Apologies for the delay in posting, our mucking out duties in the stable took us longer than anticipated. And mean that our trusty beta Kirsty has not been allowed time to work her usual magic on this chapter. Hence the dire punctuation errors she usual hides for us may be evident. They are all ours and we love than as our own!

To our Bethlehem readers we hope we continue to do your beautiful looking city justice and that the license we take is foregivable.

The Twelve Saves of Christmas

Save 10 Follow the Star

December 24th 09.47am

Outside, the wind had howled and moaned, gusting fiercely as another blizzard ripped through the night, coating the land in a thick crust, deep drifts of endless virgin white. Inside, the stout walls of the sturdily built stable had kept the storm at bay, keeping its occupants safe and warm from the treacherous elements.

Both hunters had slept, long and late, snuggled deep into thick fleeces, cushioned on a deep bed of sweet smelling hay.

Dean had struggled to stay awake, keep guard, when Sam had eventually slumped beside him, totally exhausted from their two-day ordeal. He had comforted the small black and white goat, and managed to last at least ten minutes, before a deep, healing sleep had claimed him.

wWw

And through the long night the ghost of the Christmas Hiker had watched over the sleeping hunters. He had kindly quieted the snuffles of the animals so they might get some rest and put aside his own desperate need for closure so that they might begin to heal.

wWw

It was the little goat fidgeting, snuggled under the crook of his arm where it rested across his lean torso, which woke him. A soft, velvety nose butted him delicately in the side of his neck.

"Mmmh. Gimme a minute, babe." He mumbled, softly, turning his head and nuzzling gently at the hairy face. It was the prickling whiskers followed by the dainty hooves scrabbling at his ribs that filtered through into his sub consciousness, alerting him to the fact that his current bed companion was perhaps a little below his normal standards.

The little goat wriggled as it sought a way out from under the heavy sheepskin coat, and the slowly stirring hunter started in alarm as an insistent bleat issued loudly from under the cover. Blinking in surprise, he rolled to the side pulling back the covers.

"What the h…?"

He croaked, spluttering, as any further comment was cut off by a long, pink tongue that snaked out, licking him on his chin.

"Dammit! Sonofab…!" He hissed, as his sudden jolt woke all his injuries. He struggled to bite back the rest, as the tiny goat cried out in alarm at his distress. Blinking furiously, to clear his eyes of the dust from his night in the stable, he gradually calmed as he recalled his whereabouts and the events of the night before. His breathing slowed as his eyes adjusted to the dim light filtering in from the outside.

From the other end of the hay platform, the familiar sleep sounds of his brother's gentle snoring reached him. He peered into the dim light and could just make out the tousled head peeping out from beneath the thick fleece.

During the night, both the lantern and heater had gone out and his breath misted into quickly dissipating clouds. Concentrating on keeping his movements steady, he eased himself up to lean heavily against the wooden wall. He held back the coat and the piebald goat straightened its neatly folded legs and scrambled down, sure-footedly, onto the hard packed floor.

Dean looked on in envy, wishing he could repeat the manoeuvre with as much grace. The need to relieve himself was getting more pressing by the moment, he glanced at the still sleeping younger man and dismissed waking him as an option. This called for his trusty walking stick.

He glanced around and spotted where Sam had propped it against the wall, by the door when they had first arrived the night before, trailing Dean behind him on the wooden sled. Dean had been a little out of it then, and had paid little attention to the whereabouts of his walking aid.

His objective in sight, he pulled back the covers, shivering as the bitter cold penetrated the open front of the thick, flannel shirt he wore. Hugging it tighter, he fumbled with the buttons, the dried blisters cracking as he flexed his fingers, trying to make them work. He grasped hold of the baggy denim of his jeans and used the stiff, stained cloth to carefully ease his left leg from the hay mattress. Ignoring the pain he repeated the process with the right and sat for a moment waiting for his head to stop spinning.

It was at this point, as he sat perched on the edge of the hay bales, that the previous day spent bareback, astride the narrow, bony back of his noble steed, Raptor, made itself known. The term 'saddle sore' didn't even begin to scratch the surface. Bruised, and tender muscles protested their treatment of the day before.

'Well, if that aint just peachy? Now I can't even sit down without something hurtin'!'

He shivered again. Quickly, he slipped into the heavy, dark sheepskin, revelling in the body warmth that still lingered within. Then supporting himself on his muscular arms, he gingerly, shimmied down the bales to where both his stick and boots awaited him. By the time he reached the end, where Sam lay mumbling softly, black spots danced before his eyes. All his wounds had woken to greet him, leaving him gasping for breath, eyes closed tight against each fresh flare of pain.

