fic: Reindeers are Better than People (2/4)

[glovered]

Masterpost - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Art Masterpost



Sam dreamed of his sixteenth year and the May storms that soaked the mountainside. He remembered the days clearly like flashes of lightning in his distorted memory, how one night he and...Sven - that's right, he thought, Sven - tried to make it down the mountain, the wind whipping the rain into sheets, everywhere darkness and the sled hurtling through the angry night. It was a real life horror story, Sven steering them in frantic turns down the path, escaping thunder, despite the dark, and at least they were together, neither of them alone.

A branch had hit the path, blown from a tree. Sven swerved, but they careened off into the underbrush, the sled spinning out. When Sam came to, the first word on his lips was his reindeer's name, and Sven was still very much alive, saying, "Sammy, it's ok," all the while favoring his front leg.

Sam woke from dreams of that night, sweating under the heavy quilts. He'd had to set Sven's leg that night with a piece of wood he found and a strip of his shirt. He managed to get them behind some boulders, made a shelter with fallen bits of trees where they waited out the storm together.

He put out a hand to reach out for Sven. But instead of fur, his palm met rough fabric and a hard chest.

He cracked an eye.

Waking up in the arms of a smooth and freckled god was not how Sam usually came to. He was more accustomed to reindeer farts and hooves to the shin as Sven ran from nightmares in his sleep. And the goose feather pillows felt like clouds beneath his head. Which was pounding.

When he went to pull his hand away but Dean rolled in against him, following Sam's hand so that Sam ended up with a face full of soft, short hair. He took shallow, quiet breaths so as not to wake Dean, who promptly flung one arm around Sam's waist and snorted.

Sam lifted his head a little so he could breathe and wondered about the ethical implications of this situation. He glanced around the room, for the first time taking in the sumptuous blues and golds of the canopied bed and the wall hangings. He also wondered about water, and how to find some.

Dean rolled closer to him and Sam got a look at his face, trying to see if he was smiling or trying play a practical joke on him, for what purpose or what the joke would actually be, Sam wasn't certain - but Dean was fast asleep, his eyelashes a dark fringe against his cheek, his mouth softly parted in the sweetest moue. He was-

He was adorable. Sam tried to jerk away, heart pounding along with his head, but got caught in the covers and flailed.

Dean shot up on an elbow. "Bzah?"

Sam's face went hot and he yanked the sheet up to cover himself up.

"Sam?" Dean squinted at him, sunlight bright against his face.

The door swung open and Charlie danced in, looking chipper with her hair in two braids and a mini tiara.

"Am I so ready for this change," she sang loudly. She thrust out a hand mirror and spun around in a swirl of her skirt.

Sam stared. Dean stared. Charlie danced through the room and gathering a jacket to her chest and then flinging it on as she kept singing, with feeling, "For the first time in forever, I was dancing through the night…" She flipped two shoes into the air and each landed perfectly on each outstretched foot. "Don't know if I'm elated or gassy, but I'm somewhere in that zone!"

She took a heaving breath, and belted out, "Cause for the first time in forever, I'm not alone!" and then she swung to a stop, facing the bed.

Her mouth dropped open.

"You are not alone," Dean confirmed, sounding awed.

"Oh my," Charlie said, and stood up straighter. She looked from Sam to Dean and back to Sam again.

Sam sprang to action. He scrambled out of bed, ignoring Dean's oof when the pillow hit him.

"It's not what it looks like," he said.

Charlie backed up a step, giggling, and only then did Sam look down to find himself shirtless. He crossed his arms over his pecs.

"And you looked so lanky with clothes on," Dean said, sounding less mocking, more impressed, which didn't help much. Then said to Charlie, "It must be all that ice hauling."

"What are you doing in my closet anyway?" Charlie asked.

"Your closet?"

But when Sam looked around, he saw that there were indeed dresses hung off of hooks on walls around the room, and the stately armoire was overflowing with jewelry, pearl necklaces spilling out of its drawers.

"Nice one, Sam," she said, winking. "Although I guess if you can't score at a drunken state-wide function then you can't score at all." Then she reddened. "Excuse me, that was insensitive. Uh, goodbye."

"Well," Dean started to say, but was interrupted when Charlie poked her head into the room again.

"Eep. There's brunch. Bye."

She disappeared from the room, with the hint of a skip to her step, Sam thought.

"Ugh," he said, sitting on the edge of the bed.

Dean fell back against the pillows, an arm behind his head. "So you're not just a hero who happened to help out the Princess but you're on breakfast terms with her, too?"

Sam shook his head, and then busied himself searching around under the bed for his. He definitely ignored Dean's raised eyebrow. "Somethings you just have to be friends after."

Dean sighed, as if Sam's failure to provide him with lascivious tales about Charlie was a personal failing. "Ok, nice guy," he said. "Let's go get food. This is a castle, which means fine dining."

He got out of bed and the covers slipped to the floor in a puddle.

"Dude!" Sam said, before realizing Dean was still fully clothed, and only Sam appeared to have stripped during the night.

"Hurry your sweet ass up," Dean said. "I bet they have blintzes."



Sam had just planned to grab a crust of bread from the kitchen and load up on water for the hike out, and leave Dean to whatever it is he was planning to do from there on out, but a servant caught him trying to sneak out and pointed him in the direction of the terrace.

The sun was bright, and Anna and Charlie were in twin sundresses, one pink, one blue, sitting at a table loaded with flowers and mini china plates and a tea pot. The mountain was even more monstrous and towering in the sky from this vantage point than it was from the town, and Sam was suddenly aware of the reality of Charlie's life and how remote it was. They had a lot in common.

