Because there is snow outside and I wanted Dean to paint it red.

Thank you so very much NewspaperTaxis for being so awesome and patient and betaing this for me. Thank you! And yeah… I know, I know… it took me a whole year to finish this, but… well… I just really wanted Dean to paint that snow red today.

I own nothing but all the grammar/spelling mistakes are mine. Sowwy.


His knees gave out just like that; like breaking a dry twig in half… sinking into the soft snow, his palms came to rest on the cold surface. His fall… didn't even make a sound. It was just like sinking into the softest of the softest cushions. It wasn't fair… he always thought that his death would be a noisy one. Guns and explosions and fireworks… not the eerie silence of slowly sinking into cold, white powder.

He breathed; fast in and out breaths, that turned milky white in the air. It was cold… so cold, that he couldn't even feel some parts of his body anymore. Maybe that was because of the cold, or maybe it was because he was bleeding… kind of a lot.

Every part of his body was stiff, tingling and probably a little bit frozen. He wondered where his brother was and if he'll be found like this sometime in the spring by some hikers… lying sprawled on the floor in silence.

He drew his fingers together and fisted some snow; it was cold resting against his skin… fuck.

He only saw three small tear-shaped drops of blood quietly hit the moonlight lit snow, before his head fell forward.

His forehead touched the ground first, then his nose, then his mouth and when he thought he was finally dead, his chest hit it too. Nothing made a sound. He would make a joke about that… just as soon as he would reach Hell. Just … one more minute. One more breath.

He gripped the freezing snow in his fists, felt how some of it slid through his fingers, felt how some of it got hard - snowball fights - those were awesome when his brother and he were kids.

The silence that was in his ears was really starting to creep him out.

His nose was full of snow; he couldn't breathe. It was in his mouth too; being melted by the warm blood in there… little river of melted snow mixed with blood ran out of his mouth, making a little puddle of pink right before his eyes. If he wasn't dying, he would probably be able to see the beauty in it.

He groaned, pushed himself up on his hands and turned around… so quickly that the darkness of the star covered sky made his eyes hurt.

And then… lying on little moonlight lit crystals of snow turned bright red, his eyes slid closed and his breath became almost still and shallow.


Sam ran as fast as he could manage on the soft snow; his legs sinking through the surface, he was afraid he would lose his shoes, pants and his mind. He could see his brother, lying on the ground, the snow around him red, not white.

"Dean, damnit, Dean… Dean, hey, hey…"

There's so much blood…

He pulled off his gloves, the contact of warm flesh with freezing cold air making him hiss.

"Dean? Come on, man, come on."

He tapped Dean's stone cold cheek, not even making it pink with the action. Heart beat; his fingers came back bloody from putting them to Dean's neck… check. Breathing; he couldn't see Dean's chest rising, his brother's thick clothes preventing him to see anything; he leaned over Dean's mouth, cold air barely hitting his ear… check.

"Dean, hey, wake up, man… hey, wake up."

Blood… so fuckin' much of it.

All he could see was blood and lots of it, slowly spreading out like a lake around his brother, turning the snow crystals first pink and then red. He could see some claw marks on Dean's cheeks, one small cut on his forehead… but his brother's legs… pants torn completely apart; blood around the edges of the torn fabric, shoes missing; Dean's toes were probably already starting to get frostbites.

Sam could see where the creature's claws cut deep and pulled up, tearing flesh and muscle and probably hitting bone right on Dean's left calf.

"Dean, wake up, hey, come on now."

Gonna be fine…

His brother's jacket had bloody sleeves. So much blood. So much fuckin' blood.

Sam gripped the sleeve that was closer to him and almost broke it apart because it was frozen solid.

And as for Dean's chest… he didn't even wanna open his brother's jacket to get to the source of all that blood.

"Dean… you're okay, gonna be okay."

Gonne be fine…


The trip to the car wasn't far; it wasn't even a trip, it was more of a three steps stumble with Sam half dragging, half carrying Dean.

