AN: I realize these are short, but they were never meant to be more than a collection of drabbles. Some of the drabbles might get expanded on if there is interest. Just review or PM me and let know which one you would like to see more of. Also, feel free to let me know if there is something you want to see. I am more than happy to try and write it. Thanks as always, Snarks.
Dean woke wearily. It had been a long night of soothing away Sam's nightmares. He had awoken twice during the night in cold sweats, looking frantic. Dean did everything he could to soothe him, and thankfully, around three, Sam fell into a calm sleep, and so did Dean.
The sun was beating on the window, and Dean knew it was late. Groaning, he rolled over and checked the clock. It was nearly eleven. Shit! Sam would already be up by now.
Dean liked to be up before Sam. It not just gave him time to himself, but it also was routine for Sam. And Sam didn't handle breaks from his schedule well.
Cursing himself for not setting his alarm, Dean pushed himself out of bed and padded down to Sam's room. With any luck, he'd still be asleep. Dean turned the door handle slowly and let the door creak open. He peered inside, but there was no Sam.
Dean turned on his heel and quickly made his way toward the kitchen. The last time Sam went missing he had tried to make his own breakfast and was burned.
Dean knew before he reached the kitchen though that something was wrong. The cabin was too quiet. His heart began to pound and he called Sam's name.
There was no response. You could have heard a pin drop.
"Sammy!" Dean shouted, looking around wildly. The cabin was empty.
Dean fought his shaking hands as he tried to pull on his boots. His mind was reeling with the horrible fates that could have befallen Sam. Grabbing his gun, he headed out the door.
The first thing he saw was the footprints in the snow. He thanked God that it had snowed the night before. Glancing up, he could see that the path led around the back of the cabin.
Hurriedly, Dean made his way along the path. He wasn't sure what condition he was going to find his brother in. He pictured him curled up in the snow, lost and scared. Dean swallowed back the lump in his throat as he rounded the corner of the building.
Just as he stepped into the backyard, a wad of snow came out of nowhere, smacking Dean in the chest. He cocked his gun and steadied himself as he scanned the yard for any signs of Sam.
Suddenly, there was laughing, loud, gasping draws of air. Dean's brow furrowed and he looked toward the sound. That's when he saw him. Sam was trying to hide behind a too small tree. Dean breathed a sigh of relief, and just as he did, another snowball hit him. It was followed by more. Dean tucked the gun back into his waistband, and smiling, he reached down and grabbed a handful of snow.
Sam laughed and stepped out from behind the tree. His cheeks were rosy red and his hair soaked from the snow. He was smiling broadly.
Dean gently tossed the snowball he'd made at him and Sam nearly squealed with delight.
As much as Dean wanted to stay out and play in the snow, he knew he needed to get Sam back inside. He wasn't dressed for the weather. He was still in his pajamas.
"Come on, Sammy," Dean said walking over to his brother. "How's a big mug of hot cocoa sound?"
Sam nodded eagerly. "Yum."
"That's right, yum." Dean chuckled. "Come on, you big yeti, let's get you inside."