A/N: I know, I suck. I do deeply apologize for the lengthy wait. However, good news. Even as this is being posted I am working on the next chapter. As always, thanks to Starliteyes for make this readable for me.

The Christmas Miracle

Chapter Three

Sam's initial scream ripped through the room, but then he fell terrifyingly quiet. Something painful clawed through Dean's chest and gripped his heart. He bolted off the stool so quickly that he was a little surprised he didn't dump the baby onto the floor. He controlled himself just long enough to hand her off to a nearby person, before tearing his way through the crowd to Sam.

Sam was prone on the floor, his hazel eyes blown wide with fear. His pupils were tiny pinpricks of color compared to the whites of his eyes. They were darting around, searching frantically for something, before locking onto Dean like a man would a life preserver. Sam's mouth was clamped shut, his pink lips bleeding away to white. Dean could see him biting the insides of his cheeks, and he knew that his brother was holding back his screams.

Noise was rampant all around them. Women's shrill voices filled the air as they called for their husbands and brothers. Beneath it all, Dean could hear the husky timber of Brask's voice muttering something indistinct. Dean ignored it all. To him, it seemed as if the world was absent of sound. There was a void of dead space surrounding Sam, caused by his refusal to give voice to his terror. Without Sam's screams other noise ceased to exist.

Dean dropped to his knees, edging his arm around Sam's shoulders to pull him into a half-seated position. Sam gripped Dean's bicep tightly, forming bruises beneath his long-sleeved shirt almost immediately. They locked eyes, and a muscle in Dean's jaw jumped when he saw the raw terror Sam was choking down.

"What's going on? Is he hurt?"

Tex stood nearby, looming tall and dark over them. Dean growled deep in his throat, and the entire room contracted in fright. Dean glared up at Tex who stood his ground beside them. They shared a long moment of big brotherly understanding. Sam was Dean's responsibility and he wasn't going to let another soul get near him. Tex jerked his chin down, stepping away. He took to the task of soothing his sisters, gently herding them away so they weren't sucking up all the air around Sam and Dean.

When Dean looked back at Sam, he could tell that his little brother had slipped under, his conscious mind disappearing into a vision. Once they had killed the demon Dean had hoped he would never see the vacant expression in his brother's face ever again, but it seemed it was too much to ask for. Dean gathered Sam closer, dropping his head until their brows touched.

Now within the stillness of the void that Sam created, Dean could make out the words of Brask's husky murmur.

"So pretty they burn. Dancing on the ceiling. Smiles and screams. Teeth and bone. Watch them burn with eyes of gold."

Dean rotated his head, keeping his brow connected with Sam's. From beneath the veil of his dark lashes he peered through the pulsating crowd to a figure that was hunched against the far wall, legs drawn up and body rocking. Brask mumbled into his knees, his dark brown eyes showing the same faraway look as Sam's. Dean screwed his eyes shut, and held Sam, muttering reassurances to him to drown out the sound of Brask's words.

"Alright give those boys some room. Dean-- pick your brother up and bring him in here."

Missouri's no nonsense voice cut through the room, and Dean's head jerked towards her in response. The crowed parted and he could see her standing next to an open door just off the kitchen. His chin dipped in a quick nod and he gathered Sam closer to his chest. Though his brother was deep inside his vision, he was aware enough to try and stand on his own two legs. He was as wobbly as a newborn colt and Dean had to work hard to keep them both balanced.

They stumbled past Missouri, nearly falling off the stoop as they dropped into a low set room that was lushly decorated with a thick carpet and two-tone mauve walls. A queen-sized bed was at the far side draped with a purple hibiscus patterned duvet. Dean lowered Sam into the bed thankfully and for once there was no snide comment about it being a grandma bed.

As soon as Sam hit the mattress, Missouri closed the door, shutting out the sliver of light that illuminated the room and the hysterical noise from the kitchen. Everything was dark and silent. The only things that could be heard were their rapid breathing. It took a moment for Dean to get his bearings. When he did, he snapped on the Tiffany lamp beside the bed. Soft gold light flooded the room, soothing Dean's aching eyes.

Sam was curled up on the bed, his back to Dean, his legs drawn up to his chest. Many times when they were children, Dean had seen Sam sleep like that. When he was scared, lonely or hurting. Dean responded the same way as he had done all those times in the past. He lowered himself on the bed, bracing his back against the head board. There wasn't enough room for him, so he stretched one leg out along the length of Sam's body, lending his heat to his brother while he braced his weight on his other foot that was planted on the floor.

