reaper ran him over with a Mack truck. He felt a little sorry for the kid despite the fact that it was his fault they were stuck in this shack. Dean even tried to curb his bitching when Sam woke up a couple of hours later with a pitiful moan, sat up, then promptly up-chucked all over his sleeping bag.
So much for not bitching …
Sam gagged and heaved; the first round of puke apparently not enough to ease his ailing stomach. After an eternity, Sam finally sat shaking in his spot, pale-faced, hunched over with an arm wrapped around his middle, breathing heavily, and sweating despite the cold.
“Jesus, Sam -“Dean exclaimed at the stench of the mess covering his brother’s lap. He loved his brother - he really did … but that smell… God, it was hard not to gag and sympathetically vomit himself. Dean pushed aside his revulsion and came to his brother’s side, patting Sam’s back, “Ya done?”
Sam nodded miserably, his mouth open as he tried to catch his breath.
“C’mon … let’s get you out of that thing and clean ya up, huh?”
“S-sorry … waited too long. Should’ve gotten up sooner and gone to the bathroom.”
“You must be delirious … there’s no bathroom here, remember?”
“Oh yeah … forgot this placed sucked ass there for a sec.”
Sam fumbled with the zipper of his soiled sleeping bag, but Dean jumped in and batted his hand away, zipping it down for him. Sam shimmied out from the warmth of the bag. Dressed in only a t-shirt and boxers, he sat shivering as the cold air in the cabin hit his bare skin.
Sam’s teeth chattered and Dean took a little pity on his freezing brother, pulling his own sleeping bag towards him, “Go on ... use mine.”
“Where will you sleep tonight?”
“Dad left his sleeping bag. I’ll just use his.”
Sam nodded gratefully and climbed into Dean’s bag, immediately curling into a ball and pulling the warmth of the bag around himself before closing his eyes with another groan of misery.
Without any running water or a Laundromat nearby, Dean decided it was best to just fold up the stinky sleeping bag and toss it outside so it wouldn’t stink up the cabin any further and make Sam’s nausea any worse. The last thing they needed was his brother to start puking again.
Dean opened the door and was hit by a blast of cold wind, blowing snow and a painful, bright white light that seared his retinas. He couldn’t see any of the trees he knew were surrounding them and it seemed as though the depth of the snow had grown exponentially in just the short time since his father drove away from them. Dean chucked the blanket outside then pushed the door shut against the wind.
He crossed the room and headed back to Sam who had his eyes closed, but was far from sleeping peacefully. Dean crouched and touched the back of his hand to Sam’s forehead. It really was an unnecessary gesture since Dean could already feel the heat coming off his brother just by being near him, but Sam leaned into the touch and opened his fever-blurred eyes, looking up into Dean’s face.
“So, Dad left already?” Sam asked.
“Yeah … he’ll be back in a few days.”
Sam sighed, closed his eyes and groused sarcastic, “Wonderful … three days stuck in here with you. How fun.”
“And you think watching you liberate your lunch is a blast for me?”
“M’sorry my stomach bug is cramping your style.”
Dean didn’t respond with the quip he had sitting on the tip of his tongue, instead he got up and headed for his pack and the bottle of Tylenol he had stashed in there. He also grabbed a bottle of water from the supplies their father had left for them and a rusty metal bucket that was probably as old as the cabin and walked back over to Sam. He shook out a couple of pills and handed them along with the water to his brother.
Sam looked forlornly at the water and pills, “I don’t think I can keep them down.” He informed Dean as he eyed the bucket with a slightly green faced frown.
“Just try … it’ll help you feel better and we can’t let you get dehydrated.”
Sam rolled over onto his elbow and sat up enough to take the pills and swallow a little water before handing the bottle back to Dean.
“There - that wasn’t so bad, was it?”
Sam rolled his eyes then lay back down, pulling the sleeping bag tight around his shoulders again, “You got your g-gun handy?” Sam asked while his teeth clattered together.
“Why?”
“So you can just sh-shoot me and put me out of my m-misery.”
“Hardy-har, Sam.” Dean snorted, letting a comforting hand rest on Sam’s shoulder, “Go back to sleep, bitch.”
Dean watched Sam shut his eyes and try to sleep, though he could tell that it wasn’t coming easily. He shifted and turned his back to Dean, curling into a tight ball with a rumbling moan and a visible shiver.
Sam suddenly sat up with that look on his face that warned Dean of what was going to happen next. At least this time he was prepared and had the bucket ready as Sam gracelessly hocked up the pills and water he had just choked down.
Shit … Sam was right about not being able to even keep the water down and this latest display of his stomach turning inside out had Dean worried that this might be something more than just the flu.
Sighing to himself, Dean ran a hand through his hair, feeling a little lost in the tiny cabin in which their father had left them. He had half a mind to call him and demand his return, but he knew what his Dad’s response would be: ‘people are in danger, Dean’ he would say, ‘they need me.’
Well … sometimes we need you too, Dean thought.