"Princess," Dean said nodding to Charlie, then turned to her sister. "Hey, Anna. Great party last night."

Sam cringed. Anna, however, looked more amused than anything and asked Dean if he'd like coffee or tea.

"Here I was afraid I was hurting your feelings," Charlie said out of the corner of her mouth while Dean tried to chat up the Queen. She indicated Dean with her pinky, and then pretended she was just daintily sipping her tea. "Looks like you're not into redheads."

Sam rolled his eyes and took a giant bite of, yeah, blintzes, so he wouldn't have to answer. He noticed that Dean had started in on a pastry.

"Here," Sam said. He held out both jam and marmalade, and Dean made a face.

"Eh, I've got a fifty-fifty chance of being right," he finally said, and grabbed for the jam. He slathered too much on and then asked Anna, "You got any extra threads? My size?"

"Dean!" Sam said sharply. "I only met him last night," he told Anna, mortified.

"I'm gonna go meet Sam's parents today," Dean continued.

"What I said holds true," Sam said, just remembering that yeah, he had promised to take Dean up there, and in return Dean would help him out with looking for Sven. He shook his head, sadly, "I don't know him at all. I am so...so very sorry."

Anna took a dainty bite of a powder sugared waffle and said, "I'm sure Charlie can provide you with something."

Charlie was overjoyed. "Yes! Oh my gosh, I get to dress you," she enthused. "We have best tailor, but I've only ever had dolls."

"Oh god," Sam said, sinking into his chair as Dean took another danish.

Charlie was too busy fist pumping to pay attention to either of them, her face pink with happiness. "Yes. Yes! Royal tailor, here we come!"



Sam got clothes out of the arrangement as well.

"Ah, the great outdoors," enthused their tailor, a short man named Crowley. "What poetry, what invigorating sport. And what an appropriate excuse for high-quality hunting trousers and no-rip man blouses, if you get what I'm saying."

"Man blouses," Dean repeated, testing the word in his mouth. His eyes flicked to Sam, but Sam had no answer for him.

"You'll see," Crowley told Dean. "You'll like them. They'll compliment the startling delicacy of your lips."

Sam was offended on his behalf, and was very short with Crowley when the man measured his inseam.

"And you," Crowley told him, stretching the tape measure up further than strictly necessary. "Are built like a moose. Custom clothing is the only way to go. What a shame for you."

It was true, Sam's trouser legs came down before the ankle, and when they were given a folded pile of new clothing an hour later, he was chagrined to find that the trousers fit perfectly. As did the boots that Crowley found for them in the castle boot closet.

"These are great," Sam admitted, touching the fabric of his trousers and running his hands down his jacket.

"You gonna come back soon?" she asked. "Now that I know bribery works…"

Sam looked to Anna, who was standing to one side, more to accompany Charlie than to see them off.

"I don't think she likes me very much," he said out of the corner of his mouth.

"Oh come on," she said. "Maybe not at first. But she'll come around."

Dean called over from where he was finished tying a deerskin sack onto his belt he'd gotten from Crowley, to complement his cream-white man blouse and dark, well-fitting trousers. "Ready to go, ice boy?"

Anna looked pleased.

"Gotta go," Sam told Charlie, then smiled. "Thanks."

She sighed. "Oh go, don't act like I'm not going to see you next week."

"Ok," Sam laughed. "Have a good time without us."

"What did I ever do before I met you," she said. Then, more kindly, "I'll try."

He and Dean walked down the cobbled streets of the town, waving to shopkeepers who were dozing on their carts, and laughing when fish escaped from baskets to flop back into the water. The sight of the mountain, looming close, felt like a fresh of breath air. And although he'd climbed around the craggy hollows of that mountain a hundred times, more than that, today felt new and fresh. When he looked over at Dean, striding along beside him, he felt like he was setting out on an adventure.

"Nice town," Dean said, sounding livened by the town and scenery beyond. "Good people. Good booze."

"Brew it right here," Sam said, waving to a creaking old building with a shiny sign that read Buckets & Barstools. "This guy who makes barrels must make a fortune of the local breweries."

"You know, after I get my memory back, I look forward to finding out if I live here." He pointed, attention diverted by a dirty, pink creature waddling past. "Oh, look. A piglet!"

He bent down to grab it and hefted it up in his arms. Sam watched him pet the pig's head like it was a puppy, face gleeful. He felt this stupid warmth start in his chest and take hold and looked around to elbow Sven.

Dean looked up and said, "What, are you scared of a pig?"

Sam frowned, "No."

He reached out to pet its snout and the pig snorted in alarm. His legs ran in the air until Dean said, "Ok, buddy," and put him down. "I wish we could take you with us, but we've got work to do, the mountain's no place for a pig."

"There are wild boar," Sam told him.

"Sam, that is beside the point," Dean said.

With that, they set out for the mountain on foot.



"Hey, so, if Anna's got magical powers and shit," Dean said, avoiding a rock on the path and knocking shoulders with Sam in the process. "Isn't it going to be bad for business?"

"So?"

"Like, she makes ice," Dean said, and widened his eyes at Sam like he was inviting him to freak out. "YOur entire business, and correct me if I'm wrong, is to get ice. For the town. And she literally can just do that. No effort. Like, don't you see a conflict of interest there?"

"Well."

"Poof," Dean demonstrated.