The easy thing, the sensible thing, would have been to wake his soundly sleeping brother, but Dean knew how tired his little brother had been after tending to all his injuries. So, he left him sleeping, struggled unaided, into his boots - at some point Sam must have put his socks back on whilst he slept - and now sat, head thrown back, digging his nails into the raw palms of his hands, in an attempt to distract himself from the lightening strikes of agony that shot up from both his left leg and right foot. The partially dried out leather of his old boots was like an inflexible corset for his sore toes and they throbbed nauseatingly.

The pulsing beat he felt in his hands too was perfectly synchronised to the pulsing throb that pounded through his head.

Breathing slowly, he forced himself to relax.

'Dammit, how the hell will we ever get back to the car, if I can't even go for a leak on my own?'

He thought, despairingly.

As always, when he felt he could no longer go any further, the harsh tones of his father rang in head, as clearly as if he were there, by his side.

'Suck it up, boy! It's only pain! Make it work for you! Sammy needs you! Look after your brother!'

That was all he needed. All he had ever needed in motivational terms. That Sam needed him. So Dean sucked it up, fresh resolve steeled his face and he inched towards the stout stick that leant against the outer wall. He'd made it outside and back, trying valiantly to ignore the pain. He'd shuffled over to the small camp stove, giving the camel a wide berth and leaning heavily on Raptor, who had come to greet him.

As Sam slept on, he managed to relight the paraffin stove and make coffee, before his strength finally gave out and he flopped exhausted into the straight backed, wooden chair by the small table. He sat, his whole body trembling with his head in his hands, sucking in deep laboured breaths, as beads of sweat rolled down his face and trickled into the thick sheepskin collar around his neck.

At some point, sleep or unconsciousness had reclaimed him. And that was where his brother found him, slumped in the chair his coffee gone cold, when Sam had eventually awoken, an hour or so, later.

Sam had gently shaken him awake, making fresh coffee, giving his brother time to pull himself back together. He didn't bother berating the older man for not waking him for help. He knew without asking that Dean wouldn't have considered his own need for help against Sam's need for sleep.

So they sat, silently sipping their coffees and surveying the wondrous sleigh that filled the furthest stall of the stable.

Dean eventually broke the companionable silence, sighing deeply as he leant to place his empty mug on the table.

"Dude, you were right. That is Santa's sleigh, there are reindeer and yup… your 'swapping spit' partner from last night, is indeed a camel. The way I figure it, is that someone from Bethlehem would normally come up here, collect all of this…"

He gestured widely around the stable.

"And take it all into town for a Christmas Eve parade or something."

"Well, I didn't really think it was the real Santa's real sleigh, bro." Sam defended.

Dean smiled gently as he continued.

"Only thing is, Sam. I've been outside and I don't think there's any way, anyone is gonna get up here in this weather. Now, my baby's parked in the trees, it's more sheltered there and the roads'll probably be clearer. We can't be far from there! We should take the sled, get back to the car and we can be back in Bethlehem before it's dark."

"But, Dean, if the snow's that thick out there, we'll never make it back to the Impala!"

"Listen, Sammy. I'm not leaving my baby out there alone for another night in this weather, and besides. We still got a job to do. That spirit's still out there, only…it's weird…"

Dean's face was contemplative. His expressive eyes alive with a gentle concern that intrigued Sam. He prompted softly, wanting to understand his brother's feelings, knowing it was so hard for Dean to share them.

"Weird..?"

Dean's gaze flickered towards his brother. There was a sudden hesitation, a pulling back from a place where he might expose his heart. Sam recognised it and lamented Dean's need to close down.

"Yeah, Sam. It's just that I'm not so sure it's evil. It's…Hell, I don't know, but we still got a grave to find, and I'm not leaving this mountain till we find it!"

Sam stared at him open-mouthed.

"Dude, did I miss something? Did you say that freaky ghost wasn't evil? Hell, Dean, it tried to kill you."

"Just leave it, Sam! I don't know, okay, it's just… Nothing! We just gotta find that grave and take it from there, okay!"

Almost angrily, Dean held his brother's stare, willing him to leave it alone. Willing him to try to understand. Willing him to just trust him.

Sam shook his head, confusion evident from the frown that marred his brow. He shrugged in resignation. He didn't understand why it was suddenly so important to Dean to find the grave, beyond the need for a standard salt'n'burn, but he knew, regardless, he would back his brother to the end.

"Okay, Dean. It's your call."

wWw

The Christmas hiker sighed in the shadows, the knowledge that the older man understood his intentions and needs overwhelming him with relief. He sensed that his endless ordeal was drawing to a close, and knew that, even though these men were tired and beaten to the point of exhaustion they would see their 'job' through to conclusion.

He dared to hope that he would soon find peace and the remnants of his once human heart shuddered with that hope.

wWw

An hour later, with the animals fed and watered, the stable tidied and $40.00 left pinned to the wall above the table for the cake and cookies they had consumed, the two hunters left the relative safety of the stable and set off to find the Impala and the grave of their hiker companion.

