SILENT NIGHT

Author's note: Thank you - all of you – for the love you've shown this story. Every single follow, favorite and review are so damn precious to me. Sorry for keeping you guys waiting so long though – let's wrap up this long overdue Christmas themed story, shall we? Here's finally the last chapter for you.

-Elisa.

_ SPN _ SPN _ SPN _ SPN _ SPN _ SPN _ SPN _ SPN _ SPN _ SPN _ SPN _ SPN _ SPN _ SPN _ SPN _

The cabin's interior consisted of a main room with a minor fireplace, a shabby couch and a small kitchenette, an adjoining bathroom (which was in reality just a fancy way of saying "a bowl and a washbasin") and a bedroom containing a single bed. Overall – and despite the fact that the Winchesters didn't live a very luxuriously life as it was – it wasn't something Dean would give more than a single star on a normal basis but, in the situation they were currently in, it was a blessing.

After breaking open the padlock of the door with a shot of his gun, Dean dragged Sam inside the cabin and immediately shut the door behind them to avoid too much wind and snow to follow suit, before collapsing on the floor next to Sam. While trying to catch his breath after the exhausting trip through the snow, Dean spent a few seconds on his back with his eyes closed – then turned his head to look at his motionless little brother. The sight of Sam's disturbingly pale appearance threw Dean into action, so he willed his exhaustion away, quickly got up from the floor, shook off his backpack and then got to work.

First things first, the older Winchester brother made sure that Sam was in fact still alive and breathing – pulled off his gloves and tenderly touched Sam's pale face before searching for a pulse. After finding a sluggish but present pulse, Dean wondered with rising anxiety what would kill Sam first if he didn't act fast enough; hypothermia or blood loss? Sam's skin was so damn cold to the touch, his face was drained of color – except for his lips that had an alarming tint of blue – and, to Dean's big concern, Sam's breathing was troubled and the younger man looked like he could be slipping away any minute. But then there was Sam's leg to worry about too.. Dean didn't even wanna think about how much blood Sam had lost on the way to the cabin, or how little time he had left to save his brother from bleeding out.

Dean made a decision and quickly began stripping Sam of his jacket, hat, scarf and boots (leaving the gloves be) before cocooning the younger Winchester's upper body in the military blanket to keep Sam as warm as possible. He then rummaged the backpack for the medical kit and, after finding it, found a pair of scissors and started cutting through the material of Sam's ski pants – not failing to notice that blood had soaked through the bandages that Dean had bound around Sam's wounds after the run-in with the Wendigo.

"Shit.." Dean mumbled and pulled his flashlight closer to get a greater view of the wounds.

It was not easy to see anything from the crimson that decorated one half of Sam's right side, and Dean bit his lower lip hard as panic threatened to consume him. The older brother rushed to the kitchenette, tore open drawers and cabinets – not caring that pottery and cutlery clattered to the floor in his search for items needed to clean Sam's wounds. After finding a bowl and a cloth, Dean quickly filled up the bowl with water and soap before he hurried back to his unmoving brother.

"Here it goes, here it goes." Dean muttered, dipped the cloth in the bowl of water and started cleaning Sam's wounds in a quick but efficient manner. "You're gonna be okay Sammy, I promise."

Blood kept oozing from the wounds so, as soon as he was done cleaning the gashes to hopefully avoid infection, Dean used butterfly bandages and gauze to hold together the edges of Sam's slashes to prevent too much blood from spilling while he stitched up each individual wound. Despite the chill temperature of the room, beads of sweat showed up on Dean's forehead as he found a needle and began sterilizing it as much as possible by burning the tip of it with a lighter. The older brother then let it soak in some hydrogen peroxide while he found and started preparing the thread needed to perform the stitches. Before beginning his work, Dean cupped Sam's cold cheek and sent his brother a silent plea to stay alive – then threaded the needle, took a deep breath and started humming Metallica to himself as he penetrated Sam's skin with the needle.

To Dean's big relief, and equally big concern, Sam didn't as much as twitch while Dean stitched up the long marks from the Wendigo's sharp claws – nor did he make any sounds or look any less moribund as the minutes ticked away. After making the final stitch, Dean applied some antibiotic ointment to the stitched-up slashes and wrapped gauze around Sam's entire injured thigh, hip and lower part of his stomach to keep the wounds covered and protected. Even though he'd worked under a lot of pressure, Dean had still made sure to keep the stitches as neat as possible to hopefully avoid too much scarring from occurring on Sam's body – although scarring, in reality, was the least of Sam's problems right now.