"No just poof," Sam said. "Although I do see your point. But she's the queen. She's much too busy to be making ice for everyone in the kingdom. Also, she's got a good grasp of socioeconomic principles, and I doubt she'd tip the demand in such a drastic way without first consulting a large portion of businesses in the affected areas."

"Yeah, I guess," Dean said. "All I'm saying is, watch her."

Sam snuck a look to his left, to where Dean was tromping along through the snow, glancing all around them like he was totally at peace with having woken up in the forest with no memory of who he was. When Dean glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, Sam looked away quickly, trying to appear very interested in a hawk that was flying overhead.

"You know if you stare at me all day," Dean told him. "Eventually you're going to- Whoops. Yep, told you so."

Sam had walked directly into a tree.

"Ow." Sam rubbed at his nose, eyes smarting. He frowned at Dean.

"So, this is nice," Dean said, taking in a lungful of icy, fresh air.

That was it, Sam thought. "Aren't you scared at all? You're walking along, smelling the pine as if having virtually no memory is a-ok with you. I just don't get it."

Dean rubbed at his temple, and when he finally did respond, he just shook his head. "Look, Sam. I don't know you. You're this stranger I met at a party. And although you come with royal recognition, that doesn't say much about your credibility. But you're the one who said you had some trolls or whatever in the woods that could fix my head, and here I am, following right along. If that doesn't sound like the actions of a desperate man, then I don't know what does.

"So when you ask if I'm worried?" he said, his voice rising. "Yeah, I'm worried. Now stop talking about it, it's starting to freak me out. Instead let's get on with it, find the reindeer, and then get my head screwed on right."

Somehow Dean's almost freak-out calmed Sam's nerves. "Ok, ok," he said.

Dean shook his head, disbelieving. "Now you're happy. Great. Where are we anyway? We've been up here over an hour and everything looks the same-"

"-I told you, we were going to retrace my steps-

"-And we haven't found him yet-

"Oh right, like you know the first thing about tracking a wild animal," Sam said. "It's harder than it might seem."

"Maybe I do know about tracking wild animals," Dean said in an argumentative tone. "You have no way of knowing that."

He put a hand to his mouth and called, "Here, Svenny Svenny Sven-Sven! Here Sven! Get your reindeer butt down here."

They both paused and listened, breath held, but there was no response.

"He could be anywhere on this mountain," Sam said. "So there basically no chance he heard you. Also-"

"Also what?"

"Also he's kind of contrary. I'm not sure he'd come if a stranger called. Not to mention that's pretty condescending."

"Sensitive," Dean noted, nodding. "Ok." He put both hands to his mouth and yelled, "Here, handsome! Sam misses you very much! He's been crying all morning. Come save him from his pathetic self!"

Sam groaned.

"Sven! Come on," Dean said. "You try it."

Sam shook his head but Dean put his hands on his hips and made a show of waiting, so Sam took a deep breath and bellowed, "Sven!"

They listened to the echo of his cry die out.

It was obvious that simply shouting Sven's name into the distance wouldn't work, but Sam still found himself feeling somewhat disappointed when he didn't suddenly reveal himself.

"This is gonna work," Dean assured him, catching the look on Sam's face. He managed to seem like he believed it. He started walking again. "Just wait. Hey, Sven! Come out, come out, wherever you are!"

This went on for an hour, nearly the entire walk to the outcropping, the last place Sam had seen Sven alive.

Dean had started whistling at some point, ducking under the odd tree branch, skirting icy boulders, while Sam trailed behind, wondering if anything had happened to his reindeer and, more embarrassingly, catching himself staring when Dean bent over.

"Crime scene," Sam recounts, indicating the snowdrift he'd landed in. "Just after dawn." He waved a hand to the speed warning sign. "Sven takes the turn too fast despite marked speed. I'm thrown from the sled. I recover, go to him, then he disappears. Next thing I see is you, running naked down below."

"Hey, hey, hey," Dean said, putting his hands up. "My level of nudity has no bearing on the current case."

"Fine," Sam said. "Anyway, he was gone after that."

"Do you really think he'd stick around here?" Dean asked, eyes caught on the sprawling view far below.

"I don't know," Sam said. "This is a place we come a lot. The lake down there's frozen solid even in spring, so that's where we saw out ice during the warmer months."

"You like it?" Dean asked.

The question caught Sam off guard. "Huh?" he said.

"The job," Dean clarified. "You like it? Something you want to do with your life?"

Sam hadn't thought about it like that in a long time. He'd accepted his life for what it was. "Uh," he said.

When he was sixteen, maybe seventeen, he'd entertained thoughts of leaving the life, despite how much he loved it. He'd been restless, almost lonely. There'd been one strange springtime when he felt like he was a stranger in his own skin, like he wasn't on the right path, wanted to set out on his own path.

But he never did leave leave the mountain. In fact, he'd never seen the lands beyond Arendelle. And he'd forgotten he used to long for something different. Those moments he woke up to the wind howling, remembering the stray wisps of some nightmare and felt a hollow of wrongness in his chest of knowing he was in the wrong place,...well, those nightmares were few and far between.

"I mean, it's not exactly a fulfilling vocation," he said, clearing his throat. Dean was watching him intently, and he felt caught in the attention. "But it's a hell of a lot more interesting than anything else I can think of, like farming or making shoes or something. I got a job with the local ice haulers and have been cutting ice for people for years now. So I'm good here."

Until Dean had come along, he thought. He was surprised to realize that hiking up the mountain with Dean felt like he was fulfilling the dream he'd forgotten, taking part in some future he'd never known how to make reality.