They wore the heavy sheepskins and had split the contents of the first aid kit between their backpacks. Dean's pack also contained the fruitcake and the remainder of the cookies and the deep pockets of his borrowed sheepskin bulged with sweets, looted from Santa's sack of presents.

He had wanted to take the beautifully packaged Gold, Frankincense and Myrrh that they had found stashed under the low front seat of the sleigh. Sam, however, had vehemently pointed out that stealing sweets from Santa's sleigh, let alone stealing the gifts meant for the Christ child, would probably mean a one-way trip to hell.

Dean had argued that, as it couldn't possibly be the real Santa's sleigh, that it wouldn't really count. Eventually, they had compromised; Dean, cramming in as many sweets as he could carry in his pockets and Sam, carefully returning the replica gifts to the sleigh.

Sam had watched, bemused, as his seriously limping brother had bid a sad farewell to the little donkey, scratching her behind the ears and crooning quiet words that he couldn't quite hear. Sam had suggested they take the little donkey along for Dean to ride, or even the kid, just for company, but scowling he had refused, showing no inclination to ever sit bareback astride anything with four legs, ever again.

Sam's farewell to his admirer, the towering dromedary, had been a little less loving. The younger hunter had given the widest possible berth to the spitting beast, and Dean had laughed out loud as he caught Sam glaring at it as it had batted its long eyelashes at him.

Outside, the world was all gentle curves and glistening white, the angles softened by the blanketing drifts of virgin snow. The morning sky was overcast, leaden clouds that hung sullenly with the threat of more snow to come. The muffled silence and stillness, which only comes after a heavy snowfall, filled the air.

Sam had cleared a path from the stable door where the drifting powder had piled high. Out on the path, the snow was not so deep, still passable. Sam had helped his stumbling sibling out and back onto the track, steadying him as he had limped along, leaning heavily on his walking stick.

Falling in behind him, the younger hunter pulled the red and black sled with the two backpacks lashed securely to its base. Idly, he wondered how long it would be before his stubborn brother gave in and accepted the ride, or fell and had no other options.

As the spring-loaded gate clanged shut behind them, Dean stopped and flexed his spine surveying their surroundings. He glanced back over his shoulder, taking the opportunity to pop another candy into his mouth, as he waited for Sam to join him.

"Well, what way did we come in last night, Sam? Any idea where we took a wrong turn?"

He jutted with his chin to the three distinct paths where they now stood at the crossroads.

Yawning in the frigid air, Sam scratched at his head as he pieced together the events of the night before.

"We came in up that middle path; we followed the fencing through the trees. That was where I came back for you."

Sam tried to cast his mind back to the hellish journey through the blizzard of the previous night.

"Before that," he continued, "we were out in the open for a real long time, least it seemed like a long time. In the end I was just following the donkey. Somewhere we must'a just missed the turnoff."

Dean squinted up at the iron-grey sky, hoping for a hint as to the sun's position, but no rays penetrated the brooding clouds.

"So, when we first came up here, we parked ma baby in that clearing, maybe a couple of miles off the Old Bethlehem Road. We headed southeast on a track for a mile or so, then it opened up for, I guess, half a mile and then we turned east?"

He waited for Sam's nod of affirmation, before continuing.

"Okay, so then we headed north when we met that path running alongside the river."

"Yeah, we stayed on the track for about five or six miles, which took us all the way to Rocky Ridge, where you got up close and personal with your new best buddy!"

"Leave it, Sammy." Dean cautioned, quietly. "So anyway, we've either just missed the turn-off, or got turned around completely?"

"Either way, bro, we gotta go back through the trees and take a look round from there. Right?"

Sam concluded with a confidence he didn't feel.

"You wanna climb aboard?"

"Nah. Thanks, Sam, but I really need to try and get my knee moving, again. It'll be fine once it loosens up; it's just a little stiff, is all. Come on, let's head on out!"

With Dean hobbling in the lead, they set off, slowly, up the slight incline towards the thick stand of trees. As they reached the arboreal shelter the knee deep, white covering petered out, thinning to just above ankle deep and their pace picked up a little.

Sam almost sauntered along, rejuvenated after a good night's sleep and plenty of food. Warm for once, cosy in his borrowed sheepskin, the thick pelt buttoned and hanging loosely to just below his knees. If it weren't for the constant smarting of the open blisters on his heels, and the continuous worry he felt for his brother's condition, he would have felt quite content.

But, therein lay the problem. He could tell from the elder man's slow, awkward gait and the occasional muffled gasps, not to mention the mumbled cursing, that Dean was in no condition to be walking anywhere, let alone a hike back into the wilderness. Sam's brow furrowed as he cut short yet another attempt to dissuade the older man from leaving the safety of the stable.