Dean himself had almost made it to the Impala's door handle before he collapsed. There was some sort of irony hidden somewhere in there, but for the life of him, Sam couldn't figure it out.

"Dean, come on… wake up… listen to me, come on… Dean…"

Damnit, the car… Dean's gonna be pissed… make me scrub it out…

He placed his brother on the back seat, covered him with a blanket all the way to his chin and prayed to everyone up there and down there to not let Dean die.

"Dean, man, come on… wake up, I know you can, come on…"

Dean's cheeks were covered with frozen blood. Maybe that was a good thing. Maybe it was a bad thing. Maybe hypothermia, maybe enough trauma that could send his brother into a coma, maybe… maybe he just needed to get in the car and go.


Sam glanced back to the back seat, where his brother was sprawled, bleeding all over the upholstery, when the heat in the car unfroze the blood. Sam would find that funny, but… he couldn't see any humor in the fact that his brother was bleeding out all over his own baby.

Dean's gonna make me clean that up. Damn it.

His brother's eyes were closed, his face pale where his skin was actually visible under the dark red blood. His hair was dripping with sweat, melting snow and blood and Sam adjusted his hands on the steering wheel.

"Dean, you're gonna be okay."

I swear.

There was only darkness behind the car, the road disappearing into nothing so fast, Sam's head was spinning.





"Dean, you're okay. 'm taking you to the hospital."

"S…," Dean coughed, blood spilling out of his mouth, "S'mmy…"

"Dean… don't… don't try to talk, okay. Keep your eyes open, but don't talk. Okay? Dean? Man, hey!"

Sam returned his eyes to the road for a quick glance, wet, dark asphalt shining in the headlights.

"Dean? You hear me, man?"

Dean closed his eyes with a barely audible sigh, trying so hard not to shiver, because shivering meant everything in his body moving and that was a really… not a good thing.


The sound of his voice, startled even Sam himself, but he needed to keep Dean awake, here, present, in the car… with him.


He could smell his baby; leather and some leftovers from lunch, he could smell blood; coppery and sharp, he could feel something running down his face; tickling him, he could feel heat returning to his body and he could feel pain like he had never felt it before. Fire and cold licking his bones and skin. His legs felt like an elephant was sitting on them, his chest felt like hot pokers were implanted in every inch of skin there, his arms… he couldn't even feel them all that much, which was probably a really, really awesome thing.

And he could see Sam's mop of hair over the seat.

He whimpered. He fuckin' whimpered like a sissy, but man… he hurt. He hurt and he was cold.


"Dean, keep your eyes open. Can you do that?"

Dean didn't answer, just opened his eyes wider, even though that hurt like someone was sticking dull needles in them.


This… whatever this was… he knew it wasn't Hell, because from personal experience, Hell never hurt like this.


"Dean! I need you to keep your eyes open, man. Just… keep listening to me and keep them open. Or I'll start singing, I swear to God I will."


Okay, maybe this was somehow Hell. He closed his eyes and gave up on even thinking of surviving this.


"Dean… you hear me?"


Sam glanced back, seeing his brother's lips tremble, probably trying to form 'shut up, Sam'.

"Dean, open your eyes!"

Dean did; snapped them open like someone pulled on them.

"Okay… good. Just keep listening to me and keep your eyes open."


His little brother's voice was strangely soothing while explaining to him the joys of seeing the Virgin Mary on a sandwich.


"…so this girl, right… she goes make herself some grilled cheese sandwich, right and man, she sees the Virgin Mary in there… Dean… Dean open your eyes… keep listening to me… Dean!"


Mary… Mary was his mom's name… and she wasn't a virgin… what the hell is Sam going on about?


"So… they sold that piece of toast on eBay for like twenty-eight grand. I mean seriously, ya know?"

Sam smiled and looked in the rearview window again, seeing Dean's eyes slowly blink and close again with one small tear sliding down Dean's bloody cheek.

"Dean… man… don't do that… just… I know it's hard, but… just keep your eyes on me… come on, keep them open… we're almost there. Dean!"


There? Where?