"Alright, let's get you warmed up." Dean said, checked Sam's pulse yet again and then wiped the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand, before beginning the second phase of his mission to save his brother's life: getting Sam heated up.

Dean wrapped his sleeping bag around the lower part of Sam's body to provide the younger man with a little bit of warmth while Dean started searching the cabin for any source of heat that could help him warm up his brother. The older Winchester found a small pile of firewood next to the fireplace and, after lighting up a fire using lighter fluid and his Zippo, Dean managed to track down two blankets in the bedroom and brought them back with him to the main room. He dumped the blankets on the couch in front of the fireplace and then returned to his brother's side, kneeling down next to Sam and touching the young hunter's cheek.

"Geez kid, you're still freezing cold." Dean said in a soft voice, then edged around Sam and wrapped his arms underneath the younger Winchester's armpits before hoisting Sam to his chest.

Dean clenched his jaw from the effort of holding all of Sam's weight as he started dragging his oblivious little brother towards the couch while being as careful as possible not to jar Sam's injuries too much. Getting Sam situated on the couch luckily proved to be easier than Dean had expected and, as soon as Sam was laid up, Dean cocooned his brother in the sleeping bag plus three layers of blankets – then used Sam's jacket as a makeshift pillow for the younger man and used his own jacket to support the wounded part of Sam's body.

The older Winchester kneeled down by the fireplace and put another log on the fire – then went to the backside of the couch and pushed it a little further away from the hearth. Sam needed all the warmth he could get but Dean was aware that in severe cases of hypothermia, it was crucial not to apply direct heat to warm a person. Dean sure as hell wouldn't risk that the heat damaged Sam even more - or worse; caused his little brother's heart to stop entirely. Satisfied that Sam was close enough to the fireplace to feel the heat but still too far away to be in any immediate danger, Dean picked up a thermometer from the first-aid kit and carefully pried Sam's mouth open before slipping the thermometer under Sam's tongue. A concerned frown line formed between Dean's eyes by the still freezing temperature of Sam's skin and the bluish tint that had yet to leave Sam's lips, and the frown deepened when the thermometer beeped and Dean read the digits on the display.

"Too cold." Dean said, his heart hammering away inside his chest as he realized that Sam was far from out of the woods just yet – then quickly jumped into action once more.

Dean kicked off his boots and ski pants – both of which he hadn't had the time to take off earlier as he had been focused entirely on tending Sam's wounds – and then stripped out of his shirts as well before gently removing his brother's shirts too.

"You better be glad you're unconscious for this, little brother." Dean grumbled as he carefully moved Sam forward a little so he could slip behind him and then pulled Sam back against his bare chest. "Oh frigging shit!"

Dean gasped as his skin made contact with Sam's freezing cold back but, unlike most people would do in that situation, Dean didn't pull away. Instead, he draped the sleeping bag and blankets around the both of them, gripped Sam's limp form tighter and hugged his brother to his chest.

"Come on, Sammy. Warm up." Dean ordered, although his voice remained nothing but soft.

Dean soon began shivering from the cold bodily contact with his brother but it didn't matter to him. The only thing that did matter was whether Sam was regaining some of his body temperature or not as the minutes ticked by.

"What a Christmas, huh Sammy?" Dean mumbled, feeling tiredness wash over him as Sam's cold back, slowly but surely, gave away for the warmth of Dean's chest.

Without consciously making the decision to do so, Dean silently began to sing his own homemade version of Jingle Bells – a song that Sam had always claimed to hate, although Dean had a feeling that Sam secretly liked it. The older Winchester brother had come up with the song on a snowy December day when he had been fourteen – Sammy ten – and had spent two agonizing weeks inside a motel room with his little brother who had been laid up with pneumonia. Dean had memorized the words and had, to Sam's big irritation, sung his Christmas song for his brother every single Christmas since then.

Dean sang the song in a soft tone, unconsciously rocked Sam a bit from side to side in his arms while doing so. Despite his intentions to keep vigil over Sam until he was sure the younger man wouldn't die from hypothermia, Dean's eyes slipped closed as the exhaustion from the trip through the snow - combined with the heat from the fireplace and the comforting feeling of Sam's presence – pulled him under. While the blizzard continued its ravaging path outside, making the cabin creak and groan around them, Dean nodded off to sleep with Sam still tightly tugged against him.