Something was eating at his brother, something beyond the usual desire to rescue his beloved car, something that the taller hunter didn't understand. He tried to concentrate on their whereabouts, confident that without a total whiteout to contend with, they should easily find the right path. At least, he felt, it couldn't be too far to the car and there was always the sled to fall back on – well, not too literally – he hoped.

Dean laboured diligently up the small slope, the hem of his generous fleece dragging slightly, skimming the surface of the snow. Initially, he had almost believed that once his knee really did loosen up, he might just be okay. Had hoped that once his toes became numb, that the shooting pains, which left him breathless, would maybe recede to bearable.

The good nights sleep, the food and warmth and the care and attention he'd received courtesy of Sam, had gone a long way to reviving his flagging energy levels. However, energy, it seemed, might not be enough to get him back to the car.

He understood Sam's reluctance to leave the security of the stable. Hell he knew, in the back of his mind that that is where they should have stayed. Had it been his younger brother who was injured there was no way he would allowed them to plunge back into the wilds, but Dean was so used to sacrificing himself. Rationality had not really been a consideration.

Something was driving him. Something, even he didn't fully understand. Several times now he had felt the presence of the spectre they had set out to hunt, the first time, he thought ruefully, he had felt him just a little too damn clearly. Thinking back he realised the emotion he had felt then had been one of overwhelming frustration, rather than a murderous desire to kill.

Since then, he had felt emotions ranging from elation, to resignation to almost caring. Above it all though there was the deep-seated need and longing, a desperate loneliness and a desire for… What? Revenge? No, that didn't seem quite right. More a need for… Justice. The word just sprang into his mind and seemed, somehow right.

Looking up from his careful scrutiny of the snow covered track at his feet, Dean shivered as a wave of cold, which had nothing to do with the weather, passed over him. There it was again, in the shadows, the spirit they had set out to destroy, following them - or was it leading? Whatever the damn thing was, he knew without a shadow of a doubt, it certainly wasn't malevolent.

wWw

The Christmas hiker drifted on the breeze at the periphery of the hunter's vision. He wanted this man, who held his fate in his blistered hands, to know he was watching over them. Trying to keep them from harm.

If he had a voice he would have offered apology for his earlier violent actions but he had none apart from the journal and the letter. He prayed that the hunter would finally bring his words to Evie.

wWw

'Okay, just keep going. Can't be much further to the top of this freakin' hill. Can't let Sam know how much it really hurts.'

Determinedly, he gripped the stick more tightly, leaning on it more heavily with his freshly bandaged hands. He was glad now that Sam had insisted on a fresh round of first aid before reluctantly agreeing to leave the barn. Sucked in a deep breath and struggled on, blinking wildly to clear the spots that danced before his eyes with each agonizing step.

Behind him, Sam watched as the lurching figure ahead hunched ever further over the crutch, amazed, as always at his brother's seemingly unending ability to push himself to unimaginable limits. He missed nothing, knew every nuance in his brother's repertoire of cover up tricks, knew he was hurting and hurting bad.

"Hey, Dean. How're you feeling? You wanna take a ride on the sled? We could maybe pick up the pace a little?"

Sam queried, attempting nonchalance.

'Umh! So, not quite fooling the Samster, huh? Better try harder, in case he drags my sorry ass back to the stable!'

"Nah, I'm good, Sam. Just getting back into the swing of it."

He gulped, fighting back a yelp as his right boot jarred on the uneven footing.

"I can go faster once we get to the top of this slope. Hopefully we're not too far from the right path."

He continued, trying to keep his voice steady.

"Yeah, whatever, dude!"

Sam snapped at the labouring back, suddenly angry at his brother's stubborn refusal of help.

"Seriously, Sam. I'm fine at the moment. I promise if my knee starts playing up, I'll jump right aboard. Okay?"

"Dean, I can see you're not 'fine at the moment.' I can see you're about to keel over at every step. Don't worry; I won't carry you off back to the stable, if that's what you're so worried about."

Sam's concern and frustrations came pouring out as he continued.

"I don't know what it is that's so important for you to get back to the damned car that it can't wait till the snow clears a little. But whatever it is, I've agreed to go with you, so why can't you just admit that your damned knee's hurtin' you and get on this freakin sled?"

"What's the matter, Sammy? Get up off the wrong side of the bales, this morning? Or are ya missing your girlfriend already?"

Dean resorted to brother baiting, in an attempt to sidestep the issue.

"It's not a wonder you got on so well with that stupid donkey, you're as stubborn as a mule yourself. It must have recognised a kindred spirit!"

"Hey, bro. Dissing chicks is my job! Don't bring my donkey into this. She's a 'she', not an 'it' and she certainly wasn't stupid. Hell, at least she picked the good looking one!"

