Merry Christmas to All my Supernatural Friends (part two)

[borgmama1of5]

Fanfic: Dean Winchester’s Excellent Christmas Adventure

Authors: borgmama1of5 and sandymg

Summary: There has to have been, even in his peculiarly bizarre life, a day where if Dean squinted really hard, it could kind of pass as normal. This was not that day.

Spoilers: None. Set preseries - Christmas 2004

Wordcount: 6,800 - One shot

Genre: Gen, Crack, Christmas, preseries

Characters: Sam, Dean, a Bumble

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: We don't own Supernatural or any of its characters. That doesn’t mean we wouldn’t like to…




Dean Winchester's Excellent Christmas Adventure--Part 2

Part One here: http://borgmama1of5.livejournal.com/34961.html?#cutid1

The cries of the birthing yeti were swallowed by the groan of earth giving way and in a relentless wave the ceiling of the cave plummeted down on them. Without conscious thought Dean seized the shoulders of the female and heaved her forward out of the maelstrom of rocks and dirt, then turned back for Sam.

Who was gone.

Where Sam and the father yeti had been was an unmoving earthen barrier.

“Sam!”

Dean had only his hands with which to tunnel through the implacable barrier to his brother. Didn’t matter.

There was a tiny movement in the mound and Dean focused his frantic scooping there. The struggles from under the dirt aided Dean’s efforts and then a push uncovered a limb and the face of the yeti.

No.

Where the hell was Sam?

Dean stared at the dead eyes of the father yeti and refused to believe that his brother was buried under this mountain of rubble and stone and boulders the size of…. Behind him there came another loud wail. Mom. The contractions or whatever the hell one called it were getting closer together.

“D’n …”

Thank God. “Sam! Sam, you okay?”

His brother’s hand was clawing through the dirt, out from under the dead thing’s belly. Dean shoved handfuls of earth aside until Sam’s upper body was visible.

“Yeah, the yeti saved me. Took the brunt of the boulders. Poor thing.”

Dean continued moving rocks as fast as he could. There were so many, god, this would take hours. They needed a crane.

“Dean stop. How’s the mother. Tell me she’s okay?!”

“She’s alive. Still moaning.”

“Good. Listen. You have to birth this baby.”

“Sammy are you crazy? We have to get you out of there. I need to get you out-”

“NO. You don’t understand. This baby must live. Nothing …. Nobody is more important. Dean, help it, and don’t look back. Now, Dean, go!”

“I don’t know nothin’ about birthing a baby! Let me get you out of here, you can help her!”

“Dean, take care of her first! Just stay calm and keep talking to her. Sing again, she likes that.” A pinched look crossed Sam’s face. “Anyway, I think I broke something so you’ve gotta do it.”

Dean looked from Sam to the mother. He had no idea if labor for unnatural creatures was anything like labor for real women, but if it was he was really glad at that moment to be a guy. The poor thing was curled on her side where he’d flung her, alternating ragged pants with screeching. She was shaking and Dean thought she must be cold so he pulled off his jacket and placed it on her. Looked like a stamp on a bear rug. She started to struggle and Dean realized she was trying to get on her paws.

A huge spasm shook her body and her bellow threatened to bring down more of the cave.

“Shh, shh!” Dean made an ineffective move to rub her back.

“Dean! Catch the baby!”

Baby?! Those were small, cute pink things. Sometimes, cute brown things. Never fur-covered … and the size of a baby polar bear! With about 3 rows of small, razor sharp teeth! Oh god, what was this … other stuff was coming out … no … oh, for Pete’s sake -

“SAM … there’s another Bumble junior coming out … Sam!”

His brother wasn't responding. Dean needed to go to him, make sure Sam was all right ... but these baby hairballs were demanding his attention. He yelled for Sam again and then realized he was looking at frickin' umbilical cords! and he knew he was gonna have to do something about them ...

"Sam?" He didn't care if Sam heard the panic Dean was feeling.