It was an uncomfortable position, but he didn't complain as he watched his brother's face. Beads of sweat had broken out on his brow, and his eyes were screwed shut. His bleached lips were still clamped tightly together to hold back his screams. His shaggy brown hair was damp and curly with sweat and was hanging limply against his forehead. Dean brushed a few strands away from his Sam's eyes before sinking his fingers deeply into his hair, cupping his little brother's skull in his big palm.

Their time together was drawing to a close. Soon he was going to be dead and Sam was going to be left behind to deal as best he could. Dean didn't want to leave his brother. God help him, he wanted to stay and protect him. But he could see no way out of the terrible deal he had made. And if he did make it out, the thought of Sam dying again as a result made him want to cut his own heart out. He was in a lose-lose situation. Dean wasn't surprised. It seemed his life was filled with them. It all started with their mother dying and having to choose between his family and the safety of strangers.

"Dean."

Dean's fingers tightened in Sam's hair before he pulled his hand away. He leaned over his brother's shoulder so he was in his peripheral vision.

"Hey, Sammy. Thanks for checking back in after your little vacation."

Sam let out a shaky breath, and Dean could feel his brother's entire body shudder.

"If that was a vacation then I am never going on one again."

"Agreed, you suck at picking vacation spots. Next time its drinks and babes on me in South Beach."

Sam rolled up off the bed so suddenly that the displacement of weight knocked Dean off the edge. He caught himself and stood up fluidly, he's feet planted solidly on the ground. Sam wavered on the other side of the bed, flinging out a big hand to catch himself on the knotted pine foot post.

"Whoa, there, Sammy. What are you doing?"

Dean quickly skirted the end of the bed and grabbed Sam's arm to steady him. Sam stared hard at his feet as if he could mentally will them to hold their ground.

"We have to go to the hotel."

"Okay. There will be plenty of time for that tomorrow. For now let's just relax and eat all that fine food they're cooking up in the kitchen."

Dean pushed Sam down onto the bed. Sam gracelessly sat on the edge, but he refused to lay back. He grabbed Dean's biceps, his strong fingers biting deeply into the muscle. Dean was bent over, awkwardly captured by his brother. Sam stared hard into Dean's eyes, making him feel vaguely uncomfortable. He hated the tortured look on Sam's face whenever he felt compelled to act in accordance with the unknown forces that prompted his visions. His pupils had returned to normal size, but that didn't distract from the sheer force of need Dean saw reflected there. He had seen that look many times before when Sam was hustling him out of the room to chase down some poor bastard that was on the verge of dying. He already knew he was fighting a losing battle.

"We have to go right now, Dean. We have to find the portal before more people die."

"Sam. You—" Dean pulled away, brushing his hand through his short hair as he glared down at his brother. How could he explain to him the absolute terror he had felt when Sam had screamed? Sam had had a lot of visions in the past two years, but none of them had been this severe. None of them had terrorized him to the very depths of his soul.

"This last vision. You've never collapsed like that. You scared the crap out of me." Dean burst out, unsure of where the sudden emotion came from. As the predetermined date of his death loomed closer, the more he felt the need to share his feelings with Sam. That was something he had better button up real quick though or he would be leaving Sam with more than just loss. He would be leaving him with a whole garbage bag full of emotional crap.

Sam grabbed the footboard and levered himself off the bed. Once he had steadied his feet, and he could stand on his own, he lifted his chin to look at Dean.

"I know, Dean. But we have to do this. We have to save these people."

He turned his back on Dean and made his way towards the door. Dean watched him, a look of hurt stretched over his taut features before it was quickly hidden away.

Sam opened the door and light and sound invaded them. Sam fell back blinking. He rubbed his temple, and Dean knew that he was fighting back a monster of a migraine.

"You two think you can just come in here, eat our food, then traipse right back out again?"

Missouri blocked the doorway, hands on her ample hips. A herd of women stood behind her, ready to defend her position. Sam fell back even further, and something intense flickered deep in Dean's chest. He stepped up taking his position in front of Sam. Though he would rather stay there and stuff himself on ham and turkey, he knew that Sam was right. They needed to get to the hotel.

"'Fraid so, Missy. We gotta head out. Thanks for all the good eats."