"Hey," Dean said, and for a moment Sam thought he was offering comfort when he placed a hand on Sam's shoulder.

Sam shook his head. "It's nothing."

But he saw that Dean was frowning, looking at the trees. "No, I hear something," he said. "Do you hear something?"

Sam, who'd grown up in these woods and could tell which animal was which by a single footstep, couldn't hear anything save the crackling of twigs as some rabbit jumped by. He tipped his head to listen.

"There," Dean said, suddenly victorious, and then took off at a jog, calling back, "Come on, you slow poke."

Sam caught up, just as they crested the hill.

"What-" he said, then, looking down at the snow below, "Oh my god."

He was looking down at not one reindeer, but an entire herd. They were mingling about, digging around in the snow for mushrooms and scraping lichen off rocks with their teeth.

"See, I told you I heard something," Dean said, a happy smirk in his voice. Sam shook his head mutely.

"How'd you do that?"

He laughed, and dragged Dean down into the herd, slowing as the reindeer stood at attention, one by one, as they noticed the two approaching.

"Careful," Sam told Dean. "A baby reindeer can run faster than an adult human."

"Fun facts," Dean said. "They seem fine."

Sam watched as a reindeer snorted and walked forward, then came closer still to nudge Dean in the shoulder. Another reindeer galloped toward him joyfully with his tongue lolling out, and for a moment Sam thought it was going to attack, but it just shook snow from its fur and licked Dean's face instead.

"Is this your guy?" Dean asked, scritching the reindeer behind his ear.

Sam shook his head. "Sven has green eyes and freckley spots on his cheeks. And besides, he'd know me."

He turned in place.

"Sven?" he called. "Sven, you hiding?"

There came no familiar, galloping form, and Sam shouldn't have been surprised. Sven didn't belong to a herd. He'd never even socialized with other reindeer except for the rare instance he met a pretty girl reindeer.

Getting his hopes up yet again was a mistake, he knew, but he found himself hoping anyway. And again, no reindeer came hurtling toward him, there was no mad dash.

Dean talked to the reindeer, telling them nothings as Sam walked around the entire herd, looking each reindeer over and feeling more and more disappointed at each unfamiliar face.

The afternoon fruitless, eventually they left the herd, Dean waving and a few reindeer snorting in a way that seemed like farewell.



"There's always tomorrow," Dean said, putting his hands in his pockets.

It was getting late in the evening and his face with red with the chill air. He looked at Sam askance when Sam didn't immediately answer, just continued traipsing along the path.

"Hey, don't worry, he's out there," Dean said. "He probably got his antlers stuck in a low-hanging branch somewhere."

Sam snorted to cover up a laugh. "Yeah, that does happen sometimes."

"So don't give up yet," Dean said, and clapped Sam across the shoulder. He kicked a pine cone and looked at the sky. "It'll be night soon. Wish we were back at the castle. They had some sweet spreads."

"Yeah, beats eating twigs like I normally do."

"You're not serious," said Dean, then looked even more scandalized when he saw that Sam was grinning. "Don't joke, man. You've somehow managed to land the favor of the royal kitchens? From this point on, unless you do some seriously evil shit, you're guaranteed high class cuisine until you drop."

"Well, Jess has warned me if I don't stop stuffing my face full of her awesome food, I just might. And sooner rather than later."

"Ok, but no joke. I hope you have some other place in mind, because my stomach's growling, man."

Sam nodded. "Yeah, I've got just the place. Maybe you'll even like it."

When Dean raised an eyebrow at his hesitation, Sam shook his head. "You'll see."

They were heading in the direction of Bela's Sauna and Chow, a chalet that Sam privately loved but actively hated, mainly because he could never hope to afford anything Bela was selling. Not unless she had performed a philanthropic about-turn since his adventure up there with Charlie.

This time when he entered, he had a little more money jingling in his pockets than he did last time, earned from collecting on the shipment of ice he'd just brought down.

"Yoo hoo," Bela said, giving him a sly once-over under her fur cap, and Sam knew she was sizing them up to see how much she could rip them off. Even so, the warm inside felt comforting and not being completely penniless, a relief.

"Hi," Sam said shortly. "We're just going to be getting drinks and some soup."

Dean put a hand on his shoulder. "Hold up. I'm gonna want to try out that sauna. Get in a little towel action."

"Dude, it's like fifteen gold," Sam said out of the corner of his mouth, and both of Dean's eyebrows shot up.

"In that case," he said. "I will very much be looking forward to the summer and its similar sweltering effect. No sauna for me."

Bela tutted. "That's too bad. You really enjoyed it the last time you two were here."

"The two us us?" Sam said.

Something about the way she looked them over with that appraising expression didn't sit right with Sam, and when he glanced over to see if Dean understood the double meaning, he seemed as confused as Sam.

"Huh?" Sam asked. "I mean, I've come here before with the Princess, but not him." Then, without looking Dean's way when he said it, he coughed. "Although, I can see how easy it would be to mistake the two of them."

Dean stiffened, let out an outraged, "Hey!"

"Has no one ever told you you're real pretty?"

Bela waited until they'd finished. "No, I mean, you both came in... When was it..." she tapped her mouth in thought. "Ah yes, two summers ago. Thereabouts. You had some weapons I ‘held onto' for you." She nodded to a wall by the counter, to the sign that read ‘Big Summer Blowout', under which were displayed five whips, two cotton jerkins, and a pile of nuts. Also two rifles, three shuriken, and a broadsword.

