That night in bed, Dean was woken up by something hitting the glass. He opened his eyes, and heard the same noise again.
"Baby?" he asked, throwing the covers off, and sitting up. Slowly climbing out of bed, he staggered over to the window.
Opening the curtain slightly, he looked outside to see it was snowing heavily, and his beloved car had turned from black to white with snow. "Oh no." He grabbed the covers from his bed, and slowly made his way out of the bedroom.
"Don't worry baby, I'll save you."
Walking downstairs and unlocking the front door, Dean shivered uncontrollably when the snow met his bandaged upper body. "Hiya baby," he said, going over to his car to sweep the snow off, before covering her up with the huge blankets.
"Ow." Ignoring the pain and concentrating on the task of warming his car up, Dean managed to cover the whole car, protecting her from the cold and snow. "T-T-Th-There you g-g-g-go," he said, wrapping his arms around his shivering body.
"Sssshhhhh. D-D-D-Don't c-cry b-b-baby." He leaned forward and laid his cheek against the roof, his good hand stroking the covered surface as he gave her a one armed hug. "Yo-You're w-w-warm now. L-L-Love y-y-y-you."
A violent shiver ran through Dean's body, which he thought was his car shaking in fear. "It's o-o-o-okay. I-I-I'll sa-save y-y-y-you f-from the a-a-a-army o-of evil sn-snowmen... a-a-and d-d-dancing p-p-penguins." He closed his eyes, and was almost asleep when he heard a voice behind him.
"Dean, what the hell are you doing?" asked Sam, running outside when he saw his brother in just his boxers and bandages, standing out in the middle of a snowstorm. "Are you crazy?"
Dean looked up at him with huge glazed eyes, the painkillers obviously still running through his system. "Sh-She was c-cold... a-a-and s-s-s-snowy," he whispered weakly, shivering uncontrollably.
Sam rolled his eyes, and wrapped his arms around him, trying to warm the icicle that was his big brother. "You're an idiot, you know that?"
"M-M-M-My j-j-j-job... s-s-save p-p-p-people."
"Yeah. People, not cars. She's made of metal, she can survive cold weather." He was glad he woke up to check on Dean, otherwise they would have woken up with a Dean shaped snowman in the middle of the yard the next morning. "Do you want to freeze to death?"
"J-J-J-Jack di-did," Dean muttered against Sam's shoulder.
"He also went insane and tried to kill his family with an axe," he said, rubbing his hand up and down Dean's back. "Come on. I'll make some hot chocolate to warm you up."
"C-C-C-Can baby co-come?" Dean managed through his chattering teeth, and blue lips.
Sam slowly started leading his brother to the house, holding him to his chest to protect him from the cold. "Dean, I'm not driving the car into the house," he said, at the same time thinking it was a good job he hid the keys earlier, or Dean would have probably tried to drive the car upstairs.
"Because she's a car."
"B-B-B-But s-s-she's c-c-cold a-a-a-and s-s-scared."
"Of course she is, Dean. Come on."
Dean started struggling against Sam, and turned back to the Impala. "S-S-S-Save her... E-E-Evil s-s-s-snowmen."
"Dean, there are no snowmen, evil or otherwise."
"T-T-T-They m-made m-m-m-me f-f-fly... Ba-baby can't f-f-f-fly. F-F-F-Freezing."
"She's safe, I promise. She's all nice and warm... Come on," he said, tightening his grip, and nearly dragging him into the house.
"G-G-GOODNIGHT B-B-BABY! L-L-LOVE Y-YOU!" Dean called over his shoulder as Sam closed the door.
"Shh. We don't want to wake Bobby up."
"K-K-Kay. I'll b-b-b-be vewy vewy qu-quiet," Dean whispered, and immediately tripped over his own feet, crashing into the wall, ending up sprawled on the floor. "OOOOOOOWWWWWWWWWWWWW!"
Sam rolled his eyes again. "Great job on that," he said, kneeling beside him, gently slipping his arm under Dean's shoulders to help him sit up. "Come on, you moron."
Dean gasped in pain, and whimpered, his eyes scrunched closed in pain. "I w-w-want Sammy."
"I am Sammy, you weirdo," he said, holding Dean in his arms as he laid across his lap.
"Nooooo. Y-You're the E-E-Elf."
Sam sighed in exasperation. "Fine. Close your eyes, and count to three... when you open them, Sammy will be here. Okay?" he said, shaking his long hair, so Dean could see his face properly.
"Kay." Dean closed his eyes, and counted to three. When he opened them, Sam was looking down at him with a worried expression. "Sammy... It hurts."
"What's all the noise about?" asked Bobby, coming down the stairs.
"The delusional psychopath thought the car was cold, so he went to warm her up, and nearly froze to death... then he tried to do a head-dive through the wall."
Bobby shook his head, and went to help Sam with his brother, who was almost in tears with the pain that seemed to engulf his entire body. "Come on son."
Dean nodded, and held his hand out to him. "Ooooooh. Dude, d-d-d-dude, duuuuuuuude. Look... m-my h-h-h-hand."
"Yeah. It's great," said Sam, reaching over to take his hand to help him sit up. "Will you stop getting excited about your frigging hand for a minute?"
