The Cabin in the Woods, part 2
Part 2
Wearing just about every piece of clothing he owned did little to keep Dean warm as the wind and snow whipped about him and cut through the layers, chilling him to the marrow of his bones.
He put his head down to shield his face from the oncoming gales, attempting to pick up his pace. The first half mile had been slow going - too slow. He wanted to run, to sprint to his destination, but the piles of snow coming up well past his knees prevented him from it. Even at the agonizingly slow speed, his muscles were tight and burning and his lungs strained with the effort to pull the freezing air in.
And it didn’t help matters that his feet were frozen well past the point of being numb. Though he tucked his hands deep into his pockets, he couldn’t really feel them anymore either, the wool gloves he had on were proving ineffective towards the biting wind.
He hated snow. Give him Florida or California and he’s a happy man, but this … this just sucked out loud. But he had to keep going, keep driving on one miserable step at a time, one foot in front of the other, legs pushing through the thick snow because there was something so much worse than frostbite and that was the mere thought of his brother laying sick back in the cabin. He still felt awful for leaving Sam behind like he had, alone in that cold cabin, sick and hurting. He wanted nothing more than to stay with him like Sam had almost begged, but whatever was wrong with him was beyond Dean’s capability to handle. Sam needed a doctor more than he needed Dean.
Dean let the thought of getting Sam some help warm him a little as he trudged on. Sam could be a pain in the ass on occasion … okay, he could be a pain in the ass on most occasions, but there was no one else besides his father that he loved more. Growing up together hadn’t been easy and some days it felt like Dean might be crushed under the weight of the responsibility of keeping Sam safe. But a striga that nearly took his brother’s life when they were kids had taught just how important it was to be ever vigilant and always on guard for anything that might hurt his kid brother. That time, he’d been lucky as Dad had swooped in at the last minute before Sam was hurt, but Dean never forgot and from then on, he took his job as big brother and protector with deadly seriousness.
He’d practically raised the kid too with Dad being gone as much as he was - taught him how to tie his shoes laces, how to read, how to field strip a .45, how talk to girls, and how to kill a chupacabra with just one shot. And along the way, Sam had taught him a few things as well - how to care for someone, how to see the good in people, and how to stay human when it felt like he was no better than the monsters they hunt.
In many ways, Sam and Dean were polar opposites of each other. Sam loved to study while Dean would rather get some target practice in. Sam was awkward and shy around girls, whereas Dean was smooth and seductive. Perhaps the most distinctive difference was in how they thought about the life they lived. Dean loved the excitement and adrenaline pumping action of a hunt, of fighting alongside their father against the dark forces of evil in the world that normal, everyday people just couldn’t understand. But Sam … he balked at it - hated it even. He had even confessed to Dean that he was scared of it all and wished that he were one of those ignorant, everyday people out there living a normal, supposedly ‘safe’ life. Maybe ignorance was bliss to Sam, but Dean knew that what you didn’t know really could kill you.
Sure, Sam was different than Dean, but one thing they shared more than DNA and a familial bond was the need to watch out for each other. Even though Sam might hate hunting, Dean was never really worried that his brother wouldn’t have his back and vice versa. He’d be damned if he’d let him down.
With only a flashlight to guide him and visibility poor even with that, he had no idea how far he still had to go or if he was indeed heading in the right direction since all he could see was white. Several times, he pulled out his cell phone on the off-chance he might pick up a signal, but the phone was just as much of a useless brick as it was before he headed out.
Dean was tiring. His muscles were reaching the point where they begged him to stop, but he forbade his body to rest and willed uncooperative legs and lungs to keep chugging along. The journey felt endless, like he might have to walk forever before he even found the highway, but he had to keep moving. Stopping wasn’t an option or he’d freeze and Sam would never get the help he needed. He had to keep putting one foot in front of the other, one step at a time.
At last, a horizontal clearing became visible; he had made it to the highway. The snow was only marginally shallower here, but an hours’ old set of tire tracks provided a somewhat hard-packed path for his feet and to his relief, the snow covering the tracks was only ankle deep. Chest heaving from exertion, Dean pushed aside his exhaustion and picked up his feet, finding that a slow jog was possible as long as he was careful not to slip on the snow underneath. Dad trained them hard and running miles on end was natural to him, but numb feet and cold muscles wouldn’t allow him to go fast no matter how hard he pushed his body.
He had only two more miles to go - he could do this.
He would do this.
OoOoOoOoOo
Sam awoke from a restless doze, half expecting Dean to be there, but through the haze, he remembered that his brother had left him and he was alone. He wasn’t sure how long it had been since Dean took off into the storm, but it was far longer than he thought it should have been.
The pain however, had not left him - it was a constant companion. So too was the cold and turning his head, he could see that the fire had burned itself down to embers and was no longer providing any sort of heat for the drafty cabin.
He huddled further into the sleeping bag, pulling the covers tight across his shoulders, but they did little to stop the shivers wracking his body. He moaned around his chattering teeth, trying to decide of moving to add another log to the fire was worth the pain it would cause in his gut. He shifted to his knees, testing to see how much he could move without too much discomfort, but a stabbing lance piercing his abdomen told him that any further movement would be a bad idea - a very, very bad idea.
