Author's Note: I hope those of you who celebrate Thanksgiving had a wonderful one! I've been travelling a lot and I also celebrated my birthday, but I'm back and am ready to continue working on these great prompts! To that end, REQUESTS ARE CLOSED. If I re-open them, I will let you know.

Today's prompt comes from Katlover98 who requested, "I was wondering if you could do one where Sam tries to pretty up the Bunker for the AU Hunters now living with them to give them a good Christmas after who knows how long. He's sleep deprived though so he breaks something. I'll leave it up to you what he breaks. Dean and Mary taking care of him afterward is a must. Maybe adding Dean making him sleep more than three hours a day." I must confess, I haven't kept up with the show recently, so I'm going to tweak this prompt a bit. I hope that's okay. How about Sam decorating for their first Christmas with Mary? Let's go with that. I hope you enjoy! Thanks for the prompt!

"'Cause it's almost nearly getting close to counting down to Christmas

It's almost time to see the tree light up the town for Christmas

It's thirty-four thousand, fifty-eight minutes away

It's almost nearly getting close to counting down to Christmas Day!"

—A Christmas Story, "Counting Down To Christmas"

Sam can't remember the last time he slept.

No, that's not an exaggeration. He literally can't remember the last time his head hit the pillow ever since their mom—their now very much alive mom—reappeared, suddenly filling Sam with a hope and fear that he never experienced before. Hope that he would finally get to know his mother, the woman he never knew and fear that she would find him lacking somehow. But apparently Dean had told her everything—the Apocalypse, Hell, Purgatory—and Mary, while shaken, was still here. Still, a nagging thought pulled on Sam's mind—did she really know everything about Sam or had Dean left a few details out?

Christmas had always been the two of them and never a big occasion. Once they inherited the bunker, suddenly Christmas became complete with retro decorations and an actual Christmas dinner prepared with Dean. But now, with Mary, Sam wants to make their first Christmas back together, as a family, perfect. Of course, the hunting world doesn't take a holiday and their last hunt had taken them across the country. They'd driven all night, each taking turns at the wheel, only for them to arrive back at the bunker two days before Christmas. As Dean and Mary both slept, Sam found himself with one mission: make this the best Christmas ever.

This meant decorations, of course, and he'd actually sprung for some nicer lights he'd ordered online. Twinkling snowflakes and bright red candy canes glowed as he hung them up around the bunker, carefully scrutinizing their placement. He'd stoked the fridge with eggnog and had sugar cookie dough chilling, waiting to be rolled and them baked. Really, there was only one thing to do—get a Christmas tree.

Now, Sam could've ordered an artificial one. Really, that was probably the more practical solution, but there was something magical about a real Christmas tree that a fake one simply couldn't replicate. Maybe it was that wonderful smell or maybe it just embodied what a real Christmas—like those ones he'd dreamed about as a kid—that just screamed Christmas.

So, a real Christmas tree it was.

When he arrived at the forest, Sam felt fine. Sure, he was tired, but it wasn't the kind of overwhelming, I'm-going-to-face-plant-right-here-in-the-snow kind of tired, and in truth, he was used to working on less sleep. Being a hunter all his life, he'd perfected it. There'd been nights when he got just three hours and days where he'd been up for 46 hours before he was finally able to rest. Cutting down a tree while he'd been up for only 22 hours didn't seem like a big deal.

But it was.

He'd cut the tree down just fine. That wasn't the problem. It was as the tree was coming down that Sam realized just a little bit too late that his aim had been slightly off. Instead of the tree toppling away from him, it was now coming to him. He jumped, but his reactions were slow and before he knew it, it was over.

The tree collided with him, hurling him down into the snow where his head thudded against the cold hard ground. He winced, hissing out a pained breath and tried to push the tree off, but a burning sensation stopped him. The tree was resting directly on his chest. Slowly, he began to put the pieces together and the picture it formed wasn't good.

Sam Winchester, hunter extraordinaire, research genius, was trapped underneath a Christmas tree.