_ SPN _

It was the shivering that woke him up. Painful, stabbing shivers that prickled his skin and felt like icicles tap dancing all over his body. Sam felt exhausted and nauseous - disoriented too as he slowly blinked his eyes open and tried to remember where he was and how he had gotten there.

"Dea-" Sam started in a rusty voice, then cut himself off with a loud yelp as he tried to move and a jarring pain shot through the right side of his body – catching his breath and robbing him of the ability to speak for a few agonizing seconds.

"Sammy? Sam!" His brother's voice shouted at him and it took Sam a couple of moments to realize that the sound came from behind him and that the warm pressure around his chest was actually Dean's arms holding him. "Sammy, talk to me, damn it!"

"Dean, wha-" Sam gasped out, then clenched his jaw tight as his movement once again caused pain to flare up.

"Stay still." Dean ordered and held Sam closer as he felt the younger man's shivers. "You'll ruin the stitches."

"Stitches?" Sam asked with confusion as he regained control of his voice – although said voice was a bit slurred in Sam's confused state.

"From the Wendigo attack." Dean reminded him and Sam slowly nodded as the memory of the hunt outside in the snowstorm slowly came back to him.

"I'm cold." Sam announced and closed his eyes for a second as he felt Dean's arms tighten around him after hearing those words.

Dean was warm against his back but Sam still felt unbelievable cold. The older brother took the shivering as a good sign though, since it meant that Sam was starting to warm up a bit.

"You're naked, aren't you?" Sam asked with a sigh, knowing the most effective procedure in warming someone up was skin-to-skin contact.

"Half-naked." Dean corrected and smirked when he could practically feel Sam's eye roll. "But only to save your bacon, so you owe me one."

"Figured." Sam said and then coughed a little.

Dean frowned in concern when Sam coughed once more – a deep, rattling cough that was followed by a few wheezing breaths. The older Winchester slipped one of his hands out from the cocoon of blankets and palmed Sam's forehead, not liking that his brother's skin felt cool and clammy against his hand.

"How are you feeling?" Dean asked. "And no BS, Sam."

"Cold." Sam answered with chattering teeth and took a sharp intake of breath as he accidentally jarred his injured side. "Tired.. and nauseous."

"And the pain?" Dean wanted to know.

"I can handle it." Sam said on a long exhale. "As long as I don't move too much."

"Then stay still, alright?" Dean said and Sam nodded.

The youngest Winchester brother felt dizzy and sort of numb and detached to his own body – even with the shivers and the pain that continued to run through him. The nausea wasn't getting any better either and Sam was struggling hard to get it under control while also fighting the other issues he had to deal with. It was a lost battle though and it didn't take long before Sam started gagging.

"I'm gonna.." Sam gasped out, but Dean was already prepared.

With one hand on Sam's forehead and the other one still wrapped around Sam's chest, Dean gently rolled them to the side – wincing as Sam cried out in pain by the motion.

"Easy, easy." Dean murmured in Sam's ear and kept holding on to his brother as Sam then started barfing onto the floor.

When Sam was done emptying his stomach, Dean rolled him onto his back again and slipped out from his position behind his younger brother while making sure not to jostle Sam too much. Dean then went to the kitchenette and returned to Sam's side a few moments later with a damp cloth and a small cup of water.

"Here." Dean said, pushed Sam upwards a bit and held the cup to Sam's lips.

Sam gratefully drank a few sips of the water before lying back down, looking pale and exhausted while the shivers still wracked his body. Dean eyed his brother worriedly but remained silent as he used the damp cloth to wipe down Sam's face, all the while Sam blinked up at his older brother with eyes at half-mast. Dean then worked the younger man into his t-shirt and a long-sleeved shirt that had been tucked away inside the backpack, before he tucked the blankets closer around Sam's shivering form.

"As soon as you're warm, I'm gonna get you off this mountain." Dean promised.

"Dean, no." Sam said which made the older brother raise his eyebrows in confusion.

"No?" Dean asked.

"The hunt.." Sam started but Dean cut him off.

"Screw the hunt!" Dean exclaimed. "Sam, I'm not gonna let you.."

"The Wendigo might be dead but there are still kids out there." Sam said, effectively cutting off his brother. "Kids who need our help."

Dean clenched his jaw while staring at Sam, then bit his lower lip and shook his head.

"I'm not leaving you alone up here." Dean said with determination.

"You have to." Sam said. "Go save those kids and.. then come back for me."