"We're gonna help him, sir. Sir? Can you come with me? Sir?"

Dean's amulet is soaked with blood… not good.


There were moving lights above his head, flashes of yellow and white before his eyes, the smell of alcohol and cleaners in his nose and the ridiculously green tiles in his peripheral vision.

"Dean, 'm here. Stop that, 'm here."

Flash of bright light above his head; strong enough to burn his eyes out.

"Dean, hey, hey, hey, listen to me. You're gonna be fine. Stop fighting us."

Flash of bright light above his head; fast enough to make him dizzy.


Flash of bright light above his head.

"Dean, come on. You're okay."

Flash of bright light above his head; and then finally he got it.

He was laying on something flat and soft, being wheeled down a hallway – hospital. The word started to eat his brain. Hospital. This was… so not good.


"'m right here… keep your eyes on me." Something squeezed his shoulder and when the owner of that something leaned over his head, he saw his brother there.

"Eyes on me, Dean!"

They were moving with snail like speed or so it seemed to Dean, but he never let go of Sam's eyes. They were there, above his head like a big, shiny thing, he couldn't remember the name of right then. He saw fear in his little brother's eyes; it sparkled there in the depths of Sam's pupils.

Sam's mouth was moving but Dean couldn't hear anything… he only heard silence.

"'m right here… right here… 'm not gonna leave you, man."


But Dean left him. He was left standing in front of the swinging door that swallowed his big brother. His hands were by his sides, lifeless, dripping blood all over the tiled floor and all he could think about was that he needed the door to spit out his brother so that he could bitch about the Impala being covered with blood.


The plastic chair was hard beneath his ass; his legs were bouncing up and down – overdosing on coffee and nerves would do that to ya - his hands gripping his knees when he leaned forward to check if his brother was awake. It was dark in the room, only one dim light was turned on and even that was too much, because Sam didn't need light to see his brother... paler then the sheets he was covered with.

The doctors said his brother will be okay… in time. The cuts will heal, the blood has been replaced, there was no damage to the head, brain, spine… so that was good, there were some frostbites or frostnips as the doctors called it on Dean's toes, but nothing big and it'll all heal… in time. The doctors also said something that made Sam's heart beat a little faster: "Your brother is a lucky man… the extreme cold we're having these days, helped him survive."

Sam breathed in, his eyes focused on the tube going into his brother's nose and breathed out when he leaned back into the chair, his back screaming at him to just go lie down already.

But no… he can't. He just can't.


"Go back to sleep."


Next time Dean woke up, Sam was standing by the large window, watching the show - white, not red - fall, watching how those snow flakes were dancing in the air…

"Virgin Mary on toast, Sammy?"

Dean sounded like crap. Like he had something stuck in the middle of his throat that he couldn't cough out.

Sam startled but smiled; t'was good to hear his brother's voice, such as it was: "Yep."

"I thought I dreamed that..."

"Nope. The sandwich's real."

"Man, I hurt."

"Get some more sleep."


Four days later, the hospital parking lot:

Dean stuffed his hands in the hoodie's pockets; gripping a loose thread in there, twirling it between his fingers, testing his arm's muscles… it hurt some, but the doctors said that exercise will do wonders.

His eyes were focused on his baby's back seat: "Dude, what's up with all this blood?"

Sam chewed on his lip: "Erm, it's yours."

Dean was silent for one heartbeat before he breathed out: "Okay, umm… 'm gonna try and clean it when we… get to the motel."


"'s my blood, Sam. In my baby. And I need to exercise my arms or something."

Sam gripped Dean tighter around his waist and slid his brother into the passenger seat.

"Sure, just as soon as you'll be able to get out of bed by yourself…"

Sam knew that will take days if not weeks and by then, the Impala will be spotless. Cleaned of all the…

"Come on, man. 'm freezing my ass here. This hoodie ain't that warm, ya know?"

Actually it was. And it smelled, very faintly but still, of his brother. It was making him close his eyes and remember all those snowball fights him and Sam used to have when they were kids.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever, man."

The End.