He must've blacked out because when he opened his eyes again, the sun had begun to set. A lingering cold seeped into his bones, dulling the sharp ache in his head. He couldn't feel his fingers and his jeans were wet from the damp snow. Simply put, he had to get out of here and now.

Moving the tree was not an option though. No matter how hard Sam tried, he couldn't budge it, not without jarring his ribs or causing his chest to gasp. There had to be something—someway—to get out of here. No way Sam Winchester was dying under a Christmas tree. It wasn't happening.

"Sammy!"

An echo of a familiar voice on a wind.

"D'n?" Sam's own voice sounded rough and he coughed, yelling louder, "Dean!"

"I've got him!" Mary was suddenly there, her visage swimming into his sights, a soft smile on her lips. She placed a warm hand on his cheek and he leaned into it, trying to soak up the heat.

"M-Mom."

"It's okay, Sam," Mary whispered softly, combing her hands through his hair, "We've got you. Keep those eyes on me."

He could hear Dean doing something in the background, but he couldn't focus on it. Suddenly, the weight on his chest was lifted and Mary was easing him up, Dean helping support his other side.

"Jesus, Sam, you're an icicle." Dean chided, a grimace on his lips.

"W-wanted t-o get a Christmas t-tree." He stammered. Now that was he was on his feet and moving, the cold seemingly had invaded him, causing uncontrollable shivering.

"You needed to sleep," Mary chided, though a note of worry was still in her voice, "Christmas isn't a big deal."

Sam stopped abruptly, "It is! 'Cause we're together."

Mary's eyes widened. Dean's breath caught. Slowly though, Mary nodded, her eyes sparking with unshed tears. Quietly, she spoke, "Yes, Sam, we're all together."

"C'mon," Dean ushered them toward the car, "We need to get you warmed up."

And in the warmth of the Impala, Sam passed out.

He spent Christmas Eve in and out of consciousness as he battled a high fever. Spending a few hours in the snow could knock anyone out and while he was lucky that he hadn't gotten frostbite, the fever raged on, making him believe he was back in the snow all over again.

Through the bits and pieces he could recall though, Dean had been there, talking, as he always did when he worried. Talking about cars, about sports, about times gone by—anything and everything that came to his mind. Dean's steady presence grounded him, keeping Sam safe and secure.

But he could also hear Mary, humming a tune that Sam couldn't quite place, but knew he heard before. He felt her hands carefully checking him for the fever, could hear her soft voice musing about how much things had changed.

Maybe he hadn't gotten his perfect Christmas, but at least he had his family.

When the fever finally broke, Christmas had come and gone.

"You can't let yourself get like that again." Dean chided as he helped roll up the Christmas lights for next year.

"It was an accident—"

"I know, Sam, but you know better," Dean insisted, "You've been running on less and less sleep now and it's not healthy."

Sam rolled his eyes, "This coming from the guy who practically eats the food equivalent of a heart attack at every meal?"

Dean placed a hand on Sam's shoulder, his expression grim, "I mean it, Sam. Just because Mom is back, that doesn't mean you have to make up for lost time."

"I don't know her, Dean."

"I know, but you will. There's time for that. And next year, maybe we can do the whole Christmas thing. Right this time."

Sam nodded, processing his brother's words. He'd gone overboard, he knew that. Still, when it came to Mary, Sam didn't know how to act. He had no memories of her. He'd always grown up wondering what she was like, but always accepting that he would never know.

But now, he had a chance.

"Dean."

"Yeah?"

Sam bit his lower lip, nervous, "Do you think she . . .?" It was so stupid, but it was a question he needed answered, "Do you think she loves me? Despite everything?"

A hug was his response—Mary suddenly appearing from the kitchen and wrapping her arms around him. Then, she lifted one hand and held it out for Dean. A group hug, probably their first and only one.

Still, Sam smiled, maybe this Christmas hadn't worked out, but he got his mom back.

And that was worth far more than any Christmas present he could've received.

Author's Note: I hope you all enjoyed! I had a blast writing it. Please review if you have a moment.