"That's Missouri to you, boy." She thumped him hard in the chest before turning aside, nodding in agreement.

"I thought you might. So we fixed you up a couple of plates to go."

A couple of plates turned out to be an entire box of food filled with sandwiches, tubes of mashed potatoes and yams, and all kinds of cookies.

"There should be microwaves in those fancy hotel rooms of theirs so you can heat all this up. And of course you can come back anytime for refills."

They were standing on the front porch where most of the family had gathered to send them off. Tex was standing back amid his sisters, and the kids were playing in the yard. Dean glanced around, but Brask was conspicuously absent. He wanted to ask what happened to him, but he knew it wasn't his business. Besides that he was a little afraid too. It had been apparent right from the get- go that there was something a little off about Brask. A part of Dean was scared he was that way because of the visions he obviously endured. What if he had so many in his life they had burned out parts of his brain? What if something like that happened to Sam?

Dean unconsciously moved closer to Sam as they stood united before Missouri's family.

"Here. Just in case I don't see you Christmas."

Missouri shoved two brightly wrapped packages into Sam's arms.

"Uhh, Missouri, that's not necessary." Sam stuttered.

"Nonsense, I made those specifically for you boys. Now if you get cold you open those up right away. Even if it's not Christmas yet. You hear me?"

She gave them both a tight hug before they could reply then shooed them off the porch. Everyone gathered close to wave as they walked away to the car. They piled everything in the backseat and turned to wave before getting in the car.

Dean saw the little girl lifted high in her mother's arms, her chubby hand waving back and forth. He waved back and sunk into the car, trying to stuff down the sadness he felt deep inside his heart. He glanced over at Sam, who had the same miserable expression on his face.

Dean's grip tightened on the wheel as he turned the car over and he wondered not for the first time, if somehow their life could have been different.

---

Sam and Dean were shirtless, covered in a thin dusting of white drywall, and streaked with sweat. It was Dean's turn to wield the sledgehammer, which he did with ferocity while Sam checked the hall to make sure that no one was coming to complain about the noise.

After leaving Missouri's, they went straight to downtown and checked into room 506 of the Eldridge Hotel. The room had originally been occupied, but Sam convinced the hotel manager they were writing a book on the most famous haunted hotels in the Midwest. The manager had beamed at the idea and had quickly hustled to make the arrangements while Dean shook his head and mumbled under his breath. Ghosts had ceased to garner respect. They were nothing more than tourist hot spots that no one took seriously anymore.

Room 506 was a corner suite at the front of the hotel that overlooked the town square. It was fashionably decorated with plush blue carpeting and cream sateen bedding on a huge king bed. Sam was convinced that the dimensional doorway must be activated by a sigil etched in the cornerstone of the building. So they took turns ripping up the drywall to get to the mortar and brick wall beneath.

They had their heater turned all the way down, but the temperature in the room was still like a sauna. The window was nailed shut, likely due to liability issues. With no way to get fresh air in the room, they had to cut apart their shirts to use as face masks to protect themselves from all the dust in the air. They piled their duffels along with their weapons in the center of the bed, uncaring if the gun oil stained the coverlet, and went to work on the wall.

Satisfied that no one was coming to ask about the noise, Sam closed the door and turned back towards his brother. He watched how fiercely he attacked the wall, and not for the first time he felt a hot stab of sadness knife through his guts. A long time ago, in another life, Sam had had a chance at a normal life. He had Stanford, Jessica and dreams of a future; but Dean never tasted a life like that. His only glimpse of normal had been a sick trick of the mind played on him by a hungry Djinn, and the brief second thought of what it might be like to have a kid when he visited a past weekend fling. For Dean, normal was breaking through walls and digging up graves. That was his life; and as much as he embraced it, it still apparent that he would rather beat it to death with a sledgehammer.

"Do you ever think about quitting this and starting a family?"

The words slipped out before he could stop them, and Sam dropped his eyes to the blue carpet that looked like it had a dusting of powdered sugar. The rhythmic striking of the hammer stopped, and Sam could feel the heavy weight of his brother's eyes on his bowed head.

"I have a family."

Dean's words were clipped and they were followed by the whistling of air before the sledgehammer crashed into the wall again.