OoOoOoOo
Sam didn’t really sleep.
He was tired … oh so tired, but the pain was getting worse and not sleeping through it was getting considerably harder as day slid into night.
It hadn’t been that bad when he woke up that morning. I was just a bad stomach ache, probably brought on by the weird tacos Dad bought them for dinner the other day or a maybe stomach virus. Even after his first bout of nausea and vomiting, it hadn’t been too bad, but steadily throughout the day, his stomach felt like it was twisting inside out while a sharp, stabbing pain ripped through his abdomen, boring through his gut all the way down to his spine like a power auger digging a hole into concrete.
Sam opened his eyes to darkness. The faint crackle and pop of the fire burning across the room mingled with the sounds of Dean’s even, yet snoring breath next to him. Even though he and Dean had moved their sleeping bags closer to the fire to keep warm, he shivered as electric chills zapped through his muscles and forced him to curl in further into the bag, pulling it across his shoulders as tightly as possible.
The simple act of rolling over sent his stomach into spins and turns once more and nausea assailed him, causing his mouth to fill with saliva. He tried to breathe through it, to push it away, to not give into to another session of heaving.
God … he was so suck of puking.
He was pretty sure that Dean was getting annoyed by all of his upheavals as well since he was saddled the task of cleaning up after him. And he really felt bad for Dean - having to watch over a vomiting brother when he would rather be hunting with Dad probably wasn’t what he had been expecting to do for fun that week, but Sam really couldn’t help it and he certainly wouldn’t mind it if he didn’t have to gack anymore either.
Breathing wasn’t helping to quell the riot in his stomach into submission and he was hit again by a wave of nausea that left him hyperventilating as he squeezed his eyes shut and gripped the edge of his pillow tight with his fingers.
There was little he could do to hold it back anymore and he was gonna need that damned bucket again.
Sam used shaking fingers to unzip the sleeping bag enough for him to roll out of it and crawl over to the bucket on his hands and knees, making it the two feet just in time to feel his abdominal muscles clench and get sick into it. Bile and acid burned his throat and nose as it all come up in an uncontrollable burst and the smell did nothing but cause him to heave even harder.
The upheaval soon ended, but the pain only grew and became all encompassing. Sam folded in on himself, gripping the edges of the bucket tightly and bright, neon spots floated across his vision. It was only belatedly that he realized that he was holding his breath, but as he sucked in some much needed air, the sensation of having a knife driven into his gut and twisting stole it away again.
Sam slid to the floor and curled up fetal style, shaking and quivering. His attention narrowed. All that mattered was making the pain go away, but no matter what he did, no matter how hard his arms wrapped around his stomach or how much he cried and let the tears flow from his eyes, or groaned out loud, the agony was unrelenting and would never let him go. This had to stop …
Make it go away.
Stop, stop, stop!
“Dean -“Sam choked out, his voice coming out in pitiful whimper as he called out to his sleeping brother for help.
Make it stop, make it stop …
OoOoOoOo
Rhonda hitched up her short skirt and reached underneath, bending a little as she pulled her bright, hot pink, satin panties down, lifting one leg and then the other to free them completely from her legs.
She held them up with a seductive smile then twirled them on her finger, “You like?” She asked.
“Oh yeaahh…” He grinned widely in anticipation.
She raised an eyebrow, a devilish, coy smile spreading across her face, “If you really like them, why don’t you try them on?”
He stopped short and gaped at her, unprepared for her suggestion. She walked towards him with the panties still dangling from her fingers before she pulled at the elastic band with both hands, “Don’t worry … they stretch.”
“Uh …”
“C’mon … just -“Suddenly Rhonda froze and she sniffed the air, “Oh God … what is that smell?”
Dean smelled it too and it definitely did nothing to enhance the mood.
“Shit … is that … you?” She asked.
“What? … no … it’s not me …”
“Uck …gross ” She exclaimed while making a thoroughly disgusted face and sharply turning on her four inch heels. She swiftly began to walk away without looking back.
“Wait … it’s not me …” She watched her disappear into a misty fog, “I’ll wear the panties,” he added weakly, even though she was too far away to hear him.
His shoulders sagged.
Sonofabitch …
“Dean -“
“Rhonda?”
“Dean -“
Definitely not Rhonda … she never moaned like that and she sounded and awful lot like …
“Sam?”
Dean opened his eyes, the last vestiges of his dream floating away with the cobwebs in his head. He turned towards the sound of the moaning and was hit with the smell of sickness that had been powerful enough to invade his dream. He didn’t hear an answer, but he didn’t need one either as his eyes adjusted to the dark and made out the shape of his little brother huddled on the floor, his face a mask of pain.
Dean was out of the sleeping bag and by Sam’s side in the next heartbeat. Sam was pale, shaking and crying unlike he had ever seen him before, and that was saying a lot given the number of times he had broken a bone or been tossed around by an angry spirit. Sweat matted his hair to his forehead, but he shivered as though he were freezing as he curled up into a small ball.