"Look, lady," Dean said while Sam frowned at how the light glinted dangerously off the ninja stars. "You've got the wrong dudes."

"Have I," she drawled.

"Yeah," said Sam. "That's not our stuff. I don't know what you're trying to pull here, but we'll take our food to go. Two forest carrot and potato soup with mushroom," he read off the menu. "And that's it."

"And a skin of ale," Dean said.

Sam nodded. "A small skin."

"All right," Bela said. "That'll be twenty gold."

"What?"

She smiled, like a smug cat. "Supply and demand, boys. Mushrooms are scarce this time of year."

Dean snorted something that sounded like ‘bullshit' while Sam grimaced. "Fine, we'll just take the soup."

"Suit yourself," she said and went to the back.

While they were waiting, Dean examined the weaponry, and nearly cut himself on the sword when Bela returned quite suddenly with a tray of soup bowls and drink. Sam counted out five gold pieces onto the counter and it was gone in a blink, like a magic trick.

"You have a good night," Bela said as they turned to go.

Dean was just out the door when Sam stopped with his hand on knob. He shut his eyes for a moment, willing himself to just let it go.

But he never could leave a mystery untouched, and her tone made it impossible not to ask.

"Last time," he said, then amended. "This supposed last time. What did we do?"

"Look, have you been suffering some sort of memory loss-" Bela began.

"Yes," he said shortly. "Now tell me what happened. Please."

"Well, you went into the sauna together," Bela said. "I, of course, honored your privacy. And one can only guess what went on in there. You don't have to play dumb."

"I'm not playing dumb."

She blinked at him, apparently starting to believing that he didn't remember, perhaps doubting herself. This was a one time victory Sam should probably savor but he was too hung up on quelling that weird feeling in his chest.

He wondered if there were any small chance that she could be right.

"You really don't remember?" she asked. "Do you have a twin or something?"

"No," said Sam, perturbed.

She shrugged. "Then that's all for it. It was you. Maybe you were drunk. Hell if I know. All I can tell you is, I never forget a face."

Sam looked at her for a long while, but Bela showed no signs of deceit. Although when it came to Bela, he knew he should take everything with a pinch of salt.

"Thanks," he finally said, and stepped out into the snow.

"You getting her number or something?" asked Dean, as made all the motions of leaving.

"Wow! What a long trip we have ahead of us!" Sam said loudly. "So dark and icy with only the moonlight to guide us! Best be off, Dean!"

"What," Dean started, but then the door swung shut, and Sam grabbed him by the front of the jerkin and yanked him into the shadows beside the building.

"Wha-at!" Dean yelped before Sam could cover his mouth.

Sam dragged him into the small lean-to shelter where Bela kept the hay and other supplies, and once they were inside, Dean stared at him wide-eyed, trying to communicate his confusion without words.

Sam widened his eyes right back and said, "Shhhhh." before loosening his hand over Dean's mouth a fraction.

Then he jerked his hand back completely when Dean licked his palm.

"Gross," Sam said, and wiped his palm off on his shirt front.

"You could have, I don't know, told me to come in here like a normal person instead of kidnapping me in the darkness," Dean told him, much aggrieved apparently.

Sam lit the lantern overhead and the small space was cast in a golden glow and Dean forgot all about it.

"Hey, what the hell?" He gave a low whistle when he noted the covered floor and the blankets folded in one corner. "Sweet digs."

The bales of hay and the low ceiling made for a perfect shelter, and the hay scattered across the floor kept in the warmth in this frozen world.

Sam shrugged, more relieved than he wanted to let on. "It's a warm place to sleep," he said, and threw his knapsack down and removed his gloves. "We couldn't keep walking all night. I don't want to take an already concussed dude through craggy terrain. You'd probably end up hitting your head and forgetting whatever's left in there."

Which was true. But a small part of him admitted that maybe he wanted to spend just a little more time with Dean before he they met with the trolls, before Dean got his memories back. Much as he missed his constant companion, he liked having a guy around who could talk back.

No, he admitted to himself as he pulled down some more hay to pad the floor. If it were any other guy he'd just met, he wouldn't feel half as comfortable, and this trip wouldn't have been half as fun. He liked Dean, he realized. And he would miss him when he was gone.

"Oh ha ha," Dean said, and set to laying out the blankets.

Sam watched him. He looked more gentle in the glow from the lamp, his hands working efficiently and his jaw softened by the light and late hour.

"Hey, speaking of concussion-" Sam said. "How's your head?"

Dean shrugged. "I'm not in excruciating pain, if that's what you're asking. A bump is yet to be found."

"Great," Sam said. "Good."

"But yeah, no. Don't remember anything." Dean laughed, but it seemed kind of stretched thing. He sat down with his soup on one side of the bed he'd made, before admitting, "Yeah, it's kind of starting to freak me out. A lot."

"Yeah, uh. I don't know if I've ever said but, I'm sorry, man." He couldn't even imagine waking up one day without remember who you were, there one moment and gone the next. He waited until Dean's eyes met his to give him a smile, as comforting as he knew how.

Dean looked exasperated, running a hand over his face. "Oh, give me a break. I'm fine. Stop your worrying."

Sam shrugged, then settled in himself, pulling his lute from behind a hay bale.

Dean gave a low whistle, suitably impressed, and watching Sam's fingers run over the strings . "You play?"

"A bit."

"So Bela's cool with you sneaking around in her shed, playing music at all hours?"