Sam shifted his weight and scratched his arm where some dust was irritating his skin before slipping both is hands into the front pockets of his jeans. His pants sagged lower, but he kept his eyes on the ground as he toed a piece of wood that Dean had flung away.

"I mean like kids, Dean. You really seemed to take to that little girl back at Missouri's."

Dean didn't say anything, and he never stopped swinging his hammer. Finally he broke through the last of the wooden ribs of the wall, and he let the smooth handle of the hammer slide through his palm so he could rest it on its head next to the dresser.

Sam moved next to Dean and started helping him clear the debris. He knew that if he waited long enough his brother would get tired of the silence and say something.

"Speaking of Missouri's, I noticed that you got jumpier than a cat on a hot tin roof when we walked in there."

Diversion and distraction were classic Dean techniques. Usually they didn't work with Sam, but Dean struck a chord. He hated crowds, always had, but it wasn't until Stanford that he realized why.

"I don't like crowds."

Dean cocked his head and raised an eyebrow.

"You? Mister 'I think people are awesome', doesn't like crowds?"

Sam turned away and piled some wood to the side while he debated if he should come clean with his brother. It seemed so petty now that Dean was dying to keep anything from him, especially his feelings.

"When I was in Stanford, every time I walked into a room filled with people I always expected someone to turn around and say, 'Hey you! You don't belong here. You're a freak. A monster. Get out and don't come back. We don't want you here.'"

"Sam."

Sam turned around to see the bewildered look on Dean's face, and he felt an irrational flare of anger in his chest.

"Well its true isn't it? I'm a freak. Every day I lived in fear that someone would find out about the real Sam Winchester. Why do you think I never wanted you to visit me? Why do you think I told Dad to stay away? Those people there, all my friends, they weren't like me. They couldn't even imagine the things I seen. I couldn't relate to anyone. Not even Jess."

The last words were whispered and he turned away to hide the tears in his eyes from his brother. He rubbed a big hand across his sweaty chest, smearing drywall dust and grime. He thought he had gotten over those feelings of isolation and rejection, but going back to Missouri's earlier had only forced them to resurface.

"Yah, I want kids. A wife to hug me and kiss me when I get home from a long day of normal work. I want the white picket fence, a mortgage and a crappy car. I want all those things, because they come with barbeques in the backyard and weekend soccer games. I want all those things because it means I can love someone without worrying if they are going to die the next day."

Diversion and distraction, those were one hundred percent Dean's techniques. But now he was trying to distract Sam from his pain in the only way he knew how, by confessing his own.

They stood silent in the middle of the room, neither brother looking at the other.

Dean shifted and thumbed over his shoulder at the brick wall they uncovered.

"So I don't see a sigil here."

Grateful to move past the subjects that were painful to both of them, Sam stepped up next to Dean to examine the wall. He took a few moments to look over every brick carefully before stepping back and pointing.

"There."

Dean peered closer at the brick Sam was pointing at. Now that he knew what he was looking for he noticed right off a faint circled etched in the center with a smattering of runes he couldn't read.

"Is that it?" Dean looked back at Sam who was fishing some chalk out of his duffel.

"It's a doorknob. We need to make the doorway tangible in this dimension. Only then can we seal it permanently."

"Huh."

Dean made room for Sam who began to etch out a rectangular frame on the brick wall roughly the size of a door in white chalk. He then took pieces of red, yellow and blue chalk to draw out runes in the different corners.

As usual it only took him a few minutes, and not for the first time Dean wondered what all Sam had crammed in his monster brain. Sam dug out a book from his bag and was leafing through it, so Dean took the opportunity to step closer to examine the drawings.

"Very pretty, Sammy. Maybe you should add some flowers over here."

Sam rolled his eyes but didn't respond as he silently read the passage in the book.

"Not looking much like a doorway to me. Just a drawing on a brick wall."

Dean curled his hand into a fist and raised it to knock on the door. Sam saw him from the corner of his eye and dropped the book to the floor and trying to cross the room to his brother.

"No!" he screamed, but it was too late. Dean's fist connected with the door solidly.

The world exploded into a super nova of white light ringed in blue flames. Instinctively they threw up their arms to protect their faces, but the force of the blast knocked them off their feet. Sam hit the far wall hard and lost consciousness immediately. Dean was thrown into the middle of the room. Darkness edged his vision, but he forced it away as he belly crawled towards his brother. He was able to curl his body protectively around Sam's before he fell into unconsciousness.