Seeing Sam reach out, Dean snatched his hand back, and held it to his chest possessively, glaring at the other two as if they were going to take it away from him.
"Dean, we're not going to take your hand."
"Unless we chop it off, and use it as a decoration for the tree," added Bobby, smirking when Dean started pouting.
He started turning his hand around with a confused expression. "I-I-I-I th-think t-t-the smurfs b-b-bit m-me. M-M-My hand looks f-f-funny."
Sam looked at the hand, and saw his fingers were going blue. "I'm not surprised. You've been outside god knows how long," he said, gently grabbing Dean's hand, and placing his free arm under his back to help him up. He turned to Bobby, and whispered, "The next time he's out of his mind, remind me to stay up all night."
"Or we could just lock him in the panic room."
"No way. He'll end up killing himself trying to get out."
"W-Where's my b-b-baby?"
"She's outside. Where else is she gonna be, up the chimney?" said Bobby, wrapping his arm around the trembling shoulders.
"But s-s-squirrels... and e-e-evil snowmen," he muttered, being led to the couch by the other two men. "T-T-The d-d-dancing p-penguins."
"What's he blabbering on about now?" Bobby asked Sam as they laid Dean down.
"I have no idea," answered Sam, arranging the pillows behind him, before grabbing the blanket they kept over the back of the couch to cover his freezing brother up. "I'll go make him some hot chocolate."
Bobby nodded, and turned the fire on. "There we go," he said, kneeling in-front of the couch. "How are ya feeling?"
"H-H-Hurts," he mumbled, bringing the cover up to his chin, his body shivering violently.
"Sam, bring him some painkillers in," Bobby called over his shoulder, his hand gently running up and down Dean's body, trying to warm him up.
"Okay. I'll be back in a minute."
Dean whimpered, tears falling down his red cheeks.
"Shh. Yer gonna be alright, son," Bobby whispered, his free hand wiping the tears streaming down Dean's face.
A couple of minutes later, Sam came back into the room with the hot chocolate, water and painkillers. "Hold these for me," he said, handing them to Bobby. He eased Dean forward, and slipped in behind him, holding the freezing form against his chest.
"There ya go," said Bobby, holding the pills and water out first.
"Thanks." Sam took the offered items, and helped Dean take them. "Come on," he said, holding the glass of water to Dean's trembling blue lips. "Drink."
It took a couple of minutes, since Dean's teeth kept chattering against the glass, and the water kept spilling everywhere, but they finally managed to get him to drink some.
Giving the glass of water back to Bobby, Sam took the hot chocolate from him. "Let's get you warmed up," he whispered, holding the cup to Dean's mouth.
Dean's trembling hands came up from under the blankets and wrapped around the hot cup. He shuddered when the heat made his fingers tingle, and drank the hot liquid. "Mmmm." It was nice and hot and he savoured the heat as he swished it around in his mouth before swallowing.
Sam smiled, and watched him drink it. He jerked in surprise when a thick quilt was suddenly wrapped around them. Looking up, he saw Bobby tucking them in.
When Dean finished the hot chocolate, Sam placed the cup on the side table, and wrapped his arms around his brother. He could feel that Dean was still shuddering violently, so he started running his hands up and down his body, trying to help him warm up. He was glad Dean was out of it, otherwise he would be accusing Sam of being gay and feeling him up.
"W-W-Where's my b-b-baby," Dean asked again, huge eyes darting around the living room frantically.
Bobby sighed, took Sam's phone from the table, and walked outside. After taking a picture of the Impala, he brought the phone back in, and gave it to Dean. "She's there."
Dean looked at the picture of his car, a smile curling up his trembling lips. He kissed the screen, and held the phone to his chest. "M-My b-b-b-baby," he whispered, closing his eyes.
"Get some sleep," Sam whispered in his ear. "I've got you."
Dean mumbled something about flying elephants, and relaxed against Sam's chest, the phone with the picture of his car clutched tightly in one hand.
"What are we gonna do with him?" Bobby asked Sam, gesturing to the sleeping young man.
"I'm staying down here with him tonight," Sam told him, continuing to rub his hands up and down Dean's body. "To make sure he's alright."
"I'm going back up, yell if he gets worse or if he needs anything."
"Okay. Goodnight Bobby."
"Bert Ernie... gay," Dean muttered in his sleep, snuggling back against Sam.
The younger Winchester laughed, and tightened his grip on him. "Goodnight, you loony," he whispered, resting his cheek against Dean's dark blond hair, holding his cold, injured, insane brother in his arms.
A couple of days later, Dean was still in a lot of pain, and had developed a bad cold from standing outside in the snow two nights before, but at least he was no longer crazy.
Sam and Bobby had to deal with a hurt, loopy, out of his mind Dean for a day and a half, now they had to deal with a hurt, sick Dean. Oh what joy.
The kitchen at Bobby's was filled with laughter as the little family settled around the table.
"I did not say that," said Dean grumpily as the other two men were teasing him about some of the things he did and said when he was insane.
"Yeah you did," said Sam, nodding at Bobby.
