It was Christmas Eve, twelve-year-old Sam Winchester was beginning to think his dad would once again never show for Christmas. Dean had said to have faith in the old man, but, really? How could he have faith in someone who appears not to love him? Dean and Sam had gotten into a fight that day, and Dean, being Dean, stormed out of the motel and hadn't come back yet. That happened at three, it was now eight.
The door began to move open slowly, Sam realizing he didn't lock the door after Dean. "H-hello?" Sam stuttered. If it was his dad or Dean they would've told him by now. When Sam was sure it wasn't his family he slowly got up and walked over to Dean's bed, reaching over ever-so-slowly, Sam grabbed the .45 from under Dean's pillow and the silver knife from the bedside table. "Hello? Who's there?" Sam tried again to see who was at the door but without luck. Sam walked over to the small kitchenette and grabbed the bag hidden under the table. Searching through the duffle bag he finally found what he was looking for—salt—the key to keeping him safe if this creature at the door was a ghost or demon.
The door finally swung open and the creature stalked over to Sam, grabbing him by the wrists, and dragged him out the doors and into the woods near the door to the motel room they were staying. Well, this is the best Christmas ever; Sam thought as the demonic creature tied him up to a tree and started throwing rocks at him. As soon as Sam was injured too badly to fight back, the creature untied him and dropped Sam on the ground by an old oak tree that could've been an adult tree when John was born.
The creature, Sam had decided to name him Fred, started to kick Sam over and over again until Sam was almost unconscious. Fred then decided to tie Sam back to the old oak and leave him there. Sam called out for help until he almost had not voice left. Then, the leaves in a bush nearby started to flutter.
Sam, who had no voice left to call out to the bush, thought he'd never see Dean again. This has got to be the worst Christmas Eve ever, Sam thought as he eyed the bush carefully. He thought of Dean and the fight and began to wonder if he was going to die without telling Dean he didn't mean anything he had said during the fight. What if Dean hates me and would be happy to know I died? Sam started crying silently at the thought of Dean hating him. Suddenly, Fred jumped out of the oak and onto the bush; pulling out a wolf pup that he killed the instant he hit it. Sam's stomach clenched at the sight of the flat wolf pup with its eyes all exploded on the ground and fur below its eye sockets.
Fred then pulled himself back into the tree, watching Sam carefully to make sure he didn't find a way to escape. Sam thought all hope was lost—Dean hated him, John was on a hunt, and Bobby was a state away and would never know that Sam needed help.
Meanwhile with Dean
Dean was walking back to the motel humming something unintelligible when he noticed the door agape with claw marks all over the walls, doors, and floor. He noted that his .45 and knife were gone and the salt was sitting on the floor, a half made salt line completely ruined. He grew concerned when he noticed Sam was missing and his concern sky-rocketed at the sight of blood all over the floor. Dean saw the blood-tracks and started following them hoping to find his Sammy. The tracks went on for three miles before Dean came to the oak tree and saw his little brother. "Sammy! What happened to you? Who did this huh?" Sam looked up lazily and with a pained expression on his face whimpered in pain.
That's when Fred jumped down out of the tree and narrowly missed landing on Dean. Fred was an alien according to Dean. With his long claws, sharp teeth, two long fangs, big fly eyes, pushed in nose, and fur coated body up to his head Fred was truly scary. Dean looked on the ground and saw the .45 and lunged for it. He pushed himself up, shooting Fred in the chest. Fred stumbled backwards, fell backwards, and made a sound like a cat hissing while a human yelling; it was a terrifying screech that could make eyes bleed. After all that was done, Fred lay still, dead and gone, and Dean ran to Sam's aid.
"Sammy? Sammy, what happened? Did it bite or scratch you? I don't know what that thing was so I don't know if it can be passed on through wounds." Sam looked up at Dean with his glassy, unfocused eyes and slowly yanked his left jacket sleeve up. Blood oozed out and dripped over the side of Sam's arm, dripping into the already dark red puddle of frozen blood on the snow. Dean was tempted to call an ambulance even before he got to the motel room but decided that there'd be less questions if he took Sam to the motel then called the hospital. "Sammy, Sammy can you walk? I need to take you to the motel before we can get you all fixed up. Do I need to carry you?"