"Dude, don't try and change the subject."

Sam huffed, amazed at how easily his big brother could deflect a conversation.

"Look." He tried to calm down, reasoning, "At this rate it'll be getting dark before we make it to the top of the hill, let alone back to the car! Just for once, couldn't you admit you're in pain and get on the sled? I feel great, I really don't mind pulling you!"

"Yeah, I bet you wouldn't, Sammy. But you know I don't swing that way!"

Dean flinched as the snowball hit him squarely in the back. Gasped as he caught his balance.

"Hey? Not fair, Sammy. Talk about hitting a man when he's down!"

"You deserve it, Jerk!"

"Back off! Bitch!"

"Dean, you're impossible."

Sam's anger dissipated like the breath that misted before his face.

"Yeah, I know, but in a totally adorable way. Come on, Samantha. Cheer up! We've reached the meadow; now all we gotta do is find the right turn-off!"

Dean stood, panting at the top of the small hill, on the edge of the tree line. He didn't have long to wait as Sam's long strides brought him up level. A wide-open vista stretched out in all directions before them.

A huge, sloping, snow encrusted basin, encircled a sprawling lake that reflected the leaden sky with a sullen chill. In the distance, all around, the white-topped trees formed a wavering fringe that cast dark shadows over the stark white of the newly fallen snow. To the right, behind the trees a dark ribbon that meandered through the trees marked the river's haphazard course. Far up ahead and to their left, several smaller streams fed into the lake, whilst below and to their left four small creeks exited the body of water, lazy brooks that trickled sluggishly before running together to form a deep fast flowing stream where it reached the steeper gradient.

Dean stared down with horror at the scene before him.

"Holy crap, Sam!" He whispered, swallowing thickly. "Just how the hell far did we travel last night?"

"Dude, I couldn't see a thing in that storm. I just held onto your collar and… I guess I musta just followed your donkey. She sure knew where she was going; she musta taken us across those streams without me even noticing. Look."

Sam pointed to several white bands that crossed the streams in the distance.

"She musta known where the bridges were and just made straight for the stable."

"See, I told ya she wasn't stupid!"

"That wasn't quite my point, Dean. See, I don't remember crossing any streams on the way up to the ridge, and I don't remember seeing that damned huge lake at all. So, unless we're in a totally different freakin' valley, we gotta be parked somewhere right over there."

He gestured to a wide section on the far side of the valley, beyond the lake. The low hanging cloud cover hid the summits of the surrounding tree topped slopes, lending no clue as to their path of two days before.

"Guess we need to get a move on then, Sammy, huh?"

Dean stated with a hint of barely controlled panic, at the daunting task ahead of them, edging into his voice.

"Dean, seriously… It's not too late to go back to the stable and wait for someone to find us; they'll have to come out for the animals!"

"No, Sam! You'll see, once we get over there we'll recognise it. I'm sure of it. Look we just gotta get down this slope, round the top of the lake, there."

Dean pointed out a crossing point far ahead and to the left.

"Look, the car's gotta be in that section up there, between that stream there, and the big one over there." Balancing, unsteadily, he gestured to the waterways in question.

"'Cause otherwise, we'd 'a crossed over it on the way up to there."

He looked across, sighing, at the worried frown that marred the younger man's flushed face.

'Hell, I gotta do something, before Sammy enters full-on panic mode, and hauls me back to that darn barn!'

"Anyway, Sam! Look, we got a sled, we got a slope and we got us a big ole pile of snow. Come on. It'll be like when we were kids!"

"Are you insane, Dean? As if your knee's not damaged enough, already! No, we'd kill ourselves!"

"Aww, come on. Don't be a Sour Sam. You've been trying to get me on that sled for the last two hours, dude! It's perfect. Look you can even sit up front. It'll save us hours, and I'm not sure I can make it all the way down on my own!"

He turned a watered down version of puppy dog eyes on his disbelieving brother.

"One way or the other though, I'm going down there!"

His emerald eyes sparkled, reflecting the crystal sheen from the snow, his mirth barely controlled.

"Dean, you are insane! I think you've maybe hit your head one time too many this last couple of days, either that or the pain has finally driven you mad. How the hell do you think we can both fit on that sled, let alone go down a slope that's gotta be at least one and a half, maybe two miles long?"

Sam looked from Dean to the sled to the slope and back again, running his fingers through his tousled hair.

"Sam…Come on, Sammy." Dean cajoled, watching his baby brother closely. "You know you want to, Sam."

"I guess it would maybe save us some time getting down there."

Sam's face lit up with a huge grin that to Dean's eyes made him look about twelve years old, again. "Ah, what the hell! You said I could go in front, huh?"