"Eh, I think she knows we use this place," Sam said. "Sven and I. If she does know, she doesn't care. I spend a buttload of money there, so do all the ice haulers."

He ran his finger down the strings again and smiled, feeling warmed by Dean's eyes on him and the shelter from the storm.

"You going to play or just finger it all day," Dean asked.

Sam ignored him. "This one here's an original."

He strummed, and settling in with the lute against his chest and the snow falling quietly outside. "Reindeers are better than people," he sang. "Sven, don't you think that's true?"

"You're obsessed," Dean muttered, but Sam cleared his throat and drowned him out.

"People smell better than reindeers," he sang, then batted his eyes at Dean. "Dean, don't you think I'm right? That's once again true-"

"For all except you," Dean sang with him, then looked confused by himself. "Hey, I think I know this!"

"You got me," Sam said. "Let's call it a night…Good night…."

"Don't let the frostbite...bite you in the ass," Dean finished.

Sam put a hand over the strings. "How do you even have a favorite song if you can't remember anything?"

"I honestly couldn't say."

"Like, do you actually have all your memories in there?" Sam asked, placing the lute down to get under the covers. He rolled closer to peer at Dean.

Dean frowned and moved back, pulling the blanket up over him as poor protection.

"Maybe."

Sam sat up straight, the blanket pooling around his waist. "What? You said you didn't remember anything!"

"Dude, it's my head," Dean said. "Some things are private."

"Ok, well," Sam said. "I mean, now you have to tell me, right?"

Dean reached up and extinguished the light, and then was quiet for a long time, and Sam thought it was possible he'd fallen asleep to avoid answering the question, but then Dean sighed. "You've got that whole outsider vibe going on. Something tells me you're not going to tell anyone."

"Gee, thanks," Sam said. He turned onto his back, hand on his stomach.

He looking up into the dark, listening to Dean's slow breathing for a long time.

"There's someone I'm looking for," Dean said quietly. "Someone important."

"You don't think they would have tried to find you by now?"

Dean plumped his jacket under his head and said, "Shut up, I know what I know."

"Oh yeah? Who is it then?"

"Someone. Someone important. A girl maybe?" Sam could hear him frowning. "Or at least, I think there's a girl. Yeah. She's important. I think I'm looking for her."

Sam felt him roll away, back to Sam. "Yeah. Something tells me she's going to be hard to find, maybe too hard. But I sure as heck would like to."

"Well in that case, I hope you do," Sam said. And if it was hard to get the words out, it was because he was tired, lonely without Sven and a mess.

" Well," said Sam. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Sam."



The next morning, Sam awoke to the quiet sounds of movement, of birds outside of the soft drip of icicles melting under the soft sun. When he blinked awake, he saw Dean there in half-light, stooping so as not to hit his head.

"Morning, sunshine," Dean said, his voice like gravel with sleep. The tone was somehow intimate, and hit Sam like a snowball to the face.

Sam rolled to his side before sitting up, scooting back to put his elbows on his knees. "Urg," he said, watching Dean shake out his shirt, which was really all that could be asked of Sam this early. He had a crick in his neck.

Dean whipped off his current shirt and Sam choked on air.

A line formed between Dean's eyebrows. "You ok?"

"Yeah," Sam croaked.

"You know, even if I did know how to resuscitate someone, I don't remember. So that would suck for you."

Sam rubbed his eyes, and when he opened them again, Dean was wetting his fingers with snow water and rubbing it over his cheeks, fingers combing through his hair. He was very attractive, and Sam was most definitely doomed.

Dean looked over his shoulder and Sam shook his head, hiding his grin behind a yawn. Dean looked away, then back, eyes caught on something.

"What?" Sam asked while Dean's eyes lingered on his face. "Do I have something-" He rubbed a hand over his nose.

"It's just," said Dean. "Your hair-"

Sam tried to pat down his hair so his bangs smoothed out, but Dean shook his head. He crouched forward, leaning into Sam's space, and combed his fingers through Sam's hair, like he'd been doing to his own a moment before.

"Dean," Sam heard himself say. He relaxed into it, breathing in deeply. Then, Dean's mouth was on his.

Sam pushed into it. When Dean pulled away, his mouth was parted, eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks in the moment before he opened his eyes.

"Better?" Sam asked. When he touched his hair, it was sticking up all over.

"Well..." Dean said, like he couldn't lie.

There was a small smile at the edge of his mouth that set Sam's heart on fire. Everything felt simple, this the only real moment in a long line of dreams, everything blurred once more.

Sam remembered then what Dean had said just last night. He already had someone. Someone he missed.

But Dean touched his jaw again, looking from Sam's eyes to his mouth. Sam puckered up for the kiss, putting his hand to Dean's chest, which was hot and bare, save the necklace with its dangling bronze pendant.

Sam's fingers wound in the leather band as Dean dipped forward, and then Sam felt it. It wasn't a pendant at all.

"Hey," Dean said, trying to catch Sam's mouth with his, but Sam was now using the hand on Dean's chest to shov him away, so Dean's mouth hit his ear instead.

"Wha?" Dean said, flushing and embarrassed, but Sam was abruptly too pissed off to care.

He was holding the pendant - no, amulet - in his hand, and shaking with anger.

"Uh," said Dean. "Do you want this or something?"

Sam ripped the amulet off his neck, and Dean yelped. "Do I want it?"

"Hey, what the hell?" Dean said, rubbing where the cord had pulled.

"No, I don't want it," Sam hissed. "It's not even yours to give."

"Um." And Dean looked absolutely at a loss, which somehow served to make Sam angrier.

