Author's Note: This prompt comes from Pennywise552 who requested, "A faction of demons despise Rowena being Queen. They know Sam is her favorite. Have fun!" I did have way too much fun writing this. Thanks!

"Season's greetings, hope you're well

Well I'm doing alright

If you were wondering

Lately I can never tell."

—Taylor Swift, "Christmases When You Were Mine"

Rowena may be the fierce queen of Hell, but occasionally, she does step out of her domain, able to go above to the mortal realm. Her trips are few and far between—simply because of the sheer amount of magic it takes to facilitate them—but she does enjoy visiting with Sam and Dean and mothering them when she can. She'd considered herself somewhat evil but when she went through what she did with the Winchesters, things changed.

She's technically dead, but such things don't hold sway in Hell. As Queen, she's able to access powers that can defy death, albeit temporarily. So, she makes a point to visit during the holidays.

Only, as she steps into the foyer of the bunker, the sight of blood greets her.

And Rowena's heart sinks.

She knows Dean is out of town, tying up a loose end for some girl named "Charlie" but Sam had decided to stay behind to greet her.

"Sam?"

Only, Sam isn't here.

A million thoughts rush through her head, but she forces herself to breathe and focus. Sam isn't here and there are signs of a struggle. While the Winchesters had many enemies, few could get into the bunker easily. No, this kidnapping would have to be someone who knew the Winchesters and how to defeat the bunker's charms. Someone like her, who knew magic well and could dispel the protective charms. Someone with a grudge against Sam in particular—

—or maybe not Sam at all.

Smeared in the blood is one single word, "Favorite."

She knows who has done this. With a wave of her hand, she opens a portal and steps through to the other side. The warmth of Hell greets her, but as her boot click down the marble halls, she wears nothing of the confident queen she portrays.

"Your Majesty?"

She rushes past her courtier, paying them no mind.

The closer to the center of Hell you get, the colder it gets. Few demons enjoy being down here, which is why it proves to be such a popular hiding place for dissatisfied factions. Rowena knows that her takeover of Hell was still new and fragile. Some demons resented her for it and resisted her. Still, she had thought she'd crushed the seeds of rebellion long ago.

Apparently not.

"And lo, the fool hardy queen comes to save her beloved!" A voice mocks her, but her eyes are drawn to the broken figure sprawled out on the floor. Blood stains his shirt crimson, his skin as pale as snow. Rowena spares no look to the fool who dares to speak to her—she snaps her finger, summons her demon blade and plunges it into the chest of the rogue demon, ensuring its painful death.

The rest of the group catches on quickly, but Rowena is numb to the onslaught as she whips her sword around, killing any that stand in the way of rescuing Sam. When they're all dead, their mangled corpses fallen to the ground, Rowena rushes to Sam's side. He's such a tall, big man, but with the help of some magic, she easily lifts him, his head lolling aimlessly.

"I've got you, Sam, dearie," She whispers, more to reassure herself than him, "Let's get you patched up, shall we?"

She forces a smile onto her ruby lips, though her voice trembles.

In a way, she's able to detach herself from the trauma of taking care of Sam.

Back at the bunker, she carefully examines him—ten stab wounds, two broken ribs, more bruises than she can count—and tenderly dresses his wounds. It's clear that was tortured, perhaps to hurt her, perhaps to get information about her from him, but she knows Sam.

He wouldn't have broken.

That would've infuriated his captors, which would explain why they were so sadistic, even for demons. Her heart breaks for him, her friend, her ally. She's called Dean and informed Castiel, though they're being careful on the way back—taking extra precautions and buying new supplies to redo the wards.

Which leaves her with an unconscious Sam.

She hums to him, faded Christmas carols that she can recall from her time as a human or ones that she heard from the radio. He stirs sometimes, awakes in a haze of pain, but his eyes never show any awareness. She just smiles at him, calms him and lets him sleep.

Guilt eats away at her. Had she been so obvious with her affection for the youngest Winchester? Was she letting her emotions show? She wanted to be a strong queen, one that could Hell united for a millennium and yet, she failed to even keep one human safe.

"I've failed you, m'eudail," She whispers, running a hand through his hair, her natural Gaelic language slipping into her voice.

What could she do now that the Winchesters had changed her?

The grinch's heart grew three sizes.

She huffs a laugh, wondering just when heart had changed.

"Rowena?" Clear eyes stare upwards at her.

"Sam?" She gapes, her hand resting against his warm cheek, "Are you with me, a thasgaidh?"

"Think so," He replies, wincing, "Hurts."

"I know," She tells him, "They're dead, Sam." Softly, she adds, "And I'm sorry."

He doesn't say anything for a while. Then, he grabs her hand within his own and smiles.

And all is right with her world.

Outside, snow begins to fall once more.