"Sure thing, bro. Help me onto the back, first. We can each put on a backpack and my stick can go down along the side. You're gonna have to hold on to my left leg, Sam, 'cause there's no way I can bend it on here."

Dean turned away, swallowing nervously now that Sam had adopted his impromptu transport plan. Still, he figured, even allowing for an almighty crash into the snow at the bottom, it would still be less painful than walking the whole way down.

"Yeah, sure! Why not? Come on then, let me line it up and get you settled. Let's do this!"

Sam sat his big brother down on the back of the sled. He then spent the next five minutes re-organising their meagre provisions as they both assessed the slope, trying to find the gentlest route down that would take them to their desired crossing point.

Once he had manoeuvred them into take off position he straddled the sled in front of Dean and managed the seemingly impossible, folding himself into the small seat.

"The slopes not too steep, dude! If I keep my feet out to the sides I should be able to stop us from goin' too fast or getting too far outta control. I'll try not to jolt your knee, but once we get going, I can't make any promises."

Sam glanced back over his shoulder at his insanely grinning brother and found that his own grin matched perfectly.

"Dean, you sure you wanna do this? Last chance to bail, man!"

"Come on, Sammy! Let's do this!"

And so the two fearless hunters found themselves wedged into a two-seater sled, giggling uncontrollably, as Sam shuffled them towards the edge using his boot heels.

There was a slight pause as they tipped over the edge, slowly reaching the point of no return. Then the sled runners moved, ploughing deep into the snow, picking up speed and sliding, gliding ever more rapidly over the faultless surface.

With a war cry that would have done Geronimo proud, they sped down the gently undulating hill, whooping and hollering with unrestrained joy, like children. And for those few minutes, children they were, laughing with tears in their eyes as they careered down the slope.

Overhead, the sullen clouds grew heavier, the sky darkening as the icy wind, once again began to blow in from the northeast, heralding the start of yet another snowstorm.

As the noble red and black sled reached the flatter ground at the bottom of the valley, it slowed gradually to a halt. Amazing both passengers were still more or less intact and laughing like there was no tomorrow.

Dean loosened his grip on Sam's coat and chuckling, wiped the tears from his eyes.

"Wow, Sam! That was one wild ride… You wanna go do it again?"

"I gotta admit, dude. That was one quick way down the hill. Man! We've not done that in years!"

Sam shook the powdery snow from his face and hair, before looking up at the leaden sky and the now, not so distant tree line.

"How's your leg feel? "

"Well it's felt better, but it would have felt a lot worse if we were still climbing down that freakin long slope. Look, Sammy! Look at our tracks in the snow."

Sam looked from the long, curving tracks carved into the otherwise pristine snow, to the look of wonder and excitement he now saw on his brother's flushed face. His breath caught in his throat as he realised how few times he'd ever caught his brother, looking totally unguarded, totally happy.

wWw

At the top of the hill the hiker ghost's ethereal face mirrored the pleasure of the laughing hunters. They had surprisingly survived their reckless toboggan ride and were closer to their destination. He hoped also closer to bringing him a conclusion to his interminable waiting. He could wait a little longer. Just a little longer.

wWw

"Well, that was fun. Serious fun, dude! But looking at that sky, we need to be making some more tracks outa here. Come on, gimme a hand up here, Sam?"

Dean winced as he made to rise, grabbed at his knee with both hands, head held low and shoulders hunched against the fresh pain as he lowered it slowly to the ground.

"Hey, I got a better idea, Dean. You turn round and sit tight on the sled and I'll pull us on over to the trees."

Sam bent and helped get Dean settled back on the sled, then grinned down at the stricken man.

"Then if I remember correctly, bro. You will recognise exactly where we are and get us onto the right path back to your beloved car."

"Sure, Sammy. Sounds like a plan."

Dean managed from between his clenched teeth.

So, they set off towards the dark woods, with the growing wind whistling in their ears, whipping up the powdery granules, which stung their faces. They both shielded their eyes as Sam plodded on, panting, as he hauled the trusty sled behind him. Peering into the gathering gloom they searched for the path back to the Impala, back home.

wWw

They were on the right track and the ghostly hiker drifted along behind them like a grim ethereal outrider urging them urgently onwards.

wWw

The weather had deteriorated, swiftly, bringing the visibility down to eight or ten feet in the swirling gusts. The threatened whiteout had arrived, accompanied by plummeting temperatures as the icy wind howled its fury across the meadow.

The sled had been discarded an hour before, when one of the runners had buckled after a collision with a rock. Dean had been pitched sideways from the low platform, which had left him lying, groaning on the ground, his pale face twisted in agony as he clawed at his distended knee. Sam had tried in vain to fix the runner, but the rear supports had snapped off as he'd tried to straighten it.

