The 12 saves of Christmas

Save Three – Rocking Robin!

December 22nd 8.15pm

"OKay, so that was way more activity than I needed at this point in time!"

Dean's words emanated from somewhere beneath Sam where he lay, his brother's gigantic form trapping him into making an impromptu 'snow-angel' in the softly drifting snow. He pushed against Sam's backpack where it, and the lumpy contents, pressed into his chest.

"Lemme up, Sammy."

His muffled voice grumbled into his brother's back.

"Sorry, Dean."

Sam's voice was full of apologies as he rolled gently off of his brother, coming to his knees in the banked whiteness and leaning over to help pull Dean into a sitting position. Their eventual cresting of the hill and subsequent onward journey seemed to be continuing in its own brand of freaky festive frivolity.

"Oooofff."

Dean huffed as he rose, knowing his abused body had notched up a few more peacock hued bruises from the encounter.

"Are ya OK?"

Sam was checking Dean out as he allowed him a moment to get his breath back.

"Yeah, I'm peachy, Sam, but hey that little sucker made a real mess of your forehead."

Dean raised his hands and grabbed Sam's chin, tilting his brother's head forward so he could check out the little beak marks mottling the skin of his forehead.

"Owwh, you got some serious peck-age going on here, bro."

Dean giggled a little as he spoke; swaying slightly where he sat on his cold, wet ass in the snow, and Sam was unsure whether the light-headedness his voice betrayed was due to his developing concussion, or the silliness of the situation.

"Yeah, tell me about it!"

Sam parted his slightly too-long brown bangs and touched the multiple tiny wounds on his forehead, wincing at the specks of blood from the peck marks of the Erithacus rubecula.

"What the hell do you suppose possessed a Robin Red Breast to fly at me like that?"

Sam was genuinely bemused and, if he was honest, a little put out that an icon of Christmas peace like the Robin would, for no apparent reason, turn all 'Jason Voorhees' on him and attack without warning. They had been scouting the area at the head of the cliff, looking for Dean's backpack where he had abandoned it after pulling out his shotgun whilst hunting the ghost, and contemplating the now seemingly long walk back to the Impala. Their pace slow as, even with his newly acquired crutch for support, Dean's leg was still giving him more pain than he would ever admit, when suddenly the demented little birdie had launched its kamikaze assault from a nearby pine tree.

Sam had been in the lead and had absorbed the brunt of the attack, batting at their 'not much bigger than a hummingbird' attacker with his gigantic hands. The Robin, however, was doggedly intent on its mission, whatever that was, and had pecked repeatedly at Sam's forehead.

The bizarre attack had been enough to have Sam stumble backwards and straight into an already wobbly Dean. Amidst calls of 'Watch out!' and 'What the hell, Sammy?' both brothers had ended up prone in the snow once more and the little bird had flown away, singing its feathered head off.

"They are notoriously territorial you know, Sammy."

Dean was staring a little distractedly in the direction the tiny, Yuletide visitor from Europe had taken, as he pulled in irritation at the cold denim wrapping his legs.

"How could you possibly know that, Dean?"

Sam shook his head in disbelief, causing the tiny rivulets of blood from the bird induced punctures to run together and make crimson snowflake patterns on his bronzed skin. He reached forward as he spoke and pulled Dean slowly to his feet, settling him on his unsteady legs with his makeshift walking aid.

Dean poked a finger into Sam's chest.

"Hey, college boy, I know stuff too. For example, Erithacus rubecula is ferociously defensive of its territory."

Sam stood slightly open mouthed before spitting out.

"I had no idea you were into ornithology."

Dean sniggered.

"Well, it was on the Nature channel. Freaking motel was so off the beaten track it didn't have pay per view so it was that or a re-run of The Bold and The Beautiful.

"Ah!"

Sam smiled.

"So you weren't really broadening your mind, it was just that you couldn't get porn?"

Dean nodded, hopping a little on his bad knee as he shuffled his stick to get a firmer footing in the slippery snow.

"Figures. So, shall we get moving before the ghost returns?"

Dean glanced around them, his eyes searching.

"What ya looking for?"

Sam touched his arm.

"Did you find my backpack? I must have thrown it down somewhere near here when the Happy Christmas Hiker jumped us."

Sam scanned about and turned to step forward, intent on the search, only to have Dean grab his arm and pull him abruptly to a halt.

"Whoa, Sammy! Look."

Dean was gesturing with his crutch to a partially hidden object on the path directly ahead of them. The grim, rusted metal contraption was peeking from beneath the drifting snow and was directly on the path they had been following. Had they taken one further step Sam, who was leading, would have trodden squarely on the cold metal of the bear trap.

"Well I'll be! I hadn't even seen it. I would'ha been ankle deep in those jaws if the damn bird hadn't flown at us."

Dean inched forward favouring his unhurt leg and stared at the grim, brutal teeth of the steel trap as it peeped from its covering of snow.

"You're right, Sammy. If you dickie-bird friend hadn't pecked you into submission I would have been wrestling one severely mangled foot from that sonofabitch trap."

He leaned forward and picked up a short but sturdy branch for the snow and handed it to Sam.

"Spring it. I hate to think of some animal getting caught in it."

Sam nodded and slammed the wood into the jaws. The trap clanged shut, splintering the log like it was made of brittle candy and showering the white snow with fragments of pine.

"Hey, Sam?"

The younger Winchester dragged his eyes back to his older sibling's quizzical gaze.

"Yeah?"

"I may be getting a bit ridiculous here but this is kinda the third 'Christmas save', isn't it?"

Sam raised a curious eyebrow and Dean smiled as he gestured to the now harmless bear trap.

"Well, if the Robin hadn't have attacked ya, you would have carried straight on and stepped on the trap and..."

"Yeah! Enough Dean, I get it."

Sam felt increasingly queasy at the thought that he might have been seeing splinters of Winchester leg bone where he currently saw toothpicks of pine!

"Wow. Weird or what?"

Dean smiled in his best and most engaging 'how cool is that?' manner and Sam couldn't help but return the grin.

"OK, so let's find your back pack and get outta here. You right this is getting too weird for words. Let's blow this joint before Santa comes along and offers us a lift on his sleigh!"

From its cover in the evergreen foliage the ghost's cadaverous face morphed slowly into a grin. The startled bird had done the job he intended, shaping the path of his victims to his will. All was well; he would have his way with these unfortunate travellers before the night was over. His eerie laughter echoed into the snowy night.

Ends