"This isn't yours," he said. "It's Sven's!"

"Sven-" Dean started.

"My reindeer," Sam said, now feeling an edge of panic. "The one we've been trying to find this entire time. Or at least I have."

And like a spell was lifting, Sam suddenly realized how entirely foolish he'd been.

Dean, a total stranger, shows up in town the day his reindeer is lost…the day his reindeer is taken. Dean conveniently doesn't know who he is and convinces Sam to help him. And the whole time Sam trusts him based on pure instinct.

Sure, Dean had seemed like he was trustworthy, like he had his heart in the right place, maybe. Sam wasn't entirely to blame. But Dean was good-natured and attractive, suspiciously so, and now here he was with Sven's amulet like a serial killer token.

"I knew it was too much to ask," Sam said to himself, and when Dean had the gall to moved toward him again, Sam grabbed the first thing he found - a boot - and brandished it like a dangerous weapon between them.

Dean put up his hands. "Hey. Chill. What was too much to ask?"

"Oh, right. Like you don't know. I suppose you're going to tell me you don't know what that amulet is."

Dean sat back on his heels, keeping his hands up with very believable exasperation. "What part of 'I don't remember' do you not understand?"

Sam sneered. "Oh, don't play the memory card again. That's getting old."

Dean gestured wildly but when Sam held the boot higher at the sudden movement, he opened his mouth, then closed it again.

Sam began throwing his things in his knapsack, shoving Dean over so he could fold the blankets and throw them into the corner. "Exactly," he said.

"Look." Dean tried to help him with the lantern but Sam gave him a warning look, so he backed off. "Look. Take me to those magic things. The trolls. Then I'll get my memory back, and I'll be able to tell you what happened."

"Oh great, so it's blackmail now."

For all Sam knew, Dean had known Sven's whereabouts this whole time. Sam got the foreboding feeling that maybe Sven had been taken, or worse-

But he couldn't let himself think about that right now. He tried to calm his racing thoughts. Tragedy was always a possibility up here. With life on the mountain came danger. There was also the possibility of miracles, though, and Sam was banking on one of those right now.

Dean was watching him, expression hopeful. Sam steeled his jaw and looked Dean straight in the eye. His resolve to remain cold-hearted wavered when he saw the hurt in Dean's eyes, but he held strong.

"Sam?" Dean asked.

"I'll take you to the trolls," Sam said. "But I- I don't trust you. And I never should have in the first place."

"Ok, that makes sense given the- well, the evidence. Let's just head out."

He ducked outside before Sam could answer, and Sam was left staring at the place where Dean had knelt toward him, remembering that one golden moment after the kiss.



Sam was not an angry person. He sometimes suspected he could have been, in another life, but life on the mountain was simple. He came into contact with people often enough so that he wasn't lonely, but he left before things could become complicated. He didn't often get attached, and he liked it that way.

But in the few short days since he'd met Dean, he'd let himself care without even meaning to. Now, his whole world had been upset.

He should have known better, he thought as he strode through the melting snow. The sun was bright and unforgiving in the sky, the kiss hours and a lifetime away. There was sweat trickling down the back of Sam's neck and at his temples, and no matter how quickly he walked, Dean kept pace with no discernable effort, not saying a word. It was infuriating.

He'd been stupid, Sam realized, clenching his hands into fists and breathing through his nose. He'd thought that he was helping out some guy, when really he was getting his hopes up. The Dean he'd created in his head had been too good to be true.

Although it was good he'd found out when he had. Stopped things before they got too far. It could have been a whole lot worse.

They walked in silence for most of the day, taking a few short breaks. They visited Sven's favorite berry bush and the rock where Sven sometimes liked to file his hooves and antlers. But at this point Sam was pretty much certain the best way to find Sven lay in Dean, or at the very least, Dean's mind.

They reached the trolls' clearing by sundown.



"We're here," Sam said simply, dropping his pack at the edge of the circle of clear ground. Moonlight dappled the flat stone, which was always mysteriously free from snow. The numerous round boulders cast long shadows.

Despite the dire situation, Sam experienced that bone-deep happiness he felt every time he came back here, like the ground itself was magic. It was the full body, tingling sort of happy that made his head swim.

"So," Dean said, the first thing he'd said in hours. "What're we waiting for?"

He kicked a pebble with the toe of his boot.

"Hey!" Sam waved a hand. "Don't kick anyone!"

"Ok, crazy," Dean muttered. But when Sam frowned, Dean crossed his arms over his chest, making a show of waiting.

"They're rock, remember?" Sam said.

Dean looked skeptically at the boulders, which was understandable. They looked just like rocks at first glance.

Sam stepped into the circle. "Hey, guys? It's me. Wake up."

There was no movement. Dean shifted awkwardly where he stood, and Sam ignored him, and ignoring a tiny feeling of worry. While he hadn't really expected a lot of song and dance at his arrival, he definitely hadn't expected the silence that followed his greeting.

"Guys?" Sam said again, voice coming out small.

There was no response for a moment, so when the boulders began to rock back and forth Sam felt entirely relieved. They shifted and rolled around like overgrown marbles, and the ground began to shake, a gentle vibration. Dean took a decided step behind Sam as the trolls moaned awake, their eyes blinking open, almost neon white in the shady glen.

Aunt Agate rolled out of her slumber, jostling a younger troll.

"Hi, Sam," it said, but Aunt Agate shushed him and woke the troll next to her, which in turn woke the two next trolls.