Dean stared at Sam's dewy-eyed face for a few seconds, then shook his head once more and glanced out of the cabin's window. Outside, the blizzard had calmed significantly – leaving only slow-falling snowflakes in its wake. Every instinct inside Dean screamed at him to forget about the victims and get his little brother off the damn mountain and into an ER as soon as possible. But Sam was right.. A true Winchester never walked away when people were in danger – especially not when kids were involved.

Instead of letting Sam in on his thoughts though, Dean walked to the fireplace and threw a few more logs on the fire. He then put on a t-shirt of his own again and began the task of wiping up the vomit from the floor - all the while Sam's eyes followed his every move.

"Dean." Sam sighed.

"What?" Dean asked, discarding the used cloth in the bathroom sink before returning to the main room, avoiding Sam's eyes as he walked to the place where he'd dumped the backpack and then started rummaging the contains for a bottle of painkillers.

"You know what." Sam answered in a soft voice before coughing.

"I don't like it, Sammy." Dean said, cursing a little as he found no bottle of painkillers in the backpack. They were missing from the first-aid kit and Dean had a sinking feeling in his stomach when he realized that the pill bottle was still lying inside the Impala's glove department where he had left them after their latest supply run.

"I'll be fine, Dean." Sam promised, although he looked far from fine when Dean sat down on the edge of the couch to take a look at Sam's stitched-up wounds.

Even though Dean was being very careful, Sam still had to bite his lip hard to keep from making any sounds as Dean moved up the blankets a bit and started unwrapping the bandages from Sam's wounds. When the older brother gently probed around the stitches, Sam couldn't hold back a hiss of pain, and Dean then looked up at his little brother with a concerned frown on his face.

"We don't have any painkillers." Dean said in an apologetic voice. "I forgot to put them into the kit. But I'll give you some antibiotics though - I don't like the redness I see around some of these stitches."

Sam nodded his answer, not really trusting his voice as Dean started wrapping new bandages around his wounds. He could have used those painkillers right about now as pain kept flaring through his body – the shivers not making the circumstances easier – but being a son of John Winchester, Sam had learned how to deal with even the most unbearable pain. He could do this. He could breathe through the pain until Dean returned for him.

_ SPN _

Sam didn't know how long Dean had been away. After the older Winchester brother reluctantly left the cabin to go look for the missing people, Sam had drifted off into a restless sleep but he kept waking up every time an in particular bad round of shivers wracked through his body and caused his hurt side to burn. Sam had no idea how much time had passed or how many times he had drifted in and out of sleep – had he had the energy to do it, Sam would have reached for his cell phone, that Dean had left within reach, to check the time, but he just couldn't find the strength to do it. Even though he still felt cold, sweat prickled out on his forehead and damped his long hair, and every now and then, a coughing fit would steal his breath away and leave him even more exhausted than he already was.

"Dean?" Sam called out, then two seconds later remembered that he was alone in the cabin and that Dean was still outside looking for the missing people.

A fever-induced haze clouded Sam's mind and made it even harder for him to keep track of time. How long had Dean been gone? Ten minutes? An hour? Half a day? Sam wasn't sure. He wasn't sure of anything anymore. Had it been days already?

The younger Winchester reached for the water bottle Dean had left him, grunted in effort as he actually had to move his arm – then let out a few swear words as his shaky fingers accidentally knocked the bottle over. Sam heard the water bottle roll underneath the couch, and he pursed his lips in frustration before moving his arm back under the blankets with great effort.

"Damn it." He mumbled and, now that the water was no longer in reach, Sam suddenly felt unbelievably thirsty - his mouth was dry and his tongue felt like sandpaper.

Sam knew staying hydrated was important if he wanted to stay alive until Dean came back for him, but he couldn't reach the water bottle, let alone move a little without causing agonizing pain to rip through his body. So he stayed where he was – wishing his big brother was alright and would return for him as soon as possible.

After a little while, Sam fell into a dreamless slumber – embracing the darkness and the peace that came along with it. Inside the darkness, Sam felt no pain. Inside the darkness, he didn't feel cold. Inside the darkness, he could pretend Dean wasn't alone outside in the snowy weather while Sam was too weak to even pick up a bottle of water.

_ SPN _

It was the sound of his big brother shouting his name that tore through the darkness and pulled Sam back towards consciousness. It took him a little while to understand the words but, even though the sounds started off muffled, Sam still recognized Dean's voice and held on to it.

"Sammy, come on. Come on." Dean's voice begged.

