The Nutcracker.

Summary. . . . . . Whilst trying to bring a sick Sam some Christmas cheer, Dean unwittingly places his brother in danger.

Disclaimer. . . . . Not mine, just toying with Kripkies creation.

A.N. . . . . . . . Okay then, well as some of you might have already heard, a group of seriously talented writers on here have decided to band together to create a series of one shot and for some reason, known only to themselves, invited me along for the ride. It's all about being as descriptive as possible, we each write a scene and then pass it along to another writer to finish, and from the snippets I have received so far, you are all in for some amazing reads. They're going to be posted under darksupernaturals page, under the title Winchester Single Shots, so keep your peepers open for them. Just in case you wanted to know the players are, so far there's Me, darksupernatural, sammygirl1963, Emerald-Water, Soncnica, V.R. Jennings, vonnie836, DancerInTheDark101, and Merisha.

Anyhow enough of that for now, on with the chapter, as always thanks for reading and enjoy chapter 10.

John thought his mind was going to scream at him as he sat morosely in a chair that was too small, and too hard, waiting for his eldest son to wake. Frustration at being able to do nothing to help either of his sons angering him; he couldn't take Dean's pain away, couldn't ease his son back to wakefulness, and without Dean's help and knowledge he could do little to help Sammy, a thought that ate away at him with each second that passed, so he sat, and he waited, and he stewed. Caleb had left earlier, unable to sit there and do nothing whilst Sam was still missing, returning to the scene of the crime to see if he could gather any evidence; evidence that would otherwise go unnoticed by the police, evidence that would speak of supernatural beings being involved; but his last call to John had been taciturn and remorseful. There was nothing, no sulfur, no emf, no cold spots, nothing. He was on his way back now, empty handed and pissed, calling in favors and back up as he drove.

As one hand held onto his oldest sons undamaged arm, his fingers offering the only comfort he could give, John offered up yet another pray to the God he had long since stopped believing in, a pray that asked for the waking up of one son, and the safe return of the other. He rubbed his hand across a face drawn with weariness and sadness, before settling his aching head in it's palm, his eyes turning to watch the flashing lights, rising spikes and changing numbers of the machines that surrounded his eldest's bed, missing at first the subtle moving of Dean's fingers, unable to ignore the groan that was emitted as memories were remembered creating fear and worry in the middle Winchester, and causing him to try and rise from the bed, his need to protect Sam crushing him, over riding all other thoughts, making him think for a moment that he was still in that room, where that beast still lurked, only realizing his mistake when his body protested the sudden movement, and arms forced him gently back to the bed. He still tried to break free though, his mind still eager to help Sam, until smells assaulted his sense, and he recognized the hands to be them of his father.

"Dad? Sammy?" He gasped out, hoping that his Dad would understand, the few words grating on his dry parched throat, draining him of the few reserves he still had stored.

Knowing that his son would sense his lies immediately caused John no end of grief; damned if he did, and damned if he didn't, he knew he would cause Dean pain no matter what he said. Taking a deep breath he decided to go with the truth. "Sam's missing son." Seeing Dean's monitors begin to rise, he added. "Dean, you need to calm down, you'll be of no help to Sam, if you pass out. I need you to stay awake. I need you to let me know what happened. I need you to tell me what took your brother." He watched the different emotions as they flickered across his sons face, guilt, grief, frustration, anger, and what was that? Doubt? Speaking again John asked. "Dean what did you see?"

Confused as he was, Dean was uncertain as to how to answer. Would his Dad believe him? Would he think he was lying? With Sam's life on the line though Dean knew he had no choice but to tell his Dad what had happened. He motioned for a drink, greedily downing the refreshing fluid, before relaxing back onto the pillows, as his eyes found the grief stricken ones of his father he began to tell his tale, fear of being mocked making his voice sound small and youthful. "Dad, it was a. . . . . . . .why bother, you'll never believe me anyway."

"Dean, please, tell me what happened. I promise, no matter what, I will believe you."

"Dad, itwasanutcracker." Dean rushed out.

"A what?"

"It was a nutcracker, Dad, a creepy, freakin' nutcracker."

John smiled at first, thinking his son was mistaken, only for that smile to ebb as his son's face turned into a mask of fury, his trembling body attempting to rise once again. "I knew you wouldn't believe me! After everything that we have seen, why do you not believe me now? Sam is out there with a freaky ass wooden doll, and you're sat here mocking me!"

"Dean, calm down, I believe you, it's just. . . . . . . . .I've never heard of anything like this before."

"It's not that unusual." Caleb's voice chimed in from behind John. "There's plenty of voodoo lore that speaks of curses that could turn humans into puppets or dolls, nutcrackers were popular things back in the last century, it could be achievable that someone was turned into one."

"But how does that help us find Sammy?" John spoke out, his mind already churning over the fact that they had no trail to follow, no way of finding his son.

"He must be trying to turn back into human form, I'm guessing he saw something in Sammy that he didn't in Dean, he must have to do some sort of ritual. I'll get Bobby to look into it, see if he can figure out a what the creep would need to perform it. Jim's on his way to sit with Dean." He could see his words irritate John's eldest and looked him in the eyes as he added. "Dean, I know you want to help, and you can by getting stronger, I have a feeling Sam will need that strength when we get him back." Turning back to John, he finished by saying. "Once he's here we'll start looking into abandoned places. He's gotta be close, John, and if he is, we'll find him."

Sam wallowed in a pit of despair, his body aching, trembling with cold, yet burning, sweating with fever, his mind warped by hallucinations and visions; visions that created creatures that even in his confused mind he knew could not be real. At one point he was sure there had been a doll here with him, a living doll, that breathed and spoke and moved like a human, but had hands that were cold and rigid as they stroked across his cheek. At another point he had dreamt that Dean was here, this dream easing his fears, comforting his sickened body for a while, until he heard his brothers cry of pain followed by a sickening thud, and those fears returned tenfold, clashing with his desperate need to help, to know Dean was okay; his body resisting his attempts to rise, resisting his attempts to help, his strength dwindling after pushing his heavier than normal frame mere inches of the floor, sending him crashing back down to the cold earth where he lay shivering, sobbing, praying. His emotions feeding the beast that lurked in the shadows.

To Be Continued. . . . . . . . . .

A.N. . . . . . . . Sorry about the wait for this chapter, work has been a bee-atch. Will try and not keep you waiting too long for the next chapter, catch you soon, Peanut x