This story is for Phx, I kind of combined two prompts, hope you don't mind and sorry that it won't be finished by Christmas but I hope you enjoy it. I will try to get it finished asap. Merry Christmas!
The Day After Yesterday.
Sam opened the front door and stepped inside, grateful for the rush of warmth that met him as he entered the motel room. The lone rattling radiator wasn't exactly amazing but anything was better than the biting cold from outside. He dropped his bag by his and Dean's bed and slipped off his shoes and his snow-soaked jacket. He shivered and shook off the snow flakes that had settled in his hair. The trip down to the local shops had been hazardous, the roads were icy and the local grocery store had been full of last minute Christmas shoppers and Sam had watched with a sense of longing as they wheeled around shopping carts full of vegetables, turkeys, candies, wrapping paper and other Christmas purchases whilst he trailed around with his basket full of coffee, salt and lighter fluid.
He watched with jealousy, wishing that for once his family could have a normal Christmas, be like everybody else and sit down and have a Christmas dinner or at least a tree. Sometimes Dean would get some spindly, sad looking tree and they'd dig out some cheap decorations from the 99cents store but this year they hadn't even bothered with that. He longed for normality, just to sit down and be a normal family for once when they could actually enjoy time together without barked orders, feelings of inadequacy and hunts.
As Sam set the salt, coffee and lighter fluid down on the table Dean emerged from the bathroom in a cloud of steam, a towel around his waist.
"Hey Sammy, I uh…think I used up all the hot water. Oops." Dean said with a grin as Sam sighed heavily and collapsed down onto the bed.
"Whatever Dean, I don't care." Sam said as he stared up at the off-white ceiling and tried to block out the shouting from the room next door. He heard Dean shuffling around behind him and digging through the bags for his clothes.
"What crawled up your butt?" Dean asked as he plucked a shirt from the bags in the corner.
"You really dazzle me with your conversational skill Dean." Sam said dryly, rolling over so he was upright and lying across the bed on his front. Dean disappeared into the bathroom again but he didn't miss the call of 'eat me', muffled by the closed door. Sam snorted and let out a sigh. He thought of his friends at school, probably at home with their families together, looking forward to tomorrow.
He was pulled from his thoughts by a key in the door; he turned around as his Dad walked into the room. He looked up, catching Sam's gaze and nodded in acknowledgment, closing the door behind him.
"Did you get the things I asked you to?" John asked as he shrugged off his coat and suppressed a shiver. Sam nodded and gestured to the goods on the table.
"Good. Jeez it's cold outside. Make sure you have your winter coat for the hunt tonight, I need you and Dean to back me up." He said and Sam sat up. Dean emerged from the bathroom as if on cue.
"Wait what? A hunt?" Sam asked, confused.
"Yes Sam, the werewolves, remember? Do you listen to anything I say?" John asked as he picked up the lighter fluid and put it in his bag. Dean, now fully dressed sat on the other side of the bed.
"But Dad, tonight? It's Christmas eve!" Sam said exasperatedly. John's head shot up and he glared at Sam.
"Sam, the hunt is more important that Christmas Eve, it's just another day, it doesn't mean anything." John said lowly and Sam swallowed hard, looking away from his father's hard eyes.
"But Dad, why can't we do things like normal families. For once, why can't we do something together, celebrate Christmas properly." Sam said ignoring the warning look Dean shot across at him.
"Don't talk back to me Sam! What is this obsession of yours with 'normality'? What we do is so much more important! Why can't you have the same attitude as Dean? He knows how important the hunt is, that it's far more important than something as trivial as Christmas Eve." John retorted angrily as Sam blinked, eyes burning as he got to his feet.
"Well, I'm Sam Dad not Dean!" Sam yelled back angrily, fists clenched at his side. He saw anger spark in his father's eyes and heard Dean's exasperated sigh as he got to his feet, ready to move between then if needs be.
"Well maybe it would be better if you were more like Dean, then you wouldn't screw up so much!" John yelled back and Sam flinched away, trying to desperately to force his face into a neutral expression and to wipe away the hurt that was trying to get out. He blinked quickly and looked away.
"Whatever." He muttered and walked off, shutting himself in the bathroom, the door slamming behind him. He sat down on the corner of the bath and let the tears leak down his face, heavy and hot. He was a screw-up, the words had actually come out of his father's mouth. He couldn't do anything right, he'd never be good enough.
He sniffed, hoping Dean or his Dad couldn't hear him and let the tears flow faster. Happy Christmas Sam, he thought bitterly to himself.
Sam struggled to walk forward against the blast of icy wind that was biting at his face. He felt numb, it was so cold and the snow was falling so thick he couldn't see anything apart from the figure of Dean ahead of him. They had split up, their Dad going one way and the two of them going to the other. They had been tracking the werewolves through the forest but the blizzard was making things almost impossible. The cold was making his bones ache and his limbs felt heavy and sluggish.
"Keep up Samantha," Dean yelled, the icy winds carrying his voice towards Sam.
"Whatever," he grumbled, heaving his legs through the thick snow, his trousers soaked through as he tried to keep up with Dean's faster pace. Dean stopped and Sam stumbled, almost falling into him.
"Look, just because you're pissed at Dad doesn't mean you have to keep acting like a bitch." Dean snapped and Sam glared up at him, hiding his hurt with anger.
"Well sorry Dean, I guess it's because I can't be more like you." He retorted bitterly and Dean rolled his eyes and continued to walk on, faster than Sam's shorter, numb legs could keep up with.
"Well Sam, Dad was right. Christmas doesn't mean anything, saving lives is more important and if you want to be selfish well than that's your problem." Dean snapped, walking ahead and not looking back at his brother. As soon as the words left his mouth he felt guilty, he knew Sam was having a hard time with their father but he just wished everything could be easy, that they'd all get along and there wouldn't be this constant divide.
Sam stopped in the snow, Dean's words stinging more than the icy wind on his face. So Dean agreed with their Dad? Dean had taken a side, something he'd never done before and it had been with his Dad.
He shook his head and blinked the burning moisture from his eyes and soldiered on, the snow falling thicker and faster. Dean was becoming a distant blob and Sam suddenly felt a hot grip of fear. He didn't know where they were going and Dean was leaving him behind. Dad would call it another screw up and it'd be another thing to hold over him, another reason why Dean was a better son than Sam.
Why couldn't Dean just slow down. Looking around, Sam suddenly noticed the lack of trees, shrubbery of well, anything. What was going on?
He tried to run forward towards Dean but it came out as more of a struggled jog against the thick snow at his feet then suddenly he felt it. Something shifted between his feet and he wobbled unsteadily, his heart beating rapidly in his chest. The ground beneath him seemed to let out something to a groan and he felt sheer panic wash over him as the ground jolted again.
Then he realized, there were no trees because they were walking across the lake.
Another groan sounded and the horrible sound of splintering filled the air and the ground beneath Sam's feet disappeared. He let out a strangled cry as he fell before he was met with a cold that felt like fire in his bones, stabbing at every inch of him as he was submerged, disorientated, confused, frozen.
He struggled but his heavy winter coat was weighing him down and the cold was numbing his brain as his struggles grew weaker and weaker. He tried to breath but icy water flooded his mouth. His last thought was of Dean and his retreating back and how he probably would never have heard him over the howling winds.
Then everything slipped into black.