The other man nodded back, and stood from the table, then walked into the living room.
"HetchSHUH! Ishchoo! OW!" cried Dean, holding his ribs.
"Are you alright?" asked Sam worriedly, putting his hand on his shoulder.
"Do I look alright?" he snapped, sniffling.
"Don't blame me, you're the one who went outside to cover your car up in the middle of a blizzard."
Dean scowled, and wiped his red nose on his sleeve.
Bobby came back in a minute later, wearing a Santa hat, carrying a balloon, and some teddies, which he placed in-front of Dean.
"There ya go. Since Sam screams like a big girl when he sees a clown..." he said, holding the string out.
"What the hell is that?" asked a confused Dean, taking the balloon.
"Just what ya asked for... A balloon, giraffe," he said, holding the teddy up, before picking another up. "And a tiger." He opened his jacket, and dropped a water pistol on the table, a smirk forming on his lips. "I couldn't get ya a rocket launcher. Sorry."
Dean blinked at the stuffed tiger and giraffe, and the balloon floating above his head, before turning to the men with a confused expression. "Er... What are you talking about?"
Sam cleared his throat, and turned to the oven. The up and down movements of his shoulders told the other two that he was laughing.
"Seriously... What the hell."
Bobby placed his elbow on the table, and rested his chin in his hand, trying to hide the smile that wanted to form. The look on Dean's face was priceless, he wished he brought the camera in. "Just what ya asked for."
"Why the hell would I want a giraffe?" he asked, picking the giraffe teddy up.
"I have no idea, but ya wanted a tiger to eat the rats disguised as squirrels... And a balloon, because they float."
Dean frowned, and looked back up at the balloon. "Isn't that from IT?"
"Yeah. And ya wanted a rocket launcher to shoot things... but there was no way I was going to get ya one, so yer stuck with that," said Bobby, pointing at the water pistol.
Sam burst out laughing, but tried covering it up with a cough. A couple of minutes later, he grabbed the pan to bring over to the table. "Sprouts?"
"Hell no. I hate sprouts," said Dean, letting the string go, so the balloon floated up to the ceiling.
"Dean, nobody likes sprouts."
"Why the hell are we having them then?"
Sam shrugged. "Because it's Christmas."
"Riiiiiight," said Dean, staring at his brother. "You're a freak, you know that?"
Sam smiled and turned to Bobby. "Sprouts?"
It was Bobby's turn to stare at Sam. "Put sprouts on my plate, and I'll be shoving them up yer nose."
"I'll take that as a no then," said Sam, placing the pan on the counter and joining the other two men.
Dean picked his fork up awkwardly in his left hand, but dropped it when a sudden sneezing fit caught him by surprise. "HA-etchsh! Heh-ETCHSH! ISHSHOO! KTCHSH! Sonofabitch."
"Whoa. Bless you."
"Screw you," Dean replied, wiping his nose again with his sleeve, before picking the fork back up.
"Merry Christmas boys."
"Merry Christmas," said Sam, stabbing a piece of turkey with his fork. "I'm surprised we managed to have a decent Christmas since Dean buried the turkey and shot the tree."
Dean looked confused and turned to the living room. "The tree is there. What are you on about?"
"That's a new tree. I had to go out and buy one yesterday after you declared war."
"What?" Dean looked from Sam to Bobby, not believing a word. "No I didn't."
"Ya also thought I was Santa and Sam was an Elf."
"And you kept getting excited about your hands having five fingers," Sam added, trying to keep a straight face.
Dean's eyebrows drew together as he tried to remember.
"Don't strain yourself. You might give yourself a concussion to add to your injuries."
"You're mean," he pouted, sniffling miserably.
Bobby and Sam laughed, and turned back to their dinners.
"Can you..." Dean sucked in a gulp of air, and rubbed his chest with his plastered hand when he felt a sharp pain. Whatever he was about to say next was lost in fit of coughing that sounded like he was trying to hack up a lung.
"I've got you," said a worried Sam, kneeling beside his chair, rubbing Dean's back, trying to soothe away the pain that must be wracking his body along with the cough.
Bobby watched helplessly as Sam tried to help his brother, but there wasn't anything they could do besides rub Dean's back and make soothing noises that he hoped would calm him down enough to control his breathing.
Several minutes later, the coughing fit ended, and Dean sat up straight again. "That hurt like hell," he croaked, cradling his broken ribs.
"Shall I get you some painkillers?"
"No. I'm fine," Dean told his brother, shaking his head.
"Are you sure?" asked Sam, placing his hand on Dean's forehead. "Do you want to go lay down? You don't look so good."
Dean moved his head away, and grabbed the water pistol to squirt Sam. "Stop mother henning me."
Sam blinked the water out of his eyes, and stood up. "Okay. But if you're not better in a few days, I'm taking you to the doctor," he said, sitting back in his chair. "God knows what you picked up out there in the frigging snow."
As they ate, the two men kept shooting worried glances at Dean to make sure he was okay. If Dean noticed the worried glances, he didn't say anything.
Outside, the snow continued to fall, covering the ground and turning everything a glistening white, except the Impala, which was still covered with the blankets her loving owner had put over her.
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