Title: Heads Up
Rating: PG - Gen - Humor
Spoilers: None - During S1
Disclaimers: SPN & characters are owned by their various creators.
Summary: Sam makes a horrifying discovery in his very own home.
"Okay, heads I win, tails you lose."
Sam rubbed his hands in front of the heater.
"That doesn't work on me anymore you jerk, just flip the damn coin."
Dean sighed and spun the quarter into the air. "Call it."
Sam knew by the deep groan that it ended up heads.
He tried the radio again for one decent station to tell him about the weather. All he could see in the head lights was the flurry of the snow coming down and adding to the substantial pile they were caught in. They had skidded nose first in a snow drift and there was only one hand shovel.
"Take my gloves." Sam offered with a smile.
"Thanks." Dean murmured as he snatched them away and tugged them on. He dug through his bag behind them until he found his one and only turtle neck (black) and pulled it on over his two flannels. "Sweaters, why don't I own one freakin sweater?"
Sam hit a fuzzy AM local station that announced about four feet of snow by morning and if you knew any better, you'd stay right at home by the fire and wait this one out. Anyone out driving in this mess would have to be one crazy mother--
The station hissed and went out into static.
"I'll settle for a motel with a space heater." Dean mumbled as he zipped his leather as high as it could go. He gave his brother a serious look that was accompanied by a pained grind of his teeth. "If I don't come back in 15 minutes ... wait longer."
Sam braced himself for the door to open and slam back shut, bringing a swirl of flakes and a wind that made his jaw clench. He watched Dean wade through the several feet of snow and lean over into the headlight to assess just how deep the right front wheel was. He suddenly disappeared when he slipped.
Considering how deep the snow was, Sam wondered if he actually had to go out and ignore Dean's request. But his brother regained his footing and reappeared shortly, steadying himself on the hood of the car with the sound of his swearing rising above the wind howling and the noisy static.
Giving up on the radio, Sam clicked it off and sat back with a sigh.
He was bored.
His gaze fell on the glove compartment.
Flipping through various IDs, mostly his brother's but now a healthy collection of his own included, he looked further. He dug past the ill folded maps and the fake registration, past a worn thin box of cards and a pack of Lucky Strikes, and in the depths discovered about three cassette tapes Dean had been complaining about missing for weeks.
Turning one over in his hand he dropped it, sending it onto the floor and under his seat. Reaching down, he felt around for it, his hand coming to rest on not the tape but something else. Unsure of what he found he closed his hand around it and picked it up.
Sam blinked at the object that lay limply in his palm.
It took several moments to realize what he was looking at.
A used condom.
Dean suddenly burst through the door, tossing himself inside with a gush of snow and wind before slamming the door behind him. He scrubbed a hand through his snow white hair and grinned at him optimistically.
"I think we're good if you just floor it while I push--"
Sam slapped the thing he'd found against the windshield right in front of his brother's face. It stuck there nicely.
"Jesus," Dean asked shocked and affronted. "What the hell were you doing in here?"
"I found it." Sam hissed. "With my hand."
"Dude, if you're gonna be catching some country tail do not do so in my car or so help me God--"
"This isn't mine fucktard, it's yours, you left it under the seat and I touched it..no no, not only did I touch y- your-- not only did I touch it, I picked it up in my hand--"
"Pipe down there Sally, that thing ain't mine! I would never do that in the car." Dean put a protective hand on the dashboard.
"If it's not yours and it's not mine then who the fuck does it belong to???"
"Look, the last time this car was outta my sight was when Dad borrowed--"
Sam froze when Dean stopped mid-sentence.
"Oh dear God." Dean choked.
"D-Dean...no..." He stammered.
"It's-- oh god..."
The condom half peeled itself off the windshield to dangle in Dean's face.
They both reached for the door handles in a panic. Scrambling madly out of the car and into the snow, Sam was vaguely aware that they were both screaming in horror and that he was holding his hand out as if it was on fire.
"He only took it out for an hour!" Dean was holding his head and speaking rapidly to himself. "And I wondered why not take the truck right? WHY not take THE TRUCK SAM. WHY NOT TAKE THE TRUCK?"
"Oh God Dean do you think it was in the back or the- the- the- the passenge--oh God Dean." Sam plunged his hand into the wet slushy snow again and again.
"Okay. Okay." Dean centered himself with deep breaths and his hands down on his knees. "No one goes back into that car until we douse it through a windows down power wash and a couple of cases of Lysol."
Sam was nodding vigorously. "We can just walk, we'll walk until we hit a 7-Eleven or maybe one of those tricked out Exxon stations?"
Dean looked at him seriously through the whipping snow.
"We could die out there."
Sam stood tall, his hand red from wet snow and forever unclean.
"It's a risk I'm willing to take Dean."
"Me too Sammy." He answered. "Me too."