Yeah … He’d just lay there.
Dean would be back soon.
He had to be - because he didn’t think he could make it much longer.
OoOoOoOoOo
Finally a light was visible through the blowing snow.
It was still too hard to see if it was the gas station, but it was the first sign of other people being nearby and Dean latched onto it like a moth drawn to a flame. The jogging pace he had started back when he had first found the road had dropped off to a quick walk as his legs cramped and his lungs burned from the frosty air, but the hope of finding some help for Sam recharged his batteries and his sparked a renewed energy through his muscles. He started jogging again, ignoring the fatigue that continued to chase him until he found himself at the door to the shop.
His hope faded quickly however, when he found the entrance securely locked and the business closed.
“Oh c’mon!!!” He shouted out loud and kicked at the stubborn door.
He cupped his hands around his face as he pressed it close to the window, looking inside for any sign of life. Aside from the lights above the gas pumps, all of the lights were off and no one was inside.
“Crap.” He muttered.
There was only one option left.
He was gonna have to break in and find a phone.
Dean eyed the door of the small mom-and-pop store. It was a simple wooden door with a window in the center and a deadbolt that appeared to be the only measure of security in place to keep anyone out after closing. Having left his lock picks behind, Dean’s only choice to get inside was to use the one trick left up his sleeve: brute force. Whipping off his hat, he wrapped his hand inside it and then balled up his gloved fist, slamming it into the door window, thankful for once that his hands were so numb from the cold that he barely felt it.
The glass shattered easily, sending a percussive shock up his arm as the shards landed at his feet. He unwrapped his hand quickly then reached through the hole he had created and unlocked the deadbolt.
Stepping inside from the swirling snow flurries, Dean headed directly for the counter, ignoring all else save for the phone attached to the wall behind it. He ripped off his gloves with his teeth, pulled the receiver from its cradle then put it up to his ear.
His heart sank a moment later when no dial tone could be heard on the other end. No matter how many buttons he pressed, he couldn’t establish a connection. It was just as dead as his cell phone.
“Son of a bitch!” He yelled, slamming the phone back into its cradle. The wind probably blew down not only the cell towers, but the regular phone lines too.
Shit … now what was he supposed to do? Couldn’t anything work in this god-forsaken, hick town?
Dean fumed and shook his head, trying to get his frozen brain to work on a solution when his eyes landed on a small, red button next to the cash register.
A panic button?
Huh … maybe the deadbolt wasn’t the only security device in the shop.
The phone might not be working, but the radio signal connected to the silent alarm might still work and bring the authorities. Sure … he’d probably find himself sitting in a jail cell for his efforts, but if Sam got help, it would all be worth it.
There really wasn’t any other choice. Dean pressed the button then sat back and waited.
OoOoOoOoOo
God, it was cold.
God, everything hurt.
God, he was tired.
He drifted, floating around between those three things that made him most miserable. He couldn’t get warm enough, the nausea rolling in his stomach meant that taking any of the pills Dean left behind for the pain would only result in even more pain as he threw them back up, and while the cold and pain battled it out for supremacy, that meant that sleep was off the table no matter how exhausted he was.
But more than all of that, he was worried. The walls rattled ceaselessly as the wind buffeted them and the noise it made as it whistled and squealed only made his anxiety grow. Dean was out there - for hours now … what if he was lost or hurt?
Sam felt like puking again.
His mind was getting ahead of him, he knew. Dean would come back - he would be fine - there just wasn’t any way he couldn’t be.
Just as he thought he couldn’t feel any worse, Sam felt another spasm rip into his gut, this one more powerful than any before, making Sam roll to his hands and knees, one arm clutching his stomach as the pain tore at him from the inside. Tears leaked from his eyes and he quit trying to fight them, sobbing uncontrollably.
Hurry, Dean … please …
OoOoOoOoOo
Dean wasn’t at all surprised that the cop who had braved the elements and driven through miles of icy, treacherous roads to answer a silent alarm was less interested in believing Dean’s story than in slapping cuffs on him and throwing him into the back of his police SUV.
“C’mon, man …” Dean protested, shifting his arms behind his back, trying to find a position in the back seat where the handcuffs wouldn’t cut into his frostbit skin, “Just check … I didn’t steal anything, I just needed to find a phone.”
“Yeah right,” The cop responded dryly, turning over the engine of the vehicle, “You’re a complete innocent in all of this … all except for the breaking and entering thing.”
“Jeez … It’s like I’m talking to a brick wall,” Dean grumbled, “Why the hell would I push the silent alarm unless I needed help? Look … my brother ... He’s sick and needs to get to hospital.”
Dean saw the cop’s eyes look back at him through the rearview mirror, almost questioning whether Dean was telling the truth or not, signaling to the younger man that he needed to push as much charm and sincerity as possible onto the other man.