In the space of a minute, at least fifty of the trolls were awake, but the only one who seemed inclined to speak to Sam was Gothi, the high troll priest, who waddled toward him. His expression was somber, his eyes glued on Dean.

"Hey, everybody," Sam said.

He nodded slowly. "Hello, Sam."

Sam cleared his throat and extended an arm. "Guys, this is Dean. He woke up in the woods yesterday with no memory and I thought you could help him get it back. Dean, this is my family."

Dean drew closer to him and then Sam felt an uninvited thrill of anticipation as their shoulders brushed. Maybe because he had no doubt that the trolls could help Dean remember who he was, and Sam had this fine sliver of hope, the part of him that thought maybe, if Dean got his memories back, he would turn out not to be a crazy, reindeer-napping fiend. Maybe everything would still be ok.

The whispering picked up and Sam couldn't make out the discussion, only partial phrases. One troll asked, "How did this happen?" and another said, "Maybe they found-"

"But no, his memory is still-" said a third.

"Uh, guys?" Sam asked.

"Yes, yes," said Gothi, rolling gently away from the others, his necklace of blue stones lighting up as he spoke.

"So can you help us? I mean, help him?." Sam ducked close and said, out of the corner of his mouth, "Possible reindeer-napper here, so if you could do me a solid and clear things up a little-"

Gothi turned to hold a whispered conversation with a troll named Shanigan.

"Hey," Dean barked after a second of this. "Stone heads."

Sam turned on him. "Dude. Be a little polite."

Dean threw him a look then stomped up to Gothi. The elderly troll tipped back to regard Dean with a stony expression.

"I'm not in a rush or anything," Dean said, sarcasm dripping from every word. "But are you gonna get inside my head and tell me what's up or should I find some other magic thing to do it?"

Actual crickets chirped a few times to highlight the lengthy silence. Finally, glancing amongst each other, Gothi put his hands together and bowed his head in thought. He then looked at both of them, one and then the other, and then nodded at Dean.

"Sam," he said. "His problem is just in his head. If it was in his heart, then the enchantment would hold forevermore."

"Cursed? Dean's cursed?" Sam said. This was bad. Very bad.

"I knew it," Dean said. "I knew I was cursed. Hey, wait a second. How did my head get cursed?"

Gothi looked troubled. "If you really must know..."

"Yes, we really must." Sam looked Dean over. "Only someone heartless could do that to Sven-"

"For the last time, I've never even seen your reindeer!"

"Come here, my son," Gothi said, and Dean gave him a wary look. "I can only help you along your way, but it is not my place to save you. The cursed will help the cursed."

"Wha-" Dean started, then went cross eyed as Gothi laid a hand on his forehead.

"All will be explained."

"Um," Sam said. "Gothi, what are you-"

The troll's eyes looked sad when he turned to Sam. "I'm sorry, my boy. It was never supposed to be this way. Soon, you'll remember."

Sam let his eyes fall shut as Gothi lay a hand on his forehead as well.

And for some reason, he was transported back to that night in the storm, that crazy sled ride through the dark world.

It was a memory, he knew, but he experienced it in real time. He felt the fear, the nausea of the sharp turns as they happened, the trees flying by. The torrential rain hit his face like hail, like it was real. But in this memory, Dean was beside him him, holding tight to the reins, his hair plastered to his head. His teeth were a blinding white as he grinned with exhilaration, and yelled over the downpour, "Buckle in, Sammy!"

Sam knew that it was impossible that Dean had been there with him that night, but he also knew that it was true. He felt it in his heart, just as he felt the freefall of the crash as it happened and jerked back to reality.

When he blinked out of the memory his eyes found Dean's, and judging by the look on his face, Dean had seen it to. He looked shocked, wrecked.

"What-" Sam said, gasping. "How did you-"

Dean gaped at him. "You're my- What the hell!"

"Brothers." Gothi nodded. "Blood kin."

Sam's heart skipped a beat, but it didn't occur to him for a second that this wasn't true. It felt right the moment it was said out loud.

"I knew it," he said, trying to look at all his memories at once for any sign of Dean. "I knew I had a brother!"

Dean looked wild-eyed. "I was-" he said, and then touched his mouth. "Oh my god." He stalked away without another word. Sam watched as he put his hand on a tree, and stared down at the ground like it had betrayed him.

"But," Sam asked. "Why don't we remember anything?" He frowned, trying to hold onto the memory of that night. "Dean broke his leg," he said, tasting the words in his mouth for truth. "He broke his leg and I had to set it, and we hid out all night with only our body heat and the shelter of some branches. That really happened. That's so weird, I totally remember that being Sven. Weird. So where are my other memories?"

"The curse shall help the cursed," Gothi repeated.

"And there is but one key," a small troll said.

"Key?" Dean called. "What key?"

And then the trolls took up an unintelligible chant and began to roll away. Sam looked helplessly to his adoptive family, green-skinned and black-eyed and suddenly very unlike any of the humans Sam had ever known.

"Hey!" he yelled after them. "So what happens now? What does it even mean?"

Gothi's eyes gleamed in the moonlight. "What happens now is up to you," he said, then blinked out of sight.

When they were gone, the forest sounds picked up once again, the buzzing of insects and the crackling of branches.

"Cursed?" Sam asked the empty clearing. "What am I supposed to do?"

Dean grabbed Sam's arm. "We're getting the hell out of here is what."

"Hey, let go," Sam said, yanking his arm away, but more as an afterthought.

"I'm going," Dean said. "Are you coming or not?"

Part 3