Sam didn't want to leave the peaceful darkness though – the more aware he became, the more the pain in his body became more than just a dull throbbing. But there was something in Dean's voice, and the fact that it was Dean calling his name, that made Sam let go of the darkness that held him back and reach for the light that was his brother's voice.

Sam opened his eyes with a loud inhale of wheezing breath and found Dean hovering above him, palms cupping his cheeks.

"Oh, thank God." Dean said with a relieved sigh. "I thought I'd lost you for a second there, bro."

"Dean?" Sam rasped out, but Dean just shushed him, cupped the back of his neck and held a water bottle to his lips.

"Drink." Dean said in a soft voice and Sam did as he was told – drinking greedily of the water until Dean took the bottle away. "Easy now."

"Dean.." Sam started with a cough, but was then cut off by an unfamiliar voice.

"When can we leave?" The voice asked which made Sam frown in confusion.

"As soon as my brother is good to go." Dean answered without taking his concerned eyes away from Sam's.

"And when is that?" The voice asked again – a male voice, Sam realized.

Dean ignored the question and focused entirely on his little brother, concern still coloring his face. He had returned to the cabin to find Sam out cold – shivering but at the same time burning up with fever and, although he hadn't checked it yet, Dean was worried that Sam's wounds had become infected. Sam's facial color was ashen and yet pale as a sheet, and his breathing was troubled and wheezing. Based on the fact that Dean had found the still full water bottle on the floor behind the couch, he knew that Sam was probably dehydrated as well, and that he more than anything needed to get his brother to an ER as soon as possible.

"Look, my kids need to get somewhere safe and warm." The person said again and Dean shot a glare at the man he'd managed to rescue from the Wendigo's lair.

Dean had found several bodies in a cave a few miles away, but he had to his big relief also found a man, the man's wife and two kids in there – all still alive and more or less unharmed – plus another guy whose hiker-buddy unfortunately hadn't made it.

"Just go help Jeremy with the sledge and I'll get Sam ready to go, alright?" Dean told the man, Warren, who reluctantly left the cabin to do as Dean had ordered.

The hiker-guy, Jeremy, was familiar with the area and knew that some of the cabins contained a rescue sledge that could be used in emergencies, and he had let Dean in on this piece of information after he and Warren had both promised to help Dean with Sam as a way to repay the older Winchester for saving their lives. Since Jeremy knew the area, and the snowfall had more or less come to an end, it hadn't taken the hiker very long to locate a rescue sledge in a nearby cabin shed. And for that, Dean was grateful. It would be a hell of a lot easier to get Sam to the Impala and off to the ER this way and it would save Dean a lot of precious time – time that was crucial in order to save the younger Winchester's life.

"What's going on?" Sam slurred out, bringing Dean's attention back to his brother in an instant.

"We're gonna leave this mountain now and get you fixed up." Dean said and let his fingers brush through Sam's sticky hair before getting started on preparing Sam for the trip.

The older Winchester brother changed Sam's bandages – mindful of the fact that some of the wounds showed signs of infection – and fed his brother some antibiotics and more water before moving on to getting Sam warmly dressed. It was quite a struggle to get Sam redressed in his jacket since the younger man was too weak to move his own limps, and every movement also jarred his injured side. Dean completely dropped the task of getting Sam into the ski pants again - Dean had cut through them when he had tended Sam's wounds in the first place, so they'd lost a bit of their function anyway.

Sam was barely conscious by the time Dean had finished, and the older brother eyed him warily.

"Sam? Stay with me, alright?" Dean demanded and sent his brother a sad but encouraging smile as Sam fought hard to keep his eyes open.

He was just so damn tired…

"Sam!" Dean shouted at him.

Sam jumped a little and snapped his eyes back open – the sudden movement causing pain to flare in his hurt side, and making him grunt and clench his teeth.

"Stay with me, you hear me Sam?" Dean repeated, bent down a little to catch his little brother's eyes and copied Sam's gesture as the younger Winchester acknowledged the request with a nod of his head.

Before Sam could even comprehend what was happening, arms wrapped around his chest from behind while hands grabbed his legs and lifted him up. Sam yelped in pain as the motion didn't do anything good for his injured side, and he continued to make pain-filled noises as he was carried out of the cabin and outside into the cold weather – all the while Dean kept murmuring soothing words to him.

"Almost there, almost there." Dean said and, moments later, Sam was lowered down on something he later realized was a rescue sledge that Dean had somehow conjured up.