“Please …” he nearly begged … okay, completely pleaded, pulling the same puppy-dog expression that Sam had mastered and which worked so well on him whenever his little brother wanted his way, but he didn’t need to fake any of the desperation in his voice, “Just take us to the cabin. If I’m lying, you can send me jail, I don’t care. I just want to get him some medical attention. Please … he’s my responsibility.”
Dean saw the man sigh and roll his eyes, but he knew he had him, “Where is this supposed cabin, kid?” he asked.
“This thing got four-wheel drive?” Dean asked.
“Yeah. And snow chains too.”
“Then just drive north down this road a couple of miles. I’ll tell you how to get there.”
The officer closed his eyes and shook his head, “I’m so gonna get fired.” He complained as he put the SUV in gear and drove off.
OoOoOoOoOo
The rumbling of an engine woke him.
Lights flashed.
Voices sounded distantly … two of them?
PAIN
Dean?
“Hey, kiddo … I got ya.”
Hands touched his face.
“Get him in the truck, I’ll radio the hospital ahead.”
Who was that?
“Can you walk?”
What?
“I’ll take that as a ‘no’.”
Hands again -- one went under his legs, the other cradling his head.
“Hold on, Sammy.”
He moved upward.
God, it hurt.
He moaned and cried out.
Cold.
Wind.
“I got you. Not much farther.”
An engine rumbled, vibrating under him.
Warm.
Someone held him and he burrowed into their warmth.
“Hang tight, kiddo.”
“Dean?”
“Yeah, it’s me. Just hold on. We’re getting you help, okay?”
It hurt too much to talk - to breathe.
“Sammy?”
Everything went dark.
OoOoOoOoOo
“Looks like he’ll be okay,” The doctor spoke as he stepped up to Dean and officer DeMaris, “We’re moving him up to surgery right now to remove his appendix, but when we’re all done, he should be out of the woods and back on his feet in about a week or so.”
Dean let the breath he had been holding for the last few hours go and clung onto the doctor’s words. Sam would be okay … he hadn’t failed him. He’d be up and annoying Dean in no time at all.
“It’s a good thing you two got to him in time. His appendix had already ruptured - any longer and the infection might have been too much for us to combat.”
Dean gulped, forcing the spit in his mouth down his tightening throat. It had been close - way, way too close.
Officer DeMaris shook the doctor’s hand as if knowing that Dean just wasn’t capable of politeness at the moment, “Thanks, Doc.”
“No problem, Mark. You did a good thing tonight.”
DeMaris nodded and the doctor turned away, heading back through the double doors that led to the treatment area of the ER.
Turning on his heel, the cop faced Dean with a grin curling up the corner of his lips, “So … I really should be taking you down to the station for booking now that your brother is safe.”
Dean splayed out his hands as if willing the other man to manacle him and drag him to the station, but officer DeMaris shook his head, “But … I happen to know the owner of the gas station and he owes me a few favors. I think I might be able to let you go if you pay for his broken window.”
“Does he take Visa or Mastercard?” Dean asked good-naturedly, finding himself liking the young police officer despite his choice of profession.
“Both, I believe. So, I better hear that you paid in full for the damage by the time I get back to work tomorrow, or you’ll be seeing me sooner rather than later.”
“No prob. “Dean returned with a grin, adding as an after though, “officer.”
“Good.” DeMaris returned his grin, then shook Dean’s hand. “Take of that brother of yours.”
OoOoOoOoOoOo
Sam woke to warm rays of sun touching his face.
He opened his eyes and stared into the beams of light filtering though the curtains, watching dust motes float lazily down the columns of light until they hit the ground and disappeared.
Vaguely, he was aware that he was not alone and he turned his head from the sunbeams and towards the sounds of heavy snoring echoing across the room.
Dean laid slumped, eyes closed and arms folded across his chest as he slept in the chair beside the bed. He had to be uncomfortable in that position, but Sam was hesitant to wake his brother from his nap. Even fast asleep, he appeared exhausted and drained.
Enough of Sam’s memory had been retained from the night before to recall how his brother had taken off into a blizzard, heedless of his own safely just to make sure that Sam was taken care of and he felt guilt at being the weakest link once again in the Winchester hierarchy - the youngest one that needed protection and looking after at all times.
Sam was still tired and achy, though not half as bad as it had been in the cabin, and he was starting to feel his eyelids grow heavy and sink back into sleep when Dean snorted and startled himself awake, opening his eyes wide with a gasp as if he had been woken from a dream or nightmare.
His eyes settled on Sam and the fear they had held seconds earlier fled in an instant, “Sammy … you okay?”
“M’ fine, Dean. Just a little sore and tired,” Sam responded quickly to ease the anxiousness that lined his brother’s face.
Dean reached out at patted Sam’s knee, “Good. You should go back to sleep.”
Sam couldn’t really argue with that logic; he was exhausted and just opening his eyes had made him sleepy all over again, but he couldn’t fall asleep - not yet.
“Dean …”
“Yeah?”
“Thanks, man … you came back for me.”
“ ‘Course I did, numbnuts, what else was I supposed to do?” Dean grabbed Sam’s hand and gripped it tight, “I’ll always come back for you, dude … always.”
The End