Author's note: This was supposed to be a quick one-shot, partly inspired I think by watching Jensen & Jared messing around in the snow in the Season 1 Gag Reel! But then Heather03nmg asked for a multi-chapter fic, and promised cookies, so...

Thanks must also go to Brennan and Ziggy for the constant encouragement when I'm writing – it really does help:)

So anyway – here's the story.. Which will be over a few chapters after all!

"Well this sucks."

Dean's statement was accompanied by a disgusted shake of his head as he stared out of the motel room window, hands shoved in the pockets of his jeans. He glared at the view, as if that could somehow change it. Which of course it couldn't.

Sam looked up from the laptop and sighed. They'd only been here a few hours and already Dean was climbing the walls. This was gonna be a long few days.

They'd been hoping to outrun the snowstorm local radio stations had been warning about for days, but as usual luck wasn't on their side and it had hit fast and hard. Sam was just glad Dean was a good enough driver that they hadn't ended up in a ditch somewhere. After an hour spent driving through what could only be described as the mother of all blizzards they'd managed to spot the sign for the motel, barely visible under a thick layer of snow. They'd pulled into the parking lot gratefully, Dean having to practically prise his fingers off the steering wheel he'd been gripping it so hard.

That had been 2 hours ago and since then the snow had just kept on coming. Now the Impala was barely visible, just a car-shaped lump of snow. The motel manager had kindly given them several tupperware boxes of food to be heated in the microwave in their room. He'd insisted, saying it was clear no one would be going anywhere for a while and he'd been stocking up ready for it. Clearly this was a regular occurrence in this part of the country.

So they had food, coffee and a nice warm room. And unfortunately for Sam, a very bored Dean. Closing the laptop he sat back and gave Dean his full attention.

"You know you may as well at least sit down, Dean. Staring at the snow is not gonna make it stop you know."

Dean turned to face him, rolling his eyes.

"Gee, ya think Sam? And here was me hoping that could be my freaky psychic power."

"Cute. You gonna be like this the whole time we're stuck here? Cos with this amount of snow, I could easily bury your body and no one would find it for months." said Sam, dryly.

Dean glared at him. "Hilarious Sammy. It's not my fault stuck in the middle of nowhere with nothing to do except stare at your ugly mug is not my idea of fun."

Sam rolled his eyes and ignored the comment, getting up to see what the manager had given them for food. It was a while since they'd last eaten and his stomach was starting to growl.

"Ok, so you want stew – I think that's what it is – or lasagne?" he said, glancing over his shoulder at Dean.

Dean shrugged. "Whatever you want." he said with total disinterest.

Biting his tongue and reminding himself of all the reasons he should not kill his only brother, Sam picked the lasagne and put the container in the microwave.

Minutes later the food was ready. Sam split the portion in half and handed a plate and fork to Dean. Sitting down and tucking into his own plate, he watched Dean poke at the lasagne with a slightly disgusted look on his face.

Sam sighed. "Now what?" he said.

Dean glanced at him. "Nothing. Just not a huge lasagne fan." he said.

Sam waved his fork at Dean in exasperation. "Then we coulda had the stew, Dean! That was the whole point of asking what you wanted."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Alright Francis, don't get your panties in a knot! I didn't fancy either of them, ok?"

"Well it's a lot better than what we usually eat – you were the one complaining about only eating stuff heated in shop microwave the other day."

"Right, and this was heated in..?" said Dean dryly and Sam glared at him.

"Fine, whatever. Look you don't want it, don't eat it. But there's sure as hell nothing else on offer, unless you plan on a hike through the blizzard."

Dean snorted, but said nothing. Sam went back to his own food, stabbing the lasagne with slightly more force than was necessary.

"You know you used to be the one always complaining about food when we were kids."

Sam looked up with a 'what the hell?' expression on his face. Dean just shrugged.

"I'm just saying, that's all. You were a pretty fussy eater. And a pain in the ass."

"Ok, first off I was a kid, Dean. You are supposed to be an adult, in case no one pointed that out by the way. And secondly? We hardly had much choice from what I remember. Can you blame me for wanting a proper meal now and then?"

Dean raised his eyebrows. "What's that supposed to mean? Is this gonna be another rant about what a crappy childhood you had? Cos we haven't had one of those for about 5 minutes."

Sam glared at him. "Right, I was forgetting – you and I had the best childhood in the world. Like something out of a Disney movie. Is that what you want me to say, Dean?" he said, the words dripping with sarcasm.

Dean glared back. "Don't start Sam."

"Hey, you're the one who started it. I was just trying to enjoy my food, you're the one who had to bring our childhood into it."

"Yeah, and you're the one who always makes out like you had the most deprived childhood in the world! Dad did his best, ok? It wasn't his fault we were moving around so much." said Dean, heatedly.

Sam snorted. "Right, not Dad's fault. Whose fault was it then? He could have stopped somewhere, just while we were growing up. I mean would it have killed him for us to have a normal house, go to a school for more than one year at a time, actually have a proper kitchen with real food in it?"

"He was tracking the demon Sam! You remember, the demon? Nasty fella, glowing yellow eyes, gotta thing for trying to wipe out our family! Ringing any bells?"

"Hilarious, Dean and for the record? Look how well that turned out! He never got near the thing until it was too late."

Dean threw his hands up in the air. "Oh, so now that's Dad's fault too? You wanna blame Jess's death on him?"

"No! That is NOT what I said! I'm saying that we didn't always have to be on the road all the time, not when we were that age! We'd already lost Mom, maybe it would have been nice to have a proper home at least instead of one crappy motel room after another!"

"They weren't all crappy, Sam!" said Dean and Sam raised his eyebrows in disbelief.

"They weren't, ok? You don't remember everything, Sam. Dad did his best!"

"Yeah, well sometimes his best sucked." said Sam and Dean gave him a look that made Sam seriously wonder if he was gonna end this night with his face intact.

"You know you might want to consider something, when you're busy bitching about what an awful childhood you had. Dad was hunting, a lot, as I'm sure you're all too keen to point out next. He didn't do most of the raising with you, that was me. So who do you think you just insulted there Sammy? Cos it sure as hell wasn't Dad!"

With that Dean got up and stormed out the door before Sam could even react.

"Shit!" muttered Sam, rubbing his hands over his face. Looking up he belatedly realised Dean hadn't even grabbed his jacket from where it was hanging by the door. Getting up, he looked out of the window and saw it was still snowing and Dean was nowhere to be seen.

Resting his head on the glass, Sam closed his eyes briefly in frustration. This was gonna be a long night.