Eventually Sam had managed to help his suffering brother back onto his feet. Dean had tried to shuffle through the deep snow with only the aid of his walking stick, but after a few steps, the ailing limb had simply given way beneath him and he had fallen again.

The exposed valley had no place to shelter and there was no sign of a track through the trees, so Sam had simply picked his brother up complete with his crutch and carried him, stumbling into the wind, searching for somewhere safe to wait out the storm. Buffeted by the ever-increasing gusts, almost blinded by the driven snow, Sam had quickly weakened, staggering on legs that trembled more with each faltering step.

Desperate now, and dragging his brother through the deep drifts, he had crawled up the steep slope that led to the front line of densely growing trees, determined to force a path of his own. His boots had slipped, sending the pair of them sliding back down, to lie shivering and exhausted in the thick snow.

It was his brother's frantic, rasping voice that brought him back as he lay defeated, curled into a ball, fighting for breath, as the snow sought to cover them both.

"S…Sam? Sammy. Where are you? Answer me, Sa…!"

The rest was lost in a shuddering cry as Dean fought to raise his head, searching wildly for his sibling.

"Dammit, Sammy! Where are you?"

His voice made louder by the panic coursing through him.

"D…Dean. 'M right here, bro. Take it easy."

Sam rolled over and pushed to his knees, crawling to his brother's side and easing his head up out of the bitterly cold snow.

"Sammy, what happened? Where the hell are we?"

"We're still looking for your 'we'll recognise it when we're down here' path."

Sam snapped, worry making him uncharacteristically harsh. Instantly, he regretted it as he saw the look of hurt that passed over the pallid face before him.

"Hell, I'm sorry! Look, we need to get out of this blizzard, real soon…but Dean; do you think you can walk? Just for a little while, I can't carry you and get up this slope at the same time. I'm sorry, man!"

"Carry me? Oh hell, Sammy. I'm sorry, dude. Look just help me up, I'll be fine, I swear! Have you still got my stick, Sam?"

"Wait, I'll get it, I just dropped it when I slipped. Stay there."

''Kay, Sammy. It's not like I got a lot of options here!'

Sam forced himself to his feet, grunting with the effort, brushing the thick clumps of snow from his coat and hair.

"It rolled over there, I'll be right back."

wWw

The Christmas hiker corralled the shivering hunter, using his insubstantial body to ride the buffeting winds and 'encourage' Sam, with directed blasts of frigid air, towards the spot where the essential walking stick lay. They must finish the journey. They could not fail like others before them had. He would have conclusion this time. For Evie. It must end.

wWw

Sam slipped and stumbled along the slope, quickly disappearing into the storm. The stick was wedged against a stout post. Sam leant upon it as he bent to retrieve the crutch. The regular corners had the feel of civilisation about them, which had been missing for so long, in their ordeal in the wilderness. Squinting through the whipping snowflakes, Sam rocked back in amazement.

"Dean!"

He cried, backing hastily from the post.

"Dean! It's a sign."

"What, Sam? What's a sign, a sign of what?"

"No, Dean. There is a sign, I've seen a sign."

"Sam, you having some sorta religious experience here? What are you on about, bro?"

Dean eased himself over onto his back, craning his neck to try and make out his brothers approaching form through the snow. He lay panting in the snow, digging his nails into the worn bandages that covered his hands, trying to distract himself from the overwhelming strikes of pain that knifed through his damaged knee joint.

Sam's hunched figure materialised out of the snow, using the long stick to aid his balance on the slippery footing.

He crouched down by his stricken brother's side, smiling widely.

"Dean." He explained slowly, "I've seen a sign to "Follow the Star to Bethlehem".

"Okay, Sammy." Dean answered just as slowly. "We know the freakin' star leads us to Bethlehem, but we need to go to the Impala, not Bethlehem. It's about 15 miles to Bethlehem. Don't suppose you saw a sign saying "Follow the Path to the Impala".

"No, Dean. You don't understand. When we drove up here, we passed the turnoff for the walking trail, through the valley to the Star."

Sam eased Dean up to a sitting position, before continuing.

"So, don't you remember? We were looking for the turning for the clearing where the Hikers ghost has been spotted before. We'd just passed signs for the "Follow the Star to Bethlehem" trail, it was only about 200 yards down the road that we turned off and parked up."

Understanding finally dawned on the downed hunter's expressive face, a wide smile momentarily wiping away all signs of fatigue.

"So, if that's a sign for the trail, then our pathway must be just a little ways further on. Then it's less than half a mile back to my baby! Come on, Sam. Help me up here, pass me that stick!"

