Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or anything connected with it, that would be Kripke and co.

A/N: Yes, I know, Christmas has been and gone. But this has been bouncing around my head for ages, only problem was I couldn't work out how to finish it. Now I have and I just couldn't wait until next Christmas to post it! This is my first wee-chester story, hope I've done ok.

A/N 2: Thanks for all the nice reviews for 'Crazy?'. A few of you requested a continuation or sequel and I am working on something. Stay tuned!

The Christmas Winchester

Part 1

It was Christmas Eve. Most ten year old children were tucked up in bed by ten pm, too excited to sleep as they thought about the presents that were sure to be waiting for them the next morning. Even most fourteen year olds were looking forward to a day of family fun and gift giving, some helping to keep the wool firmly over the eyes of their younger siblings. Not Sam and Dean Winchester. There were no bright decorations in their dingy motel room, no tree, no presents. The heating was broken and the two boys huddled together in Dean's bed for warmth. The television was on but it was little more than background noise as they both stared at the door and silently prayed to anyone who would listen that their father would come back to them in one piece.

The night wore on. Sam was the first to fall asleep, secure in the knowledge that his brother would protect him from anything and everything that wished him harm. Dean laid awake watching the door and trying to ignore the pain in his belly, glad that Sam was not awake to hear it growling. It had been a week since their father left on this latest hunt and what little money he'd left for the boys had run out the day before. Their food supply was dwindling. For the Winchester boys the notion of a Christmas feast was nothing more than a pipe dream; Dean would go without so that Sam could have at least two half decent meals and possibly a small third one if the food they had left would stretch that far. Sam wouldn't know this of course – Dean would think of some excuse for not eating with his brother, just as he'd done twice today. He just hoped Dad would be back before he had to resort to stealing food. Dean didn't like to steal, unless it was via a fraudulent credit card from a bank with more money than anyone could know what to do with, but he would rather get food at a five finger discount than let Sam starve.

By midnight exhaustion was taking over him and Dean began to drift off, lulled by the steady rhythm of Sam's breathing.

He was shaken abruptly from his half asleep state by the sound of breaking glass. It was difficult to see in the dim flickering light exactly what it was that climbed through the broken window, except that it was big, much bigger than either of the boys, and it most certainly was not human. Dean's hand closed on the gun beneath his pillow. He didn't want to shoot if he could help it, the noise would bring about all kinds of unwanted questions, but he wouldn't hesitate to do so if the thing went anywhere near Sam. He silently cursed whoever had designed the room for putting the door and window opposite each other, making it impossible for him to put himself between Sam and all means of entry.

The thing crept closer on silent feet. Dean's protective instincts went into overdrive and he edged closer to Sam, wrinkling his nose as he was hit with the stench emanating from the thing. Whatever it was, it sure could do with a bath. The foul odour made Dean want to puke.

Sam began to stir and screamed at the top of his lungs when he opened his eyes to find the creature standing over him. Apparently it didn't appreciate the noise because it growled and swiped at Sam's torso, nicking Dean's arm in the process, before cuffing Sam in the head, knocking him out. This in spite of Dean's efforts to protect him. Dean saw red. He lifted the gun and shot the creature in the chest, but the bullet seemed to do little more than enrage it and Dean soon discovered just how deadly its claws were. It gouged his side before leaping over the bed to take a few swipes at his back. Dean bit his tongue and choked back tears at the pain but he wouldn't scream.

Despite the fact that he was in serious pain and bleeding heavily, Dean stood up and placed himself squarely between Sam and the creature. He fired the gun over and over, emptying the entire clip into the creature in random places. It was the last bullet, the one that hit the thing in the throat, that felled it.

Dean slumped down beside Sam. He was shaking and would have been happy to stay there forever but he knew that wasn't an option. They both needed medical attention, though Dean couldn't have cared less if he got any. It was Sam he was worried about. He didn't dare call an ambulance for fear of drawing attention to the fact that they had been left alone, and with a gun no less. He was wary of carrying Sam to the nearest medical clinic for the same reason, but with their closest trusted contact miles away and no means of transport other than his legs Dean didn't see that he had a choice. He opened the door and gently lifted Sam into his arms, along with one of the blankets from the bed, before walking out into the night.

It was bitterly cold outside. Every laboured breath produced a white cloud in front of Dean's face and his progress was slowed by the snow that lay thick on the ground. A few times he slipped on icy ground and nearly dropped his precious cargo. When he came across a car parked on the street and equipped with chains on the tyres he couldn't believe his luck. Admittedly it looked like a piece of crap compared with the impala, but if Dean could get it to start they would no longer be in danger of freezing to death by the side of the road.

It was easy to gain access to the car. The lock on the passenger side door was completely useless in the face of Dean's skill. He gently laid Sam on the back seat and then set about hotwiring the motor. It took a few attempts but eventually the motor sputtered into life and they were on their way.

They were headed for the home of Leticia Moore, a former doctor and friend of their father. She lived on an isolated farm about twenty five miles away and often cared for hunters who, for whatever reason, were unable to present at a hospital. She understood the way they lived and wouldn't turn the boys over to Child Services, a fate that was right up there with death in Dean's book.

It was slow going on the slippery roads. Dean didn't dare drive very fast for fear of losing control and killing them both. Apart from self preservation, every time the car so much as shuddered he was hit with waves of agony that radiated from his wounds to fill his entire body. Sam lay still and Dean kept glancing back at him and watching for the gentle rise and fall of his chest, checking he was still alive.

They had been on the road for about an hour when Dean brought the car to a stop with a string of curses. Leticia's home was located off Old Mill Road, which was little more than a dirt track and apparently not important enough to warrant salting or ploughing. There was no way Dean would be able to drive the car on it. He glanced back at his still unconscious brother and sighed, resigning himself to carrying Sam the last three miles through the deep snow.

Every step was agony. Dean was beyond cold and his clothes were soon soaked through from the snow. The movement reopened his wounds and they bled sluggishly. Sam seemed to get heavier with every passing moment and the world appeared to spin around him but he pressed on, motivated by the soft rise and fall of Sam's chest, the beating of his heart, the burning need to make sure that Sam was safe.

***

By the time he arrived on Leticia's doorstep Dean's energy was spent. He pressed the doorbell with a shaking finger and when she opened the door he nearly fell inside.

"Dean! What happened?" Leticia's concern was palpable.

"We…" Dean stopped to gasp for air. "We were attacked. I don't know what it was. Sam got knocked out, scratched up a bit too." He held Sam out to her. Take him, look after him.

Leticia got the hint and took the ten year old into her arms. "What about you? Are you hurt?"

"Don't worry about me. Take care of Sammy first."

Leticia raised an eyebrow in disbelief but didn't challenge him.

"Fine, but the moment I finish with Sam I'm checking you out. Wait there."

Dean staggered the few steps to the chair she'd pointed out. By the time he reached it Leticia had already carried Sam into her 'treatment room' and he slumped down gratefully, no longer having a reason to hide his pain. He was so cold he found it hard to believe he'd ever be warm again and his clothes were wet with both melted snow and blood. Now that he was in the light he could see the jagged tears in his clothing and the dark stains that surrounded them, some of the stains continuing to spread as his wounds continued to bleed. Breathing was difficult and his surroundings moved in and out of focus.

But it was ok because he'd done what he needed to do. As his vision faded to black and he drifted away knowing he might not wake up, he consoled himself that Sam was safe and that was all that mattered.

Part 2 coming soon... Thanks for reading!