There was a groan, then weakly, "You gotta cut and tie the cords, and keep 'em warm ..."

Cut -- okay, he had his knife. Tie -- what the hell could he use for that? Dean's gaze fell on the leather band around his right wrist. The point of the knife quickly split it in half, then again. With the babies' cords handled he swaddled first one, then the other in the old t-shirts from Sam's pack. Good thing his brother was Sasquatc- sized. Splashed some holy water on their blood-matted faces to clear their eyes. Enormous golden eyes that looked at him with total innocence and ... trust?

Mama yeti gave one last whimper and shut her eyes. Dean panicked. No. He leaned over and yes, she was still breathing. Cripes, Bumble breath was awful.

The babies were wiggling, spewing slightly. They were cute in a hideous sort of way. He hated what he had to do next, but it was inevitable. She was female so she must have … he dug through the fur. There. Oh, more than two.

“Well kids, looks like it’s your lucky day, double taps, extras on the house.” He slid each baby up to the mother’s teats and watched just this side of amazed no not moved when they latched on and started suckling.

He ran back to the opening where his brother lay under the rubble. “Deck the halls, Sam, I just saved Christmas …

Sam? Sam!”

Christ no! Sam’s head was lolled over his chest, eyes shut, and Dean couldn’t tell if he was breathing. Dean began clawing at the earth trapping his brother, heedless of the pain as his hands became bruised and bloody. This wasn’t happening.

“Move over, I can help.”

Dean jumped back, turned to stare into the eyes of a large, bearded man, wearing suspenders and a plaid shirt, carrying a pick axe. “Name’s Yukon Cornelius … and if you move outta the way, I can break through and free the kid.”

He looked a little like Bobby with his full beard. The man started hammering down on the rocks with incredible strength. “Don’t just stand there,” he hollered. “Move these rocks as I dig.”

Dean scooped handfuls of rocks and stones and tossed them aside. Below, Sam lay still. It seemed to take forever but slowly, eventually, they made headway, a path was cleared wide enough for Dean to grab Sam’s shoulders and pull his limp body out of the cave-in.

He laid his little brother on the ground and immediately felt for a pulse -- his own felt like it had long stopped. Oh god no. Nothing. Sam wasn’t breathing. His heart wasn’t beating. He couldn’t be …

“Quick boy, go to the Bumble and get some milk.”

“Wh … at?” Dean squeaked.

“Wanna save this boy? Well the only thing that’s gonna do it is Bumble milk. Lucky we happen to have Mama Bumble handy.”

There has to have been, even in his peculiarly bizarre life, a day where if Dean squinted really hard, it could kind of pass as normal.

This was not that day.

In fact, he could not think of a strong enough word to describe just how messed up his world was right now. His rational mind was gibbering in a corner. His brother was dead and an Alaskan trapper with the name of a character from a T.V. Christmas special was telling Dean that mother’s milk from a supernatural creature that doesn’t freakin’ exist would fix Sam.

He could do this, right?

Dean squeezed gently, aiming carefully into the canteen. He was milking yeti teats. He would never, ever be able to fondle a girl again without thinking of this…  I’m doing this for you, Sam, and goddamn this better work and you will owe me forever. Okay, another new one - the miracle juice was freakin’ pink. Looked like watered-down Pepto Bismol. Smelled like it, too.

Milking the Bumble was harder than it looked. The rugrats weren’t into sharing and kicked so that the milk squirted him in the eye a few times and it stung like a bitch but finally he had what he figured was about a tablespoon. Enough? Let’s see, what was the dosage for yeti resurrection juice?

The trapper lifted up Sam’s head and motioned for Dean to hurry. Dean fell to his knees before his brother. This was ridiculous. Insane. And if it didn’t work he didn’t want to see tomorrow.

Carefully he tipped the canteen into Sam’s mouth and poured the thin, pink liquid down his brother’s throat. Dean stared, willing the impossible. C’mon Sam. Please.