"Dammit, Dean! You know what this means? We've just been saved from wandering forever in the wilderness by a sign. A sign telling us to, "Follow the Star to Bethlehem. If that's not another festive save, bro, I don't know what is!"

wWw

An hour and a half later, they struggled along together on foot, Sam holding Dean's left arm over his shoulder and gripping tightly to his belt buckle. They had slit a hole in the side of the thick sheepskin with a knife so Sam could resume his familiar hold. Dean sagged loosely in his brother's arms, his head lolling loosely against Sam's broad chest. But at least they were now in the shelter of the trees and back on the right path.

Sam was fairly sure his big brother had virtually lost consciousness about twenty minutes ago, but had somehow managed to stay upright. As they reached the clearing, Sam breathed a long sigh of relief, for there, parked to one side of the small glade waited the Impala. Shrouded in a blanket of white, only the tips of the chrome wing mirrors and tops of the wide black wheels showed through the covering.

"Dean? Wake up, Dean! We're here, bro! We made it!"

wWw

The sigh of the ghost whispered on the wind as he watched the hunters finally approach their destination. A few moments more and his ordeal would be at an end. His ethereal voice blended with the howls of the storm as he begged for peace at last.

wWw

Sam felt a slight stirring in the limp figure draped exhausted over his shoulder. He daren't stop for fear of never starting again.

"Dean, it's your car, your baby. We made it back!"

Dean's head jolted as the words penetrated the fog that surrounded his being. He could hear Sam's voice but also a distant, sorrowful lament that called him back to wakefulness with its desperate need. It was indistinct but sounded to be saying 'Save me...Free me!'

"M'car? Where? Sa… Unnhh. Aaahh, crap! Sammy, that hurts!"

He struggled to raise his head, bleary eyes searching around, as all his aches and pains came crashing back with his increasing awareness.

"Oh, baby! You're a sight for sore eyes! Here, lemme get that snow off you girl. Sammy, put me down. Look at her, she's covered."

Dean cried out as he fought to stand unaided, hunching double with the pain, his eyes watering with the pain and the cold. Through the tears, in the distance, he saw the tattered form of the hiker ghost. The remains of its once human face were trying to form words and Dean squinted into the stinging blizzard trying to understand its message. 'Save me...free me!' drifted to him once more and he nodded to the pitiful creature, unsure as to how he would achieve its request but determined to do so.

"Yeah, maybe I'll just get you inside, get the engine going and turn on those heaters, huh! I'll clear her off in a little while. We're not in any rush are we?"

Sam started to haul the complaining hunter over to the passenger's door, till Dean's angry protests changed his course. Brushing the snow from the crest of the driver's door, Sam propped Dean against the hood and held his hands out for the keys. Dean reached painfully into the inside pocket of his leather jacket beneath the sheepskin coat, and withdrew the keys, dropping them into Sam's waiting hand.

After several minutes of muffled cursing and careful manoeuvrings, Sam had his sweating, huffing brother safely ensconced behind the steering wheel, the engine running and had moved to clear the snow from the windows.

The light inside gradually changed from pearl grey to overcast daylight as each window was divested of its white coating.

"Sam, I'm gonna move her forward, she's been parked in the mud and snow for a couple of days now, I wanna just move her wheels, check she's not iced up. Stand back, Sammy. Don't wanna spray you with snow now!"

Dean lovingly stroked the leather of the steering wheel, then gently slipped her into drive, wincing as he flexed his broken foot applying pressure to the accelerator.

The low purr of the engine picked up a beat, the wheels caught lurching forwards before slumping back and spinning on the spot.

"Dammit, I knew she'd stick in this freakin' weather."

He called out to Sam who waited patiently under the trees.

"I'm sorry baby; I should never have left you this long!"

Steadily he pushed the stick into reverse, again giving her some gas. The wheels spun as the engine growled louder.

"It's no good, Sammy. I'll stick her in drive and you try pushing, or get some branches to place under the rear wheels."

"Okay, Dean, just give me a minute, I'll get some of those fir fronds, they should give it enough traction."

"Not an 'it'" Dean muttered under his breath. "Don't you worry, honey. He's just doesn't understand!"

Dean watched, eyes drooping in the comfort of his only true home, as Sam hurried around gathering branches.

"Okay, Dean! This should do it."

Sam moved swiftly to the back wheels with an armful of waxy fronds.

"Sammy you mind that bodywork, okay?"

"Dean? Dean come here, dude. Oh, crap! You can't. Wait, I'll come get you. You gotta see this, man!"

Sam shook his head in disbelief.

"I think we may have found the grave!

wWw

Through the fogged up window, Dean smiled at the ghostly figure that rode the storm before him as the creatures lilting voice wafted a sigh of 'Thank you' to him on the wind.

Ends

You all thought we were gonna have the 'light from yonder star' save them didn't you? Well to be honest we were! But when we did the research the Bethlehem star doesn't light up til 4.30pm each day and we didn't want to leave the boys in the snow any longer. Hence they really were saved by a SIGN!