Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural.

It's Christmas and they're in Texas, just finished with a job involving a nasty poltergeist. Sam looks dead on his feet and collapses on the nearest bed as soon as they reach the motel. Dean glances at him worriedly since Sam's been having visions practically non-stop added to the fact that the poltergeist slammed him into a wall. They have criteria on when it's absolutely necessary to go to a hospital instead of self-stitching and Sam is just short. Dean thinks he may need to change the criteria a little to take the visions into account.

Sam is sprawled out boneless on the bed and Dean waits for him to say 'ow…' or 'This Christmas absolutely sucks, man.'

Sam says, "Merry Christmas, Dean," but there is no sarcasm in his voice. "Kind of sucks without snow though, doesn't it?"

So he was almost half right. "Yeah," Dean agrees, "it kind of does." That and the fact that we just spent Christmas getting our asses kicked by that supernatural fucker, he thinks about adding, but Sam doesn't look up to their usual snark at the moment. And besides, they'd gotten the bastard in the end. The Reckard family was having a Merry Christmas because of them at least.

But Dean looks at Sam, bruised and bleeding and hurt in a disgusting motel room on Christmas, and for once it's not quite enough that they've given someone else a happy ending. He gets up, packs their bags, and goes to check them out. When he comes back, Sam is still in the same place. Dean prods him gently and says, "C'mon, Sammy. We're getting out of here."

Sam groans, but edges off the bed. He looks up at Dean sleepily, hair rumpled and eyes squinting. "Where're we goin'?" he asks.

Dean doesn't answer the question. "You can sleep in the backseat," he says and loops one of Sam's arms around his shoulders. They stagger to the Impala and Dean puts the sleepily compliant Sam in the back.

He goes back for their bags and steals a pillow on the way out. Sam is already dead to the world when he gets back and he gently lifts his head and slides the pillow under. Sam doesn't stir. The bags go in the front seat because Sam is pretty out but Dean doesn't want to risk slamming the trunk. He finds a station with some of the less obnoxious Christmas carols and leaves the volume low.

---

There's just one more thing to do before they get out of town. He drives up to a nice house in the suburbs and can't help thinking it's the kind of place Sammy had imagined having once upon a time. He gets out of the car and goes up the walk to a wooden door with a festive holiday wreath. The bell rings deeply and the door opens to reveal a pretty, dark-haired woman. "Dean," she smiles at him, "We were just going to give you a call and invite you and Sam to Christmas dinner." She notices Sam isn't with him and her smile falters. He can read the question in her eyes.

"That's very nice of you, Mrs. Reckard but I don't think Sam's up to it. He's in the back," Dean says, pointing to the Impala.

Mrs. Reckard glances anxiously toward the car. "Is he going to be alright? He took quite a knock." Dean appreciates the fact that she actually cares. "Such a sweet boy," she murmurs and looks to Dean for her answer.

"He'll be okay," Dean says. Reassurance is Sam's forte but she seems to trust his word.

"Oh, I'm so sorry," she exclaims, coloring. "Here I am chatting away and I haven't even let you in." She opens the door wider and steps back.

"That's alright," Dean says but she ushers him in anyway, "We need to get going. I just wanted to ask you for something."

"Anything," she says. Dean gives her his request and she smiles. "Of course, dear. That's nothing. I'll be just a moment."

She comes back with a thermos and a gigantic plate of Christmas cookies that Dean didn't ask for. He thanks her warmly and tells her to call if there are any more problems. "Thank you," she says, "And thank Sam for us too, would you? I hope he feels better soon."

"I'll take care of him," Dean promises.

"Merry Christmas!" she calls as he's getting into the car. He waves back.

---

Dean drives and drives until he finally finds what he's looking for and then he goes a little further. He stops the car. Sam is peaceful in the backseat but some things are worth it. "Sammy, wake up," Dean whispers, shaking his brother's shoulder.

Sam's eyes blink open slowly. "What's the matter?" he slurs.

"Come outside," Deans says and Sam opens the door. He feels something cold against his face and looks up. Sam smiles hugely and goes to sit with Dean on the hood of the Impala.

"Merry Christmas, Sammy," Dean says and hands him the thermos of eggnog and a chocolate cookie.

They're in Colorado. And it's snowing.

Review? No flames please.