Sam gave a soft hiss, followed by coughing, then sputtering … then Sam shot up like he was spring-loaded and grumbled, “What the heck did you give me? Yuch!”

Sam started to wipe the spittle off his face with his … paw. Which was sprouting a covering of dirty white fur and fingernails that were black and pointy and six freakin’ inches long and growing!

The fabric of Sam’s clothes shredded like discarded wrapping paper as Sam’s arms and legs exploded with muscle and hair.

“De…oar!” burst out of a fang-filled mouth.

Dean imagined this is what it would look like to see Dr. Banner hulk out okay green, not furry but this could not be happening to his baby brother!

“Be careful of the teeth!”

Dean turned on Cornelius. “Why does my brother have two sets of teeth and fur?! What the hell is going on?!”

The big man looked a bit sheepish. “Forgot ’bout that little side effect …”

“You forgot? That my brother would turn into a permanent fixture at a freakin’ Star Wars convention?”

“D’n … wz … hap …grrrr?”

Dean turned back to Sam. He was never going to call his brother Sasquatch again if they got out of this one. How could they ever explain this to their father tomorrow morning? Dad, Merry Christmas, thought you needed a new coat … this one kinda, um moves. But that worry had to wait because at that moment Sam was trying to stand and man, he was big. Holy Bigfoot big.

“How do we undo this?” he asked Cornelius, certain that the man knew more than he’d said.

“Well, we’ll have to act quick. But … I think … if we get Sam some elfnog within the hour he’ll be back to his normal self in no time.”

“Elfnog?” Was Dean dead? Had the monster eaten him and this was the afterlife? Yeah, it’d be the kind of afterlife he’d get thrown into.

“Don’t look so worried. You whip it up like regular eggnog except for the one extra ingredient.”

“Pixie dust?” Dean snarked.

Cornelius frowned. “No, idjit … that would only take care of the fur but not the teeth. We need reindeer dander, ’course!”

Okay. No problem. He needed to find a reindeer, which lived where exactly? Sam would know. But Sam was currently about as helpful as a carpet.

“Mrr… all.”

“’S okay, Sam. We’re going to get you what you need.”

“Ma..rrr....ll.”

Dean stared into Sam’s furry face. Sounded like “mall.” Sam wanted to go shopping? That would go over well with store security ...  Wait. Of course … “The local mall had reindeer in its Santa display!”

A rumble behind them made them all turn.

Mama Bumble was standing, looking around … Uh-oh …

The shriek was deafening. Dean’s ears felt like they were being blasted by dynamite. Poor thing. She figured out her mate was dead.

“Um … boys … I think we should go,” Cornelius said just as the female yeti turned toward them, three rows of teeth bared at once with ravenous hunger burning in her black eyes.

It was a nightmarish scramble, Yukon swinging his pick-axe to clear a way out, and while Dean tried to push his walking-fur-coat-of-a-brother after the miner, Chewie was gonna be difficult and insist on staying between Dean and the pissed off mother. The two hairy beasts traded deafening roars and when the female swiped those fierce talons at his brother’s face Dean had his gun back out and was ready to blast her … and Sasquatch smacked Dean’s wrist hard enough to bruise and his weapon went flying.

Whatever Sam was yowling at him was totally unintelligible but the violent headshake of “no” was pretty plain.

“What the hell you doin’ Sam?!”

His brother was walking back into the lair making little “mmrrpping” noises, going to where the baby Bumbles had been left on the ground. Mama wasn’t exactly “mrpping” back but she wasn’t trying to take either of their heads off for the moment.

Dean watched in shock as his brother picked up one of the small-horse-sized babies and rocked it, then handed it to its mother and did the same with the second one.

“Come on, I’ve cleared the way out!” Yukon’s yell echoed from the far end of tunnel he’d hacked out.