“Sammy … what’s going on?” Dean asked even though it was pretty obvious that Sam’s ‘flu’ had turned into something much more.
Sam grabbed Dean’s sleeve in a tight grip like a man hanging from a cliff, “God … make it stop … please. I can’t take this anymore.”
Dean didn’t have a clue what to do other than put his hand on Sam’s forehead. Shit … Sam was burning with fever. Dean ran through a list of things that could do this to his brother and none of them were good - appendicitis? E-coli … he just didn’t know, but one thing was certain - Sam was in pain and he couldn’t do a damn thing about it.
“Okay, Sammy. Listen, I’m gonna call Dad.” Dean assured Sam, desperate to hide the panic that was building in his chest from being expressed in his voice.
Sam opened his eyes and met Dean with a fever-glazed glare, gripping his sleeve even harder, “N-no … Dad’s too far … hos - hospital.” He gasped.
Dean could not remember a time his brother ever begged to go to a hospital and this sent his anxiety skyrocketing like the space shuttle at take- off. This was bad … very, very bad … worse than bad … this was life or dea -
Shut up Dean … call an ambulance already.
“Hold on, kiddo. I’m gonna get you some help. You just hold on, okay?”
Sam wasn’t really listening as his face twisted into a grimace and he moaned louder and tried to turn his body into an even tighter ball than it already was.
Dean reached into his pocket for his cell phone and flipped it open. He dialed 911 and held the phone up to his ear and waited for someone to pick up, but heard nothing.
He pulled the phone away from his ear and swore under his breath.
The display flashed ‘no service’.
Standing, Dean moved about the cabin, hoping for even one bar of service so he could make a call and get Sam some help, because God only knew that he didn’t know what else to do.
No matter where he went in the cabin, the phone remained stubbornly useless.
“Sammy?” Dean asked as he knelt next to his brother and pulled his sleeping blanket back towards him, “Think you can get back in the covers? I’m gonna go outside and see if I can get a signal, okay?”
Sam whimpered, but nodded, allowing Dean to help him back into the sleeping bag, nearly reduced to tears again as he curled up and Dean zipped him in.
Dean patted Sam’s shoulder, “Hang tight. I’ll be right back.”
Heading for the door, Dean heard the howl of the wind outside and he knew before he even opened the door that the weather had taken a drastic turn for the worse. Sure enough, the wind and snow nearly knocked him to his ass when he opened the door and he had to push hard to shove the pile of snow that had been blown against it.
The snow drift blocking his way had to be at least four feet deep and though it was dark, there was enough ambient light for him to see that they had been practically buried inside the cabin.
Dean ventured out with phone in hand. He had to climb out of the small clearing of snow he had made between the door and the outside world, but with the snow coming up to his knees at the lowest spots, he wasn’t able to venture very far. Yet still, Dean wandered around, continuing his search for a cell signal that was quickly becoming a lesson in futility. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that the snow storm must have knocked out the cell towers nearest to them. Not that there was really any near them to begin with and reception had been spotty at best.
Dean returned to the cabin to review what their options were. Without a working phone, he’d need a way to contact someone. Unfortunately, the closest thing to civilization was an old, gas station two miles out from the cabin, but with the snow storm quickly becoming a blizzard, getting there was going to be a problem.
His legs were nearly numb as the snow soaked into his jeans, but he paid the discomfort no mind as he stomped back into the cabin and headed to Sam.
Sam was pretty much in the same position he had left him, curled up in a fetal position and making noises of pain that cut through Dean like a dull knife.
No phone, miles from nowhere and his little brother in such pain that when Dean grabbed his hand, Sam squeezed back with crushing strength that spoke of just how bad off he was. What was he supposed to do?
There was only one thing he could do and he didn’t like it one bit and he was sure Sam wouldn’t either.
“Sam … I’m gonna find help, okay?”
Sam turned onto his back and looked up at Dean with glazed eyes, “What? You’re leaving?”
“I can’t get the phone to work, but there’s a gas station on the highway that should have one.”
Sam shook his head, “But the storm … it’s bad, isn’t it?”
“Nah ... it’s just snowing some.” Dean lied and Sam didn’t look at all convinced. Even sick as he was, he wasn’t deaf and he was just as able to ear the walls of the cabin shake with the force of the wind.
“Bullshit. Don’t go … I’ll be okay until things clear up.” Sam insisted. Dean really wanted to believe that, but Sam’s pale, clammy skin, shaking hands, and lines of jaw-gritting pain on his face only reaffirmed his decision to find help.
“I promise I won’t be gone long. It’s only a couple of miles.”
Not willing to be mollified by Dean’s reassurances, Sam kept shaking his head, “Dean … don’t … don’t go out there.”
Dean met Sam’s eyes and saw the pleading, unspoken words behind his fear.
Please don’t leave me.
But Dean’s mind was set. He was getting help for his brother and a little snow wasn’t about to stop him.
Part 2