The sledge was padded with something soft, and as soon as Sam stopped being blinded by the burning pain in his body, he tried to focus on his big brother's face above him as Dean was making sure that Sam was fully wrapped in the blankets and was gonna stay as warm as possible.

"Dean?" Sam asked in a weak voice, and Dean stopped everything he was doing and leaned closer to Sam to listen to his younger brother.

"What is it, Sammy?" Dean asked with a worried expression.

"You haven't sung your Christmas song." Sam said with such a seriousness that Dean couldn't help but snort out a laugh.

"I thought you hated that song, little brother?" Dean smiled.

"Yeah." Sam said and looked a bit away. "I guess I do."

"Tell you what." Dean said and tugged the blankets up around Sam's neck in a tender way, catching Sam's eyes again. "Once we get off this mountain, and you're hooked up on some of the good stuff, I'll sing it. Deal?"

"Deal." Sam agreed and Dean grinned down at him for a moment before disappearing from Sam's sight.

"Let's go!" Dean shouted at people Sam still didn't know who were – even though he did catch a glimpse of a frightened woman holding on to a couple of equally frightened kids.

As the sledge started moving underneath him, Sam looked up at the snowflakes that fell slowly down from the sky above him, and he smiled. Dean had found the missing kids after all. They were safe.

_ SPN _

The sterile surroundings were no surprise to Sam as he slowly blinked his eyes open and the white ceiling above him gradually came into focus. Along with the beeping sound of a heart monitor, Dean's voice could be heard across the room as the older Winchester was having a low-voiced conversation with a nurse. Even though he couldn't hear the words being spoken, Sam knew that everything would be fine – as long as Dean was in the room with him, there was no need to worry. He was okay.

"Stop flirting with the nurses, you jerk." Sam croaked out as soon as the nurse had left, and then smiled tiredly at his big brother when Dean turned around and looked at him with a smirk on his face.

"Oh please, she was the one flirting with me." Dean grinned which earned him an eye-roll from Sam as Dean walked across the room. "You passed out on me out there, bro. I thought we agreed that when I give you an order to stay awake, you act like a good little bitch and do as I say!"

"That would be a first." Sam snorted, then coughed a little and adjusted his nasal cannula a bit. "So, what's the verdict?"

"Hypothermia, infected wounds, aneamia, pneumonia – you know, the usual stuff." Dean said and sat down in the chair that was placed next to Sam's hospital bed. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm not feeling anything right now, actually." Sam said and Dean raised his eyebrows.

"That's right. You're on the good stuff." Dean nodded and eyed the bag of morphine that was hooked up to Sam's arm.

"When did we get off the mountain?" Sam asked.

"A couple of days ago." Dean answered and washed a hand down the stubbles on his face. "You remember that officer that blocked our way when we were heading up the mountain in the first place?"

"Sure." Sam answered.

"Well, turns out he discovered the Impala the day after the snowstorm and decided we were idiots for hiking out despite his warnings, so he started a rescue search for us. We ran into the rescue-team halfway down the mountain and you were flown to the nearest hospital by helicopter." Dean said. "Doctors say that the time saved, saved your life."

"Doctors don't know that I would have already been dead if not for you." Sam said in a soft voice.

"I think I'll have to talk to a doctor about the administration of your morphine. You're entering chick-flick area, Samantha." Dean teased but Sam was too tired to come up with a good comeback. Besides, Dean's teasing didn't match the softness in his eyes anyway. "Get some rest, Sam. We'll talk later."

"Hmm.." Sam hummed, eyes already closing.

Before he completely let himself be consumed by the floating feeling the morphine blanketed him in, Sam's lips twitched into a small smile as Dean stuck to the promise he'd made his little brother before they'd left the mountain. The older Winchester made himself comfortable on his chair, rested his feet on the edge of Sam's hospital bed with legs crossed at his ankles, and then quietly began to sing his homemade Christmas song. They'd been in this situation before, camped out in a frigging hospital room during Christmas, and no matter how much it sucked that it, for a Winchester, was fairly normal to spend the festive season this way, there was one thing that made all of it bearable; they still had each other, and that was what had always mattered anyway.

"Jingle Bells, Sammy smells,

monsters go to hell,

I look cool, again this yule,

and the car will always rule.

Jingle Bells, say farewell,

to another new motel,

at Christmas time I killed a witch,

and Sammy is a bitch."

_ SPN _ SPN _ SPN _ SPN _ SPN _ SPN _ SPN _ SPN _ SPN _ SPN _ SPN _ SPN _ SPN _ SPN _ SPN _

THE END.