“Okay, dude, we are leaving NOW!” Dean seized two handfuls of fur on his brother’s rump-another mental picture that he would never erase-and tugged until with an annoyed growl Sam came with him. Dean would swear his brother was saying something like, “It’s been a pleasure to help you, Mrs. Yeti, and you have beautiful babies, and we’re really sorry about your husband…” in Bumble-talk.

Back outside Dean hustled both of the other escapees from a holiday special back to the Impala.

And like he knew was gonna happen, because he was just having one of  those days, sure enough the car’s locks were frozen solid.

“No problem” Cornelius said. “We can take my dogsled.”

Dean looked over at the small sleigh hitched to four medium-sized dogs and then back to his brother who was about the size of a tree now and knew that was not gonna work.

“Srraaay heergreee.”

“Looks like you’ll have to, Sam. But don’t go back to that cave, you hear me. Just, um, stay put, out of sight, and … don’t eat anyone, okay?”

“Gotta hurry boy, gotta get that dander, make the elfnog and get back here in less than 40 minutes or your brother’s gonna go full out Bumble.”

Dean gave Sam a last worried look and sat behind the trapper for the ride down toward the village to the small shopping district. He had to admit it was very efficient way to travel in the snow and also kinda fun. He remembered going sledding once as a kid with his brother, the thrill of tearing down the hill, big wet snowflakes sticking in his eyelashes, the sled toppling over when they hit bottom and dumping both of them in a snow bank.

Dad had acted kind of mad at how soaked they’d gotten, but he’d made them hot chocolate as they’d dried off and had a sad kind of smile on his face while he watched them drink it. Dean blinked and they were at the mall entrance where Cornelius split off from him saying he was going to mix the elfnog and they’d meet back here in twenty minutes. The tracker told him to bring the reindeer with him because the dander was the last ingredient and had to be fresh or it wouldn’t be potent enough to do a full reversal.

He’d broken into some places before but this was his first mall-breaking-and-entering. Luckily the security system was pretty elementary and he was inside and walking around the deserted hallways without much fuss.

He followed the Santa’s Village display signs until he saw a small pen surrounded by wooden cut-out elves and a large chair which he supposed was where Santa sat for pictures. He’d brought Sammy to a mall a couple times when he was little to sit on Santa’s lap, of course never got a picture, never told Dad about it. Dean’d never believed in the bearded old guy but he pretended to for his little brother. Dean suddenly wondered if there’d been a photo of him and Santa taken at a mall, before the fire. He shook his head, no time to get loopy.

The reindeers were littler than he expected, about the size of a small pony, only with short legs and extra long noses. And antlers, of course. They eyed him curiously as he approached. Dean made quick work of the cheap lock.

“Here boy,” he cooed gently tugging on the cord around the neck of the closest one. The reindeer resisted and stared at Dean with an uncanny bright look in its deep brown eyes.

“I need your help,” he found himself explaining. “Gotta save my brother. C’mon Rudy, be a pal and cooperate.”

As if he understood the reindeer allowed him to lead it back outside to where Cornelius waited impatiently.

“Took you long enough. Give it here …”

The trapper used a little comb to pick through the reindeer’s soft, flat fur and then brushed his hands along the comb’s teeth to release a miniscule amount of white specks into a canteen. Dean wondered where the older man had found the ingredients for the elfnog but he didn’t get to ask because the man’s next words took all rational thought out of his mind.

“Well, it’s done. You got about five minutes. You can make it. But only if you fly.”

Five minutes and Sammy becomes a Bumble for life? The dogsled ride to the mall had taken fifteen minutes going downhill. How was he going to get back to his brother in time? And only because something in the other man’s matter-of-fact bearing reminded Dean of another cantankerous cap-wearing hunter did Dean turn to him with panicked eyes and ask, “Yukon? What do I do?”

The trapper stared at him. “I already done told you, boy. You gotta fly.”

Part 3 here:  http://borgmama1of5.livejournal.com/35449.html