Author's Note: I'm so happy that you all are enjoying these stories just as much as I enjoy writing them. Our next prompt comes from TotallyChic, who requested, "Sam gets hurt on a solo hunt and gets hurt, and Dean is far away, so Sam has to wait out the pain. And later, Dean feels guilty." Thanks for the prompt! Let's set this post season three. Trigger warning: suicidal ideation. If that bothers you, please do not read. Enjoy!

"Now it's Christmas
And you're so far away
On this Christmas
I just wished you had stayed."

—Katherine McPhee, "It's Not Christmas Without You"

Sam never used to hunt solo. It was one of the few hunting rules their father had enforced ever since they were young—never hunt alone. Being alone meant there was no one there to watch your back, to help you in case something went horribly wrong and you found yourself being cornered by the very same creature you were out to kill. Being alone meant dealing with serious injuries when blood loss and shock clouded your judgement, making you sloppy in addition to almost killing you outright. No, Sam never used to hunt alone, but a lot of things had changed recently.

So much has changed since Dean went to Hell.

Sam wanted to die the minute he watched the light go out of his brother's eyes. He thought about it a lot, how easy it would be to put a bullet to his head and get out of this corrupt world full of monsters that he had no hope of ever defeating. But that would mean Dean would be in Hell for nothing. Because, like it or not, Dean was in Hell because of Sam and Sam couldn't let Dean's sacrifice be in vain. As much as Sam viewed his life as some fucked up tragedy, Dean valued it and it was only for Dean's sake that he was breathing now.

Christmas, much like the numerous grief articles he'd read online stated, only made things worse. Dean loved Christmas—loved the cheesy presents, adored the sparkling lights—and now, leaning against a tree trunk as the snow falls on Christmas Eve, Sam can't believe that Dean isn't here.

"Fuck." He winces as he applies stronger pressure to the sluggishly bleeding cut on his side. He doesn't remember how long he's been out here since the witch turned on him, sending him flying as an invisible force cut into his skin. He must've hit his head, judging from the perpetual ache in his skull. Still, even as his body shivers in the slowly gathering snow, Sam can't bring himself to care. So, what if he dies? It's not like Sam has anything to live for.

Dying might be—

Don't think like that, Sammy.

And now he knows he's going crazy because he swears he can hear his older brother's voice in his head, clear as day.

You need to keep going.

"Can't." He's lost too much blood already and the world is spinning around him. There's no one around for miles and his cellphone is who knows where. No one is coming for him. No one would care if he died.

I would!

Sam forces himself to exhale shakily, trying to focus on Dean's voice. It must be a product of his delirium, some sort of symptom of shock, but it's been too long since he heard his big brother's voice and Sam misses it.

You can do this, Sammy. You just need to get up.

The snow gently falls from the sky, the sunset brilliantly filling the sky with hues of orange and pink.

Please, Sammy. Get up, get help.

His body protests as he forces his strained muscles to move. Blood gushes from the wound, the pain flaring, but soon, Sam finds himself on his feet.

Good, Sam! Now, get back to the car.

"D'n? Miss you."

He puts one foot in front of the other and keeps moving. He's not sure how he has the strength or the energy to even be moving. He might have finally lost his mind.

Miss you too.

And somehow, Sam finds himself surviving.

—One year later

It's been a hard adjustment since returning from Hell. Sam seemed to have aged 30 years and became so self-reliant that Dean even wondered if Sam even missed him. With his little brother taking point more and more, Dean found himself floundering.

But mistakes still happen.

Which is how they ended up in the hospital—Sam took the brunt of the angry werewolf attack, protecting Dean. That was insanely messed up in the eldest Winchester's brain. Still, things had changed, more than Dean could've imagined.

"Dean?" Sam's voice is slurred, probably because of all the pain meds circulating in the youngest Winchester's veins.

"Hey, Sammy." Dean manages a tired grin, relieved at least to see Sam's eyes meeting his.

It had been touch and go—injuries with blood loss always are—but now, Dean can finally feel himself breathe. Sam is okay. As to their fractured relationship, at least they have time to figure it out.

"Heard you," Sam whispers softly, "Kept me going."

Dean furrows his brow, perplexed. Sure, he'd been shouting at Sam when his little brother went down, but Sam had been pretty coherent at the time.

"When?"

"In the snow."

Dean blinks, lost. They were in Florida this year for Christmas.

"Sam, it's not snowing."

Sam just smiles.

"Sam," Dean tries again, "When was it snowing?"

"Last year," Sam whispers, "I wanted to die. But I heard you."

Last year, Dean had been burning in Hell while Sam had been left alone to fend for himself. He'd seen new scars on Sam's body—when you lived with someone in such close quarters as they did, it was bound to happen—but Sam had always refused to talk about it. Deep down, Dean knew they were from hunts gone wrong, hunts where Sam didn't have Dean to watch his back.

The guilt nearly consumes him. How many times had Sam almost died without him? And what was this about Sam wanting to die? Dean knew it was his fault. Still, what else could he have done?

"Hey," Sam holds his hand, a rare admission of caring from his now hardened brother, "S'not your fault."

"Sam—"

Sam grips his hand tighter, "No. I heard you. Your voice saved me."

Dean nods, though the guilt is still there. It's hard not to feel responsible. Still, Sam is alive and he's alive. It's Christmas Eve and they're both here together. Once Sam is discharged, Dean will finally talk to him, try to clear the air and get things back to the way they were.

But for now, with his baby brother by his side, things are good.

"Merry Christmas, Sammy."

Sam grins.

And all is right in the world.

Author's Note: I hope you all enjoyed this chapter. Please review if you have a moment. Thanks!