Sam looked up at Dean for a minute before reaching up to him slowly. "Ok Sammy, come on lets go." So, Dean picked up Sam and they headed off for the motel room.
At the motel room
Dean called the ambulance then tried to get ahold of his dad without any luck. Sam was unconscious and Dean was near passing out himself. When the paramedics got there they saw two boys, one sitting up and the unconscious one's head in the other's lap. They wanted to savoir the moment, they don't really see two siblings that close, but they knew they couldn't, not when the youngest had gone unconscious from major blood loss. They hurriedly got Sam in the ambulance then off to the hospital they rushed. The one thing they forgot—Dean Winchester.
Flashback
"Why do you always do that? Always argue and fight with dad then when he gets mad at you, you expect me to fix it? Look what you've done! Dad might've abandoned us thanks to you! Get out of my sight, you ungrateful X-brother of mine!" Dean was tired, the solo hunt had been a bust, his dad left them alone again and Sam was in a mood himself, Dean couldn't help but explode on the first thing he had a chance to. Sam looked at Dean, shock clear on his young, rounded face. All Sam wanted was for Dean to go out and get something to eat, normally when Sam asked Dean went ahead and got the food, why had it been different this time?
"Dean, can I go get the food then?" Sam asked in a hushed whisper, worried Dean would snap again if he heard Sam's voice. "No, I'll go…but next time eat what we got, ya understand me?" Dean sighed as he stood up. Then Dean stalked out of the door, locking it behind him. Sam was alone, thank goodness, so he finally had some time to think as his pounding headache calmed since there was no yelling dad…or Dean. But, maybe having time to think wasn't a good thing for Sam when he didn't have much to think about other than how his family had been treating him lately.
'Oh please, do you really think they love you? You're nothing like them, you're fat and slow…and you're unfit too. You'd just get them killed on a hunt. Do them a favor; lift the burden of taking care of you off their shoulders.' The little voice in Sam's head sneered. The voice had formed shortly after Sam had some bully problems; of course Dean had fixed that. The only thing Dean couldn't fix was the voice, if Sam told Dean about the voices Dean would hate him more than he already did and would lock him up without a care in a nut house, or so the voice said.
The voice started yelling at Sam to run away, that his family hated him. Sam grabbed his head, the headache getting worse, he started screaming. "Shut up! Stop it, please stop it! My head, everything is so loud…and spinning! SHUT UP!" Sam started packing all his few belongings in the duffle bag, the voice finally dying down. As Sam was sneaking out of the house, a group of muggers grabbed the duffle and Sam, dragging him over to the woods. Once again, Dean came to the rescue, but as soon as he got Sam inside all that wrath he was using on the muggers came down on Sam.
"What were you doing? What would've happened if I hadn't been there to help you? God Sammy, I thought you were smart!" Dean got up and stormed over to the door, Sam calling after him, "Where ya goin'?" and Dean shouting to Sam, "OUT!"
End flashback
Thinking back on it, Dean realized it was his fault that this had happened. Sam had let his guard down because of what was said to him and Dean hadn't locked the door. Whatever that thing was that attacked Sam had gotten Sam because he hadn't been there to protect his little brother. He wasn't able to keep his baby brother, the last thing his mother ever gave him, safe.
Dean looked up as John entered the motel. "Where's Sammy?" John's gruff voice asked Dean, then noticed the tears. Dean never cried, so something bad must've happened. "Dean, look at me, where's Sammy?" Dean wasn't answering, witch worried John even more. Finally, John decided to try something that always got Dean to answer. "Dean, where's Sammy? Answer me, son, that's an order." That did the trick, "At the hospital, and it's all my fault." Dean answered.
John didn't stop for an instant, as he grabbed his coat he asked Dean to fill him in on how it was Dean's fault. After Dean filled his dad in on everything they parked in the hospital parking lot. Hurrying in, they learned that Sam was in emergency surgery that couldn't wait for a signature. Dean was probably the more worried of the two about Sam. John went to sit down to sign the papers; Dean just stiffly followed his dad to a chair, in shock. Was his baby brother going to die after all?
Authors Note: Should I continue this? I wrote it on Christmas but I didn't know how or if I was going to finish it. If you want it finished, leave a review and let me know what you think and how it should end. Keep in mind this is rated K+ though and is staying in that rating.
